#me: peter hunt died so we could go That Hard | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theggning · 3 years

Text

I Hate the Alternate Ending of Blind Betrayal, and Here's Why!

DISCLAIMER THE FIRST: Massive spoilers for Fallout 4 abound. This post discusses Blind Betrayal, a quest with suicide as a heavy theme. Content warning applies.

DISCLAIMER THE SECOND: This post discusses cut OFFICIAL content from Fallout 4 that has since been repurposed into multiple mods. I am not criticizing any modders or their implementations of this content. Mods are fun and people can enjoy whatever the hell kind of game experience they want with whatever mods they want.

I am ONLY interested in discussing the original cut content as Bethesda had written it, and how it would have impacted the story and lore of Fallout 4.

So, yeah, it seems there was originally going to be another way to conclude Blind Betrayal (BB).

As described in this Kotaku article (citing this post by Tumblr user tentacle-explosion,) there are unused audio files of Danse’s dialogue that show an alternate ending to his pivotal quest. These lines are the only evidence we have of this ending (suggesting that it was cut fairly early on, as no other actors/characters seem to have recorded for it.)

From what we can tell, in this alternate ending of BB, Danse comes up with a possible way out of the sticky situation re: his identity as a synth. According to the Brotherhood Litany, he is able to challenge Maxson’s authority as Elder via combat. If you agree to this idea, you go with Danse to challenge Maxson. The Paladin and the Elder duel one another, Danse wins, and Maxson dies. Then Danse names the Sole Survivor the new Elder-- or with a hard charisma check, you’re able to convince Danse to take the job himself. It is unknown how the main plot would have progressed beyond this point, as there is no other evidence of what being (or influencing) the Elder would have been like or what choices it would have given you.

There is understandable disappointment in learning that this ending was cut. Choices in games are great, and it could have been fun to have multiple different options for how to resolve the quest. In many gaming circles, people complain that this theoretical ending is superior to the one we got and shouldn’t have been axed. The Kotaku article calls it a “way better” ending, and you’ll see many players lamenting that it wasn’t implemented, saying Bethesda was bad at writing for cutting it, etc.

So why did Bethesda get rid of the Elder ending of BB?

In December 2020, after the Fallout 4 Cast Reunion, Danse’s voice actor Peter Jessop answered questions in a private signing session on his Instagram. Peter Jessop is an extremely kind and gracious man, an avid gamer, and a huge fan of Fallout. During the stream, he reflected on the alternate ending and remembered recording the lines, but stated the content was ultimately cut because Bethesda decided it was lore-breaking.

Peter Jessop is right. Bethesda was right. The Elder ending of BB is a bunch of dumb nonsense. It sucks, I hate it, and I’m glad they got rid of it. And now I’m going to tell you why!

SIDENOTE: King Shit of Fuck Mountain

There is no wrong way to play a single-player video game. If you are having fun, then you are accomplishing the task for which the game was made. Good for you! Play it on easy. Play it on hard. Mod it. Speedrun it. Make up an intricate roleplaying scenario. Perform “challenge” runs. Kill everybody you see. Ignore the story and run around collecting wheels of cheese. Games are meant to be fun and there is nothing wrong with enjoying a game however you damn well please. This is especially true for RPGs like Fallout, which are designed with player freedom in mind.

There is an RPG playstyle I like to call King Shit of Fuck Mountain: a naked power fantasy in which your protagonist is the most powerful person ever, even beyond normal RPG plot significance. Through brute strength, incredible charisma, or having completed tons of quests for world-breaking artifacts and weapons, your character wields godlike influence, able to control people, factions, and the fabric of the world itself. A game enables KSoFM gameplay when it allows the player limitless freedom to gain as much power as they like with zero consequences to plot or storytelling.

A great example of this is the Dragonborn in The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. If the player chooses to pursue every questline in the game, one single person can become Harbinger of the Companions, Archmage of the College of Winterhold, Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, Nightingale and Guildmaster of the Thieves’ Guild, hero of the Imperial/Stormcloak army, the chosen one of like, 11 different Daedric princes, a bard, a Blade, and otherwise just, absurdly goddamn powerful in completely unrealistic ways. And that’s not counting DLCs. A fully-kitted-out Dragonborn is King Shit of Fuck Mountain.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with playing KSoFM if you like to. But I’m not a big fan of this style, personally. Sure, my first Skyrim character became KSoFM while I was figuring out the game, but after my first playthrough I preferred my characters become coherent figures in the story of the world. I pick one or two character traits and things that my Dragonborn is good at, focus on them, and make them part of some overall story. My honorable Imperial paladin werewolf is in the Companions, and hunts vampires on principle. My Argonian sneaky archer is a gleeful thief, but would never jive with the College or the Dark Brotherhood. I like creating protagonists who fit into these settings immersively. I don’t care about power fantasies or being in charge. I don’t WANT my character to be all-powerful, because that ruins my immersion and my little story.

Additionally, in a plot-driven story-focused game like Fallout, KSoFM tears the narrative apart. Skyrim is fairly light on story, so the Dragonborn can be the leader of the Companions and the Dark Brotherhood and whatever other factions without any of them noticing or caring. But FO4’s themes, faction drama, and the main thrust of the plot don’t work at all if the Sole Survivor is able to become too powerful or too influential. The Sole Survivor cannot become the leader of every faction, solve every problem, or eliminate every inconvenient bend of the conflict because it makes the lore of the entire setting implode. Thus, the game forces you to choose between factions. You cannot be with the Minutemen and the Nuka-World Raiders. You cannot be with the Railroad and the Institute. And you cannot become Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel.

So if you’re the kind of person who loves playing KSoFM, if you like plots that your character can “solve” with relative ease, or if you just think it would be super cool for your Sole to become Elder regardless of surrounding storytelling, then you might think the Elder ending sounds super cool. You are absolutely allowed to disagree with me here. Install all the mods and write all the fic and have all the headcanons you like. I respect that. There is no wrong way to enjoy a single-player video game. Have fun!

But if you’re a big nitpicky pedantic lore nerd like me, a fan of cohesive storytelling, or if you just want to hear how the Elder ending of BB absolutely fucking ruins Maxson, Danse, the Brotherhood of Steel, and the entire plot of FO4 from a narrative perspective, read on!

1. The Synth Thing

The Elder ending requires the stupid plot contrivance of the BoS forgetting about Danse’s synthhood.

One of the biggest problems with the BoS as an institution is their strict and dogmatic beliefs, which include a widespread dislike of non-human species. Perhaps more than any other non-humans, the BoS hates synths. Synths are, in their eyes, machines given free will, a violation of the sanctity of human life and the ultimate example of technology run amok. To them, synths are not sympathetic, they are not slaves, and they are not victims of circumstance. They are weapons that left unchecked will destroy all of humanity for a second time. Synths are anathema to everything the BoS stands for, and finding out that one of their most beloved and trusted Paladins is one is an earth-shattering blow to their integrity and sense of security.

It is completely absurd that the BoS would allow a synth within their ranks, particularly as they are waging war against the Institute, who created synths in the first place. It is even MORE absurd that they’d allow one to influence their Elder, or even worse, to become Elder. It completely undermines their mission in the Commonwealth, and the core tenets of their extremely rigid beliefs. No matter the Elder, no matter the Litany or obscure BoS law, no matter how valuable the Sole Survivor is as a soldier or how much influence they wield. Danse is a synth. He’s the enemy. He is physically the embodiment of everything they hate.

Not only wouldn’t they trust a synth in general, but the BoS specifically believes that Danse is an infiltrator for the Institute. Even Danse believes that he is a danger, that the Institute may be able to take control of him and use him as a weapon. Sure, we know none of this is actually true, or possible, but the BoS don’t know that. And given how quick they are to order Danse dead without even the possibility of surrender, I don’t think there’s any charisma in the world that’s going to convince them otherwise.

According to Peter Jessop, this, ultimately, is the reason why the Elder ending was cut. He talks about it around the 11:30 timestamp in his Instagram stream, linked above:

“We recorded an ending where you keep Danse alive and you take over the Brotherhood. But there was a question of content… there’s no way the Brotherhood, once they knew he was a synth, would let him be even the right hand of the person in charge.”

Bethesda correctly recognized the incredible narrative contrivance for the BoS to shrug off the reason they’re trying to execute Danse in the first place. Whatever other beefs I have with this ending conceptually, they all come in second to just what a big dumb leap it is to get beyond this first and most important problem.

2. The Complete Death of Conflict

The Elder ending of BB destroys the conflict of the quest, and potentially the conflict of the entire game.

Greed is a poison. There is no such thing as a perfect ideal or a perfect organization. Power corrupts. Humanity has the choice to build back better. War never changes. The Fallout games are full of themes, depicted by the characters and quests and factions we play out.

Blind Betrayal is rightfully praised as one of the most powerful quests in FO4. Not only is it well-acted, but it puts the player in a very difficult position. The BoS has given you clout and glory and free power armor and lots of firepower, but now you see the price: unquestioning obedience. You are ordered to execute your friend and mentor Danse for the mere fact he is a synth. Are you going to follow that unjust order? Are you willing to give up your principles on command? Or is this where you can no longer stay quiet and stay in line?

To be honest, I’ve always thought the fact you can talk Maxson out of killing Danse but still remain with the BoS in good standing was a cop-out. BB goes 90% of the way to forcing you to choose between a companion and a faction, and then chickens out at the last second to let you have both, if your charisma is high enough.

(I believe this has the fingerprints of Skyrim’s development on it-- Bethesda’s writers got nervous about doing another Paarthurnax choice involving the fan favorite Brotherhood of Steel. That’s right. Danse is the Paarthurnax of Fallout. Frankly, I understand why they chose not to go there, but damn, wouldn’t it have been wild? You want to run with the BoS? Then kill your friend and feel the burn. THIS is what it means to follow orders without question.

As for me, I’d pick Danse every time and sleep soundly without the company of shitty bootlicking dieselpunk LARPers- but I digress.)

Anyway, you know what would have REALLY been a copout? If the game asked you to make a difficult thematic storyline choice, and you solved the problem by just not choosing at all.

You are supposed to feel uncomfortable when Maxson orders you to kill Danse, because the game is telling a story about how it is maybe a bad thing to thoughtlessly follow orders without question. It is asking you to think about what the BoS is, what they are doing, and how they are going to run things, if you choose to let them “win” the Commonwealth. It is pointing out that there is no room for gray in the BoS’ black and white. That a good, loyal man may die because of the way he was made, through no action of his own. That soon, you’ll be killing other people on command. The Railroad. Fleeing Institute synths and scientists. Others, down the line. It all depends on who’s giving the orders. Are you going to follow those orders?

Eesh, that sounds thought-provoking and unpleasant and difficult! Let’s just skip it by killing Maxson and making ourselves the boss. Now we get to tell everybody else what to do!

It’s unknown what powers the Elder ending would have granted the player, or how it would have interacted with the other factions. There is speculation that you’d have been able to ease back on the BoS’ dogmatism, or change some of the later events of the game. For instance, perhaps you could talk the BoS down from attacking the Railroad, sparing popular characters like Glory and Deacon who must die in the normal BoS storyline. Perhaps you could have made the BoS a kinder, gentler faction and directed them to run the way you want them to.

If this was indeed the case, then the Elder ending would not only suck the gravitas out of BB, but torpedo the entire main plot.

If you can get rid of any and all downsides to siding with the BoS, why in the hell would players side with anybody else? With the player given total power, the BoS becomes a perfect faction with no drawbacks, no weaknesses, no tough decisions to be made. Screw slumming it with the Railroad or the Minutemen, let’s take over the BoS. Free power armor and a giant robot! Forget the whole intolerance thing, I hereby proclaim the BoS No Longer Problematic! Now to force all the factions to get along, completely removing all conflict and nuance from the plot!

That’s some real anticlimactic “tell Legate Lanius to go home and then he does it” bullshit right there. King Shit of Fuck Mountain!

Look, it might be nice if there was a perfect path like that to take through the game. It would be cool if our characters could be that powerful and the game was that tailored to our individual choices. On the other hand, “I change all the factions to suit my exact liking” might be a fun idea for a fanfic, but it’s an incredibly boring plot for a video game. “I get to make everything in the world exactly how I want it” is Minecraft, not a story-driven RPG with a complex and intricate plot.

It would be great if complex conflicts could really be solved that easily and effortlessly, but hey, you know what? War never changes.

3. The Assassination of Arthur Maxson (Literal)

Arthur Maxson’s death is too significant and fundamentally disastrous for the Elder ending to make any sense at all.

Hero, villain, leader, monster, tortured soul, brutal dictator, immature twerp, bearded sex hunk. However you personally interpret Arthur Maxson, there is no denying that he is a venerated, popular, beloved figure in the BoS. He is the blood heir of the organization’s founder, a powerful warrior, a brilliant tactician, and a charismatic negotiator. He is responsible for reuniting the East Coast BoS with the Outcasts, leading the new, stronger BoS with a sense of shared purpose. There is a damn good reason his name is Arthur and he named his ship The Prydwen, echoes of King Arthur and the legends of his glorious kingdom of Camelot. Arthur Maxson is so beloved that many view him as a demigod, a messiah sent to lead the BoS into a mighty and prosperous future.

So I’m sure nobody’s going to be upset when some wasteland jackass recruited a month ago stumbles in with a synth, kills him, and takes over his job. Right?

It doesn’t matter that it’s “honorable.” It doesn’t matter that it’s done “by the book” via obscure BoS rules. There is no codex or litany or rule so binding that it’s going to overcome the cult of personality around Maxson. There is no way that the BoS is going to accept the death of Arthur Maxson, a man whose reverence borders on worship, especially not when he is immediately replaced by a wastelander, or a synth.

The death of Arthur Maxson removes the unifying glue that’s been holding the BoS together since mending the rift with the Outcasts. Maxson’s death eliminates the one person that both sides of that conflict agreed could steer the organization in the right direction. Some level heads may try to keep the focus on the mission and the Brotherhood tenets, but Maxson loyalists will never forgive the new Elder for his death, and that amount of passionate righteous anger will not be quelled by appeals to the rules. The new Elder’s war on the Institute is basically over before it begins, when the forces splinter and start infighting over the change in leadership.

And this is if the new Elder lives long enough to actually give any orders. I give them around 24 hours after the duel before some angry Maxson loyalist “accidentally” pulls the trigger and “tragically” empties a clip into their back.

24 seconds, if it’s Elder Danse, the dirty synth abomination.

4. The Assassination of Arthur Maxson (Figurative)

The Elder ending of BB falsely pretends that Arthur Maxson is the biggest and only problem with the BoS.

In the Elder ending, as written, the conflict of BB is considered completely and totally solved by the death of Arthur Maxson. The core problem, that Danse is a synth and considered an enemy by the BoS, has not gone away. But by getting rid of Maxson, this apparently no longer matters. Nobody else is going to take offense to Danse’s nature or protest his presence. Nobody else is going to attack him or try to follow through with Maxson’s prior orders. Nope, that meanybutt guy who gave the order is gone, and everybody else is going to welcome Danse back into the fold like nothing ever happened.

I touched on this a little bit on an ask about Maxson a few weeks back, but a lot of people seem to believe that the FO4 Brotherhood of Steel is the way they are purely because of him. That he is the one making them treat non-humans as second class citizens at best, and enemies to be slaughtered at worst. That it’s his fault the BoS is so vehemently against synths and the Institute. That he is the one influencing their imperialistic tendencies, and treating the Commonwealth like territory to be conquered and people to be ruled over by their betters.

He’s not. That’s the Brotherhood of Steel, guys.

The charitable, altruistic, virtuous BoS that many of us met for the first time in FO3 were outliers. Lyons’ group was literally disowned by the rest of the faction because their kindness to wastelanders had gone so far astray from the “core” tenets. The BoS as a whole has always been exclusive, isolated, and seen themselves as “superior” to the average wastelander. They have long disliked or outright hated non-humans (and even Lyons’ BoS in FO3 use ghouls, feral or not, for “target practice” if they get too close!) The rigid dogmatism of the BoS is not something that Arthur Maxson started, but has always been part of their fabric.

Now, it’s true that Maxson is absolutely going hard on the BoS tenets, and extremely dedicated to upholding them. His BoS are the way they are and act the way they act because he believes that this is the way it should be. Is it possible that a different leader may be a little more flexible? Absolutely. Could a skilled Elder eventually show them the benefits of a softer approach and a more generous worldview? Totally. Is getting rid of Maxson and replacing him going to make that happen overnight, or going to make the rest of the BoS who supported him shrug and follow suit?

Nope.

Blaming Arthur Maxson for everything unsavory about the Brotherhood is unfair to him and also foolishly ignoring the deep, massive problems that are far older than he is-- problems that plenty of its members wholeheartedly believe are not problems at all. Getting rid of Maxson does not make the BoS kinder or gentler. Even pretending Maxson isn’t as personally beloved as he is, any new Elder who steps in and starts trying to fundamentally alter the way the BoS operates and what they believe in is going to face some major, immediate pushback.

Like, a full clip of bullets in the back type of pushback.

In the face if it’s Elder Danse, the godless freak of nature.

5. The Un-Redemption of Paladin Danse

Last, and my personal least favorite!

At first glance, Paladin Danse is a steely jackboot, a die-hard Brotherhood loyalist who fully and firmly believes in their cause. Many immediately dismiss him as a humorless brute, or completely ignore him because they think that’s all there is. But if you spend any time with Danse at all, you’ll notice a sort of weariness in him. He is tired, overworked, and his years of service are starting to weigh on him. He has watched friends, comrades, and mentors die in horrible and gruesome ways, and he suffers from PTSD. Though he has always been told that his own sacrifices, the sacrifices of his brothers and sisters have been” worth it,” he’s starting to question if that’s true.

After telling of the incident where he personally executed his best friend Cutler, who’d been turned into a super mutant, the Sole Survivor is able to console him:

Player Default: You did the right thing. Danse: {Somber} It's what I was taught. I don't know if it was right.

This line is an excellent summary of Danse’s entire character arc. He learns to question whether to believe what the Brotherhood has taught him, or to believe in himself. His gut feelings. His sense of justice and his own ideas of what’s right and wrong.

(In the interest of not turning this into an essay about Danse’s character, I won’t even get into how this also applies to his beliefs about his worth as a person. But keep in mind, that dimension is there, Danse just covers it up by making everything about the Brotherhood.)

During Blind Betrayal, after getting the orders to execute him and hearing Haylen’s plea for mercy, we may expect Danse to be ready to fight back or flee. But when you confront him in the bunker at Listening Post Bravo, he’s compliant and suicidal. Danse is so deeply poisoned by the BoS’ rhetoric that his own feelings or will to live don’t factor into the conversation. He demands that you follow your orders and execute him, because he believes, as the BoS does, that all synths are dangerous and must be destroyed.

Danse: {Stern} Synths can't be trusted. Machines were never meant to make their own decisions, they need to be controlled. Technology that's run amok is what brought the entire world to its knees and humanity to the brink of extinction.

{Confident} I need to be the example, not the exception.

Through various dialogue options, if your charisma is high enough, you are able to talk Danse off the ledge. He is able to consider, at least, that the BoS’ merciless judgment of him is wrong and that what he was taught isn’t right. He is a thinking, feeling, self-aware synth, and that makes him as much a person as any human. Danse is no danger to humanity-- and maybe, most synths aren’t either.

Danse is an example, not an exception.

Later on, if you manage to get him out of BB alive, Danse shows further acceptance of his nature. His approvals about synths begin to soften slightly (or many of them do, at least… it’s not perfect.) He is still struggling with his identity and reconciling it with his former hatred, but his dialogue suggests that he’s on the road to being more open-minded and understanding. Along with this, Danse learns that he has value as a person beyond the Brotherhood. He no longer needs to define himself with BoS beliefs or judge himself by how useful he is to them. He learns that he is worth caring about, worth being friends with or being loved because of who he is-- not what he is, in any regard.

[SIDENOTE: Many players, myself included, are frustrated that Danse’s arc leaves off sort of midstream there. Due to the open-ended nature of the game, we don’t get a real conclusion to his arc-- even though much of his idle dialogue doesn’t change and he still espouses pro-BoS sentiments ( an unfortunate by-product of writing for a video game) there is every indication that he’s started down the right path, but understandably has a ways to go.

Also, Peter Jessop agrees with us.]

Meanwhile, in the Elder ending, Danse doesn’t get a redemption. His entire character arc, actually, hits the skids and does a total 180.

He never leaves the BoS. So scratch the need for Danse to ever think about himself as separate from them. He never needs to question what they’ve taught him or whether they’re right or wrong. He never needs to find any worth in himself beyond his use to the BoS. Why would he? He might be the Elder. The BoS is all he needs to care about anymore. The BoS is all he ever needs to be, ever again.

And I think, most horrifying of all, this Danse never needs to change his mind about synths. On the contrary, one of the surviving dialogue files includes Danse’s speech to reassure the rest of the BoS of his stance:

Danse: I want to make one thing clear to everyone. This body might be synth, but my heart and mind belong to the Brotherhood. The Institute is still a tremendous threat to the Commonwealth. They possess technologies that need to be confiscated or destroyed. And even if that means I have to pull the trigger on my own kind, I’m willing to make that sacrifice.

Elder ending Danse doesn’t grow more understanding on the nature of synths. He doesn’t accept that synths are people, or anything more than technology run amok. He won’t even accept that for himself. Elder Maxson wasn’t wrong about synths-- they’re the enemy and they need to be destroyed.

But, see, he was wrong about Danse. It’s okay for Danse to exist in spite of his nature. It’s okay for him to never fully accept his own personhood, and to outright deny it to his kind. Because his body is a machine, but he’s different from the rest because his heart and mind belong to the Brotherhood.

He’s the exception, not the example.

CONCLUSION:

The Elder ending of Blind Betrayal is dumb, contrived, stakeless, character-derailing powergaming crap at its finest and I’ll happily dance on its grave.

People give Bethesda a lot a shit for their writing-- whether it be stuff they left out, stuff they left in, or stuff that they never, ever could have made work due to the limitations of writing for a video game. Plenty of it is well-deserved, or at least worth a discussion. But from the minute I found out about its existence, I have always wanted to extend a congratulations to Bethesda for cutting the alternate Elder ending of Blind Betrayal. It was a good choice. A very good choice to cut a very dumb plot that would have fundamentally altered the story they were telling, and characters that I’ve grown to love. I think the writers deserve some credit and a hearty handshake for the wisdom of this decision.

Now as for why Nick Valentine isn’t romanceable--

#fallout 4 #fallout meta #paladin danse #arthur maxson #blind betrayal #this one was a long time coming #any thematic resemblance to any fics of mine is a coincidence #the blind betrayal manifesto #king shit of fuck mountain #the initial intrigue of the idea wears off if you think about it more than not at all

294 notes · View notes

princeescaluswords · 3 years

Note

*once more, dons the fancy and stylish hat of fandom logic and dramatically runs on all fours onto stage like Derek Hale* Following fanon criteria of what constitutes a "good alpha", Derek is terrible. You all say yourselves that his repeated awful decisions are "he's trying his BEST!1" and coddling him because he has Trauma. Well, maybe that makes him unfit for the role. Why didn't he kill Kate? How hard could it be for a superior born werewolf to kill a human? Murder is the best choice right? Shouldn't he have also sensed that Deaton wasn't a werewolf, let alone a Alpha, like how he sneered at Scott for using his smell at lacrosse practice? Shouldn't Derek have a sacred, special connection to the Hale alpha spark and sensed it inside Peter? Why can't this incompetent 20 something do ANYTHING right?

Competence has always been a red herring, for both the production and the fandom.

The production used it as a red herring in a positive way, highlighting that true strength and heroism comes from your motives and methods and not the final result. Yes, part of the subversiveness of Teen Wolf is that it rejects a staple of the urban fantasy/horror genre, saying that the end does not justify the means. Scott isn't the True Alpha because he'll destroy those who threaten his loved ones or pass judgment on those who don't agree with him, he's the True Alpha because ... well, let's go to the tape for some examples.

In Venomous (2x05):

Derek: I don't know why you think you have to protect everyone now, Scott, but even so, Lydia has killed people and she's gonna do it again, and next time, it's gonna be one of us.

Scott: What if you're wrong?

In Currents (3x07):

Deaton: It's rare. It's something that doesn't happen within 100 years, but every once in a while a beta can become an Alpha without having to steal or take that power. They call it a true Alpha. It's one who rises purely on the strength of the character, by virtue, by sheer force of will.

In Illuminated (3x16):

Ethan: You don't get it, do you? Scott doesn't care about power. He cares about people. You want to be a wolf in his pack? Try being a human in high school.

In Monstrous (4x10):

Meredith: He's the alpha. He's always been the alpha. He'll make it right. It never was with us. Too many people died because of us. We're the monsters. Even Banshees. Even me.

Lydia: I don't believe that. Not all monsters do monstrous things.

Meredith: Like who?

Lydia: Like Scott.

In Strange Frequencies (5x07):

Theo: If Scott really gave up on you for some piece of crap like Donovan, then he wouldn't be a True Alpha, would he?

Stiles: Or maybe that's the definition of one, someone who doesn't put up with murder.

In Apotheosis (5x20):

Kira: Me again. I have to leave. But I'm coming back to help. I promise. Because you're right, Scott. If anyone's going to save Mason, it's you. It's us.

In Pressure Test (6x05):

Tierney: Why do you care anyway?

Theo: Oh, I don't. But you should find Scott McCall. He's got a thing for taking in strays.

Again and again, Scott places the most value on each and every individual life, regardless of who it is and what it means in the grand scheme of things, and that is how he changes the world. Notice that this has nothing to do with whether he succeeds or not. In the show, he's not the strongest, or the smartest, or the best speaker, or the best tracker, or the most skilled fighter. People -- a lot of people -- still die as he struggles to defeat the villains. He does, however, care for others -- even Peter who transformed and violated him, even Chris Argent who hunted him, even Derek who manipulated him and beat him, even Deucalion who tried to reshape Scott into his image, even Stiles who lied to him and betrayed him, even Liam and Theo who worked together to murder him.

And, much to the show's credit, they didn't have Scott doing this effortlessly, implying that it's an innate function or Chosen-One destiny. Scott had moments of anger, of resentment, of ruthlessness, or giving in to the urge to win at any cost. In order for Teen Wolf to make its point, Scott had to be shown as just as capable of being a goal-oriented prick as any other character. That's why they had him threaten Gerard as he did, why they had him toss Isaac into a wall, why he dreamed of murdering Liam, and why he lied to Kira and violated Corey. The show didn't want to imply that only special people are capable of this feat, that he was somehow unique in the world, but that he chose to be this way.

And, parts of the fandom, as parts of the fandom always do, performed a nose-plant into the dirt to allow this point -- telegraphed so often -- to wiz right on past their head.

You see, the show -- much to my personal irritation -- allowed individuals like Peter to be successful. After all, Peter killed everyone involved with the Hale fire. He resurrected himself. He escaped Eichen House and the Wild Hunt. He discovered his daughter and forcibly inserted himself into her life. He ended the show having reclaimed his families legacy with his freedom and wealth intact.

But we will always know that he ended the series in such a positive position because of Scott. Just as Derek was able to change the way he approached the world, was able to move past his trust issues and put to rest his demons because of Scott. Just as Theo was able to find a new way to live because of Scott. As Chris Argent did. As Lydia did. Scott's leadership was, to use a phrase, transformative.

And yes, I hear the anti-Scott white-power Machiavellian wannabes grinding their teeth in outrage. There's scene after scene of text -- and not invented subtext -- which makes that the point of the show. They'll choke on it before they can bring themselves to admit it.

#scott mccall #true alpha #scott mccall defense squad #teen wolf fandom problems #teen wolf meta

58 notes · View notes

nashibirne · 3 years

Text

DESPERADO - 3

Helen and August are back. Sorry it took me a while to write the next chapter but our holidays got in the way of writing. Anyway, here it is and it's getting a little steamy. I somehow struggled with writing the smut this time, it was somewhat hard to find the right balance in their dynamics but I think it turned out fine in the end. I hope you like it, too. As you know, writers live off validation, so comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated 💜

Pairing: Augut Walker x OFC (Helen Nichols)

Summary: August has survived the fight with Ethan Hunt and the fall from the cliff. A few lucky coincidences saved his life and he ends up with a woman that saves him and gives him shelter in her little hermit hut. He is at a turning point in his life. What is he going to do?

Word count: ~ 3.1 k

Warnings: Description of injuries, smut, NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, oral sex (f and m receiving), vaginal sex

NO BETA! English is not my mother tongue, so expect bad grammar, wrong spelling, chaotic punctuation and clumsy language. All mistakes are mine…

Credits: I don’t own August Walker and anything related to MI:Fallout. Pics for the moodboard from pinterest, face claim Helen: Rooney Mara

You can find parts 1 and 2 and my other fics on my masterlist.

Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfan @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84 @sillyrabbit81 @emelinelovesjc

Let's go...

***************

Desperado

Oh, you ain't gettin' no younger

Your pain and your hunger

They're drivin' you home

Freedom, oh freedom

Well that's just some people talkin'

Your prison is walkin' through this world all alone

From Desperado by The Eagles, Lyrics: Don Henley, Glenn Frey

"She's dead. She died in an accident. She was gone. I stayed."

No matter how hard August tried to find out more about Allison, there was no way to make Helen tell him anything else but these simple basics. She'd worked hard on building a protective wall around that part of her heart and her mind, she had closed off the grief and the feeling of guilt and she wasn't willing to hand over the key to her memories to a random stranger who was lying about his identity.

Besides August's futile attempts to pry into Helen's past the next two weeks were quite harmonious. While Helen had decided to ignore the fact that Austin Peters was a fake persona to avoid any kinds of complications, August had decided to accept the inevitable and to be a nice houseguest and he grudgingly let Helen take care of him. They soon got used to the fact that her help made them share pretty intimate moments and August had a hard time granting her access to his personal space, letting her literally touch him everywhere when she had to treat his wounds or help him get dressed and undressed, but he also watched her blush and shy away from him with fiendish joy.

It made him feel better about his face that his body obviously still had a significant effect on Helen and he couldn't deny that seeing her running around in her underwear or imagining her standing in the shower naked had a certain effect on him too. And it wasn't only physical, he really started to like her. She was smart and tough but also witty and cheeky sometimes, and it was hard for him to admit to himself that he enjoyed her company. Stockholm syndrome for sure, he tried to tell himself but in the back of his mind he knew the truth.

He had no idea that Helen felt the same and that her aloof manner was mostly facade. Behind the mask of indifference she was growing warm feelings for him. Warm, foolish, irrational feelings for a man she actually knew nothing about and who was involved in an FBI investigation. She blamed her hunger for interpersonal interactions and warmth that resulted from her self-chosen isolation for these surfacing emotions and did her best to ignore them.

What was really bothering Helen most after only a few days was the sleeping situation. Despite the fact that the there-is-only-one-bed-trope was everything from hot to romantic in theory it was only leading to back pain in reality. August kept on offering to sleep on the couch but she wouldn't let him. He needed a comfortable place to sleep and her sofa was hardly big enough for her. A tall man like him wouldn't be able to get a wink of sleep on it. So after 14 nights she decided to do something about it. She had made a call in the morning, August had heard her muffled voice from the kitchen when he was in the bathroom, and now a car was driving up to the hut. He started to panic.

"Who's that?"

He looked at Helen and she gave him a shrug.

"A friend. He's bringing me a folding bed, called him this morning. I'm not going to survive another night on the couch."

A car door was slammed shut with a thud and foot steps were coming closer to the front door.

"He can't come in, Helen", August whispered, giving her a pleading glance. She raised an eyebrow.

"Why's that?"

"He mustn't see me. Please."

Helen eyed him up and down and when it knocked August held his breath, his heart racing. She turned to the door without another word and August grabbed a large knife from the knife block before hiding in the corner of the room that wasn't visible from the entrance. Helen flinched when she realized that he'd armed himself but after taking a deep breath she opened the door with a nonchalant smile.

"Naseer. Hi. That was quick."

"Hi Helen. Yeah, it sounded urgent on the phone and you can't sleep in a broken bed so I thought I better bring you the folding bed as soon as possible."

August tried to imagine the man who belonged to the pleasant, warm voice. His English was very good but he clearly wasn't a native speaker. Someone from the village he guessed. From the village he would have erased without batting an eyelid just two weeks ago. His stomach twisted at the thought and it filled him with anger that he seemed to evolve something like a conscience lately.

"That's really kind of you."

He could hear the smile in Helen's voice.

"Let me help you unload it."

"No, I'll go and get it. Just tell me where to put it."

"Just put it here on the porch. I'll take care of it later."

Naseer gave Helen a funny look and she knew he was thinking she was acting strange but she could hardly let him walk inside the hut where August was awaiting him with a knife. She watched her only friend walk to his truck, grabbing the bed from the loading space and carrying it to the house.

"It's no problem to carry it inside", he said when he was standing in front of Helen again. "I could also fix your bed. I built it, it shouldn't be hard to replace a broken part."

He built it? The guy built Helen's bed? August started to wonder what kind of friend he was and why the question bothered him so much.

"No! No, that won't be necessary, Naseer."

Christ, woman, don't talk so fast. Her nervousness was showing in her voice and August was worried he might really have to use that fucking knife.

"Really, it's fine...I'm quite busy right now. In the middle of a creative phase...you know...kissed by the muse."

Good girl, back on track. August's heart rate went back to normal.

"You're working on your book again? That's great, Hel."

Hel? He rolled his eyes, annoyed and impatient.

"Yeah, it really is. My agent is pretty relieved too, my writer's block made him quite nervous. But I'm working almost non-stop on it...so yeah."

She shrugged with a sheepish grin, feeling terrible for lying to him.

"Is that why you needed all those supplies? Because you don't want to leave for grocery shopping in the next few weeks? Your truck was loaded when we met the other day."

"Exactly."

"I see...well…"

"Yeah…"

"I better get going then. Let you work in peace…"

"Thanks for stopping by, Naseer."

"Anytime. You know you can always call me when something's wrong or when you need help, right?"

"Of course." Her laugh sounded fake and nervous and for a moment she thought Naseer was going to ask her what was going on but he only gave her a worried look before he left. Helen let out a long sigh of relief, turned around and closed the door behind her.

"He's gone. You can put that away." She pointed at the knife August clung to, her eyes shooting daggers at him.

"What?" He looked at her angrily, putting the knife back in the knife block. "I just wanted to be prepared."

Helen let out a snort. "For what? Naseer attacking an injured stranger?"

"I don't know him."

"But I do. He's a friend and you made me act rude without a reason."

"A friend, huh? Hel?" August said in a mocking tone wiggling his eyebrows. He tried to be cheeky and make her laugh to ease the tension but he knew it was a stupid move as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Yes. A friend. Austin."

She was still being deadly serious and stressed his false name pointedly crossing her arms in front of her chest. August didn't know what to say or do to keep the situation from escalating so he just shrugged.

"Fine."

"Fine? That's all you have to say? For fucks sake...tell me why you didn't want Naseer to see you. Explain to me why you armed yourself with a knife, hiding in a dark corner of my house. My fucking house, goddamn…in which you found shelter..." She was furious now and he made a step towards her, his hands raised up in surrender. "Okay, listen, Helen."

"I'm all ears."

"As I said, it was just taking precautions. I'm a mistrustful person, made some bad experiences in the past and got hurt too often."

"Bullshit." She shook her head. "Don't try to tug at my heartstrings. Just tell me the truth."

August took a deep breath, he was getting frustrated and annoyed by her insistence.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just can't, okay? Let's just leave it at that or…"

“Or what? Are you going to kill me?”

Her voice was full of sarcasm but her eyes showed him that a part of her was scared of him, wondering what he was capable of. The logical answer to her question would have been yes. His answer should have been yes, but when he said no, when he denied it, August meant it. He wasn't going to kill her nor would he ever hurt her.

“No, but I still can’t tell you.”

She could tell by the expression on his face that he was torn. He wanted to open up to her, but he felt like he couldn't.

“Just give me something. A little part of the truth to help me understand who you are, where you’re coming from and what you`re up to."

“That’s not so easy, Helen. You might not like what you’re going to hear.”

He gave her a shrug and something that was supposed to be a smile.

“I don’t care. August.”

He blinked repeatedly. “Sorry?”

“Yes...August.” She rolled her eyes. “I know that you've been lying to me from day one."

He got up and started to pace the hut, still hobbling a little, though his ankle was much better. He wasn’t really worried just debating with himself. After a while he stopped by the window, staring outside. “You're right. My name is August. August Walker.”

"Thanks, but I already know that much", Helen snapped.

"How did you find out about my name?" He asked as calmly as his fluttering nerves allowed it, turning around to look her in the eyes.

"Why did you lie to me?" Helen threw him a challenging look.

"How much do you know?" August was not willing to leave his questions unanswered.

"Why. Did. You. Lie. To. Me?" Helen shouted at him.

"It's none of your fucking business", he yelled back.

Helen laughed out loud.

"It's none of my business? Are you kidding me? I saved you. I let you stay in my house, sleep in my bed, I treat your wounds, I take care of you, give you shelter, I've helped you in every possible way, no matter how many of my personal boundaries have been transgressed and now you're seriously telling me that it's none of my business that you've lied to me all this fucking time?"

"I've never asked for your help."

His voice was calm, his facial expression blank and stern but his eyes were blazing with emotion. His stare was so intense it made Helen shiver.

"You ungrateful ass", she whispered, stunned by his audacity. "You took all I had to give without saying thank you only once. And now you're…"

He was right in front of her with two big strides, his lips crashing on hers with unexpected passion. Helen was too surprised to think about her reaction. She instinctively kissed him back, granting him access, letting him deepen the kiss, allowing his hands to explore her body. 60 seconds later she was in control of herself again. She pushed him away, staring at him dumbfounded.

"Shit. What are you doing?"

"Expressing my gratitude."

He gave her an outrageously sexy smirk and it took Helen just a split second to grab him by his shirt and pull him close again to kiss him feverishly. She wanted him. She wanted him badly. She wanted him now.

August pressed her against the wall with his huge body, caressing her tits through her clothes while kissing her neck. She moaned and started to tug at his shirt. He took it off in a hurry and Helen got rid of her top and bra. When they kissed again she let her hands run over his chest gently, making sure not to hurt him. She pulled away and looked at him, at his scarred face that was still so handsome now that the wounds were healing and the swelling had gone down around his eye. August averted his eyes, burying his head in the crook of her neck again, withdrawing from her gaze.

"Turn around", he mumbled, taking her by her waist.

She did what he asked her to do but when she heard him fumble with his belt and the sound of his pants hitting the floor behind her back, when his hands tried to pull down her sweatpants impatiently, she turned around again. She reached up and cupped his face with her tiny hands, running her thumb tenderly over his burnt skin.

"Listen, August. This is not going to be a quickie, okay? You want to express your gratitude? Great. I like this. But do it properly. Fuck me rough, if you want to, fuck me hard, but don't you dare to hide from me. Look at me. Kiss me. Give me the feeling of being wanted. Pretend it's more than just some kind of job."

He looked at her with an unreadable expression, hesitating for a moment. He opened his mouth but instead of saying something he pressed his lips together with a nod. Helen smiled at him before stripping naked slowly.

When he kissed her again he took his time, enjoying the sensation of holding her naked body close to his now. She was surprised by his tenderness, by his gentle touch and the delicate kisses he covered her body with and blown away by the passion that soon erupted from deep within him. It was just a small step from long, slow kisses to making out like two hungry predators.

He lifted her up easily and carried her to her bed where he laid her down on her back carefully. He climbed between her legs and looked at her.

"Ready to get fucked like never before?"

She smirked. "Big words. I hope you're not all mouth."

"You don't like my mouth?" He started to kiss her belly, licking her skin, leaving a wet trace that led down south where his tongue met her soft pubic hair.

"I love your mouth."

Helen moaned when he kissed her pussy and parted her folds with his tongue.

"Yeah? You like my tongue too?"

He started to tongue fuck her and she grabbed his head, pressing his face closer to her sex.

"Shut up and eat me out."

She threw her head back when sucked on her clit.

"Oh fuck…" She moved her hips slowly to the rhythm of his actions, rolling them with intense motions, burying her fingers in his thick, curly hair. "Just like this...yes."

Her moans got louder and louder and his dick was so hard it hurt, leaking precum. He knew she was about to come but she stopped him before she climaxed.

"Lay down", she ordered and so they switched positions. August had always been a dominant lover but being bossed around by her was a great turn on. He loved how determined she was, it was incredibly sexy how she was chasing her high, not even trying to hide that she wanted to fulfil her own needs most of all. She was starved, desperately in need of this, of him. In this moment she needed him, she wanted him, she allowed him to give her what she was craving.

Helen was kneeling between his legs now, grabbing his dick. "I love your cock too." She grinned at him before she started to suck him off with a devotion that was new to him.

She turned him into a whimpering, panting mess soon, her lips and her tongue working their magic on his dick, and just like her, he grabbed her head to have some kind of control over her actions. He made her take him deeper and she took him deeper.

"Good girl. Taking me so well."

His voice was raspy and she locked eyes with him, her gaze telling him that she liked to be praised. August groaned when she slowly pulled back, licking his length one last time.

"Fuck, Helen...I need to feel you."

"I'll make you feel me."

Saliva was dripping from her swollen lips and he almost got off just by the sight of it. His saviour, his saint had turned into a shameless whore and he was willing to worship and adore her for being his dirty, little slut.

"Yes, you will."

He grabbed her by her waist and pulled her onto his cock. She sighed with pleasure when he entered her tight cunt, stretching her wet pussy and as soon as she got used to his size she started to ride him, rolling her hips slowly in a rhythm that was giving them both the greatest pleasure. August stroked her tits, caressed and kneaded them and she supported her body with her hands on his chest. She picked up speed and when August pinched her nipple she came with a hoarse shriek, her whole body trembling with ecstasy and lust.

Helen bent down to kiss him and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly while thrusting his hips. He fucked her without restraint now, his thrusts hard, fast and deep. He railed her mercilessly until his intense orgasm swept him away. He let out a long, satisfied moan and loosened his grip on her body.

He kissed her again but she seemed to be in a rush suddenly and rolled off him and went to the bathroom. August was kind of surprised and sobered to a certain degree when he heard that she was taking a shower. She either couldn't stand after-sex-cuddles in general or she really thought that he had just done her a favor to thank her for her hospitality.

He wondered how many times he would have to fuck her till she was willing to fall asleep in his arms afterwards.

*****

#henry cavill #cavillry #henry cavill fandom #august walker smut #august walker #august walker fanfiction #august walker x ofc

101 notes · View notes

hobipaint · 3 years

Text

Graffiti and Chalk - one.

summary: You thought you knew him. You thought him gone. Kim Taehyung was part of you that you had carefully suppressed, keeping his memories to one box near the wall of your mind. That was your fault, though - empty walls demand for art. And who other than your own neighbourhood vandal?

↳ pairing: ex police student turned vandal! taehyung x officer! female reader

↳ genres: angst, eventual fluff?

↳ word count: 4.7K

↳ disclaimers: pg15!, vandalism, police officers, criminal past and heavy discussion of it, mentions of attempted murder.

one | two

a/n: this was supposed to be a one shot, but i decided to make it a two shot because inspiration struck at the twelfth hour. This is based on stigma tae, and has massive massive references to hyyh tae as well!! I'm warning you all. Written for the @bangtanwritingbingo prompt: chalk drawings. Beta read by @vaekth and @kookiestarlight who are possibly the most supportive and appreciative people I could have asked for, thank you so much!!

You'd thought that being an officer would mean solving cases for people who genuinely needed help. Not hunting around for a missing pumpkin.

"It's round, large, and I think it was slightly squishy, Y/N," the kid who had run up to you exclaimed again, while making gestures for round, large and squishy.

If the kid weren't this adorable, you'd squish him for being too loud at 8 in the morning.

You unlocked the door to your office, taking in the sight of the homey little cubicle that you maintained alone. Being the sole officer in a neighbourhood should be hard work, but in a neighbourhood where practically everybody is asleep? Not as much.

You sighed as you pulled the kid in - who by now had told you that his name was Sungwoo, and he was eight years old. His mother told him that if he ever lost anything precious he should head to the police, so here he was.

"Can you find my pumpkin?" He peered up at you as you tried to get the coffee machine started- well, as well as you can with a kid in the way. "It's round, large and squishy."

"Round, large, squishy. Got it." You smiled wearily at him, seeing how his eyes lit up at the sight of your notebook- the one he obviously thought you wrote your cases in. You took your espresso in a mug, running over to him before he damaged it. He ran over to it, picking it up, dropping it because of its weight and picking it up again.

"Can you write a message for Peter here?" He asked you, eyes wide and round as he stared at the brown leather bound book.

"Peter? I thought we were talking about your pumpkin?"

He nodded vigorously- strong enough to make you worry if his head would fall over. Flopping his hair to the side messily, he scampered to you as you settled in your chair, opening the last page of your book - where you had kept your post-its. "Peter is pumpkin! It's made of something- mom told me-" he put a hand to his head, trying to force his small head to think of big words, "Is it pushy?"

"Do you mean it is a plushie, Sungwoo?" You said, sighing and writing it down on a post-it note and sticking it on your desk.

"Yeah!" His eyes sparkled, and he bent his head down to the paper you gave him to scribble a hasty note for Peter. Once satisfied, he raised his head, giving the chit two pats before turning to you. "It's missing, Y/N. Can you find it?"

"Of course I can," you reassured him the best you could while half-asleep. The boy suddenly pulled you into a hug, happy tears spilling out of his eyes as he murmured thank you's over and over.

You held him for a few more seconds, understanding the worry that the kid would have over his plushie. You didn't understand why he had to bring it to you, though.

You felt a soft yet insistent buzz in your pant pockets all of a sudden, realizing it was your phone. You pulled yourself away from the crying child, and caressed his head while picking up the call.

"Good morning, Officer L/N." The coarse voice of your chief barked at you.

You sighed, not wanting to deal with any of his tantrums right after you dealt with the case of Peter the Pumpkin. "Good morning, Chief."

"I'm arriving at your office in about ten minutes. We have to discuss something important."

You sighed again, hand grabbing Sungwoo's as you led him outside the office. Time to clean up. "Of course, Sir."

"Why is this place so messy?" was the first thing you had to hear in the form of a greeting. When your chief said ten minutes, he clearly meant half an hour.

You'd spent some time clearing up cookie crumbs from your table, dusting any evidence of your multiple ramen packets, arranging the tables in proper order, lining the chairs up, and stuffing all the stuff you couldn't clear into a closet. It seemed clean enough to you.

"I shall clean it, Sir." You bowed your head once, carefully maintaining your expression so that the chief doesn't think of you as any more insolent than he already does.

"It doesn't reflect well upon the force to have a messy office, Y/N. I'm sure you were taught that," he said, pressing his finger to a certain spot on a table, and raising it up to show you. "Dust in our offices speaks of nonchalance. That is the last thing we'd want anyone to think of us is that we're nonchalant."

"I apologise, sir. I shall rectify it."

"I expect you to. Anyways," he said, dusting his hands and moving to another corner of the office, "that is not what I came here for." He settled into the chair- your chair, with the note for Peter the Pumpkin intact.

You prayed for him to ignore it.

"There's been growing signs of vandalism in the neighbourhood you're patrolling, Y/N," The chief said to you in a gruff tone, looking like an angry cat with his whiskers trembling. He wore a scowl to match the whole look. Luckily, his pondering eyes missed out on the missing pumpkin report. "I want you to catch that person. Why isn't it done yet?"

"They were untraceable, Sir. All we could capture was a navy blue hoodie and jeans. Nothing else. There's only graffiti and chalk all over the places he's been at, Sir. I tried looking for clues-"

"Keep looking, then."

"I'm trying, sir. I have asked the owners of all the shops on the street to hand over any CCTV footage they have of the person so that I can analyze it and try to nab him. It is a futile task till now, though."

The chief rubbed his hand hard on his thigh, the sound of his palm scratching against the coarse trouser fabric reaching you. "They are being a menace, Y/N. A nuisance to those who want peace in this neighbourhood. You are supposed to bring that peace for them, not complain about not being able to get that person. That is your job." He looked you directly in the eye, anger clearly visible. "Or would you wish to leave?"

You twitched in anger, forcing yourself to remain calm. The chief had a penchant for transferring those who were unsuccessful in their cases to different stations- the more transfers, the more incompetent you seemed. You had already begun at a relatively low level, and you couldn't afford going lower. You nodded stiffly.

"Any more complaints, and I'd be forced to transfer you somewhere else and hand this case over to someone competent. And you know it wouldn't be safe for your career, Y/N." He rose up from the chair, heading towards the door. "I want it resolved. Soon."

You bowed your head, in a sense of respect for your senior you'd actually never felt. It was annoying, honestly, and your hatred for this man just grew more and more. You had requested since the day of your graduation from the academy to be put in the forensics department - something that actually was your specialty. But no, here you were, patrolling a neighbourhood where the only problem was a kid scribbling on walls and leaving an alphabet behind.

Taehyung kicked a pebble aside, letting it roll aimlessly along the half-paved, half-broken road. "I'm out of green paint, again."

He glanced at the aluminium shutters he had decided to vandalize- no, beautify- today, deciding that the subtle decor of the florist's shop and the grim outside of the tattoo shop - both needed redecorations. He didn't care who was the owner. He didn't care how many reports they filed about the eerie similarities of the vandal to Mrs. Kim's son - they never cared about him before, so they'd never care about him now. That, he was sure of.

His red paint had been used to make the outer petals of a rose that he had dedicatedly been drawing the previous day, until the owner had yelled from his house above for him to stop. That was early, though. 11 AM was a predictable time for a vandal to walk through the streets, spraying graffiti and dusting chalk over every nook and corner until he was satisfied by the art he had created.

His wristwatch ticked three as he picked up his blue paint can. Just a few hours later, but effective enough for the owner to have fallen asleep - Taehyung could definitely justify that by the snores that echoed behind the shutters.

"Reporting. Reporting. Vandal. Street 13. I repeat. Vandal. Street 13."

The cuckoo clock that your mom had gifted you to decorate the less than neat office struck three just when the report came through. Just when you were about to settle for the night.

You pushed your papers aside, leaving the missing car complaint on your table. Holding your baton, slipping your ID into the pocket of your jeans and dusting crumbs off your chiffon blouse, you picked up the radio.

"Street 13. Officer Y/N reporting."

The gruff voice of your chief growled back at you. "The vandal has been found on camera, finally. The florist's CCTV; he sent a complaint. In fact, he's been wandering the streets for half an hour now, Y/N. Where have you been?"

You were about to form a legible enough response, say that the paperwork he had set for you was what consumed your time, but he beat you to it. Sighing into the phone, he said, "Nevermind that. Get to his location immediately, and capture him." His voice stumbled for a second. "Take the taser, just in case."

"Yes sir," you responded meekly, and disconnected the radio.

You looked around for your keys, going past a board full of cases that were never relevant enough to be solved - especially the one of the missing pumpkin. The types of cases you received here made you shudder, this wasn't why you had spent so much time training at the university. You tucked your radio into your jacket as you pushed it on your shoulders, grabbing onto a half-eaten sandwich to satisfy your hunger along the way.

"I have to get that person before he robs me of a chance at the forensics department forever," you thought while speeding towards the location told to you - while maintaining the speed limit, of course. No space for nonchalance.

You'd wanted to finish all your paperwork today and get back to an analysis you were working on - preferably get a nap too. Capturing a neighbourhood graffiti artist- this isn't what you had wanted to do.

This wasn't what Taehyung had wanted to do.

The paint dried off slowly on the metal surface, a small drop of ink trickling down where Taehyung had stopped. The design wasn't matching what he had thought at all, he thought as he stared at it. Time to switch it up.

He picked up the painting from right where he had stopped it - merging blue into the red petals as he was on his way to the centre of the flower. Painstakingly, he traced lines that would capture the delicate curves of the outlines, serving to further merge into the picture.

His vandalism wasn't ugly drawings, nudity, or someone just spraying 'SUCKAZ!' all over a wall. That is for amateurs. His was nuanced art. Art that he couldn't do in the day. The ones he could never showcase in the galleries. The ones he buried in the deepest recesses of his mind, burning a hole into the boxes he stuffed them into. This was his freedom.

Taehyung picked up the black can. Fixing the nozzle in the proper direction, he shook the bottle- once, twice. The paint came out in spurts at first, before settling into a steady spray. Black always enhances everything, doesn't it? Enhancement that never seemed beautiful - it was just there to make it stand out. Be noticed. Be shamed. Be suspected. Look deadly, or even look dead. Even the most innocent faces look devious with black. What's to say his flower would still look alive?

The black slowly spiralled across the expanse of the shutter, coiling over and over in what Taehyung thought could be the leaves. The thorns that held the flower back from reaching the epitome of beauty- at least, outwardly beauty. He detested how overhyped a rose was- just as destructible as all other flowers. Where's the beauty in something temporary?

The green paint can had been used up last time when he had sprayed ivy all over the fashion boutique's doors- all of which had been washed away. A shame, Taehyung thought, and picked up his airbrush. Filling a little green into the small holder, he tested it a few times on the footpath - he'd scrub chalk all over it later on, he still needed to add more to beautify the shops. He carefully painted leaves all over the black he had sprayed, letting them flatten out against the metal at the back and form a protective layer around the rose. Unnecessary by all means.

He then switched to a darker green, picking up the airbrush once again to add some subtlety in the leaves. He watched the spray slowly settle right where he wanted it - paint, unlike his life, was something he had full control of. It was liberating.

Standing back and twirling the can over and over in his hand, Taehyung was somewhat satisfied with what he made. A rose. Simple, overrated. Just like flowers. The leaves stood out more to him, along with the thorns; their prickly points being the focus of the picture. Perfect.

He picked up his personal favorite - a small can of black paint who's nozzle had been crafted by him. Stooping down to the corner of the shutter, he slowly sprayed across it. Black settling on silver gray, one single alphabet. V.

That's it. He was done. Just an hour's work.

He turned to the tattoo artist's shop, the shutter a colourful mess littered with messy black stains and drawings the owner probably thought was hip. Taehyung cringed. How was it possible for an artist to be that bad at decorating their own shop? He walked a few steps back, admiring the size of it and thinking of what he could fill there. Something that would really annoy a tattoo artist- he deserved it after having ruined the shutter like that. Picking up a blade, Taehyung set to scrape away the skulls- which, he found, were stickers. Gross. Peeling them off, he set to chip away at the paint- the soft thunk, thunk of the blade slapping against the metal echoed around him. Hopefully, not too loud.

The metal loudly protested as Taehyung pressed his blade against what seemed to be an outline of a body, done with black, and some random inscriptions that he could notice were wearing away. This had to be really old.

Scratch, scratch, scratch. The blade kept pushing at the layers of colour, forcing them off the metal. He could see glints of silver shining underneath it, dim under the streetlight.

Scratch, scratch, scratch. He kept pushing at the paint, tongue poking out as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He had to do it now. There was no other time for him to do this. Now. Now. Now.

The silver suddenly glinted more brightly- a shade impossible under the dull, flickering yellow of the streetlights. White lights created a halo of sorts around him, and Taehyung knew his time was up. He smiled. At least one place got the beauty they deserved.

"Hands up!" A voice yelled behind him, and he could hear a click that definitely sounded like a taser gun.

Looking up, he cursed loudly at everyone and anyone. He could have finished it tonight. His work would have been done, and he would have been on his way. He turned around, annoyance sparking in his eyes with sarcastic acceptance lining his lips in the way they curled. "You found me," he murmured, before letting himself get slammed against the very shutters he was painting.

Fate played wonderful games, and for now, you were its newest loser.

"Name." You spoke, your voice monotone yet clear.

"You know me, Y/N. Don't pretend you don't." Taehyung crooned, smirking while he rotated the glass that rested atop the table.

Your annoyance only grew. When you were told that there was a vandal in the streets, you didn't expect it to be a familiar face.

Kim Taehyung was known to you. Someone who had lived right next door. Someone who had been known as a lovable, obedient boy by the neighbours- you still remembered how your mother would gush about him. Someone you knew, and once, cared for.

Someone who was later only known as the kid who flung a bottle on his stepfather's face and was sentenced for five years - which, in fact, was a misjudgement. He was innocent, and the video of him attacking the man was manipulated. Fake. Edited. Whatever you chose wouldn't be enough to change anything in the past.

Taehyung had come out of jail a changed man, weeping openly in the streets when he heard of his family's fate- what he had heard, though, was something you were unaware of. Two years had since passed, and you no longer heard your mother talking about the Kim's boy. He had simply vanished, for you. No traces anywhere.

But here he was. Kim Taehyung. Alive, breathing. Smirking. And spinning a glass over and over.

"Give that to me." You said, snatching the glass away from him and keeping it aside. Settling into your chair, you pulled your laptop closer once again, mustering the most serious look you can. "I'm not playing around, Taehyung. Talk properly. Behave. You're already in a rough spot."

Taehyung laughed; a mirthless, almost painful laughter. "I can't see how anything can be bad here, officer. With all due respect, of course." He straightened up, still keeping that smirk on his face.

You exhaled your breath slowly, holding back all the words you wanted to hurl at him. "Name?"

"Kim Taehyung."

You typed it in, feeling the way each letter pad was pushed down before you moved over it- momentary, but fulfilling. "Age."

"As of today, 25."

"Job."

"Nothing. Add the official vandal of Street 13 if you want."

You raised an eyebrow, fingers abruptly coming to a stop. "Behave."

"No job, officer." Taehyung said, settling further ahead in his seat and pausing, before speaking again. "Why do you need this though? I already have a criminal record, don't I?"

You turned your face to him, the sudden change in light exposure hurting your eyes. The hurt they felt couldn't possibly fathom the depths of pain you saw churning in Taehyung's eyes, like pits of fire. They were seemingly blank, but you had known him. Known him long enough to know that this wasn't who he used to be. This wasn't him.

"Once you were proven innocent, your record was wiped clean. The manipulators were given the charges that you had." You looked at him while saying this, trying to notice any emotions that would make way to his face. None. No twitching lips, no annoyance in his eyebrows. Just his eyes that seethed anger. "Family?"

"None."

You raised an eyebrow. "None?"

Taehyung groaned, getting up from the chair and turning around, hands on his waist. "Don't make me repeat all that shit again. You know it, Y/N."

"Sit back down, Taehyung." You said, irritated by his tantrums. It was four in the morning, for God's sake. You didn't have the energy to deal with him. "I need details if you want to get out of this without any charges."

"Dead. Most of them. Those who aren't, disowned me as soon as I got into jail. Something about not wanting to be related to a criminal." He said lowly, a gruff tone to his voice as he spoke the last words.

You hummed lowly, not knowing what to say. How do you possibly respond to something like this? You weren't trained for interrogation at university. You specialized in forensics. This wasn't supposed to be your job.

"I'm sorry that happened, Taehyung." You managed after a few moments of silence.

"Don't be." He shrugged, then looked up. "You don't mean it."

"I still need a reason as to why you are destroying the places around here with your graffiti and chalk drawings, Taehyung." You ignored him and continued, rising from your chair to let your sore limbs relax. "Unfortunately, I can't let you leave till you give me a reason."

Taehyung stayed mum, much to your annoyance.

You slammed your hand on the table, a loud slap that stung your hand, but also Taehyung's ears, it seemed. "Reasons. Now."

"I just wanted to."

"Wanted to? So you were voluntarily damaging someone else's property?"

He raised his head to look at you; once, twice. Then with a resigned sigh, he responded. "Yeah. But I was beautifying it."

"A beautification they never asked for?" You said, as Taehyung groaned behind you.

"No one gives a damn, Y/N-"

"The police do." You say, preparing to send a message to your chief over the radio. "Got him."

"The police didn't care when I was innocent in that case, Y/N. Stop pretending like they'll care for me when I'm actually guilty of something."

"That case was mishandled."

"Yeah, Y/N. It was mishandled. But only for you." You turned to him, shocked at the venom that suddenly laced his voice.

In the few seconds that you had turned away from him, his eyes had turned bloodshot. Red rimmed the remaining white of his eyes. "You wouldn't know what it is to be locked up for harming people you loved, Y/N. You wouldn't understand that pain," he murmured, loud enough for you to hear him in the echoes of the office.

You wanted to scream at him. Tell him how he had hurt you. Remind him of all the things you had forced yourself to forget over seven years. The way your heart still hurt for him.

"You're right. I won't understand. So sit here, and explain yourself." You pulled your chair back, seating yourself in it and gazing up at him expectantly.

He was just staring at you- you couldn't say whether his gaze held expectations or disdain. Then, shaking his head, "You're still just as stubborn, aren't you," he said, softly smiling as he slipped into his chair. "Adamant, and so, so confusing."

"You don't know me anymore, Taehyung. Don't pretend. Anyways," you said, turning to your laptop again. "I need-"

"No." He stood up once again- why was he standing? "Answer me, now."

He rested his arms on the table, chest leaning forward to balance himself- and now, you could see the changes he had brought in himself. In place of lean muscle there were defined biceps you could see being flexed. In place of short hair was curly locks that fell until his crown, now hanging over. In place of a cheeky grin that sent your blood rushing to your cheeks was a pair of lips, set tight in one line that sent chills down your spine. There was warmth to him, yes, but it was different. This wasn't the Taehyung you knew.

"You knew that I was back." Your eyes moved back to look into his. And you noticed more changes. Instead of a carefree twinkle, there was dark, brooding black filling his pupils. "You knew. I'd seen you that night."

The night when you had seen him falling to his knees, soaking himself in the rain as he gave his tears as a tribute to the gushing skies. The night he returned. The night you thought he didn't know you.

"I'd seen you after that as well. That day at the convenience store, I'd seen you buying candies. You still buy the same kind, don't you? Lemon flavoured."

The night you gave up on your dreams to become an analyst in the forensic lab for the police. The night where you stared up to question everything you did as your feet soaked in the snow. Two years ago. The night he thought he knew you.

"You're hurting me by not remembering us, Y/N."

"We were nothing to begin with." You cleared your throat, settling further back into your chair. "You asked me on a date, and stood me up. We're nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Taehyung opened his mouth to speak again, but leaned back, standing tall, straight. You almost missed his warmth - no. This wasn't the warmth of a person you had cared for.

"It's so cold outside, Y/N, why haven't you turned on the heater?" Your chief's voice filled the room after a few minutes of absolute silence. Taehyung had taken to leaning on the wall, now, maintaining an anxious distance. "Did you get the man?"

You simply pointed towards Taehyung, watching the chief's face flash with recognition, brows hastily furrowing as a frown formed on his face.

"Kim Taehyung?" Your chief asked, coming up to the two of you. "Is it really you? Are you the vandal?"

Taehyung remained silent, head hung.

The chief inhaled, then exhaled; loud enough for you to hear him - "It is you, isn't it. What happened after the attempted murder case?"

"Proven false, Sir." You informed your superior. For some odd reason, you felt like you had to come to Taehyung's defense.

"I am aware of that, Y/N." The chief said, looking Taehyung up and down. As reported, he was in the navy blue sweatshirt and ripped jeans- and you could see in the clear light of your office that he had ripped the holes into them himself. Something he did before to look fashionable, he used to say.

"I don't really want to put any charges on you, Taehyung. Why did you do it?"

Taehyung spoke, voice gravelly. "It was liberating, Sir."

"You broke the law, though."

"The law broke me, Sir."

The chief took another deep breath and settled onto the chair where Taehyung was sitting just a few moments ago. His wrinkled skin seemed to age even more. Taehyung was close with the chief as a student, that you knew- you had seen him going multiple times to his office to get clarifications after class. You wondered how the chief felt - did he feel the same sting of recognition you had felt?

"I don't want you to get any charges, Taehyung," he said, before laughing and adding, "all these years, and I still have my student in my head."

He stood up and turned to face Taehyung again, worry reflecting in his eyes as he held him by the shoulders. "You're still the Taehyung I know, right?"

Taehyung looked away, down, his face coming in your line of vision - you could see the small rivulets that flowed from the pool of emotions in his eye, down the lines that worry, anger and disbelief had formed on his face. Sniffing softly, he turned back to the chief. "Yes, Sir."

The chief visibly relaxed, his arms coming down to his sleeves, gripping Taehyung. "Good. I hope it remains that way."

He returned to his stern stance, and faced you. "I suggest you keep him here for the night, Y/N." he looked outside, the sky just turning sapphire. "I shall return in the morning to talk. Get some rest while you're at it. And Taehyung? Eat something."

The chief swiftly departed the office, and Taehyung slumped into the chair. "Seven years, and the old man still remembers me," he laughed mirthlessly, lips twisting in an amused smile. "Always appreciated him."

"And so did he," you mentioned. Taehyung was always brought up as a comparison for your batch of officers to emulate. Even when he was in jail, he was remembered among you as a diligent student and worker. "'Remember his good', he used to say. He always remembered you."

"And you?" He suddenly looked at you. His eyes were no longer bloodshot - there were small remnants of anger, but all you could see was wistfulness. "Did you remember me, Y/N?"

a/n: yup, I stopped there. Do leave some feedback if you liked it- in the comments, or as an ask! Also, if you wish to be tagged for the next part, you can ask for that too! Thank you for giving your time to this fic,, and I hope you enjoyed reading it! love, hazel💞

masterlist

116 notes · View notes

up-to-some-good · 3 years

Text

Part 5: 5 times I fixed it...

“Mr and Mrs Potter,” Dumbledore started. “I’m afraid I have some bad news regarding the prophecy.”

Lily had had a bad feeling when he had pulled them out of the meeting early to talk. They had heard about the prophecy a month ago, but at that point it was between her baby and Alice’s, both born at the end of July.

“He thinks it’s about Harry,” she said.

She thought of her son. He was with James’s parents at Potter manor while they were at the meeting. He had been asleep when they left for headquarters. It was hard to believe there was a target on his back.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore responded.

James took a sharp breath and pulled Lily’s into his lap, squeezing her fingers. He reached for her whenever he needed comfort; every time he found out about another casualty, he pulled her into his arms. It was a comfort to both of them, but it didn’t work this time.

“What do we do?” James asked quietly.

“I believe you should go into hiding,” Dumbledore said. “Are you aware of the Fidelius charm?”

“Yes,” Lily said. “You conceal the secret of your location in another person. You cannot be found unless that person chooses to divulge the secret, but it cannot be coerced or otherwise forced out.”

“Correct,” the old man said, his eyes twinkling.

For a moment, Lily felt like she was back at Hogwarts, answering her Professors’ questions to win back the house points the man sitting next to her had lost.

“I suggest you use it to hide your family, until all is safe,” Dumbledore said calmly.

“All due respect, Albus,” a voice came from the door. “But that is a terrible idea.”

Professor McGonagall walked into the room and passed each of the Potters a biscuit from the tray downstairs. Dumbledore gave her an indecipherable look.

“We all know there is a spy in the Order,” she continued. “You cannot guarantee the person you choose will not betray you and, even if they do not, they could be found and killed or tortured until they revealed the location.”

“What do you suggest, Professor?” Lily asked.

“Leave the country,” she said simply. “Go somewhere far away, like Australia, where there are no Death Eaters, and return when the war is over. I suggest the Longbottoms go with you as a precaution.”

“How do we stop Voldemort from simply following us? We won’t have back up in Australia if he comes for us,” James questioned.

“A simple diversion will do,” McGonagall responded. “We will place two houses under the Fidelius as if you were living there. They will serve the purpose to hide your true location without putting you at risk.”

“Who will be the secret keeper?” James asked.

“Myself and Alastor,” McGonagall said easily.

“Okay,” James said. “I trust you.”

Two days later, the Potters packed their bags and headed for the airport. They said goodbye to Euphemia and Fleamont the night before at dinner, pretending they would be reunited, but knowing the elder two would not be around much longer. Alice and Frank met them at the airport with Neville and gave them tight hugs. No one in the Order, not even the other marauders, knew where the families were going, just that they would be in hiding for the foreseeable future.

“Ready to go?” Frank asked.

“As much as we can be,” Lily said.

The six passed through the airport and boarded the plane together, disappearing for the next year.

***

When he arrived at the flat, Sirius poured himself a glass of Firewhiskey and retreated to his bedroom. James and Lily had been gone for a month and things were getting harder. The remaining marauders were always on separate missions, gone for days at a time and not telling each other where they were going.

Remus came back injured and held on to Sirius as tightly as he could when he came back, but they didn’t talk. Sirius loved him as much as he ever had but wondered how much longer he could go without knowing what Remus was doing or telling Remus what he was doing.

Peter did nothing but talk, guessing who the spy was and changing his opinion daily. The day he suggested Remus, Sirius asked him to move out of the apartment. He had to trust Remus and Peter. They were all he had left without the Potters.

A sound from the living room startled him. Someone had apparated into the flat, someone unexpected. Remus always apparated outside the front door, so his boyfriend wasn’t back, and Peter always sent an owl ahead, so it couldn’t be him.

He grabbed his wand and stormed into the living room to find –

Regulus, lying on the floor and drenched. He looked like he was breathing, but the strain of apparating had clearly knocked him out. There was some sort of locket clutched in his hands.

“Merlin,” Sirius said, running to crouch at his brother’s side.

He started casting every healing and warming spell he could think of, grateful for Remus’s lycanthropy for the first time. Regulus was a known Death Eater so Sirius shouldn’t have been helping him. He was his little brother, though, and he couldn’t watch him die on his living room carpet.

Eventually, Regulus started awake, sitting up rapidly and nearly collapsing again from the effort. Sirius caught him before he fell and moved him carefully to the sofa.

“Sirius?” he asked weakly.

“What the hell happened, Reg?” he asked.

Regulus started laughing, leaning his head back on one of the throw pillows. Bewildered, Sirius watched his brother laugh hysterically for a few minutes before he calmed down and looked back at him.

“I should be dead,” he said eventually. “I thought for sure apparating to a place I barely remember from underwater would kill me, if the inferi didn’t first.”

“What are you talking about?”

Regulus didn’t answer. Instead he sat up and threw the locket at Sirius, who caught it easily.

“What do you know about horcruxes, Siri?” he asked tiredly.

Within the next few days, Regulus repeated his story multiple times, to Dumbledore, Remus, Moody, and any other Order member who wanted to hear it. He wanted to join the Order, help with the hunt for horcruxes, but few trusted him.

“I’ll swear an Unbreakable Vow,” he said eventually. “I’ll vow that I won’t betray the Order, that I’ll be loyal.”

Dumbledore agreed and, once the spell was cast, Regulus was welcomed into the Order of the Phoenix.

Everyone’s missions were cancelled, unless absolutely necessary, in lieu of the hunt for horcruxes. Dumbledore guessed at the number and objects and sent them out to look for them. Within a few months, the Order had gathered the cup, locket, diadem, diary and ring after a few daring missions and one small, albeit destructive, heist from Gringotts.

“Now what?” Sirius asked. “How do we get rid of them?”

“There are two known methods,” came the calm answer from Dumbledore. “Basilisk venom or Fiendfyre.”

“So we’re fucked?” Remus asked incredulously. “Unless someone as a pet Basilisk they’d like to share?”

“There’s rumoured to be one at Hogwarts,” Regulus said mildly. “But I don’t know where.”

The Order looked at the objects on the table and collectively sighed. The few months tracking them down meant nothing if they couldn’t destroy them.

“Anyone have a house they’re willing to burn down?” Remus asked the room eventually. “Preferably one with an astounding amount of protective charms so we don’t have to cast them?”

Sirius and Regulus shared a look. Walburga Black had died just a month ago, leaving Grimmauld Place entirely empty. Orion had been an especially paranoid man, so the house had always been protected with every charm he could find. Neither of them wanted the house and they had already set Kreacher free – it was perfect.

“Actually,” Regulus said. “I think we do.”

Watching the house burn was incredible, skulls rising from the smoke as Voldemort’s soul died in the fire. It was almost fun – until the Death Eaters arrived.

A fierce battle started, everyone fighting to get to the centre, where Voldemort himself was fighting Dumbledore. Sirius stood with his back against Remus’s, righting Bellatrix and Rowle simultaneously. Remus was engaged with Yaxley and Malfoy, occasionally shooting a jinx at Goyle, busy fighting Regulus.

Across from them, Peter and Snape were engaged in a duel, neither of them focused on anything around them. Unexpectedly, Peter stunned Snape and moved on. Even more, unexpectedly, he joined Sirius’s duel – on the Death Eaters’ side.

“You little rat, Pettigrew,” he yelled. “How could you?”

“You’re not going to win, Black,” Peter yelled. “Last chance to switch sides!”

“Fuck you,” Sirius sneered.

A second later, everything changed. Dumbledore landed the killing shot and Voldemort crumpled. Bellatrix pointed her wand at a distracted Sirius. He yelled in pain and fell to his knees, but she didn’t let up, keeping her focus on torturing her cousin as if he were personally responsible for her master’s death. Peter cursed Remus before disapparating with the other Death Eaters as Moody began stunning everyone in sight.

Remus collapsed next to Sirius, blood pouring from the cuts on his chest.

“Avada kedavra!”

A green beam of light hit Bellatrix in the chest, she and Sirius collapsed simultaneously, the latter panting and shaking.

“I never liked her,” Regulus said mildly, pocketing his wand.

Sirius and Remus woke up to a sound in the living room a week later. They had left the hospital a day before, both of them still exhausted and still in pain, but alive. They slowly got up and grabbed their wands before padding to the living room, where they were tackled into a group hug by a flash of red hair.

“Lily,” Sirius said breathlessly, hugging her tighter. “You’re back.”

He pulled away and looked up to see James, holding Harry, who was almost a toddler at this point.

“We’re back,” James said quietly.

#five times i fixed harry potter and one time i absolutely did not #harry potter #harry potter fic #harry potter fix it #fix it fic #marauders #marauders fic #marauders fix it fic #james potter #lily potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #regulus black #regulus black redemption #wolfstar #jily #tomorrow is gonna be rough #5+1 fic

50 notes · View notes

peachbear88 · 3 years

Text

Tale as Old as Time (Pt 2)

A/N: Part 2! We're getting there people!

-----------------

The metal gates swing open with a rusty whine.

Your eyes snap open and you grab your chamber pot, and club the figure over the head.

"Ow!" The figure exclaims, falling over.

You brandish the pot as menacingly as possible, given the awkward angle.

"Who are you?" You demand, your voice cracking. He rubs the growing lump on his head.

"You hit hard madmoiselle," He responds, ignoring your question. Another set of footsteps, heavier ones echo off the stone tower. You gulp, as the figure arrives to reveal a skinny but tall man wearing what appears to be a gold pendant.

"Don't scare the poor girl Pietro. In fact, you shouldn't even be letting the prisoner out!" The man chided. The blond boy (supposedly) named Pietro laughed, ruffling his hair. He zooms over to where the man is, leaving a faint blue mist behind him.

"What's wrong doc? Scared what'll happen when my sister finds out?" He teases and the doctor shoves him away, wrapping his floating red cloak tighter around him.

"Oh shut up." Pietro turns back to you.

"So. You're the new prisoner." He looks you up and down. You drop the pot and it hits the floor with a loud clang, making him flinch.

"Yep, that's me. Come to kill me at last?" You question, raising your arms as if to embrace death. He bursts into laughter, slapping the tall man on the shoulder.

"Oh man! Strange, did you hear that? She thinks we're going to kill her!" He keeps laughing while the man named Strange rolls his eyes, muttering something about stupid kids.

"So... You're not going to kill me?" You inquire hopefully. Pietro's laughter dies off as he wipes tears from his eyes.

"Kill you? When you could be the one to break the curse? I think not." He shakes his head as if you were the foolish one before thrusting his hand out. "After you."

You walk down the stairs hesitantly, the bright walls of the hallways a stark contrast to your dim cell.

After a few moments, you can't take it anymore, your curiosity getting the best of you.

"What was that you said about a curse?" Pietro instantly pales, shoving you rather forcefully along the hallway.

"Did I say curse? I meant uh-" He stutters, his eyes frantically scanning the area for an excuse. "I mean purse!" He waves the bag in front of your face. "Break the purse!"

You stare at him.

"Break the purse." You repeat skeptically. Strange pushes you along, seemingly in a hurry.

"Oh look! We've arrived at our destination." He pushes the grand golden doors open and your jaw drops. A beautiful, extravagant bedroom lays behind the doors, the ceiling arching up and curving into a golden dome.

"Wow..." You gasp, twirling around in the room.

"Mistress wanted you to have the finest." Strange replies, bowing low. You snort.

"That girl from earlier?" You look him up and down. "No offence but you look more like you should be her master." He opens his mouth to reply but Pietro cuts him off, shoving him out of the room.

"Well, we'll let you get settled! We hope you'll join us for dinner!" With one last shove, the two disappear from the doorway, leaving you to your own devices.

The moment the door slams shut behind them, you scan the room, your eyes landing on the silken sheets adorning the mattress. You make quick work of it, tearing it into long, thin strips.

"Okay. I can work with this."

------------

A small knock sounds out and you frantically shove the long strip of cloth away.

"Come in!" You call out and a menacing looking woman comes in, followed by a boy around the age of 15, wearing a red and blue costume with what appears to be a spider on it. You gape at the odd duo.

"Is that... A spider?" You murmur and the boy bounds into action, sticking his arm out for you to shake.

"Hi! My name's Peter. Peter Parker." You smile at his bubbly demeanor.

"Y/N." The woman's eyes never leave you, examining you. You shrink under her gaze.

"Right! This is Ms Natasha Romanoff. She may look really scary but she's actually a massive softie." Peter whispers confidentially and Natasha smacks him on the head. You laugh at their familial dynamic.

"It's a pleasure to meet you sweetie," She curtseys and you smile. "Please ignore this dumb child." She gestures to Peter.

"Hey!" He exclaims indignantly. You giggle.

"Well, we came to welcome you to our humble abode. Cup of tea?" She proffers and you smile, accepting it. The scent is heavenly, the right amount of sweetness and bitterness. "I find that a perfect cup of tea is just what we all need when it gets rough."

You smile weakly.

"Thank you. Why are you being so nice to me?" Natasha sighs, watching Peter swing around your room, little webs coming from his wrists.

"Well dear, we're all prisoners here as well. Might as well make the best of it." She shrugs and ushers Peter out of the room, leaving you deep in thought.

------------

Steve sighs, his feet in Sam's lap, warming his frozen fingers by the fire. The noise of the pub does little to raise his spirits.

"How could she possibly reject me? The most handsome man in the village!" He sighs again while Sam massages his feet. Sam throws the feet off his lap.

"Gosh it disturbs me to see you Steve,"

"Looking so down in the dumps."

"Every guy here'd love to me you Steve!"

"Even when taking your lumps." He cries, massaging Steve's ears.

"There's no man in town as admired as you,"

"You're everyone's favorite guy."

"Everyone's awed and inspired by you,"

"And it's not very hard to see why."

He drops a few coins into the bar musicians hand.

"No one's slick as Rogers,"

"No one's quick as Rogers,"

"No one's neck's as incredibly thick as Rogers!' He exclaims, twisting the neck of a rather large man rather violently, a large crack echoing around the pub.

"For there's no man in town half as manly."

"Perfect, a pure paragon!" The fair girls pipe up from behind Sam. He hops onto the bar, sitting in between 3 very drunk men.

"You can ask any Tom, Dick or Stanley,"

"And they'll tell you whose team they'd prefer to be on..." He slaps them on the back of their heads, giving them a pointed stare until they catch on.

"Who plays..."

"Darts like Rogers!'

"Who breaks..."

"Hearts like Rogers!"

"Who's much more than the sum of his parts like Rogers!"

Steve warms up to the attention, flashing a debonair smile at everyone.

"As a specimen, yes, I'm intimidating!"

"My what a guy, that Rogers!" The people cry, raising their mugs and splatters beer everywhere.

"I needed encouragement,"

"Thank you, Sam." He exclaims, slapping Sam on the shoulders.

"Well there's no one as easy to bolster as you!" He wraps Steve in a tight embrace for a bit too long.

"Too much?"

"Yep." They disentangle their limbs from each other.

"No one the fights like Rogers,"

"Douses lights like Rogers." To emphasize their point, Steve licks both his hands and slaps them onto the candles, extinguishing them with a satisfying hiss.

"In a wrestling match, nobody bites like Rogers!" Sam pulls his shirt up to reveal a deep bite on his abdomen. A few people squeal.

"When I hunt, I sneak up with my quiver,"

"And beasts of the field say a prayer."

"First I carefully aim for the liver,"

"Then I shoot from behind."

"Is that fair?" Sam pipes up.

"I don't care."

"No one hits like Rogers,"

"Matches wits like Rogers,"

"In a spitting match, nobody spits like Rogers!"

"I'm especially good at expectorating!" He throws his head back and hocks up a good chunk of spit which lands in the pot Sam is holding.

"Ten points for Rogers!"

"When I was a lad, I ate four dozen eggs,"

"Every morning to help me get large." He grabs nearby woman by the waist and lifts her onto his right arm. The fair girls swoon.

"And now that I'm grown, I eat five dozen eggs,"

"So I'm roughly the size of a barge!" He slowly grabs Sam and lifts him onto his left arm, making the crowd gasp.

Steve drops them both and jumps onto the long table, tap dancing with the two other ladies. Sam grabs decorative swords and tosses them to a few men while Steve keeps dancing. They jump onto the table, brandishing their swords menacingly. The ladies jump out of the way as Steve draws his own sword. He clubs one over the head, spinning around and pretends to stab another dramatically. With a large flourish, he raises the sword to mimic the mural of himself on the wall behind him.

"Who has brains like Rogers?"

"Entertains like Rogers?" Sam belts out but Steve pushes him aside.

"Who can make up these endless refrains like Rogers?" Steve bellows, raising his arms.

"I use antlers in all of my decorating."

"Say it again!"

"Who's a man among men?"

"Who's the super success?"

"Don't you know? Can't you guess?"

"Ask his fans and his five hangers-on."

"There's just one guy in town,"

"Who's got all of it down..."

"And his name's S-T- Uh... I believe it's a D after?" Sam begins tentatively as Steve glares at him. "It just occurred to me that I'm illiterate, and I've never actually had to spell it out loud before..."

"Steve Rogers!"

The crowd bursts into a final round of applause, settling down as they dive deep into the hazy fumes of alcohol again.

"Ah, thank you Sam! I don't know what I'd do without you." Steve exclaims, plopping back down into his cushioned armchair. "How is it no woman has picked you up yet?"

"Well, I've been told I'm clingy but I don't really get it." Sam mutters obliviously, his arms draped around Steve's shoulders. Steve nods awkwardly.

A loud bang echoes into the pub and Tony comes rushing in, disheveled.

"You must help me! She's got Y/N! Please, you must help!" He cries, falling to his knees. Steve stays back while Sam rushes forwards.

"Tony, calm yourself. Who's got Y/N?" He asks soothingly.

When Tony looks back up, fear shines through his glassy eyes.

"The witch."

--------------

Taglist: @username23345 @musicinourlips @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @ima-gi--na-tion @nicole-rayleigh-hot @olsensnpm @peabrain112 @yeetus-thyself

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda fluff #wanda angst

46 notes · View notes

allalrightagain · 2 years

Note

OH YES character ask game i was hoping it’d find its way here!! remus and harry please ❤️ (and/or anyone else you have Thoughts about!!)

XD Thank you! Remus and Harry are good ones haha. This took me forever to nail down specifics and I still didn’t succeed, this is the best I’ve got lmao. Under a cut because I think this is even longer than the last one 😂

favorite thing about them

Remus

I could write a whole essay on each of them—how/why I project on them, a hundred little things I think about regularly— but I will try to keep it short. What sticks with me about Remus, over and over, is how much he’s able to do with so little. He is going through it literally every day. I liked Remus a lot in initial reads, but it wasn’t until I returned to the books and fandom that he really started standing out to me. A direct quote of an annotation from my last reread (Dec ’19, which I never finished) just after he’s introduced says

“Not only is Remus a dementor hotspot as it is, but Lupin’s summer goes something like this: accepts job working at hogwarts, sirius escapes, he gets on the hogwarts express (without any of his now dead or imprisoned best friends for the first time ever) falls asleep, wakes up to a spitting image of his dead best friend and a dementor outside the door, best friend’s son who he hasn’t seen since said best friend died passes out on the floor and then Remus has to come up with a happy memory?? It’s really no wonder he doesn’t notice Peter is Scabbers. He’s got too much on his mind. Like grief.”

He has seen so much, and yet despite everything he still keeps moving, keeps fighting, keeps showing up when he absolutely is not expected to. All of his little gestures, the reaching out to grab Harry’s shoulder and then thinking better of it, there’s just so much going on in his head all the time and at least 60% of it is angst (and it should probably be a lot higher than that).

Harry

Harry has been my comfort character for almost longer than I can remember— that’s not an exaggeration, my dad read the first three books out loud to me the year I started kindergarten and I reread them every summer until the last book came out when I was in middle school. I have, no joke, spent more time thinking about him than the entirety of my college major and current career combined. I think the same resilience we see in Remus stands out in Harry (a HUGE portion of DIWF planning was outlining similarities between the two for a reason— they are absolutely mirrors), the same desire to be kind, to care even when it seems foolish. If I had to pick one single thing, it’s that; the empathy he offers to others (almost) no matter what. and on the few occasions he doesn’t, I was well ahead of him in telling them to fuck off

least favorite thing about them

Remus

Voted most likely to give his kid daddy issues :( I love him dearly but at the first sign of a hiccup Remus’s instinct is to be anywhere but here and justifies it by doing something productive wherever that “not here” is. See: reading during SWM, resigning from Hogwarts, the werewolf packs, the horcrux hunt.

Harry

Excepting the epilogue/CC which I do not count against him, of course. Idk if I even have a least favorite thing. Everything that comes to mind I immediately justify lmao. I guess he can be a bit of an asshole, and he’s very quick to judge the good guys from the bad guys, which mostly works out in his favor but sometimes means he justifies things he shouldn’t (or hates someone without much cause).

favorite line

Remus

Hard-pressed not to pick the scene where Snape and Remus (and Harry) discuss the Map in POA without Remus copping to anything. OR possibly “No one’s going to try and kill you until we’ve sorted a few things out." Love scary!Remus.

Harry

Too many to count— I just spent like 3 hours rereading bits and pieces and I’ve given up trying to pick just one, or even a couple. He’s got some really great sass backs, particularly to Snape, Malfoy, and the Dursleys, plus a couple really upsetting lines like “People don’t like being locked up” or “Parents,” said Harry, “shouldn’t leave their kids unless — unless they’ve got to,” but I genuinely don’t think I can pick a favorite.

brOTP

Remus

Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs <3 Although I do like Remus and Lily as friends.

Harry

Ron. 100%.

OTP

Remus

Ok this is just going to look like an unpopular opinion answer, but I love Remadora and Wolfstar about the same. Also Remus/Tonks/Sirius I love a lot. James/Lily/Sirius/Remus goes in honorable mentions.

Harry

Hinny :) Drarry I’ll read but you have to sell me on it a bit unless I’m in the mood.

nOTP

Remus

Snape. You would have to erase both their memories and give at least one if not both of them a personality transplant. Also Fenrir for obvious reasons.

Harry

It might actually be faster to ask who else I *do* ship him with lmao. I HC him as aspec so you really have to convince me if it’s someone besides my shortlist (basically needs to be a seeker or Ron). I will say I don’t understand shipping him with Voldemort/Riddle. Or Snape. I still don’t understand why that’s a thing.

random headcanon

Remus

Trans!Remus <3 <3 More specifically, he comes out sometime in his second year, which put a bit of a strain on his relationship with Lily, no longer being in the same dorm and also being enveloped into The Marauders (TM)

Harry

Aspec!Harry!! It’s not that he doesn’t (or can’t) be attracted to people, but he has to have a reason for looking. More often than not that reason is quidditch, because it makes him really look at their bodies instead of just thinking of them as people. Every once in a while someone catches him off guard and he thinks about them subjectively, but otherwise he’s got way more important things to think about than whether or not someone’s attractive *to him*.

unpopular opinion

Remus

Other than the ships? He wasn’t super angry at Sirius et al after the Prank. He didn’t like Snape any more than his friends, and while he did know there was danger in what they did, he also… didn’t care that much? They got away with it, just like they did with most things, and that was what mattered.

Harry

Unspeakable!Harry working in the death chamber, after a few years on the Aurors. He’s not particularly scholarly but he’s also smart and gets recruited just as he starts to lose faith in the Ministry again (shockingly politics you hate as a teenager don’t change nearly as much or as quickly as you might like, and being an Auror was always going to require a little too much press.)

song i associate with them

So many. I’m tempted to just throw the whole DIWF playlist up here and see if you can figure out which song goes to which (spoiler I can’t even sometimes). Alright, two each, from the DIWF playlist, and skipping the obvious ones (Empty Chairs at Empty Tables etc)

Remus

21 Guns by Green Day and Break Your Heart by The Gaslight Anthem

Harry

Hear You Me by Jimmy Eat World and White Walls by The Maine

There. No repeat artists even. (WAIT I FORGOT ABOUT TAD. Urgh. Ok I can’t pick between them, It’s three straight albums of Remus and sometimes Harry feels. just. The Amazing Devil discography. )

favorite picture of them

Remus

Either this one OR this one (both by @lunapwrites)

Harry

If I had to pick one Blvnk Harry art, probably this one? but honestly anything she draws. (there are *many* other Harrys I love but this list would get very long very quickly)

Least favorite line, for the controversy

Remus

"And if, by some miracle, it is not like me, then it will be better off, a hundred times so, without a father of whom it must always be ashamed!" Is it showing his character (fault)? Yeah.. But it doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Harry

Sigh. See this post. (I don’t hold it against him)

Send me a character and I'll tell you what I think of them!

#I did /not/ mean to spend four hours on this lmao #I have too many Thoughts #but you might have cured my writers block? tomorrow will be the test #I'm scheduling this post for the morning #hp #ask games #lt talks #(a lot)#I could have literally made a whole post about each of these questions for each of them #i did not proof this at all and also I posted it at 1 am #so if there are typos no there aren’t #hopefully I at least answered all the questions though

11 notes · View notes

thetriggeredhappy · 3 years

Note

If you’re still doing requests, what about if Scout never came back to life after Spy tells him he’s his dad? I’m interested to see bc 1) Spy seemed like he was about to go Apeshit on the enemy team and 2) Miss Pauling, Soldier and Zhanna were literally JUST with him a while ago. That’s got to be disorienting. and 3) I like angst

i really do write one fic abt That Scene From The Comics and everyone goes bananas huh

(warnings for severe injury, major character death, canon-typical violence, the works)

“Spy, you’re back!” Miss Pauling called, hurrying over and continuing to shield her eyes from the views both Soldier and Sniper had decided to present to the team. “Good, we’ve just about wrapped up everything around here. Did you—“

“Scout’s dead,” Spy said, continuing to limp past her, expression stony.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked, blinking and moving to follow after him.

“Scout’s dead,” Spy repeated.

“What?” she demanded. “What do you mean, Scout’s dead?”

“Scout is dead, Miss Pauling,” Spy suddenly snapped, spinning around to hiss it at her, expression contorted with a series of emotions. “And if you don’t terribly mind it I would rather not stand here all day with a shattered kneecap just repeating myself over and over again until you can understand me. Scout is dead.”

She raised a hand to cover her mouth, eyes widening. “Spy, oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she said quietly, enough that nobody else would hear.

Spy’s expression settled into anger for a few moments, then he managed to simmer it down into mere frustration, although she could still see the emotion locked there behind his eyes. “You aren’t the one who killed him, what are you apologizing for?” he asked, voice a mumble, looking off to one side.

She sighed softly. “You know why,” she murmured, and earned the barest glance before he was looking away again.

“What a shame,” Spy said, changing the subject abruptly as he glanced around them. “I’m afraid there may not be any robots remaining for me to work my frustration out on. I would rather not go anywhere near the Soldier or Saxton Hale when either of them are on a killing spree. Unfortunate, I was looking forward to it.”

She was sure ‘frustration’ wasn’t the correct word, but she let it go. “Like you can even walk,” she pointed out, looking down over the wound in his knee. “Take a seat on... that rubble, I guess. Let me see if I can patch that up at all.”

“If you think you’re going to bait me into sitting still long enough to psychoanalyze me, you’ll need to think again, Miss Pauling,” Spy scoffed.

“If you think you can make it another ten minutes without treating that, you’ll need to think again,” she scoffed right back. “C’mon.”

He sighed, glanced at the pile of rubble, and ultimately caved, only somewhat because his body couldn’t really hold up its own weight anymore.

And she kept her commentary and questions to herself. For a while, at least. “It’s almost over, we’re in the final stretch. Now we just hunt down the other Heavy and we’re home free, we can rebuild.” She smiled at him, although it was a tight one. “What will you do in the meantime?”

“Well, I believe I have a woman in Boston who I need to call regarding her youngest son, and then I expect I’ll be living on the run for the few months it takes her to find and kill me,” Spy said dryly. “So unfortunately, I may not be available if this is meant to be a smooth segue into another job offer.”

“That’s a shame. I was really looking forward to continuing to work with you,” she said, tone almost joking. “Dying really puts a damper on the workflow, on the, uh...”

“Synergy,” Spy supplied.

“Synergy, exactly. Terrible work environment, being dead and all,” she continued, trying to give him an out, a distraction.

Instead, she watched as he drew a hand down his face, taking a deep breath that had little to do with the pressure she was trying to apply to the wound.

“You’re sure?” she asked after a bit of that silence.

“He had a hole in his stomach the size of a cannonball and started going cold almost immediately,” Spy said with a huff of laughter, expression hidden behind his hand. “I’ve been less sure about the deaths of people I’ve stabbed through the heart.”

“He wasn’t dead when you got there?” she asked, surprised.

“Not quite. Barely lucid, though. The Sniper was kind enough to give me a moment to talk to him.”

“What did you say?”

“Exactly what he wanted to hear. A lie.” Spy’s eyes turned out towards the horizon line. “He was already nearly gone, there was no time for the truth. He died mid-sentence, I’m not even entirely sure he understood all of what I said. I’m pathetic.”

“I think it’s brave of you, actually. Or kind, at least. Make him happy there, give him some closure.”

“At least one of us could get it,” Spy agreed, and sighed hard, squeezing his eyes shut. “Then why do I feel so horrible?”

“Well, first of all, your son is dead,” she pointed out. “That’s not a great way for your Thursday to go.”

Spy snorted a laugh, but it petered off a bit too quickly to stick. “It’s not as though I even really knew him,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but there was always the chance. Always this idea in the back of your head, like... you’d figure it out. Like one day you’d get there with him.”

He shot her a look. “How do you know that?”

“How many years do we have to work together before I can figure out some things about how your brain works?” she asked, ripping the fabric she was using as gauze with her teeth. “Also, quit losing blood.”

“I suppose I’ll try,” he deadpanned. A beat of silence before he inhaled, exhaled. “And that’s not entirely wrong, but not entirely correct either.”

She gestured for him to go on with the hand not applying pressure.

“We spent several months in the same jail cell. Almost every single day, I was faced with the opportunity to come clean to him. To say something, anything. And every day I failed.” He tugged restlessly at his mask. “And then we were no longer in jail, and I told myself I would tell him, and I didn’t. How many nails do I drive into the coffin before the final one is meaningless? When I continue to place straws on the camel’s back, does it really matter which one was the last?”

“Yeah. It does,” she said, finally starting to wrap the wound, glancing over their surroundings for a piece of shrapnel to use as a brace. “I think you still get to be sad. You still get to regret it. It’s just... harder to look at it once it’s all over. Harsher in hindsight.”

“Harsher in hindsight,” he repeated, voice quiet. He paused for a long moment. “Maybe it’s better this way. Simple, happy emotions there at the end instead of deep, complicated ones. Let him feel like the hero of his own story, at least for a little while.”

“It’s Scout, didn’t he always?” she scoffed.

“If he was anything at all like his father? No,” Spy murmured, and that was the last the two of them ever said on the matter. At least, out loud.

#dad!spy #tf2 #team fortress 2 #shut up me #my fanfiction #everybody talks #the pauling and spy friendship is severely underrated

96 notes · View notes

geekgemsspooksandtoons · 3 years

Text

My Spider-Man Ideas

Because I’m glad my good bro @kaijuguy19 asked me about this. I want to say and it’s not a secret I’m actually a big Spider-Man fan. And ever since last year. I wanted to make my own take on the character. And maybe I still will one day. But smaller maybe. But ever since this post I made. https://geekgemsspooksandtoons.tumblr.com/post/662905966119075840/to-be-honest-i-just-wanna-say-i-feel-like-maybe-i I think it’s best I just talk about it.

In a way, I feel like this is what The Amazing Spider-Man series could’ve been maybe. Which is something I wanted to talk about. Despite some big criticisms towards that franchise. I don’t mind it’s place, and we can’t change history with it. And Spider-Man is in the MCU now.

This may not be all finished yet. Or put together much better. But this is practically my, “The Dark Knight” of the Spider-Man character. Yet also, I feel like maybe it’s best I don’t touch the Spider-Man franchise.

Because I feel like if fans, non fans, and whoever read this. They would honestly think, “GeekGem, please go back to The Mask franchise” because while I love Spider-Man, and the themes his character represent. Along with the many characters and stories. That have even inspired the likes of The Mask Rebirth strangely. But The Mask is maybe a series that is...maybe more suited for me...

I just wanted to say that I think people would be like, “Go back to The Mask franchise please. And never touch any Spider-Man related again” but I’m being way too harsh about myself. Now let’s begin. XD

Part 1.

I wanted to strangely make my own Spider-Man in a sense like Batman 1989. But I feel Spider-Man 2002 fills that hole. Including one of the old ideas that Peter has been Spider-Man for 5 years with no huge villains. But recently, it had gone to maybe his second year instead. Him being 19 and in college. With the origin not shown, but cleverly shown and told maybe akin to how Spectacular told it. And what I wanted Homecoming to do possibly. Or even something like that 2017 series.

It mainly dealt with Quinten Beck’s Mysterio. And it was basically a more mature version of, “The Menace Of Mysterio” and basically, Mysterio’s first apperance. With Beck trying become a superhero by framing Spider-Man. But after he frames Spider-Man. He tries to showcase he’s even more of a hero by deciding to kill criminals. I remember a friend of mine understanding that he called him an evil(er) version of Neil Druckmann/Quentin Tarantino/Ken Levine.

Even though I was really gonna look into his story because comics had gone in more depth with him.

Other characters like Mary Jane, Gwen Stacy, Harry Osborn, Aunt May, and the employees at the Daily Bugle would be involved. With the main story of Peter recalling why he became Spider-Man in the first place. And with Mysterio practically being a foil to him. And there is the inclusion of Silver Stable being brought to take down Spider-Man. But her job has become more troubling with Mysterio. Yet I question if I still want her in this.

Including it developed into something like the upcoming The Batman movie. With maybe Beck losing it more because the police hate the fact he’s begun killing criminals. But anyway, I wanna leave as it is. I just remembered the Silver Stable part. I wanna talk about the one I thought of the most. The one that I really wanted to do. Forgot to put Captain Stacy in this. Since I just wrote him down in part 2.

Part 2.

This idea is basically my The Dark Knight for Spider-Man. Like, literally. With the idea of using the Green Goblin, and really showcasing how dangerous the character is. And I really wanted to test the words, “With great power comes great responsibility”.

Think of this story if the Green Goblin replace the Joker in The Dark Knight. And you replace certain characters with Spider-Man characters. But if I recall, it’s mainly this idea of Goblin trying to teach Spider-Man the consequences of being a superhero.

Going in line with his original version like he first appeared. This is Norman Osborn. But it’s never revealed until the end. And it’s kind of a mystery. And with Norman faking his death by a terrorist attack by the Green Goblin. With Norman before that, acting like an older and kind fatherly figure. When in reality, he’s a genuine horrible person hiding behind a persona. And with the Goblin persona, his abilities and all that. He uses the Green Goblin as an outlet to unleash who he truly is. Going with what how the 616 version of him is. There’s no split personality.

I will admit, the faking his own death thing might backfire on him if he wins. Maybe him with a back up plan that Norman was alive, and was taken hostage by the Goblin. With Norman making it look like that.

In a nutshell, the Green Goblin is practically who Norman is deep inside. And he tries to become the leader of organized crime. Until he meets Spider-Man. Where in this version, Green Goblin is like a cruel teacher, and he wants to really teach Spider-Man what it’s the huge consequences of being a superhero.

This dude is literally more like a boogeyman. He’s if Arkham Knight’s Scarecrow and Heath Ledger’s Joker were fused into one. But he‘s also basically if Ghostface was a supervillain with powers and gadgets. He has the glider, but he does other shit. Despite his original intention, he becomes Hell bent on making Spider-Man understand the responsibility of what he’s doing.

With Green Goblin becoming more of a terrorist. That it becomes so bad. That Silver Stable is brought in likely by Captain George Stacy. That this problem with costumed people has gone too far.

Goblin is killing members of the Wild Pack, police officers, and he’s just causing chaos to bring Spider-Man down. But when he figures out who Spider-Man is. It becomes even more personal.

At first, it seems like the story is gonna go the way of, “The Night Gwen Stacy Died”. And it’s scary because Gwen knows who Peter is, and is with him. But it’s different, with not Goblin taking an unconscious Gwen to the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s still the Brooklyn Bridge. But instead he kidnaps her, leaves her tied and gagged surrounded by a bunch of barrels that will explode. There’s no Spider-Man accidently killing Gwen with his webs. But instead...what happens is...much worse. To me personally.

Spider-Man saves Gwen, and stops the barrels from exploding. But it doesn’t go the route of, “What if Gwen Stacy had lived?” storyline. Instead, the Green Goblin’s plan wasn’t to kill Gwen. But something to destroy both her, and Peter mentally.

Instead, when Peter tries to go back to May’s house. Aunt May is literally killed by a bunch of hidden explosions. And during the same time or a little later. Captain George Stacy in his office is killed by similar hidden explosions.

What happened is that because Goblin found out who Spider-Man was, and knew who he was dating. He felt like it was too easy to kill Gwen. But he wanted to do something possibly more extreme. Something that would still make Peter snap. But also destroy his relationship with Gwen.

He took the words from Spider-Man 2002, “The heart Osborn. First, we attack his heart” to literal heart. He kills Aunt May, and George Stacy in the most horrific way. Including destroying the home Peter grew up in. And after some time. Goblin literally calls Peter to pretty much rub it in that these are the consequences of him being Spider-Man. And that Gwen wasn’t the one he wanted to kill. With him possibly ending the conversation, talking about how it’s gonna end.

That it will end with one of them dying. But he doesn’t care. If Green Goblin kill Spider-Man, he wins. If Spider-Man kills Green Goblin, Spider-Man will be viewed maybe more as a menace. Because he likely killed Green Goblin out of pure rage. Which Goblin tried to create, he unleashes the anger that Peter tries to hold in. And with his mother figure killed in such a way, and a friend who was like a new father figure killed in a similar fashion. It’s literally a cruel test Goblin is trying to pull.

And in the end, during some stuff, with Spider-Man nearly killing Goblin like in the comics. But soon stopping himself when he learns that it was Norman all along. And it ends with Norman like the 2002 film and comics, accidently killing himself with the gilder. He never comes back, he’s truly dead.

On one point, Spider-Man stops himself from killing Goblin, and Norman kills himself instead. But the other point is something else instead. Norman is revealed to the the Green Goblin, putting Oscorp in a heap of shit, and people looking at Harry strangely. And despite comforting each other, but because of the horrible events.

Gwen decides that it’s maybe best to break up with Peter. Understanding her being with Peter seemed to have gotten her father killed. She doesn’t hate Peter. But she seems to hate Spider-Man. That persona, not Peter himself.

Part 3.

This was the most challenging one. Because I really wondered about the villains. There was Kraven with possibly a Kraven’s Last Hunt story. Hobgoblin because Peter would lose his shit at another Goblin. But also the idea of the symbiote suit being in the story. And during this whole development process from last year. Characters like Miles and Black Cat were involved. But I’m not sure now. With the idea that Miles may become a Spider-Man one day. And Black Cat being bothered by black suit Spider-Man.

Yet recently, despite it may feel overstuffed. But it’s not three villains. And it could be as long as it wants.

This part is basically Spider-Man 2 fused with Spider-Man 3. With the big focus of the aftermath of Green Goblin's destruction upon New York City. And Peter’s grief with the loss of Aunt May, George Stacy, and Gwen deciding to leave him. Despite he fully understands and respects Gwen for leaving him. But it’s hard.

But also with Mary Jane truly becoming Peter’s true love. After the traumatic loss and Gwen leaving New York. I know and understand Gwen’s death was a huge part of changing Mary Jane as a person because they were friends with a friendly rivalry that I recall. I...wanted to make it less depressing. Despite May was the one replacing Gwen’s death. Because that seems maybe more powerful, it depends on how you see it. Mainly with the idea that May never did anything wrong, and it was such an easy kill for Goblin. It’s like Uncle Ben’s death all over again.

Yet again, the concept of part 3 is of Peter truly embracing being Spider-Man. And not letting his darkness take ahold of him after the death of the woman that raised him. With the symbiote bringing out repressed anger even more. And made worse after the death of Aunt May.

But it’s Mary Jane that helps him overcome that darkness. And I wanna share this video that explains that more. Because I feel like that could’ve been an amazing plot point for The Amazing Spider-Man 3 if done right.

The video is by Sevenwebheads. I loved this guy before he sadly left YouTube out of nowhere.

youtube

And with how I talked about this part. It being Spider-Man 2 fused with Spider-Man 3. The villains being Doc Ock, and Venom. And in a sense, Peter is his own villain. Because of the symbiote.

It’s possible Doc Ock like his 2004 film version is maybe more sympathetic. And honestly more understandable as a villain than Norman Osborn.

Quentin Beck/Mysterio is a man who is crushed by his ambitions, and being a foil to Peter’s belief about responsibility and being a superhero.

Silver Stable is a mercenary that’s more like a complex character. Yet gets into conflict with Spider-Man. Not really a villain.

The Green Goblin/Norman Osborn in this is pretty much the embodiment of pure evil. Practically enjoying what he is doing, and not caring what the consequences are. A total anti-thesis to everything Spider-Man represents. And would make other villains or anti heroes look at him like, “What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

With Doc Ock again, being more sympathetic, but still a villain. Akin to Spider-Man 2′s Alfred Molina. And Eddie Brock, who I think should have sprinkled throughout this three part story.

With Venom and Eddie. I really like them both, I really do. But I wanted to do a version that would make sense. Instead of copying the 616 version or only the Ultimate version. Considering in a sense, the 616 Eddie isn’t much of a foil to Peter. Where the Ultimate version seems more like that in a sense.

I feel like the symbiote shouldn’t be an alien from outer space. Because that opens a whole can of worms. I seriously feel like the alien aspect doesn’t mesh with the more grounded take of Spider-Man. And it just at times makes me feel fine with the idea of Venom not being included in Spider-Man’s mythos. Despite how iconic he is.

So the symbiote’s origins would be more involved with science than from outer space. And with Eddie not only being a bit more complex. Yet he is also a foil to both Peter and Mary Jane. While you can understand him, he practically becomes more unhinged and possibly has some relations with Peter like in Ultimate and Spectacular. And when I think about, even using some elements from The Amazing Spider-Man 2 mobile game version of Eddie/Venom.

His character would be more in line with how Todd McFarlane and David Michelinie introduced the character. But while there is some dark comedy. It’s seriously more frightening. Another boogeyman in a sense like Green Goblin. With his first appearance being like in The Amazing Spider-Man issue 299. And Venom representing one of the many mistakes Spider-Man made. That being the birth of Venom and it bonding to Eddie Brock. Creating a villain that Peter feels responsible for.

I guess in a sense, I wanted to use three of Spider-Man biggest villains. Those being Green Goblin, Doc Ock, and Venom. With Mysterio and Silver Stable included. There is the idea of Carnage. Even though I liked the inclusion of Carnage in The Amazing Spider-Man 2 game. And Cletus is truly a foil to everything Peter is. I really wanted to showcase Venom as that. Still wondering about Black Cat because I love Felicia.

With this part. Considering how tough this whole trilogy is. This part is basically I guess, the light in the darkest hour.

Where you have moments like a black suited Spider-Man nearly killing Doc Ock, and even before that, ripping off one of his arms, or maybe all of them. I’m not sure. But it’s nearly killing Doc Ock that truly makes Peter if his anger has truly gone too far. And an interaction with Mary Jane who is the biggest person who has been comforting him. Helping him through his grief, after everything that had happened with him.

Peter chooses Mary Jane over keeping the symbiote. And because of his rejection of the symbiote, it bonds with Eddie. Who is practically a final test for Peter in this story. The dark reflection of what he could’ve became. A man despite you can feel for him. Eddie slowly became more sociopathic, became more irresponsible, and becoming more consumed with hate and anger.

The light rising above dark, and moving on with life. Because if we cling on to the past. We’ll be stuck there forever. And with Peter being a pessimist who has optimistic moments. This whole trilogy is like an endurance test of him as Spider-Man.

I really wanted to bring to life the earlier stories of Spider-Man from Stan Lee and Steve Ditko. It’s basically a love letter to the character and his mythos. Focusing on some more darker elements like Peter’s anger issues, and other things. But also dealing with the many themes about the character. But it’s even more rough when you replace Spider-Man 2′s Doc Ock with Green Goblin. And you maybe place Doc Ock in Spider-Man 3.

Even though I feel like Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man trilogy is maybe the perfect representation of the character. Despite all the criticisms towards Spider-Man 3. And other people’s nitpicks among many things. I feel like those films REALLY got Spider-Man right. Along with others like The Spectacular Spider-Man cartoon and others.

Think I’ve said enough. I’ll talk other stuff in the reblogs. But yeah...which I’ll say this in a reblog. Despite I don’t mind flawed films...I wished The Amazing Spider-Man franchise took a direction like this.

#GeekGem Rambles

18 notes · View notes

jawritter · 3 years

Text

30 Minutes In Heaven

Summary: Your life, like many hunters before you, was cut short. You had no idea at the time the Fates that were at play in the universe were really those of dick angles and egotistical assholes with massive god complexes. And you also had no idea that they were really the reason you lost your life, and you had no idea why… Until around 30 minutes after you made it to Heaven.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader (Y/N), Jack Kline

Warnings: SPN SERIES FINALE SPOILERS!!!! IF YOU LIVE UNDER A ROCK AND HAVE NOT SEEN IT YET DO NOT READ THIS FIC!!! Brief use of Christian biblical text at the beginning as a reference. Language I’m sure, because hello, it’s me. Slight angst, mentions of character death all over the place, past, present, and upcoming. Some fluff. I don’t want to give too much away.

Word Count: 2722

A Huge fucking thank you to @miss-nerd95 for Betaing this fic!! You’re a lifesaver!!

A/N: Okay, this was a fic I started before the Series ending, then when it ended I dropped it like a hot object because I just couldn’t finish it, and struggled with the fact that I could easily tie in the canon Dean Winchester ending. Then one of my Patreons requested an ending that placed the reader, Dean’s soul mate, given to him once he made it to Heaven to give Dean the happy ending he deserved, well that’s when I decided to go back and finish it, give Dean and the reader a reunion over there. I was originally going to just post this to Patreon, but I feel like we ALL needed this, so I’m going to be posting it to tumblr and wattpad as well! I hope you all enjoy this one, as it was a bitch to write I’m not gonna lie.

**MASTERLIST** **BECOME A PATREON**

2 Peter 3:8 Says But, beloved, be not ignorant of this one thing, that one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.

You had never known the gravity of that one verse of scripture from your time on earth. It was the only thing that resounded to be true in all that you had experienced once you had made it to Heaven. There was no way of truly knowing exactly how long in earth time you had been here, but something deep down in your heart knew that it had been a very, very long time. You would venture to say it had been close to ten years, but again you couldn’t be sure.

For you, it had only felt like 30 minutes.

In that 30 minutes a whole lot of things had taken place. You hadn’t even gotten settled into your little cubicle here before the place began to shake. Then talks of falling angels and power flickering were happening. There were whispers of new gods and old gods, there were whispers of the devil and his death. There were whispers of all manner of things as you stood with your head to the wall of your childhood bedroom.

One name you kept hearing was Dean.

Dean Winchester.

You had been a hunter in your former life, and you had heard of the Winchesters before. Part of you wanted desperately to know what was happening on earth, what could Dean Winchester have done to literally cause Heaven to quake?

You had tried to find a means of escape, but you seemed trapped in this room, no matter how much you tried to find a way out.

Then before you even had time to panic, another rumble shook Heaven, and people were saying something about a 'darkness' that had befallen of old. A darkness that had overtaken Dean. That were the longest five minutes of your life. The angels talked of the righteous man that had once shed blood in hell now bathed in it on earth to save the world.

Over and over again you would catch snippets of stories, passing and confusing glimpses, while you remained trapped behind the all too familiar walls of your prison cell.

You screamed and pounded, but it all went ignored until a sudden bright light consumed you, almost blinding you completely.

The next thing you knew, you were standing in a little cabin type of house. One you had always dreamed of having-one you had always hoped for but were never foolish enough to believe you could have due to your lifestyle, right down to the stone fireplace in the corner of the little living room that oozed warmth, and the bookshelf that lined around that, upon closer inspection, had many of your favorite books.

There were birds chirping outside the windows, and the sun was shining. There were beautiful mountains off in the distance, and for the first time a profound calmness fell on you. You didn’t have time to ponder your sudden release from your prison before a voice behind you made you turn on the spot, old hunter instincts kicking in like they had never left.

“Hello,” it said, and you turned to find a young boy in a white jacket standing with his hand raised in an almost alien-like greeting and a warm smile on his face.

“Um-hi,” you responded, slowly taking a step back, more than weary of everything, for it could be an angel or even a demon in this place.

“Oh, don’t be afraid of me. I’m Jack, Jack Kline,” he said, settling himself against the arm of the old leather couch in the living area of the cabin.

You had heard whispers of his name before too, but knew very little of him aside from the fact that he seemed to be in the same circles with the Winchesters. His name had been whispered a lot amongst the angels passing down what you could only assume was a hallway by the small room you were trapped in.

“What do you want?” you questioned him defensively, looking around for anything you could use in case you had to defend yourself against, uh-whatever he was.

Jack nonchalantly clasped his hands together in front of his lap. Looking around the little cabin fondly, almost like a proud decorator would look at his finished product before his eyes traveled back to your own.

“This place is cozy, it’s perfect, it’s everything you and he deserves,” he said, grinning at you in an almost childlike manner. It was confusing, and you wanted to run, but for some reason you held your ground.

“I asked what do you want?” you asked again, and this time Jack nodded before meeting your gaze knowingly.

“You have no idea who you are, do you?” he asked, the same kind smile on his face.

You said nothing, just waited there ,watching him for any sudden movements. Jack stood and made his way around the cabin, and looked outside the window next to you, admiring the scenery around with innocent wonder you had forgotten could even exist.

“You were cheated out of life, Y/N Y/L/N. You were cheated out of a lot of good things you were meant for. You were killed before your time because my grandfather was angry with Dean and couldn’t control him, so he took you away from him before he could ever even have you. In doing so, he took away Dean’s only chance to have any happiness or peace while on Earth.”

Jack turned to face you while you froze up, him seemingly unfazed while you tried to make sense of this riddle he was giving you. Sensing your confusion, Jack gave you a moment before finally speaking again.

“Do you remember how you died, Y/N?” he asked, and you tried to. It was all really hard to remember. You knew you had been on a hunt that was supposed to be a simple Salt and Burn, but since the Winchesters had opened up the gates of hell a few years back, it wasn’t always what it appeared, just like it wasn’t that time. It was a trap set up by demons, and while you couldn’t remember the pain you went through, or the details of your death, you know that they had been your end game.

“Chuck sent those Demons to kill you so that Dean would never meet you in this life, and he intended to keep you locked away here forever so you two couldn't get together even in heaven. You were Dean’s soulmate, see. A rare and beautiful thing in the cruel world my grandfather built. You would have grounded Dean, given him a family of his own, a reason to fight against the darkness that he never should have been forced to take on in the first place. If you would have been his, the way you were intended to be, then Dean would never have become a Demon, he would have never had to let go of Lisa or even go to her in the first place, and he wouldn’t be on his way into a warehouse right now to die alone with his brother as witness on a crude piece of rebar.”

Your eyes widened as you struggled to keep up with what this teenager was telling you. You were Dean Winchester’s soulmate, and this Chuck had you killed so that you would never meet him. There was supposed to be no tears in Heaven, or at least that’s what you were always told, but you could feel them slipping down your cheeks as images of what could have been flashed before your mind, no doubt controlled by whatever power Jack had.

Images of a little boy in Dean’s arms, images of sensual touches, passionate filled moments, images of yourself and Dean old and sitting on a porch in a rocking chair with your grandchildren played in the yard with a dog that Dean called Miracle. It was all stolen from you. It would never be yours, you were robbed of this man and the life you could have shared together, it was earth shattering.

“What happened to his Chuck?” you asked, sudden fear gripping you that he would find you free of your prison, and destroy you utterly.

“Dean defeated him, he’s cursed to live life alone and die as a lowly human. I promise you, it’s more than what he deserves.”

Jack made his way to the front door of the cabin, opening it and stepping out on the porch, leading you to sit down on one of the old wooden rocking chairs, as he took a seat next to you. “He should be here any moment now,” Jack said, smiling at you before looking down the long dirt road almost longingly.

“What happens when he gets here?” you asked him, following his line of sight, your heart already longing for a man you never knew you missed.

“He gets to have the heaven he deserves, with you.”

The ground underneath you seemed to rumble lowly, and Jack’s smile widened as he stood from his perch in the chair next to you before looking at you excitedly.

“He’s here, Dean’s home,” he said, giving you a smile before stepping out into the open driveway, looking back over his shoulder before yelling at you, “Wait here!” and disappearing on the spot. Leaving you alone with birds singing happily, and your heart pounding in your chest. Images of what should have been still fresh in your mind, and for some reason no doubt at all that he’d be happy to see you here, a reassurance residing in your soul you never understood until now, but knew it was meant to be there all the same.

“Come home to me, Dean,” you whispered to the passing wind, settling down to wait on the man that had saved the world, and now was finally ready to lay down his weary, war beaten heart in the hands of the one person he always longed for, but was forced to do without, you.

Dean’s POV:

“Right here!” Sam said from the passenger seat of the Impala as Dean turned the wheel into a driveway of what looked like the perfect little farmhouse in the middle of a beautiful clearing not far from where his parents little place was nestled.

As soon as Dean put Baby in park Sam threw the passenger door open, the front door of the house opening to reveal Jess in a long white dress. Dean had a hard time suppressing the smile as he watched his little brother run into the arms of the woman he had always loved. He was finally home. Sammy was finally happy, and that made him more happy and at peace than he ever thought would be possible. Dean waived to his little brother before he and Jess disappeared inside his new home, leaving Dean alone yet again in the Impala.

This place, it was almost perfect, but even still Dean felt like a vagabond. Putting Baby in drive he made his way down the road a little ways back to where he’d started, Bobby no longer sitting on the porch, but he was sure he could hear him and Ellen laughing just off in the distance as he killed the engine.

Everyone had their place, but Dean. Dean didn’t have a home or a long lost love waiting for him, and he felt something he thought he wasn’t supposed to ever feel again in Heaven. He felt lonely.

“Hey Dean,” Jack’s voice cut into the fog of his self pity, and Dean spun in the driver's seat to find Jack smiling at him in the back, a smile breaking over Dean’s weather beaten features, revealing the eye crinkles deep in his sun kissed skin that Jack had missed seeing, and didn’t get to see nearly enough while they were both on Earth.

“Jack! You’ve done a great job man! This place is everything anyone could dream of, you and Cas really outdid yourselves.”

Dean’s gaze locked with the boy in life he’d hated almost to the point of death, and all he could find now was utter and complete peace staring back at him, and he wondered if he would get to the place where he could feel the same peace everyone else seemed to feel.

“Dean, glad you finally made it,” Jack said, leaning forward in the seat and looking around to the road and pointing for Dean to drive up the gravel path hidden in the trees. Dean did so without question, putting his beloved Baby in drive, and pushing onward until a little cabin tucked away in the hallow appeared just in sight. You were sitting on the porch, watching, as if you were waiting for him, and as he turned to Jack in confusion Jack just smiled as he once did when he tried to give Dean his first Christmas present, only more deep and with more pride.

“I don’t remember her,” Dean murmured, turning back to look at you as you were standing up slowly and making your way to lean against the rough cut railing of the porch, eyes tracing over Dean’s cars almost fondly.

“That’s because you never got to meet her while you were alive. She was stolen from you Dean, long before you ever got the chance to find true happiness.”

Dean’s face contorted with confusion, but Jack simply placed his fingers to Dean’s forehead lightly, showing him all the things that could have been, and should have been, but never were, just like he did to you. When Jack was done, one giant tear rolled down Dean's face as he uttered the only thing he could have thought would possibly have been able to take something so precious away from him, so willingly. “Chuck.”

Jack nodded and looked back at you where you were waiting for Dean to finally get out of the car.

“This, Dean, this is the Heaven you deserve. This is home. This is peace. You did good Dean, and now it’s time for you to have everything without any terms or conditions.”

Dean’s eyes traced over your features and his heart swelled in his chest. He could feel it, the magnetic pull, the piece of him that was always missing beckoning to him to come home and lay his weary soul to rest. “Y/N,” he murmured before looking back at Jack. “How do I know her name?” he asked. Jack just smiled, looking into Dean’s eyes knowingly.

“Go home Dean, she’s been waiting for you for a long time.” With that Jack disappeared, leaving Dean alone in the car.

Slowly, Dean pushed the door open, and his eyes met yours as a smile spread across your face. He was perfect. He was everything you had missed and didn’t know you needed. He completed you.

You were the deepest piece of his soul that he had always missed, you were the reason his heart was beating now, and had always been the reason he got up and fought every day to get to the rest that he had found now. You were home, his home.

Dean placed a large hand to the side of your face as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him, and brushed your hair away from your face. His green eyes bore into your own with more emotion and love than you had ever felt in your life. There was no darkness there. There was no hurt, or self loathing, there was no weight of the world, there was no more fight and heartache. There was nothing but love and resounding peace that would last for the ages.

“I’m sorry I took so long, sweetheart,” Dean said, his lips brushing yours as you melted into his hold, humming at the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“S’Okay Dean,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders as the two of you just held each other there in your little piece of Heaven. You finally had all you’d ever need. Dean had you, and your warrior was finally home.

Forever Tags:

@deandreamernp

@forgetthisbull

@miraclesoflove

@deanwanddamons

@rvgrsbrns

@chevyharvelle

@onethirstyunicorn

@i-love-superhero

@lyss-dw79

@magssteenkamp

@lemondropirwin

@squirrelnotsam

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@defenderrosetyler

@screechingartisancashbailiff

@thecreatiivecorner

@vicmc624

@busy-bee-angel-misska

@justanotherwinchester

@brilovesdeanwinchester

@idksupernatural

@lyarr24

@amandamdiehl

@miraclesoflove

@emoryhemsworth

@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel

@softsebastian

@tatted-trina6

@anaelsbrunette

@hayleeharling

@flamencodiva

@coldmuffinbanditshoe

@dirty-pan-goblin

@itmejado

@supernatural3002

@teresa-67

@thoughts-and-funnies

@hearteyes-j2

@miss-nerd95

@writers-whirlwind

@peaches007

Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@msmarvelouswinchester

@akshi8278

@love-jackles-37-blog

@supernatural-bellawinchester

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn one shot #dean winchester one shot #jensen ackles #jawritter #30 minutes in heaven #x reader inserts

124 notes · View notes

spideyanakin · 3 years

Text

Far From Home - Part 5

Peter Parker x reader

Synopsis; Coming from another reality yourself, what will happen when you see straight through the lies of the mysterious Quentin Beck.

Series Masterlist 🍒

Normal Masterlist 🧚🏻‍♀️

The air came in and out of Peter's lung so fast it was hard for him to keep up. He swung through the city, his webs going faster than his mind as he got on the first train to Berlin, ready to spoil Mysterio's plan to Nick Fury. But what Peter didn't expect what that Mysterio was waiting for him instead. Crashing his plan of telling Fury everything.

Peter found himself dancing in between his many illusions, getting his mind tricked in every corner, not ready for what was about to hit him when he saw you. All illusions were out, and you were standing there, Mysterio's grip holding on tight to your hair. You were crying for your life as you saw Peter, his name escaping your lips as you screamed words of help.

Peter suddenly let out a gasp of joy as he saw you alive, but his heart fell down to his stomach as he saw your bruised skin and bloody face, making his anger towards Mysterio rise even more. He reached for you as Mysterio's wicked smile just grew stronger.

You didn't know if it was an illusion or not when Peter was hit by the train but the doubt made you fall to the floor incapable of doing anything to save yourself when Mysterio let the grip on you go. A wicked laugh escaped his lips making you think it was real, but if it was, the truth was too hard to take it. Your whole world was crumbling in front of your eyes and the way you had ended things with him left you with a large hole in your heart.

But Mysterio finally got what he wanted, so while you were crumbling and dying of heartbreak every part of you slowly shutting down as the will to live slowly escaped you, Mysterio had a large smile on his face watching the train that had hit Peter slowly pass in front of his wicked stare.

The constant reminders that Peter was gone were always there. Mysterio was always repeating. Whether it was to a broken you, or to his teammates, making every little second since you had seen Peter die in front of your eyes even more difficult to bear.

You opened your tired eyes, not being able to rub them as you woke up still tied in the same chair. You looked around the unfamiliar room, trying your best to sense where you were but everything seemed hard to do, the pain in your chest left by Peter making your powers impossible to use. Time felt lost to you. You didn’t know how long you had been out. The last thing you remembered was the loud sounds of a plane, and a vague skyline, looking much different to Berlin.

Your entire body was in pain; you tried moving your legs but the large bruises that covered them made it hard, the rope rubbing on every single little hurt part of you that hurted. You didn't think of anything as a sob escaped your lips, losing all control.

While on the other side of the building, Mysterio was madly going over his plan to attack London, and on the far off end of the city, high up in the sky, Peter was going over his plan ready to fight Mysterio and get you back.

"Peter you got to get a grip." Happy almost screamed at him as he finally arrived in London, unable to get Peter to stop crying. "What if she's dead?" He trembled as he looked up to happy.

"Peter please! If- Who's this?" Happy's stare went from Peter to a tall tanned brunette that had appeared from a golden circle.

Peter quickly turned around, a small smile finally appearing on his lips.

"Kyland-" He whispered standing up.

"I heard what happened."

"How?" Peter's lips trembled.

"im a reality keeper, Peter." He deadpanned. "You need to stop underestimating me."

"Sorry who are you? and why did you do the same weird thing as Strange?" Happy folded his eyes.

"How are you, Hogan." Kyland gave Happy his signature charming smile. "I'm Dr.Strange's apprentice. You've met me before." He chuckled and Happy racked his brain, the memory of him being fully lost by the tones of work Happy had on his hands.

"Anyways we got to go. Y/n is in big danger." He turned to Peter, worry filling his eyes at the thought of you being powerless. "She's letting herself die" He could barely speak the last part of the sentence.

"What?" Peter whispered barely being able to think as he darted on his feet grabbing the suite that he had built.

"She thinks you're dead." He said, making Peter's jaw clench. "I talked to her, she was too weak to communicate with for long I couldn't get any message through-"

"Let's go."

~ “Do you think this is an illusion?” Kyland said as he tried his best to fight off the multitude of drones that were thrown his way.

“I don’t know.” He sighed before punching a drone that turned out to be an illusion, his fist flying into thin air, before lifting his head as Mysterio’s voice called out to him. The sight of your life being in danger suddenly created a flow of emotions inside him. Peter clenched his fist as he watched you dangle over a bridge, the mix of panic and anger being so high something snaped.

Peter growled as though he was an aminal in the middle of the Savana ready to pounce on his enemy at any chance. He grabbed all the strength that was left in his body and screamed in anger.

“Peter, I’ll bring you up there.” Kyland placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll manage without you,” He pointed to the drones that were coming his way, a flash of worry passed Peter’s eyes before a portal to head to the bridge ate him whole as he took a step forward.

Peter questioned where he was for a few seconds before turning around to face a pale white Mysterio. Spider-man’s enemy took a second, before a small ball of fear suddenly settled inside his stomach.

“Do something!” He screamed into his intercom as the fear in the pit of his gut grew stronger.

“We’re already doing our best sir.” A weak voice replied as he continued multiple attacks that Peter simply dodged, his feelings fueling his thirst to hunt Mysterio.

Mysterio ended up facing the furious teenager he thought he had so easily killed, grabbing onto the last piece of credibility he had to grumble something into his intercom making an illusion of you fall from the bridge and disappear into thin air once it was about to hit the floor. For a second the air that flowed in and out of Peter’s lungs stopped until he realized what Mysterio was doing.

He grabbed all the strength in him, and trotted to Mysterio, punching the illusion with all his strength.

“Where is she?” He growled talking to the air in front of him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Mysterio’s voice echoed through the bridge. “Why are you doing this.” He cried as the helpless feeling rose in him.

“People will believe anything Peter.”

Whatever happened next, Peter was too overwhelmed to remember. But what he did remember was blaming himself for Mysterio's death and seeing your almost lifeless figure sat on a chair, almost bruised to death.

“EDITH, is this an illusion?” Peter carefully asked, not daring to come near you.

“All illusions are out Peter.” At this moment he felt a world of pressure fall off his shoulders. “Y/n” He cried in relief as he bent to you, immediately sensing your faint heartbeat as he got closer. He quickly removed the ropes that were tightly wrapped around your body, taking you in his arms as your limbs fell from the chair.

“How is she?” Kyland appeared from behind, trembling when he saw your poor state.

“I don’t know.” He sniffed as he took you bridal style, fixing some strand of loose hair that fell on your eyes.

Your eyes fluttered open before they were met with the bright lights from the hospital room, making you wonder if it was an illusion, or that someone had found you and brought you to safety.

“Peter-” You mumbled as you tried to move, but every part of your body hurted causing your head to flip to the side.

“Y/n.” A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he walked to your side, meeting your tired eyes.

“Where are we?” You coughed and tried to hold yourself up but failed in the process.

“London.” He tried to smile as he took your hand in his like it was made with porcelain, the sadness in his eyes alarming you.

“You alright?” You wondered feeling the tears for yourself as Peter silently nodded.

“I was worried about you... We fought Mysterio... You um- you were right.” He looked everywhere but your eyes. “Im so sorry.” He sighed, a small tear dropping on your hospital sheets. “I should have believed you- you um, you could have died.” He looked away as more tears balanced on the rim of his eyes.

“It’s alright.” You used some of the strength you had gained back to raise your hand to his cheek, bringing his stare back to yours. “I’m ok.” You smiled brushing his cheek. “You couldn’t have known Peter. I've done the whole other reality thing. You couldn't have known.”

“But I could have believed you. Believed in you. You’ve lost everything to this, and he claimed the same things, he claimed to have lived what you had lived, I should have believed you. You’re far from home, and he wasn’t, this wasn’t fair for you." He cried out as he brought his forehead to yours.

“It’s ok” You smiled a tear slipped your eye, using your last bit of strength to press a small kiss to his cheek. "I like being far from home as long as I’m with you."

The End

- Taglist -

@averyfosterthoughts @justifymyfeelings @slytherinambitious @criminaly-supernatural@supernaturallover2002 @trustfundparker @tomhollandreads @prettysbliss @ksmy-99 @allycat449-blog @big-galaxy-chaos

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #fan fiction #far from home #series #mysterio #last chapter !

73 notes · View notes