#uncle ben rip

[mutenized]

Caterwaul - 1

Romania was your home; one you knew so well as you traveled with your family. Yet when your beloved father lost his high paying job, the company he once found as his competitor offered him a new position; he couldn't help but say yes. It was too late when he realized it was a ploy. In the middle of the night, you were taken away from comfort. You were treated like a princess for the first week, of course - you were only six, but the moment you began to disobey and cry for your family, the experiments began. Chemically engineered serums were given to you just to see what the outcomes would be. They didn’t care if you died. They wanted power. What they didn’t know was that over the ten years you were in their custody, you got stronger with each injection of their newest and modified concoction. Just as they took you, you disappeared in the middle of the night with the help of a rogue employee. It’s now 2016, you’ve graduated from Midtown High and have a partner in anti-crime.

New York City has a name for you.

Caterwaul.

Characters: TASM! Peter Parker, mentions of Gwen Stacy, Flash, and Aunt May

Ship: TASM! Peter Parker x Gender-neutral! reader

Warning(s): angsty! There are mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, grief, weapons, loss of life, light self-loathing, kidnapping, trauma, torture, etc. NOTHING EXTREMELY DETAILED

A/N: Caterwaul is a synonym for scream, which, will come handy later on in the series. I was watching Tick, Tick, Boom and inspo. struck like a ton of bricks. I genuinely should be cleaning right now but....

Word Count: 1.9k

MASTERLIST

Sitting in the middle of New York City’s biggest park was usually a tourist’s dream; the beautiful scenery paired with people watching and not to mention, the history surrounding every square inch. Yet to you, it was the best place to stalk your prey. That being the people of the underground crime groups, those who found their purpose serving criminal overlords, or the ones that had enough money to fund their radical ideals to make the city you call home their very own palace or playing grounds. Though your face was tucked down into a book that you had randomly plucked off the shelf of your worn-down bookcase, your ears picked up every sharp detail of those passing by. Enhanced hearing that you gained after being held captive by one of these underground crime circuits as a child in Romania helped you filter through innocent tourists and citizens trying to make ends meet from the men with deep pockets and their equally corrupt followers who, you find, cannot keep their mouths shut.

Picking up on the sudden clammer of rubber soles of steel toed boots, your spine straightened, and ears perked up as you tuned into the group of three people walking past. Their hushed tones paired with racing heartbeats gave away their excitement, or was it anxiety? That was something you could decipher later but for now, you picked up a pen and began to scribble notes into the empty margins of the chapter your eyes were focused on with a dead stare.

‘Kingsbridge Heights, big meeting, construction site, ‘big boss unveiling new weapons’

Well Shit.

With a huff, you catch other details you found pertinent to finding out the actual location and who “big boss” is. Once the three were out of sight, your hands worked quickly in pulling out your phone. This was the moment you were thankful for the irreversible trauma you experienced from the ages of 6 to 16. Not only did you have enhanced hearing but also enhanced strength and agility, making jumping from rooftop ledge to rooftop ledge as easy as snapping your fingers. Fingertips grazed the keys of your cellphone before pressing send, your book long forgotten in the messenger bag strapped to your side.

With a buzz, you gazed to the screen and a smirk played on your lips while you reached for your skateboard. Pushing off the concrete of Central Park, you made sure to swerve carefully between those walking in front of you. All you wanted to do was get back to the apartment you shared with your best friend, you had met when you transferred to the same high school as him when you found yourself creating a new beginning for yourself and fill him in on what you overheard in detail. The feeling of uneven pavement vibrated your legs as you moved from the smooth pavement to the roads made for those who were well off enough to keep their cars in the city and the annoyingly yellow cabs that littered ever block, swerving through traffic with protest from angry cabbies who blared their horns at any inconvenience that would prevent them from making money.

Shrill rings filled your ears which broke you from the serene thoughts that fluttered around your head like that one God awful PowerPoint transition that Flash would use for every. Single. Project.

  Parker. 

Couldn’t he wait until your home in 20 minutes? What did you expect? This is the same kid who spoiled The Force Awakens an hour before he was going out to see it just because he couldn’t wait for the redemption of his favorite movie series.

“Yes Parker?” your voice was soft and melodic against the bustling streets you continued to weave through, though some playful annoyance laced your tone. “What did you find oh so important that you couldn’t wait for my beautiful, ethereal presence?”

An airy scoff filled your ears before rambling and deep breaths. Peter knew to slow down the moment he heard a long pause on your end. It was a habit you both picked up after years of being in each other’s company. “Ok so,” a sigh, “I was already in the area and from what I’ve seen there’s..um..there’s about two dozen construction sites.” Your shoulders shrugged as you turned swiftly down the alley that protected you from anyone who may be listening to you. You could never be too careful in a city that had many characters that had varying intentions.

Peter continued on, the soles of your shoes catching the cobblestone and your free hand grabbing your skateboard before you continued your trek on foot. “5 of them are owned by different father and son companies that are located in the Bronx, 4 are family-owned businesses based in Jersey. The rest? Big name companies that are responsible for putting up those fancy new business buildings and multi-million-dollar apartments around Midtown. However, three companies are- hold on.”

Thwhips and thuds as well as the skidding of gravel on clothed feet signaled to you that Peter was home, you were close behind. A laugh left your lips as you looked up to the sky only to see a panicked red blur flinging off clothes and pulling on a different piece of clothing.

“Pete, I can see you. Go next to the water tower next time.” Pushing through the front doors of your apartment building, you quickly made your way up the stairwell before shoving your key into the slot of the handle. Pushing the door in, you caught your platonic other half hopping around the living room to fix his appearance. “Pete,” another laugh escaped you as you threw your bag to the sofa before patting his back and plopping on the beaten down leather couch beside your bag.

Peter Parker’s secret identity wasn’t so secret to you, especially after the death of his girlfriend and your other best friend, Gwen Stacy. You could sense his heartbreak from miles away and the way he folded into your arms that night confirmed everything to you. His guilt. His loss. The full empty feeling one would feel when losing the love of their life.

-

“I’m responsible for her death though. You don’t understand.” His voice waivered as tears flowed from his eyes and down his cheeks like his own personal waterfalls. Your thumb stopped the flow from dribbling down his chin and making even more of a mess through you didn’t mind. This was the same kid who introduced you to his family as ‘his super cool bloody friend’ because on your first day at Midtown High you decided to get into a fist fight with Flash after he said some unpleasant words about Peter and Gwen’s relationship.

“Pete, help me to understand, then. I want to be there for you.” You always regretted the words that left you next, he even knew that. “I know you. I know you hold things so close to you and worry that you’re going to stress me or Aunt May out but you’re not. You aren’t at fault for this just like you aren’t responsible for Mr. Stacy’s death and even more so for Uncle Ben’s. These are things you couldn’t stop.”

Chocolate brown hues darted up and searched your face, hurt and pain reignited in him and every bone in his body told him to run and hide and fight. Peter’s tense muscles and closed fists agreed with the screaming that filled his head. His inner voice, usually the one of irrational and impulsive decisions, seemed completely rational when it was strangling every thought of comfort that he used to usually soothe himself during his commonly occurring panic attacks. Yet, he stayed. His eyes screwed shut, his hands now opening and closing into balled fists as a way to help himself keep grounded.

“I’m Spider-Man.” He expected more than you gave. No gasp, no fright, no concerned look of ‘how the fuck did that happen?!’ Just understanding in that moment. Your arms tightened around him and brought his head into your shoulder. You allowed him to feel his feelings with no judgement, his tears for his lost love now turned to years of pent-up grief and guilt mixed oh so deliciously with relief. Relief that he didn’t have to hide anymore. Not from you, the person he JUST rented an apartment with.

-

“Okay so as you were saying on the phone,” pulling out the book that held all the notes you could fit into the margins, he plopped next to you and pulled his laptop to his legs and beckoned you to lean into his side. His fingers glided over the keyboard before his tech ran quickly and sectioned off the areas of Kingsbridge Heights that was being gentrified. “These few here are all coming from Fisk Enterprises. They helped build the OsCorp building and lost a good chunk of change when, well, you know, happened.” Swallowing hard, Peter pointed to a block near the Bronx School of Sciences while quickly pulling up local news articles and public social media posts from those who presumably lived in the area or went to the school the construction is taking place near.

“See, the public is against this. If their blueprint gets accepted by the city, then all they have to do is offer these landlords enough money that they see their new luxury lives and forget about their tenants who get nothing. Then Fisk Enterprises will move in, take down all those buildings just to create a new habitation for the wealthy.” Peter pulled over posts from a few different landlords who had already heard from lawyers that a heavy NDA may be put onto them if they sell their properties.

“But would people being against a future property warrant a crime spree with new weapons? Peter, I think they’ve created something new. This isn’t just a person with money upset that those who live in the borough are against their big plans. This is a person who has money, resources, and power who will do anything to get what he wants. We must investigate.” It clicked. Everything clicked. Whoever was behind the name Fisk Enterprises was going to do more than displace everyone in Kingsbridge. They were readying for war. They want to flatten the Bronx.

That night you and Peter perched on the ledge overlooking the project that initially raised red flags. With a mask similar to Peter’s over your face and a suit that had a matching grey-ish silver and black color scheme, you both noted the unusual foot traffic. “60 on the inside. 5 flanking each side, the other 45 are spread out.” You focused carefully to the different voices and patterns of speech that filled the ground floor of the base building’s skeleton. “Whoever just got there, they have the power. Everyone went silent. Heartbeats are through the roof.”

Peter only acknowledged your words with a nod and a knowing tilt of his head. Swinging around the backside of the location, you watched to make sure he wasn’t sighted before leaping to different rooftops and swinging yourself. Though you weren’t genetically modified by a spider like you friend, you did have similar abilities to the man as well as your secret weapon, so it made sense when, after you shared your secret with Peter, the next day you woke up to him holding a handmade suit with similar web shooters to his embedded in the wrists in front of your groggy face.

-

“Spider-team, caterwaul?”

[spiderbae2319]

“The Uncle Ben Effect” - The principle that dictates any parental figure of Peter Parker will undoubtedly croak. (likely in front of him)

Richard and Mary? Dead.

Uncle Ben and Aunt May? Dead.

Tony Stark? Dead.

Fucking Quentin Beck who only PRETENDED to care about Peter in order to steal and try to kill him. Within days the man was in the ground.

Jesus Christ can this child have a family PLEASE!

[starrynightsxo]

"with great power comes great responsibility" - Uncle Ben

[lilybug-02]

I would love to see your spider-sona if you wind up making one :)

I made this gurl in 2 hours so she's still sketchy

I was thinking of some of my own interests and started with an environmental theme. I thought incorporating spiders into the story, would be an interesting plotpoint.

BACKSTORY: The Green Spider, also known as Lilith Green, was bitten by a swarm of radioactive, hyper-intelligent spiders as a child. In a bizarre turn of events she gained the ability to communicate with them and was raised to live among the spider colony. In her teen years she began to realize the injustices of the world around her. She is conflicted on her stance within human society, but she swears to protect both human and non-human alike.

[boyofzoot]

Cursed with being a cutie pie

[dizzzyondreams]

camp camp teen au where harrison becomes spiderman through accidently making a radioactive spider appear with his magic and then getting bitten, so not only does he just have his normal magic, he has spiderman's powers too.

[medusa1597]

still so gagged at my moroccan coworker assuming i didn't know when about prune tajin the other day 😩 maybe the source of my ego crisis

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

I’m not in enough of an it brain space anymore to do anything with this but i cannot seem to shake concept of one of the losers being a Spider-Man and always laughing off the idea of the canon event where their family member dies because they either wouldn’t care or their blood family is all already dead so they’re safe

until they’re told ‘no I don’t think you get it- it’s the same for for every Spider-Man that Ben dies’ and their face just dropping once they realize what that actually means

[carewyncromwell]

"Don't talk 'bout me

Like how you might know how I feel --

Top of the world, but your world isn't real...

Your world's an ideal...

So go have fun -- I really couldn't care less."

~"Therefore I Am" by Billie Eilish

x~x~x~x

When Carewyn Cromwell first joined the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as an up-and-coming lawyer in the spring of 1991, Cornelius Fudge -- the Minister for Magic -- was very eager to welcome her and show support for her budding career. It didn't take long for Carewyn to figure out that Fudge had heard all about her and her brother Jacob's exploits dealing with the Cursed Vaults and apprehending R -- not just from Dumbledore, but from OWL examiner Professor Tofty and infamous Auror Mad-Eye Moody -- and although Carewyn had had plenty of people side-eye her for her dealing with the Vaults at school, it seemed Fudge held no such disapproval. On the contrary, he seemed very keen on interacting with Carewyn, especially around his support staff and the rest of the Wizengamot. And it wasn't until Carewyn finally met him (as well as his Senior Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge) that she figured out why.

Carewyn had known she wouldn't be the first Cromwell that sought a career in Magical Law. Her Head of House, Severus Snape, purposefully brought it up to her in their Career Advice session, to make sure she was aware that -- at the time of her interest -- Carewyn's ruthless grandfather, Charles Cromwell, was an influential member of the Wizengamot. After Charles's arrest and lifetime imprisonment, the Cromwell Clan's reputation had understandably been tarnished. Carewyn and Jacob's reputations, however, were shining and pristine, because they were the Cromwells who had actually defeated Charles and the rest of R and in the process saved Hogwarts from the danger of the Cursed Vaults. And considering that Fudge was related to the Cromwell Clan through marriage (a fact that still left Carewyn reeling) and had apparently done his fair share of socializing with Charles Cromwell while unaware of his crimes, it was very clear that Fudge wanted to distance himself from that old association, preferably by being on good terms with the people who'd brought Charles to justice. And since Carewyn was now pursuing a promising new career at the Ministry, Fudge had clearly deemed it in his best interest to throw his support behind Carewyn, so as to have her esteem and reputation likewise reflect nicely on him.

So Fudge only has interest in being around people who make him look good, rather than anyone with actual integrity, Carewyn thought cynically. Guess I shouldn't be surprised that the chief politician around here acts like it.

Despite herself, though, Carewyn was disappointed. All the more so when she learned in the spring of 1993 just how self-absorbed the man was, despite being given charge of the entire British Wizarding World.

It all started when -- in the midst of a busy night shift -- Carewyn's meeting with fellow lawyer Chester Davies was interrupted by her old school friend Ben Copper bursting into her office.

"Carewyn," he said urgently, "Hagrid's been arrested."

Both Carewyn and Chester whirled around.

"What!?" they cried in unison.

"How can that be?" Chester immediately followed up, sounding confused. "I didn't even know Hagrid was under investigation -- let alone charged with anything..."

He looked to Carewyn as if to ask if she had, but Carewyn wasn't paying attention. She got up from her chair and strolled around her desk over to Ben, taking hold of his shoulder and steering him into the office so she could close the door.

"Tell me everything," she said seriously.

Ben rested his forehead on his clenched fist as he propped his elbow against the wall of Carewyn's office.

"I was just finishing up my work for the day, when I saw Hagrid by the Floo grates with two Hitwizards, talking to Cornelius Fudge," he explained. "Fudge was apologizing, saying something about 'it just being a precaution' and that he was sure once things at Hogwarts settled down, he'd be able to go about his business as usual. Fudge even tried to tell Hagrid that Azkaban shouldn't really be that bad for him -- "

Ben looked absolutely disgusted repeating back such a blatant lie. Carewyn was just as furious herself.

"'Shouldn't be that bad?'" she repeated, her soft voice nonetheless dripping with horror and umbrage. "What, does he think only violent criminals are affected by dementors?"

"Likely!" Ben spat, his brown eyes flashing with righteous anger. "I went over and asked what was going on, and Hagrid explained that it was because of the whole 'Chamber of Secrets' mess. Fudge didn't seem to want to talk about it and kind of just blustered the same rubbish he'd said to Hagrid -- claimed the Hogwarts school governors had been concerned and he'd thought he should take measures to 'reassure' them and the public -- "

"Reassure them?" said Chester, his mouth falling open in disbelief. "But -- you can't mean -- the Minister can't really think that Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets?"

"No -- but apparently because Hagrid was expelled right after the Chamber of Secrets opened the first time, Fudge is perfectly willing to throw him under the bus anyway, just to make it look like he's doing something," Ben said vindictively. "Apparently he's letting the exact same thing happen to Dumbledore too."

"What do you mean?" said Carewyn, her eyebrows furrowing.

Ben leaned his back up against the wall, crossing his arms.

"Hagrid said that Dumbledore and Fudge had come to see him at his hut about an hour ago, when Lucius Malfoy crashed the meeting out of nowhere, just to round Dumbledore up and expel him from the grounds. Apparently that snake Malfoy somehow got all of the other school governors to sign off on the proposal."

The mention of Lucius Malfoy made Carewyn's eyes flare with resentment. Of course Malfoy would be the sort to take advantage of a bad situation to try to oust his old master You-Know-Who's greatest enemy.

"But -- but taking Dumbledore away could only make things worse," said Chester. He clearly had a hard time making sense of all this. "Surely the Minister wouldn't agree to that? He's gone to Dumbledore for advice for years..."

"But how could Fudge have arrested Hagrid in the first place?" Carewyn rerouted the conversation sharply. "The Hitwizards can't arrest anyone without the charges first going through the Department of Magical Law Enforcement...how fast must the charges have gone through, for Chester and me not to have heard anything about them?"

"That's because Fudge didn't involve the Hitwizards or the Wizengamot at first," Ben said coldly. "The Hitwizards I saw looked just as surprised by what they were hearing as I was...even if they did end up going lockstep with Fudge and took Hagrid away through the grate anyway. I reckon Fudge just asked Hagrid to come with him quietly, so he wouldn't have to get the Hitwizards involved..."

"Or have his activities draw too much attention," Carewyn finished.

Her low voice evoked the rumbles of an earthquake as she swept to the door. Opening it, she glanced over her shoulder at Chester, her blue eyes blazing with righteous fire despite the stoicism of her face.

"Chester...I'm afraid I'll have to leave you to finish editing the case file," she said curtly.

"What are you planning to do?" asked Chester.

"Speak to Madam Bones. Hagrid needs a lawyer, and I intend to be it."

x~x~x~x

It only took a half-hour for Carewyn to blaze through all the paperwork needed to become Hagrid's official legal counsel. Unfortunately Azkaban's visiting hours were only from sun-up to sun-down, with each visitor only being allowed an hour each day with a Patronus escort either provided by the warden or conjured by the visitor themselves. The conditions were very familiar to Carewyn -- she'd been reminded them every time she chose to visit Patricia Rakepick in her lonely cell block.

When Carewyn finally made it to Azkaban first thing the next morning and was led to the cell Hagrid had been squeezed into, she found the poor gamekeeper crumpled up in a huge ball, sobbing like a child.

"Dad -- 'm sorry, Dad -- "

Even with her Abraxan Winged Horse Patronus protecting her from the dementors' influence, Carewyn could feel a cold, ocean-like wave of despair crash over her, just looking at Hagrid. Her almond-shaped blue eyes welled up with empathetic pain.

"...Oh, Hagrid..."

She clutched the bars of his cell with her free hand as her Patronus swept through the bars, lightly brushing its nose along Hagrid's arm. Hagrid choked, blinking up through his tears as he shakily raised his head.

"...W...wha'...?"

The grief and paleness of Hagrid's usually rosy, happy face broke Carewyn's heart. She could feel her own eyes welling up with traces of tears as she tried to smile at him.

"It's me, Hagrid," Carewyn said gently. "It's Carewyn."

Hagrid's beetle-black eyes widened. Then, just as abruptly, they flooded with even more tears, which streamed down his face like pouring rain might streak down a windowpane.

"...Carewyn..."

He couldn't keep himself from breaking down into full sobs as he crawled over and slapped his oversized hands up against the bars -- they were too small for him to grab them the way Carewyn had. Even so, Carewyn tried to take his hand as best she could, even if it only resulted in her holding his pinky and ring finger.

"It's okay, Hagrid," Carewyn whispered as soothingly as she could. Her Abraxan Patronus gently rested its transparent wing over Hagrid's shoulder and rested its head beside his arm. "It's going to be okay..."

x~x~x~x

It took sitting with Carewyn and her Patronus for a couple of minutes before Hagrid was able to speak coherently. He told Carewyn everything that had happened, including the reason Fudge had thought he could be behind the attacks in the first place.

"...Th' whole lot thought that he'd been what hurt poor Myrtle Warren, bu' -- bu' I'm tellin' you, Aragog wouldn't-a done it!" said Hagrid. "I tol' 'em that at th' time too...bu' only Professor Dumbledore believed me..."

Carewyn nodded. That sounded about right -- for as much as she resented Dumbledore, the Headmaster had always supported Hagrid. And given the Headmaster's own talent for Legilimency, Carewyn suspected Dumbledore knew full-well Hagrid was telling the truth, just as much as she herself was certain of it. But she also knew that her intuitions based on her Legilimency couldn't be used as evidence of either guilt or innocence...and even if Hagrid didn't believe Aragog was the beast from the Chamber of Secrets and Carewyn doubted it as well, plenty of people could see the circumstances as pretty damning, on their own.

"And because no one else believed you, Headmaster Dippet expelled you with the thought that it would make the attacks stop," surmised Carewyn.

Hagrid hung his head. "...Yeah. An' well...th' attacks did stop, after tha'. Dunno why, aside from th' person maybe decidin' t' cut 'is losses..."

Carewyn's lips came together grimly as she looked at the floor. The gamekeeper's face went that little bit paler as his eyes flooded with fresh tears.

"Yeh -- yeh don't think I did it, d'yeh?" he said desperately. "I-I would never! I woulda never hurt 'em -- Nick an' Mrs. Norris, an' -- an' poor Hermione -- oh, Carewyn, I never woulda -- !"

Carewyn gave Hagrid's pinky a reassuring squeeze.

"I know, Hagrid," she said firmly. "I know you didn't do it. All of those Pureblood wizarding families that claimed to be related to Salazar Slytherin have died out -- and trust me, 'Hagrid' was not one of them. And the beast inside the Chamber of Secrets was supposedly put there by Salazar Slytherin around the time he and the other four Founders made the Cursed Vaults, back in the 9th century. Acromantula weren't bred until the 18th century. Aragog couldn't be Slytherin's monster."

Her eyes softened.

"...And I know you, Hagrid. You love everyone at Hogwarts, even the brattiest students. I know you would never do anything to hurt them."

Hagrid's teary eyes crinkled up to make room for a very weak, watery smile.

"...Thank you, Carewyn," he gave a loud sniff. "It...it means a lot...knowin' yeh believe in me..."

Carewyn gave a gentle pat to his hand through the bars. Hagrid gave another loud sniff.

"...D'yeh...d'yeh know if the Wizengamot'll be able t' stop Malfoy? Get 'em t' bring Dumbledore back?"

Carewyn pursed her lips grimly. "There's nothing for them to stop, at present. The school governors' job is to oversee the school and its Headmaster -- them asking Dumbledore to resign is a completely legal action for them to take."

Hagrid looked distressed. "Bu' -- bu' withou' Dumbledore there, everyone'll be in more danger than ever! Professor Dumbledore was likely the only thing that kept th' Heir o' Slytherin from goin' all out -- "

"That doesn't mean the Wizengamot can overrule the governors' decision," Carewyn said sternly. She then said a bit more gently, "...I know how much you respect Dumbledore -- and you're right, Dumbledore has warded Dark wizards away from the school before..."

Not that he was able to prevent R from sending Jacob and me threats, but they still didn't feel bold enough to show up in full-force until Dumbledore was away...

"...But however foolish their decision might be, it doesn't break any laws. And law enforcement is meant for that purpose -- enforcing laws that have been broken."

Hagrid looked incredibly disheartened.

"They're gonna regret it later," he muttered miserably. "Yeh jus' wait an' see..."

Carewyn gave Hagrid's pinky another light squeeze, exhaling quietly through her nose.

She thought so too -- but she was so unhappy just contemplating the consequences that she didn't have to heart to say so.

x~x~x~x

The consequences, as it turned out, were even worse than Carewyn could've envisioned.

After going out for an afternoon coffee break with Talbott one May day, Carewyn found the Ministry Atrium in disarray, with multiple owls flying in and out of the offices of the Minister of Magic and his support staff and nosy reporters crowding around in an attempt to figure out what was going on.

Tonks emerged from the crowd and filled them in -- apparently the reporters had heard rumors that there'd been another attack at Hogwarts by the Heir of Slytherin, this time with a student actually being taken into the Chamber itself. It was only once Talbott convinced Tonks to change herself temporarily into one of Dolores Umbridge's staffers so she could force her way through the reporters and get more information from the support staff herself that she found out who it was -- and when the pink-haired Auror caught up with Talbott and Carewyn in the Atrium, her heart-shaped face was as white as a sheet.

"Weasley," Tonks whispered shakily. "Fudge said the girl's name was Weasley..."

Talbott's shoulders stiffened as Carewyn's hands flew to her mouth in horror.

"Ginny," she gasped.

x~x~x~x

Talbott, Tonks, and Carewyn all bolted to the lift, taking it up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement where they could use the Auror Department's Floo Network grate specifically meant for communication. Upon trying to contact the Burrow, however, Carewyn found the house quiet and deserted.

"Are they not there?" Tonks asked Carewyn anxiously as she took her head out of the grate. The ginger-haired lawyer shook her head.

"The school must've contacted Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as soon as it happened," Talbott said solemnly.

Carewyn nodded, her red lips knitting together tightly. "I've got to write to Bill and Charlie right away -- "

"I'll go to Hogsmeade," said Talbott at once. "There might be more information, closer to the school..."

"And I'll go back downstairs!" Tonks agreed. "Maybe I'll pick up some more intel, huddled in with all those reporters -- "

The three dispersed, with Talbott and Tonks heading back to the lift and Carewyn heading to her office. Once she'd very quickly written out a letter each for Bill and Charlie and put all of the expediting stamps on them that she possibly could, she then set about writing another more formal letter to Azkaban prison. Then she raced back to the lift, gave Bill and Charlie's letters to the two fastest owls she could find, and then headed straight for the Minister for Magic's office with the final piece of paper in her hand. The tiny ginger-haired lawyer had some trouble pushing her way through the crowd of reporters until Tonks -- disguised as one of them and therefore much taller and more muscular than usual -- managed to push everyone back enough that it gave her an opening.

When Carewyn reached the slightly open door of the Minister for Magic's office, she didn't even bother to knock the way she probably would've in any other circumstance. Quite frankly she didn't think the Minister would've heard her knock even if she tried, and if he did, he likely would've tried to ignore it, given how much owls were swooping in and out of his office and how noisy it was outside.

"Minister!" Carewyn said urgently.

Fudge looked up, incredibly startled. He'd been pacing the room, one letter in his hands and five left more open on his desk. His trademark light green bowler hat was hanging off the side of his high-backed chair, and he looked incredibly harried.

"Carewyn!" said Fudge, trying and failing to smile. "How nice it is to see you!"

Once Carewyn was in, she immediately shut the door behind her so sharply that Fudge gave a start.

"Ah -- forgive me, my dear, but...I'm afraid I'm very busy at the moment --"

"I know," said Carewyn. "Minister -- I need you to sign a release letter for Rubeus Hagrid."

Fudge was taken aback. "Hagrid? I-I don't -- "

"If the Heir of Slytherin has taken Ginny Weasley into the Chamber of Secrets, then he's still at Hogwarts," Carewyn said sharply. "Therefore Hagrid is innocent."

"Well, yes, but...that'll be dealt with, in due time," said Fudge with an attempt at a reassuring smile as he put down the letter in his hands and started to make a stack of it with the others. "I'll be sure to send along a proper letter to Azkaban, once I get these papers in order, and calm the press -- "

"You needn't send anything," Carewyn cut him off firmly. "I've already written out a formal release, and I'll be happy to deliver it myself -- you only need to sign it."

She put the letter down smack-dab in the center of his desk, right on over the stack of parchment he was organizing. Fudge, however, seemed hesitant to look at it, and instead busied himself with consulting the stack.

"Ah, well...I do appreciate your initiative, Carewyn," Fudge said in a weak attempt at indulgence, "but as I said, this...all will be dealt with, in due time. Now I'm truly sorry, but I'm afraid we'll have to speak more later -- I do have so much to do, in the light of all this -- "

"Minister!" Carewyn said, clearly upset.

" -- responding to all these letters from the governors, from Minerva McGonagall, from Arthur Weasley -- coordinating a response, for all press releases, and sending it along to the Prophet -- all before heading out to the school myself, to ascertain the gravity of the situation -- "

Carewyn could hear Fudge's rambling, but it was oddly muffled, in her own ears. Because of her Legilimency, she could sense Fudge's feelings wafting off of him just as clearly as she could hear him with her ears -- and in that moment, when she herself was so urgent, all she could feel from Fudge was the desire to run. To avoid, to push away, to ignore -- to not deal with his terrible mistake at that moment, and instead just try to make himself look as capable as he could to the public at large --

All that Carewyn could feel coming off of Fudge was cowardice.

And it was this that made Carewyn cut into his rambling with the cold sharpness of a knife.

"Minister."

Carewyn managed to catch Fudge's eye, and when he made eye contact with her, his voice immediately died in his throat. Her almond-shaped blue eyes were burning with a kind of cold disapproval the likes of which he'd never seen.

"I realize that you wish to be seen as a compassionate and attentive leader," Carewyn said very softly. "But trust that, in leaving an innocent person locked up in a prison manned by creatures that can drive people mad with their Dark aura alone -- when all you'd have to do to help him is sign your name...you currently appear as anything but."

Fudge opened his mouth, trying to stammer out a weak attempt at a stern response. "N-now, Carewyn -- I-I already told you I'd deal with -- "

But Carewyn merely picked up the release letter again and slapped it right back down on the desk in front of him.

"Minister -- you've already wrongfully sent a man to Azkaban before he'd even been formally charged with a crime," she murmured. "All while being quite certain he hadn't committed the crime in the first place, to the point that you reassured him that he'd probably be released 'once things settled down.'"

Carewyn's blue eyes narrowed.

"...Don't shame yourself further."

The Minister's face had lost quite a bit of its color as he stared at Carewyn. He rather shakily lowered himself down into his chair, regarding Carewyn with a wariness he never had before. Then, looking almost cowed, he averted his eyes, reached for the quill in the inkpot at his desk, and signed the release letter. He mutely held the letter out for Carewyn to take.

"Thank you," Carewyn said quietly.

She turned on her heel and headed for the door. When she opened it, ten owls swooped in, flocking around Fudge's desk and raining even more letters onto and around his desk.

"If I may make a suggestion, Minister," Carewyn said a bit more levelly as she left, "going to Hogwarts right now to deal with the problem would both make you look more proactive and give you some relief from all these letters."

Without waiting for Fudge's response, Carewyn left his office. Once she'd pushed her way through the crowd of reporters (even taking out her wand at one point to better coax them back), she dashed over to the closest Floo Network grate, snatching up some Powder in her free hand and chucking it down at her heeled feet as she climbed in.

"Azkaban Prison!"

And in a burst of emerald green flames, Carewyn had disappeared.

x~x~x~x

Once Hagrid had been released from his cell, Carewyn brought him with her to her mother Lane's new cottage, out in the country. The half-giant was still in pretty poor shape after his three-week-long stint in Azkaban, and since Carewyn knew he'd never fit in her tiny London flat, she figured at least Lane's new home would be a comfortable place to get Hagrid fed and healed and await further news from the Weasleys and Hogwarts.

As the night wore on, Carewyn received a few short updates from Tonks and Talbott -- Hogwarts was going to be closed; the girl's parents were at the school; the school governors were convening for a secret closed-door meeting. It wasn't until very early the following morning that Carewyn, Hagrid, and Lane received the news they'd all been hoping for, in the form of a long letter from Mrs. Weasley.

Carewyn dear, Bill wrote to Arthur and me telling me of your letter to him, so after following up with him and Charlie via Floo, I thought it best to write to you straightaway. Ginny is all right. My son Ron, his friend Harry, and their Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, were able to locate the Chamber of Secrets, and Harry, bless him, was able to both kill Slytherin's monster (a basilisk! Merlin's beard, I was terrified, thinking of that poor boy facing off against that thing!) and rescue Ginny. Arthur and I are so grateful, even now I still can't stop crying. We're so relieved to know Ginny's safe, and that Ron and Harry are both safe as well. Unfortunately poor Gilderoy Lockhart apparently had his memory wiped...at his own hand, no less! He actually had the audacity to try to modify my son's memory! I suppose it's true what they say about never meeting your heroes!! Oh well, it seems Professor Dumbledore will have to find yet another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for next year. Oh, yes, I nearly forgot -- Dumbledore has returned to Hogwarts! Apparently all of the school governors (excluding Lucius Malfoy) heard about what happened to Ginny and immediately sent a letter to Dumbledore begging for him to come back. And he did, of course -- he was so gentle with Ginny, after her ordeal... Oh, but Carewyn dear, truly, I cannot thank you enough for caring so much for Bill and Charlie. Arthur had sent them his own letters not long before we left for Hogwarts, but from what I understand, your letters reached both Bill and Charlie well before Arthur's did, and I appreciate you trying so hard to make sure they knew what was going on as quickly as possible. Arthur and I send our love, and Ginny as well. Do consider coming over to the Burrow for a visit sometime soon -- Ginny was a bit cheered at the thought of having "another girl" over for dinner! Your mother and brother are more than welcome as well, if they're available. Arthur would be delighted to know what your mother thinks about pinball machines. All our love, Molly Weasley

Not long later, Hagrid returned to Hogwarts, and Carewyn returned to work at the Ministry. It was when she returned to the Ministry that Carewyn noticed Cornelius Fudge's attitude toward her had gone through a considerable change. When she arrived in the Atrium, she caught sight of the Minister likewise heading into work. At the sight of her, Fudge immediately approached her -- but his smile was not as wide open and overly amiable as it was before.

"Hello, Miss Cromwell," he said.

Carewyn blinked. "...Minister."

Fudge inclined his head respectfully. Taking a quick glance around the Atrium, he then spoke a bit more stridently.

"...Professor Dumbledore told me that Hagrid has settled himself back in nicely. He expressed admiration, for your defense of him...Madam Bones did, as well."

Carewyn frowned as her eyes drifted off toward the lift.

"Hagrid was my client," she said simply. "It was my job to advocate for his well-being. And it wasn't either lawful or right for him to remain imprisoned for a crime he didn't commit."

To Carewyn's surprise, Fudge's pleasant expression actually seemed to crack a bit, betraying something strangely insecure.

"I suppose so," said the Minister a bit stiffly. "Well then, Miss Cromwell...I'm afraid I must be off."

He paused. Then, forcing a slightly more politician-worthy smile, he asked, "I hope...I might likewise call on you in the future...should I wish for an expert legal opinion? Madam Bones does speak very highly of your abilities as a lawyer, you know."

Carewyn cocked her eyebrows in surprise. She honestly wasn't expecting that.

"...Of course," she said, once she'd recovered.

Fudge tipped his lime green bowler to her, before turning and sweeping away toward his office. As Carewyn watched him go, she couldn't help but frown.

It was bizarre -- it didn't feel like Fudge disliked her now or anything after she'd so coldly called him out in his office. Even so, there was a wall around his feelings that wasn't there before: something guarded. And yet it didn't seem suspicious or mistrustful. If anything, it felt almost formal: like Fudge was standing that bit taller and being that bit more detached and dignified than before. Less like he was trying to buddy up to Carewyn and use her as a prop to elevate himself and more like how an employer would treat a high-ranked employee...

And then it hit her.

Fudge had called her "Miss Cromwell." Not "Carewyn," not "Carewyn, my dear" -- but "Miss Cromwell." In the same sort of respectful tone of voice he'd use for Madam Bones and other older, respectable Ministry employees.

He was speaking to Carewyn not like a child that he could coax onto his side through coddling and fawning...but as an adult he wished to coax onto his side through decidedly more political means.

Carewyn's red lips came together tightly as she turned and headed for the lift, tossing her much shorter ginger bob off her neck.

Well, even if Fudge was truly nothing but a politician at heart, at least now he saw her as an adult who wouldn't become his sycophant just because he acted nice to her.

[ajax-is-sugar-daddy]

RIP Uncle ben..

[lili250307]

guys whats his canon event 😭

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

This is how we do Halloween cupcake decorating at my house :'D

[princesskkfish]

I found this in my camera roll and thought I’d share xD

[theconstantsidekick]

klaus got sober, finally got sober but was made a germaphobe. he was ridiculed for finally having his shit together but having weird coping mechanisms for it. then he was made to spiral again and then killed off. he got his life on track, was an exceptional uncle/second parent to his niece and then they made him sell his body for drugs and inevitably killed him off as a junkie.

luther, who was the leader, who was smart enough to be an astronaut could amount to nothing without his powers except from being a stripper. he had absolutely nothing and no one, even sloan was ripped away from him and then he, too was killed off. lonely and unaccomplished.

ben was brought back, finally alive, granted not the same ben but he wore the same face and he had a family who could annoy him into shape but he stayed a dick, became a apocalyptic monster and credited for the destruction of all the branching timelines, and died as a monster that he was so afraid of becoming.

alison got her happy life but couldn’t sustain it. her husband left her but at least she got to have claire and for that i can give credit but she remained codependent on klaus to be her passion project that made her feel better. she never learnt why that was not healthy and then died without her daughter.

diego had this beautiful life, a family that called him their own, three kids and wife who called him darling, and love and then he was made to fuck it all up because of some obsession with the CIA, in service of a romance between his wife and brother because the creator thought an old man needed some romance. he wasn’t even shown saying goodbye to his kids.

lila left behind her assassin ways, she stopped being batshit crazy and ultra suspicious to settle down with a man she genuinely and wholeheartedly loved and trusted, only to throw it all away because his younger (and yet much older) brother found her a timeline with strawberries. she was made to give up her kids, her family, her happy fucking life when all she ever wanted was to not be alone.

viktor got dealt the worst hand, always. he was abused vehemently by his father and ignored and relegated due to no fault of his own. he was made to feel ugly and broken and small but then he realised that his family loved him even if his father didn’t. he got a chance at being normal and he took it, only for it to be stripped away from him so that he could sacrifice his life for a world that was never kind to him. he was made to reconcile with his abusive father and then promptly erased out of existence.

five. my dearest boy, young man, old fool, five. he survived an apocalypse after another. fought tooth and nail to keep his family alive and well and dedicated his entire life to make sure of it. only for all his efforts to be made futile and his snark to be mellowed. he made it his life mission to keep the world safe and his family safe only for all that to be stripped away from his character and made into a lovesick fool who abandoned them during the final battle to mope about his brother’s wife not liking him back.

there were so many character assassinations this season, GoT writers would be proud of dear old steve.

[hajdara]

[soullessdianthus]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 | 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚

Warnings: yandere themes (manipulation, kidnapping, imprisonment), smut (overstimulation, dubcon/noncon, breeding kink if you want to interpret like so)

Word count: 1.6k

A sound of pouring rain tapping over the window kept you awake. You glanced over the glass and saw the same image as for the days before - dense, forest line cutting the grassy, wild meadow off. The temperature inside and out was warm and it almost felt like summer in the countryside of your homeland. But it was all an illusion.

A high-tech screens had been put inside the window frames to imitate your well known surroundings. He put an effort to make this place look like a decent place. Somewhere you would feel comfortable. But this wasn’t even a real home, it was your prison. 

After you interfered a little too much with the canon events in one of the spider-verses, Miguel O’Hara visited your world in person. He demanded an explanations from Peter Parker, a friend from college, about your doings. 

Because you two learned lately about the up-coming death of uncle Ben and tried to avoid it by all means. And you almost succeed. Almost.

Miguel, a tall man with a dark look on his face, threatened Peter about the consequences of avoiding such occurrences. Parker appeared to be frightened of the stranger as Miguel’s eyes seemed to glow brightly red from frustration. 

Those piercing eyes finally found your form, standing still behind your Spiderman and only then you processed what you just heard. 

━ Wh-What? It was OUR idea to save your uncle! ━ You interrupted those two men, gesturing with your hands. But Peter didn’t even bother to look at you, he didn’t have enough courage to do so. He tried to frame you and put all the guilt on you. Which in the end, somehow worked out. 

He agreed to that mysterious spidey-guy from another universe that someone had to bear the consequences of messing up with the timeline. And Parker pointed at you. An ultimate betrayal, ripped your heart apart. 

Soon after you found yourself in that damn prison with a bracelet over your wrist to “stop you from glitching”. Whatever that was supposed to mean. 

Miguel was some kind of boss around the place you found yourself in. At least that's what Lyla told you, a artificial intelligence present in the technology around you. It was him who was responsible for you from now on as he visited you every day. 

At first, each time you saw him, you tried throwing things at him purely out of rage - a book, a small picture frame or a chair, but each time he managed to catch or turn down anything you tossed. He kept trying to explain to you what was happening and why he couldn’t let you go back into your world. Miguel stated that it was dangerous enough when a non-variant person was messing up with the timeline. 

But was this all true? There was no one else you could ask for a second opinion, you had to believe, everything Miguel told you was the truth. Obviously, you questioned everything about him and this place. It felt like you were losing your sanity and a part of yourself. 

The well-built man with brown, combed hair was very patient and understable with your rage and sorrow. Until he was not. 

O’Hara had enough of your tantrums and one time he scared you truly. Eyes turning bloody red, his veins popping out and his teeth turning into long fangs. He charged at you, shoving your whole body to the wall behind. When your eyes were filled with fear and lungs emptied themself due to the force he pushed you, Miguel contained himself and moved away quickly. 

You rarely saw him in this form, but when you finally did - you kept behaving well, not wanting to anger him again. Because you knew nothing about him. What if he was able to hurt you? Or even murder you? 

Since then, you tried to suppress any anger and try to figure out how to return to your world, your life. And the brunette kept coming back, each day just to visit you. In the end he was your only company. 

Miguel brought you new books or art supplies if you asked Lyla or him directly. The man would spend some time with you - cooking, watching movies, anything you liked to do. But it was months ago. 

For the last couple of weeks, you were practically silent and apathetic. Curling inside the armchair near the “window”, napping or sobbing quietly. You’ve been in this prison for too long and it began to crush your spirit. 

He acknowledged the change in you and tried talking about it. He kept assuring that he has to keep you here for the world’s sake and balance. Because if someone messes up with the canon again, the universe will collapse. You reprimanded yourself for leaning into his chest when he offered you a comforting hug. Because how could you ever want solace from your captor? 

That evening was no different. Miguel visited you after work and found you sitting in silence on that damn armchair. When he crouched down, trying to catch your sight, you scooted backwards in the seat. 

━ What’s wrong, cariño?

━ I want to go home. ━ Your voice full with sorrow gained his attention. Where was your spirit he adored so much? The pain in your voice almost made him feel bad. Almost.

Miguel reached towards your exposed calf and started rubbing it with his pointing finger. 

━ This is your home, tú lo sabes. [sp.: you know it] ━ His voice sounded peaceful when he reached both of his arms in your direction. His embrace was welcoming, but you knew better. It was like a sweet flavored poison, spreading slowly under your skin, killing you slowly. ━ Come here.

You pushed firmly against his shoulders as you jumped out of the chair and took a few steps back. 

━ Miguel ━ you said his name loudly, gaining his full attention. You were being hysterical again. ━ I’ve been here FOR MONTHS. I had life before, I had A PURPOSE. You took it from me!

He tried, he really tried holding himself back this time you talked back. But your whining became annoying and Miguel just knew what would make you feel better. 

He stood up to his full height, easily towering over you. Brunette came closer, taking each step slowly, like he was giving you time to calm yourself or at least apologize. But you didn’t even back out. 

Miguel was leaning to look into your glimmering eyes and he saw how much you hated him at that moment. “We need to work on that temper”, he once told you, but you thought nothing of it. 

His little, feisty nymph. That’s what he liked to think of you. 

━ Fine ━ he growled right in your face, before grabbing your arm. ━ I’ll give you a purpose. 

The sound of your heavy panting echoed through the room. You tried straightening your hands again, but unsuccessfully as your muscles gave up a long time ago. Only his strong hands kept your ass higher than your head, by the tightening grip over your already bruised hips. 

Miguel kept thrusting into your tight cunt until you were a sobbing mess. He already pushed you over the edge at least three times, devouring the little noises you made and how your pussy clenched around his swollen shaft. 

Brunette kept one of his palms spread between your shoulder blades, keeping your upper half down, making your spine arch better. 

The sweat covered the back of your bent knees, him sliding in and out of you with ease, because of your wetness. Miguel certainly knew where to touch you to make you break into pieces between his fingers. 

━ See, doesn't that feel good to be by my side, cariño? ━ He leaned over your puffing frame, cheek dipped in the sheets while he kept fucking you stupid. 

━ Mig-Miguel… I can’t… n-no more…. ━ You whispered to him, feeling as each thrust of his hips pushed his cock deeper inside of you. The coiling sensation started to build up again between your trembling legs and in stomach. ━ Please!

━ Just one more, darling. ━ He heard you clearly, but yet he kept sliding in and out of you violently, chasing his own sweet release. 

Miguel took his hand away from your back and sneaked between your puffy lips. He spreaded them, opening you up and making it easier for him to find your clit. And when he finally did so, the brunette started rubbing it in a rhythm that quickly made you reach your another orgasm that night. 

Your body tensed suddenly and then collapsed into his pelvis, sinking his swollen cock deeper. When your cunt fluttered around him uncontrollably and your eyes rolled backwards, he came inside you, clenching his teeth. 

He tilted forward and placed both of his strong hands on each side of you, while coming down from his high. He noticed your grip tightening over bed sheets and smiled, before giving you a tender kiss on the temple. 

━ Mi pequeña ninfa. Do you understand now, that only I can protect you? [sp.: My little nymph]

Miguel loved his girl no matter if she had a bad day or not. He was going to make sure, no one will ever take you from him. You’re his precious troublemaker, aren’t you?

━ You belong with me. ━ He growled into your ear.