I Weep As I Hold My Head In My Hands. I Cant Write For Shit. Im Such A Fraud.

I weep as I hold my head in my hands. “I can’t write for shit. I’m such a fraud.”

Behind me, a voice says “You know who else is a fraud?”

I whip my head around and see none other than “Shawn Spencer?!”

Stranger things fanart!!!!

And it feels like home

Chapter 4

Summary: Wade and Peter have a chat

Warnings: not even any bad language in this one, possible spoilers for no way home though

By the time they reached the roof, Peter's chest was heaving. It felt like he was trying to catch his breath while a waterfall was plummeting down on him.

Deadpool was saying something. Everything was drowned out by the thundering noise inside Peter's head.

"Petey!" Deadpool held Peter by the shoulders and shook him slightly.

Peter looked up at him and saw concern in the creases of his face.

"Petey, you need to try breathe, okay? It's safe to take your mask off up here if you want."

Peter walked over to the edge of the roof and stood there. His breathing calmed a little. Everything was a mess, but if there's one thing that remained, it's that Peter was good at his job.

Deadpool barely had a chance to react before he was dangling off the edge of the roof by a thread.

"I. Want. Answers." Peter let the thread drop a little and deadpool let out a small scream.

"Petey, you've got this all wrong kid, I'm on your side! Well, okay, maybe you wouldn't really agree with my methods, what with me being an r-rated hero slash antihero, but I'm one of the good guys! I'm not planning on telling anyone who you are. I mean the whole, me knowing who you are thing, I see now that that's a bit of an invasion of your privacy, although no invasion of privacy was needed for me to know, you know I just know things sometimes that others don't. You know in the comics we're a lot alike, you also speak to the guys on the other side of the screen, but the MCU decided to make you a bit less comic-booky, I don't know why really, but hey if you want I can tell you who I am, I'll answer any questions you have you don't need to dangle me off a building. I will say if you drop me you should probably get out of here though, my boyfriend wouldn't hurt a kid but he gets scary when he's angry. I'm Wade Winston Wilson by the way, quick story of my life: I was military, then mercenary, then very sketchy science experiment, and now I'm trying my best to be a hero."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

Wade hesitated. Even as he dangled so many stories above the ground, somehow he still looked more concerned for Peter than he did for himself.

"The answer is you can't trust me. You can't trust anyone right now. But everyone needs people. Door's always open."

Peter felt that awful tearing inside, the need to keep everyone at arms length battling it out with the desire to let someone, anyone, get close.

Peter sighed and started pulling Wade up onto the roof.

"You won't regret this, Petey."

"No, I won't." Peter shot webs at Wade till he was certain he wouldn't be able to get away.

"The offer still stands! Indefinitely!"

Jumping from one roof to the next, Peter slowly made his way to his old high school. He could manage without his webs but it was slow going. Everything was buzzing before but now he couldn't find the energy within to care. There was a rather dark and morbid part of Peter that wondered whether he was glad or not that the man couldn't be killed. Glad. He was glad. Peter focused on that thought.

As the world darkened for him, he found his thoughts sometimes darkened too. But maybe that was a part of growing up. Maybe it was a part of what it meant to be a hero, to keep going and keep helping and keep trying even when everything around you and inside you was dark.

Lost in thought, Peter managed to find his way without even noticing he had reached his destination.

Every time he came here was the same, pain and joy and sorrow and wonder all mushed together in a messy package. Part of him wanted to close this door forever. But another part relished these moments. Memories are fallible, and especially hard to trust when there is no one alive to share them with. Coming back here made him feel a little more sane. It was comforting, to know without a doubt that it was all here, that it was all real, just as it had been. The place he lived now was a hollow box, but this was home. Eerily empty but warmed by the phantoms of memory.

Peter made his way to the science lab and got to work.

25-9-24

Your worst inhibitions tend to psych you out in the end