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giveamadeuschohisownmovie · 3 months ago

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I made this Agents of SHIELD poll a few days ago about AUs that would’ve been interesting to see. Currently, the winning answer is that Leo Fitz made a deal with Ghost Rider to destroy AIDA. Now that I think about it, I think this would’ve been the stronger storyline. My reasons:

1) There’s no real reason why it had to be Coulson who destroyed AIDA. It feels like he was only made Ghost Rider because he’s the lead character and the showrunners needed an excuse to kill off Coulson at the end of season 5. But even then, the choice to have Ghost Rider be the one to kill Coulson feels wrong since that’s not really a thing in the comics. The deals with the Ghost Rider turns the person into a host, it’s not supposed to kill them.

2) Narratively, it makes sense. AIDA was targeting Fitz and forced him to become her lover. Fitz destroying AIDA would’ve been poignant (if that’s the right word).

3) You can argue that Fitz becoming Ghost Rider to end the LMD/AIDA threat was his atonement for helping Holden Radcliffe build them in the first place.

4) The fun irony of the character who didn’t believe in the supernatural/magic becoming the character with the strongest ties to the supernatural/magic.

5) Continues the devil theme. Fitz was the Devil in the Framework, then he makes a deal with the devil in the real world.

6) IMO, this would improve the Doctor subplot in season 5. Instead of the explanation being stress or a split personality, the Doctor is now a manifestation of the Ghost Rider. Even though the Rider is still bound to Robbie Reyes, the Rider can still speak to Fitz since Fitz made the deal. The show could explain this as the Ghost Rider becoming permanently bonded to its hosts, even the ones it left.

7) Fitz not being in control of his body, the Doctor taking over —> Ghost Rider took over Fitz’s body and performed the surgery on Daisy Johnson. Also, it’d be in line with the Rider since the Rider is the kind of character that “gets shit done”, if you know what I mean. I can imagine this as Fitz not wanting to go through with the surgery, then the Rider taking over because it got tired of Fitz’s indecision.

8) Fitz’s overall character being a bit darker in season 5 —> Ghost Rider’s influence on Fitz

9) The show could explain “Fitz Rider” as a reference to the comics in which comics!Fitz became possessed by Mephisto.

10) It lowkey continues the rivalry between Daisy and Ghost Rider. Because season 4 started with her fighting Robbie/Ghost Rider. Now, the rivalry continues, but this time through Fitz. The rivalry would also makes sense substance-wise since it’s still about morals/doing what is necessary. Daisy disapproved of Robbie killing evil people, Robbie said they deserved their fates. Daisy disapproved of Fitz operating on her, Fitz believed that it was the only way to deal with the Fear Dimension problem.

11) The episode where The Doctor returns is called “The Devil Complex”. I mean…it’s RIGHT THERE. It’s like the show is taunting you that Fitz should’ve been the 2nd Ghost Rider. Technically 3rd, but whatever.

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weeeyotch · 10 days ago

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Between Shadows & Steel: CH. 1

⊱ Word Count: 2.7k ⊰

⊱ Warnings: Violence ⊰

⊱ BS&S Masterlist ⊰

❧ a/n: here's chapter 1 finally! sorry for the long wait, but i hope that it was worth it :)

A shrill scream echoed across the barren landscape, a chilling cry that marked the moment the predator had found its prey.

Through the darkened forest the prey stumbled, wounded and panicked. Crimson streams of blood ran down her arms and painted her delicate lips. With each clumsy step that she took, droplets fell from her milky skin and perverted the virgin snow beneath her torn shoes.

Behind her came the sound of boots crushing the fresh delicate snow–heavy, determined, and familiar. A shudder overtook her entire body as she imagined the footprints swallowing hers, removing any trace of her presence. The twisted music of clanging metal followed each step.

Clang. Clang.

The wolf was close by.

Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.

The wolf was getting hungrier.

Soon, the grating sound of her wheezing overtook the metallic orchestra. Her lungs screamed with each breath taken and the back of her throat burned with the coldness of winter. Although she had been used to the chase by now, there was always someplace to hide—a tunnel, an abandoned swimming pool, an uncomfortably large crowd filled with empty and uncaring eyes.

But now, there was almost nothing to offer protection. The banks of snow would swallow her whole, the supple yet thorny bushes would peel the skin from her face, and the wolf could tear down the skinny trees with only his hand. There was barely anything between her and the fate of a gory interaction.

Save for the blinding lights in the distance.

Through the heavy clouds of her breaths, she could finally see her salvation. A wave of relief crashed into her. It truly felt as though she had escaped from the deepest pits of Hell—where thousands of screeching demons would grab onto her and try to drag her back down—and finally reached the glorious gates of Heaven. Without realizing it, tears of joy streamed down her face, and she let out sobs that sounded like dry heaves.

She had finally made it.

Despite her body wanting to collapse out of exhaustion, she somehow willed herself to keep going. Every muscle shrieked in pain and threatened to shatter like glass. Even her bones, her organs, her tissues, her veins, down to the tiniest most minuscule cell felt like they were on fire. Yet she went on, crying and wheezing and smiling towards her saviours.

Everything that happened in the last two years led to this moment. Every wild chase she had been sent on, sleeping in the filthy crevices of catacombs, leaving her old life behind with a fleeting goodbye—it led her to now, to the heavily protected border of Maine that swarmed with dozens of armed guards. Even with their loaded rifles and trigger-happy fingers, she felt safer with them than she had ever felt in her entire life.

Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.

The wolf knew that salvation was near.

He did not like that.

Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.

Through the break in the bare trees, she was able to see the source of the light: ginormous floodlights that towered almost one-hundred meters into the sky, painting everything within a mile-radius an eerie orange hue. The sound of idle chatter, shouted commands, and boots against gravel became louder.

In the midst of her desperation, she willed herself to scream.

“Help! Help!”

With every word out of her mouth, it felt like her throat was on fire. She hoped that it would deter the wolf, if even by a little bit. He would not like it if there were a dozen armed men running into the forest with them.

Finally: a break in the trees. Through the twisted branches she saw a snow-covered road that had turned black and grimey from the many cars that drove over it. Although it was disgusting, it was as though she had found the pathway to Heaven.

She let out another scream, but not a cry for help; this one was guttural—a noise of relief, elatedness, and pure fear. There was no more doubting it: she would live in safety.

The commotion on the border grew louder and louder with each step. Two silhouettes armed with rifles were visible through the trees. They stood like statues on the filthy road, unmoving and waiting for whatever commotion to appear from the trees.

Ground patrol.

She began to wave her arms over her head like a lunatic, screaming: “I’m here! Hey, I’m over here!”

The guards snapped to attention, lifting their rifles as they aimed towards the disturbance. One of them barked an order, maybe demanding that she stops or identifies herself, but she couldn’t hear it over the pounding of her heart and the crunch of the snow beneath her desperate steps.

“I’m not a threat!” she sobbed. “Please, help me!”

Her legs wobbled, threatening to buckle underneath her. Yet she pushed forward into the safety of a rifle, focusing on the two soldiers.

Rescue. Salvation.

Suddenly, she saw the slightest glimpse of silver out of the corner of her eyes. The wolf had finally caught up to her and was now running by her side. A strip of silver reached out towards her.

Clang. Clang. CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

With a final pump of adrenaline in her body, she launched herself the remaining few meters onto the road.

She rolled onto the filthy ice littered with pebbles, her bones hitting the icy pavement with a sickening crack. For a brief second she had lost all control of her body; her limbs would not respond to any of the movements that she willed while trying to navigate through a rapidly spinning world. Instead, she settled for laying on her belly and tried to focus all of her energy onto the two guards in front of her.

They were taken aback by what they had witnessed. With their jaws hanging open and their rifles pointed to the side in their limp arms, they could not believe what they were seeing: a young woman so emaciated that her bruised eyes seem to pop out of the clear outline of her skull; a young woman who looked so defeated that the task of even breathing was akin to Atlas holding the world on his shoulders.

“Please,” she wheezed, blood trickling out the corner of her mouth. “Please don’t let him take me back.”

The two soldiers remained unmoving.

There the wolf stood, just mere feet away, framed ominously by the skeletal trees. The floodlights stretched out his shadow to be long and menacing, the sharp edges of his form exaggerated against the snow. His face was obscured by the darkness, but his metal arm shone as it caught the light.

The Winter Soldier.

As she lay there defeated, exhausted, and unable to breathe, his broad frame was the silhouette of death. There would be no more running for her now.

The guards hesitated, their weapons now shifting between her to the figure lurking in the trees. “Stop right there!” one of them shouted. “Hands where we can see them!”

The Winter Soldier did not respond. The frost of his breath was visible as he exhaled steadily, not even remotely bothered by the guns pointing directly at him. Instead, he stepped forward, his movements slow and predatory.

This was nothing more than a game to him–an extra addition to the hunt.

“Shoot him!” she wailed. “He’s going to take me back, please shoot him!”

The soldier’s hands trembled as they kept their aim. It was clear that they were uncertain–even strangely hesitant. They had never seen a man look more relaxed, and somewhat even bored, with a dozen rifles pointed right at him. And yet, she had no time for their hesitation.

A sharp, ragged inhale burned her lungs as she fought to push herself up onto the calloused palms of her bloodied hands. “Do it!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “Do it now!”

The Winter Soldier took another step forward. Then another. His boots crunched softly against the ice as if he had all the time in the world. The floodlights illuminated just enough of his face for her to see it; a black mask concealing his mouth, nose, and cheeks, with the unsettling black paint swatched across his eyes and temples. There he remained, if even briefly, so that she could take one last good look at him; an opportunity to meet Death’s gaze and finally accept her grim fate.

It made her stomach churn with fury and despair.

The crack of a gunshot suddenly shattered the night–one of the guards finally took action.

Before the bullet could reach him, he lunged forward, his metal arm a brilliant blur as it struck the nearest soldier. The impact was sickening as bone and flesh gave way beneath his godly strength. The guard crumpled instantly, his body hitting the ground with a dull thud right next to her huddled form.

Gunshots and yells rang throughout the air.

Shocked by the quick fate of his colleague, the second soldier barely had any time to react before the assassin was on him. A swift yet brutal motion sent his rifle skidding across the ice. The Winter Soldier’s gloved hand closed around his throat. The soldier kicked, struggled, pleaded, and gargled.

It was useless.

His grip became tighter and tighter, until one-by-one, the bones in his neck broke apart like popsicle sticks. He too was thrown next to the girl.

She could only watch in horror as he turned his attention to the remaining guards, his expression unchanged, his indifference terrifying. He moved like the predator he was, calculated and unrelenting. A soldier tried to run, but could only make it a few steps before the serrated blade of a knife found purchase in between his shoulder blades.

More shots were exchanged, firing back and forth and lighting up the darkened night until a final shot rang out. There he remained, in the middle of the road, completely unfazed at the pile of bodies surrounding him.

She began to weep; she couldn’t believe it. Within mere moments, they were all gone–her saviours, her guardian angels, her last chance at life.

He marched towards her with a vigour that frightened her, as he seemed almost energized by the deadly interaction. His clenched fists, his long strides, his narrowed eyes, no doubt they screamed that playtime was over, back to your cage.

“No. No. No. No.” she sobbed. “Stop. Please stop. No. No. Stop!”

With an iron grip on her protruding ankles, he started to drag her back into the eternal darkness of the forest. She let out a guttural scream, digging her fingernails into the ice to try and anchor herself. If he managed to take her back into the forest, she feared that the darkness would swallow her whole.

Nobody would ever find her again. The footsteps of her plight would disappear into the snow and her cries would vanish into the air. The only thing left in her wake would be a pile of bodies and crimson blood splattered against the pure white snow.

Desperation surged through her veins. She grabbed the gun from the fallen soldier and turned it onto her assailant. He stopped dragging her, even loosening his grip on her ankles ever so slightly. There they were, face-to-face yet again. They had done this showdown at least a dozen times before. But this time felt different.

This time, it felt like the last.

No words were exchanged between the two of them. With the barrel of the assault rifle pointing at him, the threat was painfully clear. Yet he wasn’t afraid.

In a twisted way, he seemed to be almost amused by the display. She could see the skin of his cheeks raise higher—no doubt there was a smirk underneath his black mask. His steely eyes shimmered with delight as he held her gaze. Seeing the amusement on his face, her hands began to tremble.

What was she thinking?

She had just watched him take the wrath of a hundred bullets from a dozen men and he didn’t even have a single scratch. Any blood that was on him was not his.

How could she, as wounded and defeated as she was, ever hope to take him down?

Realistically, there was no winning for her.

On the other side of the moment lay only pain, torture, and an inevitable horrifying death.

And yet, it was in that moment that she found a brief semblance of acceptance. Even peace.

The fight was over. All that was left to do was make sure it ended on her terms.

In one swift motion she raised the gun, placing the barrel in her mouth and pulled the trigger.

Or she tried to.

The trigger became jammed halfway, producing a feeble clicking noise instead of a deafening shot followed by the sound of her brains splattering against the ice.

In her desperation, she pulled the trigger again, and again, and again. Tears started to stream from her eyes as she wailed around the barrel. The wolf let out a wry chuckle and ripped the gun out of her mouth, hitting her lower teeth. He threw it to the side like garbage before grabbing the collar of her torn jacket and placing his face against hers, the covering of his mask touching the tip of her nose.

“I am done playing games with you,” he hissed. “I am taking you back, where you belong. Where you will be dealt with for your disloyalty.”

Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her chest rising and falling erratically as his works sank in. Where you belong. The words made her stomach twist. She knew exactly what was waiting for her if she went back–cold steel tables, the bite of thick needles, the feeling of her mind unraveling thread by thread until nothing of her remained.

“No,” she rasped. She clenched her hands around the fabric of his sleeve, her misshapen nails biting into the material. “I’d rather die.”

The soldier said nothing. He tilted his head, observing the disastrous state he put her in. Without warning, he hauled her up with frightening ease, his grip unyielding as he lifted her to her feet.

Her legs could barely hold her weight. She swayed, lightheaded, darkness creeping into her vision. But she refused to go limp–she couldn’t make it anymore easier for him.

With the last remnants of any strength, she swung at him. A wild, desperate punch that barely turned his head. He didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he spoke, a thick accent carrying his words through the eerily-silent winter air. “You never learn.”

Then he moved.

Pain exploded on the right side of her abdomen as his fist connected with her ribs, not once but twice. The world blurred, and a sharp cry tore itself from her throat as she crumpled forward. If not for his grip, she would have collapsed onto the corpses. He pulled her back up, forcing her to look at him.

Through the haze of pain and exhaustion she could barely meet his gaze anymore. A strange feeling of serenity washed over her; she suddenly felt at ease, with no more fight left in her, that now she could rest. If even for a while, she could finally close her heavy eyelids and drift away.

Then–

A sharp, deafening crack split the air.

The Winter Soldier tensed, his grip on her tightening for a moment as moved his gaze downwards. His eyes widened in shock once he saw the blood soaking through her jacket.

A new pain was blooming in her side–white, hot, and searing; something that set her veins on fire yet left her with no ability to scream. She suddenly felt wet and sticky, a warm substance dripping down her leg.

He snapped his head to the side, confused and alert.

She could barely register the second gunshot before the world tilted and she was left to fall back onto the already-frozen bodies of the fallen soldiers. More blood painted her face, but this time, it wasn’t hers.

With a final heavy breath, the serenity only intensified.

More and more, she drifted away as her eyelids came to a close.

Until suddenly: nothing.

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