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blooblooded · 1 year

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Marty During the Bombings.

Marty stared at Ayda’s wide-eyed, frightened face on the screen of his phone and realized that she was crying. Why was she crying? That didn’t make sense. There was no reason to be crying anymore. “It’s OK,” he said. “C’est— It’s OK, it’s OK. You’re fine, Kip’s gonna be fine, you guys just have to take him to the hospital. You just have to take him to the hospital and he’ll be OK. Everything’s OK now, you stopped Lee, you stopped the bomb, you’re fine.”

She wasn’t even looking at him, she was looking around the basement wildly. “Did you hear that?” Her voice was so tiny and scared. “Did you just hear that?!”

“Ade, we need to get out of here, we need to go!” That was Casey’s voice, bright and clear despite the edge of panic beneath. Marty watched Ayda’s camera swing towards her sister, it looked like she and Rosie were trying to pull Kip up to his feet but his injured leg buckled beneath him. Kip was sobbing. Marty felt a terrible pang in his heart. “We need to fucking go!”

“You gotta put weight on it, I’m sorry, you gotta get up.” Rosie got one of Kip’s arms around her shoulders. “Just stand up, you just gotta get up. We can– I think the stairs are–”

“No, no no no no.” Even in the flickering basement light, Kip’s face was bloodless. He clutched at Rosaline as if she was hurting him. “No, no, I can’t, I can’t, it hurts.”

There was a loud crash. This time Marty heard it and he flinched back from 500 miles away. He heard Ayda and Esther scream.

There were other bombs.

Suddenly Marty could not breathe. Of course there were other bombs. How could he have been so stupid? This wasn’t the plan of one deranged individual, this was a carefully thought out act of terrorism. Lee and his stupid little friends. Lee and his stupid little beliefs. Eden was an anthill! Where was there to go? There was nowhere to go. There was nowhere to hide. They didn’t even know, they didn’t even understand the level of destruction that was in store for them. Well Marty knew. Marty remembered the way Jules had gone all quiet when she talked about helping the First Army soldiers dig broken bodies out of the rubble after the Imperials had bombed Ile de Matane at the end of the war.

And this would be ten times that scale. Twenty times.

“Ayda,” he said. The name was nothing but a hoarse whisper. He held onto his phone so tightly that his knuckles went white. Maybe if he held it tight enough it would be like he was there, it would be like he was helpful, it would be like he wasn’t sitting safe in his room, useless and alone. No. No, no, no. “Ayda?!”

Another loud crash. More screams. The lights in the basement flickered again. Oh god, he was going to watch them all die. Marty felt a peculiar numbness. Death. Oh, he knew what death looked like, he had seen it before. He was going to watch them all die and there was nothing he could do.

Ayda looked at her screen. Marty looked into the face of his best friend. He saw her wide, terrified eyes fill with tears. “What is happening?!” she asked shrilly. “What’s going on, what’s happening?! That sounded like– like–”

“--Will you grab her, we need to fucking go! Kassidy, why aren’t you move–”

“There’s more bombs,” said Marty. He could no longer move, he could barely even breathe, all he could do was stare at the tiny piece of metal and glass that was the only connection between himself and his friends. His thoughts seemed to move as slow as honey. “There’s more bombs. You need to get out of there, you need to get out of there, go find a place that’s not going to collapse, no glass, nothing – I mean nothing that can break. Nothing that can break and hurt you.”

“I don’t want to be here! I want to go home, I want my dad!”

“Ayda, you have to—”

The call disconnected. The screen went blank.

Marty was by himself in his room. It was dark. It was quiet. The only light came from the screen of his computer. Everything was so still it was like he had slipped beneath the surface of deep cold water.

For a second he couldn’t move and he couldn’t think. Oh. So it was like that. All his friends were gone in less than a second. He had always known how easily the connection between them could be severed. He had always known that if they decided to never answer his calls again, that would be that. The physical distance that separated them had always put a limit on the length of their relationships. But this was not a choice. This wasn’t as if Ayda had woken up one day and decided not to talk to him anymore, no this was worse than that, this was complete finality. This was Ayda getting crushed to death in her horrible anthill Colony and it was all his fault.

Breathe. He needed to breathe. Marty tried to fill his lungs but his chest wouldn’t rise. He stared at his phone, still clutched so tightly in his hands. Everything was numb, he could hear static. His body acted without the permission of his mind and he watched himself press the button next to Ayda’s name.

The call didn’t go through.

Marty blinked. His eyes stung.

There had to be somebody. He had to talk to somebody. Anybody. Ayda, Casey, Kip, Esther, Kassidy, and Rosaline had all been together in the basement. It was no good trying them. It was pointless. But he didn’t want anybody else, he wanted Ayda. He only wanted Ayda. He was stupid. He was so stupid. He pressed the button next to Ayda’s name again and watched as nothing happened. He tried a 3rd time. A 4th time.

“Stupid,” Marty said to himself. He swallowed hard. There was a lump in his throat. He took a small, shuddering breath. Ayda wasn’t going to answer him. This didn’t seem real. Everything was moving too slow and too fast at the same time.

Somebody else then. Rome. Rome would pick up. Rome was smart and careful, he would be somewhere safe. And he panicked so easily, maybe he needed to talk to Marty just as much as Marty needed to talk to him. Yes, Rome would pick up. Rome liked him, he would always pick up. Marty pressed the button next to his name.

The call didn’t go through.

He kept trying. There was nothing he could do but keep trying to make contact with someone, with anyone. He tried the Bellamy twins, then Rome’s babysitter AJ. He tried Ayda a 5th time, then a 6th time. When Marty tried to call Kip, he had to close his eyes so he didn’t have to see the blank screen on his phone.

As sick as it was, he even tried to call Lee. Not because he was worried about him– Marty hoped that he had gone and blown himself up. But if Lee picked up, maybe he could get some confirmation that the others were OK. Something. Something. Anything.

Nothing. And he had no other contacts in Eden.

Maybe Eden had fallen in on itself and everyone was dead. Whose stupid idea had it been to shove a million people into a pit? Marty was only 16 years old and even he could see how easy it would be to annihilate an entire population by blowing up Eden’s support structures. They were all dead. He could see no other reason that nobody was answering him. Giant chunks of concrete had probably fallen on top of Ayda and smashed her into paste. And he was never going to talk to her again. He was never going to see her face again. The last thing she had said to him was that she wanted her dad, she had been scared and helpless and now she was dead.

And it was all his fault. If he had told Kip’s mom or Ayda’s dad about Lee, they could have put an end to this months ago. Kip’s mom would have had him dumped into prison. Ayda’s dad would have just bashed his face in with a hammer. Either way, with Lee out of the picture, maybe there wouldn’t have been any bombs. Maybe everyone would be OK. But Marty hadn’t told any grown-ups about Lee. He had been too scared. He had been too scared that Kip and Ayda wouldn’t want to be his friends anymore if he told anyone and since Marty’s only friends lived in Eden, he never risked it.

Now he didn’t have any friends because they were all dead and it was his fault.

There was nothing inside of him but he couldn’t move. The loss was too fresh and new to process. It had happened in an instant and Marty had always struggled with knowing how he was supposed to react. When he was 10, Jules told him that his mother had been killed. Marty hadn’t known what to do then either. He knew that he was supposed to be sad, because he had seen that Jules was sad. This seemed like it was worse. His mother had never loved him and had never really wanted to be alive either. When she died at least he knew that she wasn’t suffering anymore. His friends though? His friends and everyone else in Eden? They hadn’t wanted to die!

He did not know how long he sat there, feeling nothing. It felt like hours.

He set his phone face down on his desk and stood up. Marty swayed like he was about to fall and put a hand out to catch himself. He shook his head, looked at the clock. Not even 8am. He hadn’t slept all night. Of course he hadn’t slept. The night had started with him begging Kip to climb out of Lee’s bathroom before he got hurt and it had ended with him hearing the explosion that more than likely killed everyone he cared about. Marty didn’t think he would ever sleep again.

Still, he felt nothing but numbness. Was he in shock? When he blinked, he could hear his eyelids touching each other. Marty shook his head. He kept trying to breathe but his chest would not expand all the way. Dead. Gone. It had happened so fast and now he was alone.

Maybe he deserved it.

Marty reached out to his lamp and switched it on. He paused for a second and switched it off again. Then on again. His heart pounded. Marty gritted his teeth and started to flick the light on and off as rapidly as he could. The bright flashing light hurt his head. “Stupid!” he said again, more forcefully as he stared directly at the flashing light. If he was lucky it would induce a seizure. He didn’t want to be there anymore. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be alone in his room, alone with his thoughts, alone with the stark reality of what had happened. He could check out. He could go to the Void. Even that horrible place would be better than this.

There was clarity in the Void. There were answers. Marty looked straight into the flashing lights and felt nothing but building frustration. He gave up, clenched his fists.

What was he supposed to do? He didn’t know what to do. Ayda would know. Ayda was always talking about feeling her feelings, but Ayda was gone. Marty would never be able to ask Ayda for help again. The corners of his eyes prickled.

He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t just sit here alone. Marty didn’t know what he needed, all he knew was that he didn’t need to be alone. He still couldn’t breathe. There was a heaviness squeezing his chest and he put a hand over his heart. Was he shaking? Why was he shaking?

Had it hurt? Had it happened quickly? What if it hadn’t happened quickly? Marty’s stomach flipped at that thought. When Ile de Matane had been bombed at the end of the war, there had been half-crushed people who lingered beneath the rubble for days only to expire from dehydration. He had seen the pictures on Beatrice Kosarin’s propaganda pamphlets; the children with their faces smashed like eggs. What was he supposed to do? Pray? Kip had already been sobbing in pain after being shot, how was it fair for him to endure more pain?

Kip. Marty had worked so hard all night long to keep Kip calm and keep Kip safe. What was the point? Kip had been the point and now Kip was gone. Kip was gone and he had probably been hurting and terrified the whole time.

Marty’s stomach lurched for a second time. He clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from throwing up. No no no, don’t throw up, he hated throwing up. He gagged, swallowed bile. His body kept shaking.

All he knew was that he couldn’t stay alone in his room. Marty wiped his mouth and staggered out into the bright hallway.

Outside his room, Florence’s estate was exactly the same as it always was in the mornings. Busy. A couple of kitchen girls passed by with buckets of fresh milk in their arms, and were too busy gossipping to spare him a passing glance. One of the Partisan soldiers stood at the end of the hall near the door to the main building, his rifle crooked lazily in one arm. Nobody looked at Marty. Nobody cared. They went about their daily routines with no knowledge of the violence that had unfolded hundreds of miles to the south. Nobody knew.

The east wing of the estate was enormous, connected to the main building through a secondary kitchen. Most of Florence’s staff lived in the east wing, and she allowed Marty and Jules to have rooms there as well. Maybe Jules counted as staff, since she worked bandaging small injuries and healing illnesses. It wasn’t as clean or decorated as the west wing or the main building, but that was fine. Marty didn’t care about fancy portraits or chandeliers anyways. And Jules’ room was right next to his.

He needed Jules. He wasn’t sure what he needed her for, but every instinct in his body was urging him to find her. Jules would know what to do. She was 13 years older than he was– something less than a mother but more than a sister to him. All those years that his own mother was too wrapped up in her own sadness, Jules had been the one to take care of him. Jules had been the one to feed him and give him baths when she was only a child herself, Jules had been the one to teach him how to read. She would know what to do. She always knew what to do.

Marty barged into Jules’ dark room without bothering to knock. He had known her his whole life and had never once knocked on her door. Like his room, her’s was small, only big enough for a bed and a desk. There were bundles of dried herbs hanging from the rafters and half-melted candles everywhere. A deer skull hung on one wall, painted with symbols and draped with garlands of fresh flowers. It was a cluttered mess, a uniquely Jules-like mess, but the air was fragrant with the scents of rosemary and sweet oil.

“Jules.” His voice cracked. It hurt to speak. It hurt to try to think in his native language instead of English. Marty flipped on her lights.

The sudden light made Jules wake with a start and sit straight up in her bed, cursing. Marty noticed with dull shock that Ivan Kosarin, the big handyman also called Dog, was beside her in bed. That was strange, since Dog usually slept on the floor of the scullery. While they were sleeping, he had put his huge arms around her. As much as Marty protectively hated the idea of Jules sleeping with anyone, his mind was too slow and overwhelmed to do anything but take note of it.

“What is the matter with you?�� Jules snapped. Her eyes were still bleary from sleep and her dark hair hung in limp tangles. She angrily brushed the front of her nightgown and then pointed at him. “What are you, a wild animal? I know I raised you better than that, what, you think you can just–” When she got a good look at him, she paused mid sentence and frowned.

He didn’t know what to say. All he could do was stand there. His legs were weak. At any moment, he might fall over. They were dead. They were dead and he was alone and it was his fault. Marty could not stop shaking.

Dog sat up as well and had the good grace to look embarrassed. He had a soft face and watery eyes and also frowned when he looked at Marty.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jules. The irritation in her expression melted away to worry. “What’s wrong with you? You look sick. What’s wrong, did you eat something bad?”

“Everyone’s dead.”

“Who’s dead?” Jules and Dog shared a glance. The little witch shook her head. “What are you talking about, who’s dead? Don’t talk crazy like that, you know it’s bad luck. Nobody’s dead.”

“You have a seizure and see things again?” asked Dog, in his quiet, nervous voice that was always so strange to hear coming out of such a large man. He was not wearing a shirt. The shirt was on the floor in a pile.

Through the haze of nothing, Marty felt a jealous pang. It wasn’t fair. The first and only boy he had ever liked was dead. Kip was dead. He had tried to save him and he had failed. There would never be a time he could lie next to him in bed. There would never be a time he could hold him, he knew that, he knew that they had been too separated by distance and that Kip didn’t like him back anyway. But now he couldn’t even fantasize about it. He couldn’t fantasize about liking a dead boy.

It was stupid. For six months, he had been so happy. It was stupid for him to think he could be happy. It was stupid for him to imagine life in a place where there wasn’t something wrong with him. He should have just accepted that he was a freak and would always be alone, that would have hurt less.

It wasn’t worth it. Human connection wasn’t worth the pain and vulnerability.

So why did he want it so bad?

Marty couldn’t talk. He just stood there, frozen. What was he supposed to do? What were people supposed to do when this happened? What did he want? He didn’t know what he wanted, only that he wanted something. Needed something. His chest was so tight that it felt like it was squeezing his heart.

“What is wrong with you?” Jules scrambled out of bed, clutching her robe around her gristle-thin body. She hurried to him and pressed her hand to his forehead, brushed his hair away from his face, cupped his chin in her hands so that she could look at him close up. “You’re covered in sweat. What were you saying, who’s dead? Did you have a bad dream?” One of her thumbs rubbed back and forth against his jawline. “You dreamed about your Mama?”

His eyes stung again. Suddenly he was very small and very young. All he could do was shake his head. Jules kept rubbing him with her thumb. It was a small gesture. Usually he got upset when anyone tried to touch him.

“You dreamed about someone else?” She was struggling. There was nobody else. The only people Marty spoke to in real life were her and Dog, Olive Vernier, and the Prime Minister and her inner circle. There were few children in Florence’s estate. The girls laughed at him, the boys would try to start fights. He had no friends, nobody to really worry about. “What’s wrong, you’re scaring me.”

From day one, Marty had been unwanted and unloved. He knew where he had come from. He knew that some fur trader from the Hinterlands had raped his mother, he knew that she had never been capable of loving him. Of course she hadn’t loved him. And he knew that nobody was ever going to love him. If he ever acted on his hormonal instincts and made a pass at another guy, he would be lucky to make it out with only a beating. People would just put him in the same category as his father, a predator and a pervert. It wasn’t like Eden here. Nobody was ever going to love him. He had been stupid, he had been a masochist for even imagining a life where somebody loved him.

Well. There was one person who loved him. One person who wasn’t fucking dead.

Marty knew what he needed.

He stiffly raised his arms, wrapped them around Jules, and squeezed her. They were the same height and he buried his face against her shoulder. She smelled like the lavender she kept under her pillow at night. For a moment she froze, the behavior in front of her so out of the ordinary that she did not know what to do. Then, fiercely, she returned the hug, rubbing his back as she did so.

A weird sound came out of him then, from deep in his belly. Just one. It sounded like all the air came out of his lungs with a whine.

“I’ve got you,” said Jules. She was as unused to affection as he was and rubbed his back awkwardly. One of her long nails scratched him. “I’ve got you. Everything’s alright.”

“No it’s not.” He blinked rapidly. When was the last time he had been hugged? It had been years. Nobody even tried to touch him anymore. Now it felt so good that he was worried he might cry. “No it’s not, it’s not alright, everyone’s dead.”

“Who’s dead?”

“It’s all my fault. I didn’t tell anyone and now they’re all dead.”

Jules pulled away from him, held him at arm's length with each hand on his shoulders. Her sharp face looked very worried and confused now, black eyes narrow, the pox scars on her cheeks standing out like drips of wax. “Who is dead, Marty? Tell me who is dead.”

He shrugged her hands off of him. No more touch. He didn’t deserve it. He looked down at the floor. The corners of his mouth twitched. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. Only women and little kids cried. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had cried.

“Who is dead?

Just tell her. Just say it. Saying it out loud would make it real. Maybe saying it out would make it less cold and empty. His chest constricted painfully. “Ayda.” Again his voice cracked. So stupid. What would she think of him? “Ayda. Everyone. Everyone in Eden.”

It didn’t feel better to say it.

“That girl you talk to on your computer?”

Her voice told him that she didn’t understand. She thought he was a freak like all the rest of them, she had never understood why he would rather lock himself up in his room instead of acting like all the other boys his age. Marty couldn’t do this. He swallowed compulsively around the lump in his throat. The stinging in his eyes would not stop. Another stupid little whining noise escaped from inside of him.

“Ma mie.” Jules reached out and tried to grab him up again. Marty pushed her away and would not look at her. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help you.”

“You don’t understand.”

“What happened to that Eden girl you talk to?”

One side of his cheek felt wet. Marty wiped at it furiously so that nobody could see. But Jules saw. Too close not to see. She tried to wipe at his face with her sleeve. The tenderness in the presence of his vulnerability was more than he could bear. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve anyone loving him, no matter how much he craved it. He didn’t want to be touched. He didn’t want anyone to touch him. Without thinking, he slapped her hand away from him, harder than he should have.

Jules grabbed his wrist and gave it a squeeze. He wrenched it away from her. “No,” she said forcefully. “I’m not the one you’re mad at. You talk to me, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to act like the other boys here, you talk to me.”

Lee had been right. He was a bad person. He deserved this.

The floodgates didn’t open, not all the way. With him, they never did. He was too disconnected. There weren’t even any words for it. He sniffled once, hating himself, then started to cry without making a sound. It was overwhelming and he was lost and alone. There was no way he could soothe himself. He put his hands over his face and felt himself hunching over.

One cringing and humiliating thought occurred to him, the same thought that occurred to Ayda right before the connection between the two of them was severed. He wanted his mother.

“No, no.” Jules wrapped her arms around him and he was too pathetic to fight her off a second time. Her comfort unleashed more weakness from inside of him. “You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

“It’s not alright.” Feeling her rub his back made him want to die. Despite being undeserving, he held her tightly. She was the closest thing to a mother that he was ever going to get. “It’s not alright, everyone’s dead! Ayda and Kip and everyone! I tried to figure things out for weeks, I’ve tried to fix everything for weeks and they still all died! They all got blown up! I don’t know what to do! They all got blown up and it’s all my fault, it’s my fault, I didn’t tell anyone because I was scared and now they’re dead!”

“You don’t–”

“There were bombs all over Eden and now I can’t reach anyone!” There was no way to make her understand. There was no way to make anyone understand. “I tried, I really tried. I should have told Ayda’s dad what was happening but I didn’t want her to get mad at me and stop talking to me. And now she’ll never talk to me again!”

He could sense Jules’ bewilderment as he cried about a world she did not belong to and people she would never know. But she kept rubbing his back. She did not tell him to stop crying or to grow up. She just stood there and held him. “It’s alright,” she said, probably because that was all she could think of saying. Her body was more of a comfort than her words were anyway.

“I didn’t sleep last night, I just wanted to make sure Kip was safe, I was trying so hard to help him get away from that guy and now he’s gone! I figured out about the bomb, we all tried so hard to stop it, and it still went off! And Kip’s dead! Kip died anyway!” He couldn’t stop himself now. His stomach flipped again as he thought about Kip’s loud laugh, and then what it sounded like to hear him scream and scream and scream after getting shot. His fault. “And I knew he would never like me back, I knew it was all pointless, but I liked him! He made me feel like I wasn’t a freak! I liked him and now he’s dead because of me! I pretended that he wanted to be with me because I didn’t want to think about how no boy is ever going to want to be with me here! And now everyone’s dead, now everyone’s dead and it’s my fault I’m going to be alone forever!”

Because of the state he was in, Marty did not fully grasp what he had just revealed to her. It was a mistake to say that and he didn’t know it yet.

“That– that doesn’t sound like it’s your fault,” Jules said haltingly. He felt her head turn, probably glancing back at Dog for support. “None of that sounds like it’s your fault. You’re just a boy. Eden is so far away. You just–”

“It is my fault! It’s my fault I didn’t tell anyone! I could have told someone but now it’s too late!” His voice was high and hysterical now, like a girl’s, or like Rome’s when he had one of his panic attacks. Was he having a panic attack? He still couldn’t breathe. All the bottled up emotions were pouring out. It was hitting him then. Everything he had done was all pointless. It would have been better for him to have never met Ayda, to have never built friendships, because then he wouldn’t have to know what it was like to not be alone. He held onto Jules as tightly as he could, shaking. “It’s not fair!”

“Ivan, he’s going to work himself up into a seizure. Get my smelling salts.”

“I wish I would have a seizure! I don’t want to be here! It’s not fair, why do I get to be here?!”

He kept his face pressed into Jules’ shoulder, holding on for dear life, holding on like he was drowning. There was the sound of clinking glass from the desk. A second later, Jules peeled him away from her, tilted his chin up, and shoved a small bottle up to one of his nostrils. The acrid smell of ammonia was immediately apparent. It triggered him into inhaling deeply and the lump in his throat, the tightness in his chest loosened. The chemicals rushed into his brain with a certain clarity. They stopped all his frantic thoughts in their tracks. Marty gasped for air.

Jules tucked the smelling salts away into her sleeve. She pushed his hair back. “You breathe,” she said. All she cared about was what was in front of her. Carefully, she guided him to the side of her bed and made him sit down. “You just breathe, you’re not helping anyone by making yourself sick.”

Dog must have gotten up to grab the little bottle of ammonia for Jules. He looked more worried than she did, but by nature he always appeared worried. Even though he was a big man, the biggest man Marty had ever seen, he was always trying to hunch in on himself, make himself smaller. “You’re alright,” he said, and for a second it looked like he was going to try to reach out and touch him but thought better of it. His mouth naturally curved down. “That happens to me sometimes. I just tell myself I’m safe, I think of Jules and–”

“Me being safe is the whole problem,” Marty snapped. At least he could breathe again and the shock of the salts had forced his mind back into the present, but he still shook and could taste bile in his mouth. He was still crying silently, his shoulders heaving from time to time, the tears dripping off the end of his nose without a sound. “I’m not like you, I don’t feel sorry for myself because some bad things happened to me when I was a kid and cry about it, I just watched everyone I care about die and I couldn’t do anything!”

“Don’t talk to him like that.” Jules kept rubbing his head. “Don’t talk, just breathe.”

But for the first time, all Marty wanted to do was talk. There was nobody else to talk to. All the years of isolation were pouring out of him now and he could not stop it. “I saw them all die! I was on the phone and there was a crash and then everything went blank! Now nobody will answer me! Nobody will pick up!”

“Maybe they’re fine and they just can’t answer you,” said Dog.

“No.”

“You’re not helping,” hissed Jules. She put her arms around Marty again.

“During the war we blew up the Imperial radio towers so they couldn’t communicate. Maybe the same thing happened.”

“Ivan, don’t talk to the boy about the war! He doesn’t want to hear about that butchery.”

“But it’s what people do. It’s what people always do. If you can’t communicate, you can’t ask for help.”

Oh. Marty hadn’t thought of that.

There was no way he should have been able to talk to Ayda all these years anyway. The fiber optic cables running between Eden and the Northern Territories had been destroyed 200 years ago when the embargo began. The only way he was able to maintain contact was because Ayda’s dad had a man working for him who could put his mind inside of machines and this man had amplified the signal in Eden’s towers to reach Florence’s estate. He had done this out of desperation, because he needed to talk to Florence. And–

Marty shoved Jules away from him easily and scrambled up off her bed. He scrubbed his face furiously. “Right,” he said. “Right, right.” They could be OK. They could be OK and he just didn’t know it. He was stupid, he had let his emotions get the best of him.

He would not do that again.

“What are you doing?” Jules’ own confusion and frustration were getting the best of her and she was raising her voice. “Where are you going?”

“The Prime Minister.” Florence had devices connected directly to the interface she had dreamed up with Ayda’s dad. If anyone had lines open between Eden and the Strath, it was her. And Florence knew everything. She was mean and angry and terrifying, but she always seemed to know everything.

“Marty, don’t you even think about bothering her this early in the morning, don’t you even–”

He was off. He slammed through Jules’ door and started to run up the east wing corridor. Marty didn’t look at the servant girls staring at him, he didn’t pause to explain himself to the Partisan soldier standing at the kitchen door. All that mattered was Ayda. Ayda could still be alive. He didn’t know. He didn’t really know but he had to find out. Dog was right. The smartest thing anyone could do to an enemy was keep them from talking to each other. Lee was smart. Lee would have thought about how he didn’t want the police in Eden to be able to call each other and stop the bombs or help people.

And even if Ayda had died, even if everyone had died– he had to know for sure.

All the grief and sadness and anger left him in the wake of this one single minded goal.

The main building was more ornate, filled with the trappings of the dead Duke. A few more soldiers were present with their swords and machine guns, Partisans with their painted faces and the savage marsh-landers of the First Army. None of them paid Marty any mind. They were all used to him. Marty passed through the atrium with its enormous banner painted with rowan berries and fire, then left to where Florence’s offices were.

A First Army sergeant whose name was Bedny stood outside Florence’s door. He looked down at Marty and raised his eyebrows. “What’s wrong with you, witch-boy?”

“Let me in.” There was a stitch in his side from running. He knew that he looked like he had been crying. “Let me in there.”

“I don’t think so.”

Marty balled up his fists. “I need to talk to the Prime Minister.”

“Get out of here.”

As useless as it was, Marty would fight him if he had to. He would fight the entire garrison if they came between him and finding out what had happened to Ayda. He was breathing hard, exhausted, out of his mind, and all he could think about was his best friend. “Let me in there!”

Then Jules ran up behind him, grabbing him roughly by the shoulder. She was still only wearing her robe and her hair was unbraided in her haste to follow him. The sergeant looked down at her bare legs and laughed. “I’m so sorry,” Jules said breathlessly. She tried to pull Marty back. Even after 10 years, she still hated and feared the soldiers. “I’m sorry, he’s very upset this morning.”

“Go put some clothes on, you’re not decent. And you smell like the kennels.” He laughed and then mockingly barked at her.

Jules’ face turned red.

“I didn’t have time to get dressed, I was trying to look out for him!” She kept pulling Marty back. Her sharp nails dug into his shoulder. Jules never cut her nails, she let them grow long just in case she needed to use them. “Are you stupid, Bedny? You’ve never seen a woman’s legs before? All you First Army marsh-landers fuck the sheep in your swamps instead of women!”

“You better watch that mouth before I pop you, witch.”

“Let me in there!” Marty didn’t have time for this. He struggled away from Jules. Ayda. All that mattered was Ayda. Ayda could still be alive. He was going to throw up. “I need to talk to the Prime Minister!”

“And I say you can’t. Her Ladyship is currently occupied.”

“Let me talk to her! I need to see if she can reach Ayda!”

“Marty, just come back to your room with me!”

“Fuck you! I need to see if Ayda’s OK!”

The sergeant crossed his arms. “We should have never let you raise this boy here, if this is how he acts. Kimble was right. He should have gone to the garrison with the other war-orphans.He isn’t normal. We failed him by allowing you to let him sit inside all day getting fat and lazy and acting like a little faggot. You and your dog made him like this.”

Jules drew back and slapped him across the face as hard as she could, which wasn’t very hard. Sergeant Bedny laughed incredulously, then lunged forward, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and gave her a shake before pinning her arms behind her back. It was easy for him to do. Jules started to scream, kicking and cursing while her robe came undone to reveal her nightgown.

For a second, Marty was torn between the unguarded door and the fact that Jules was getting into her thousandth tussle with one of the soldiers. She always started it, and they always ended with her getting pinned down and laughed at for thinking she could try to fight a grown man. Maybe if she could use her magic for anything else than healing, she would have a chance. Because of her value to the Prime Minister, they never really hurt her. Marty hated to see her like that though.

But the door was unguarded. While Jules spat and screamed, Marty abandoned her for the first time by grabbing the door handle and pulling.

It was locked.

Of course it was locked. It was the one thing standing between him and Ayda. “Fuck!” Marty yelled, and kicked it as hard as he could. He was not wearing shoes.

“Pig!” Jules screamed as she struggled. “Swine!”

Marty kicked the door again but it did not release his frustrations. Pretty soon he was going to start crying again. The last 36 hours had devastated his nervous system. Everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong and now he was having to deal with the bullshit place he lived instead of what was important. Ayda. Kip.

The door opened and Flick, the Minister of Intelligence, looked out into the atrium. He was a smug, rangy man with a crippled leg who had always treated Marty like he was a person. His black eyes slid over Marty, to where Jules was trying to wrench her arms away from the sergeant. “Could you people keep it down?” he asked mildly. “The Prime Minister can’t hear herself think above all this racket.”

“Sorry about that.” Bedny let go of Jules. She scrambled away from him, gathering her robe back together to cover herself. “This bitch just slapped me out of nowhere.”

“Let’s all try not to act like animals in this–”

“I need to talk to her,” Marty interrupted. There was hardly anything keeping him from darting around Flick and inside Florence’s office. It wasn’t like he could stop him. “I need to talk to her now!”

Flick blinked and smoothed down his mustache with one finger. “She’s busy.”

Jules stepped beside Marty. She was shaking her head and rubbing her wrists. “Motherfucker!” she swore. “Stupid motherfucker! All of you are exactly the same!”

“Why don’t you calm down, Miss LaBelle?”

How was he supposed to express his immeasurable need for reconnection? If he didn’t find out what had really happened, Marty felt like he might die. He had to know. What had happened was his fault and he had to know the consequences.

“Eden!” he blurted. His fists were still clenched. “Eden, I have to know what’s happening in Eden! My friends, they– I was talking to them and there were bombs going off! And then my phone cut off and I can’t talk to any of them! I don’t know what happened, I need to know if they’re OK! I thought the Prime Minister could help me. Please!”

He could see Flick’s perpetually nonchalant expression soften a touch, something about the eyes and mouth. “Now you can’t say I’ve never done anything nice for you, Martin Bonneville.” The use of his full name was a sign of respect, but hearing it said gave Marty a shock. His father’s name. An evil name. “Come on. If she yells at anyone, she can yell at me.” He stood aside, leaning on his cane.

And Marty rushed in. Jules followed behind him, Bedny barking at her again as she went.

Florence’s office was larger than the two of their rooms put together. Three walls were covered from floor to ceiling with full bookshelves. The floor was lushly carpeted and one wall hung with a massive oil portrait of the dead Duke Rowan Gauthier, staring down coldly at anyone who walked in. No windows on the wall, but natural sunlight filtered down from a massive skylight on the ceiling. It smelled strongly of old books and cigarette smoke. In the middle of the office was a huge desk built from ironwood, covered with more stacks of books– and a computer.

The Prime Minister sat at her desk, chain smoking as usual. She didn’t even look up when Marty and Jules came in. Florence was only a small woman in her mid 40’s, but she had a blazing presence that demanded attention. It was like looking at the sun. Her graying hair was braided back, and instead of her usual fur-trimmed dresses, she wore the camouflage uniform of the Partisan army.

“Then tell me what you’re doing,” she demanded in English, staring imperiously at her computer screen. “Panicking like children? Get a hold of yourself, a disaster like this is the perfect time to seize control. I used to pray for earthquakes, now you’ve had your chance handed to you and you’re holding back?”

“People are dying!” A man’s voice Marty recognized. The flat, thick accent of Eden was unmistakable. He bit his tongue as hard as he could to keep himself from yelling. “I can’t attack the Capitol like this, I won’t have that blood on my hands! I don’t even know if the Capitol will last the day, we don’t know how many bombs there are– they keep going off!”

“If you’re too cowardly to take this chance, you’ll have blood on your hands for years. Your hesitation will result in the blood of children, the blood of my people who are starving because of that woman’s embargo!”

“You don’t understand what it’s like! Nobody can see everything, the air is full of dust! The streets are crawling with secret police! Even if I had been prepared, even if I had enough people, we’d–”

“Mr. Agapama!” Marty lunged towards the computer so that he could see his face. Florence seemed to notice him for the first time and scowled, put her hands up. “Is Ayda– is she— I was talking to her, she was at school, there was this crash and now I can’t call her!”

Ayda’s dad looked like he was in his own fancy house. He was wearing pajamas and didn’t have on any makeup, not even eyeliner. There was another man beside him with his hand on West’s computer. Marty had seen him a couple of times, Percy, the guy who could put his mind into machines. Percy’s eyes were rolled up in the back of his head and there was blood and foam coming out of his open mouth. Ayda’s dad didn’t seem to care about that. “The girls are fine, Marty.”

Smoke filled his lungs as Florence exhaled. She made a dismissive gesture. “Get out of here, I’m talking.” She cut her eyes towards Jules, who was taking a handkerchief from Flick, then switched to their native language. “Julia, put on some damn clothes and get this boy away from me.”

Someone would have to physically drag him away from the computer if they wanted him to leave. Marty’s heart pounded. He was brazenly close to the leader of his country, close enough to almost be touching her, but that did not matter. This was his only connection to Eden. He gripped the edge of Florence’s desk and tried to communicate his terrible need to Ayda’s dad with only his face. “But I can’t call her, I can’t call anyone! It’s not going through, it’s just blank. I thought– is she OK?!”

“The internet is down across the Colony, somebody’s set off explosives at the interface hubs.” Ayda’s dad looked like he was barely holding himself together. His jaw was set and his eyes were hugely dilated. “Radio still works. Vega got down to the School District and found the girls immediately, I just spoke to her.”

Marty could not imagine how scared they must be. “Please, can I–”

“Let’s not waste our time.” Florence did not take her eyes off the screen, but she reached into one of her pockets and pulled out a peppermint, handing it to Marty. When he was younger, the Prime Minister used to give him a peppermint whenever she saw him and the taste of mint always made him think of her. He didn’t want the candy but took it anyway. “You won’t get another chance like this, Agapama.”

“I won’t be responsible for more deaths today! I can’t keep sitting here talking to you about this, I should be out there helping people! Do you understand what I’m saying? I’m wasting my time here! Thousands of people must have already died, we don’t even know! We don’t need more death, we need help! We need doctors, food, we need architects to help us rebuild!”

The end of Florence’s cigarette was nothing but ash. “You’d have me waste my resources on a place that has let us freeze and starve and tear ourselves apart for years.”

“Yes! Help us, you can help us!” Somewhere in Eden, there was another crash. Ayda’s dad did not flinch. Sweat was pouring down his face and his teeth were clenched. He glanced at Percy, the man beside him, who had started to twitch. More foam spilled out of his open mouth. Ayda’s dad put his hand on his forearm. “I don’t have time. I don’t have time for any of this, I have to do something. But if you sit there and watch without sending us help, you’re no better than Botega.”

Florence barked a harsh laugh. “If I send aid south, that woman will have my men killed at the gates like she’s killed every envoy I’ve sent.��

We need help! We need help now! This is just the beginning, I don’t know how bad it’s going to get out there! If bombs hit Fuelero or the Prosperity plants, we’re all going to starve! I know you understand how that feels! You can help us, you can choose to let Eden know that the Territories are an ally!”

Marty felt dizzy. Florence had tried to make contact with Eden before? What else did he not know about? Suddenly everything felt bigger than it was before.

“What are they yelling about, Marty?” asked Jules in French.

Percy was convulsing now. Ayda’s dad made a low, desperate sound of frustration. “I have to go. If the interface is repaired, I’ll reach out to you again. But you have to help us!”

“You’ll find that I don’t have to do anything, my friend,” said Florence.

And the screen went blank.

All Marty could do was sit there. His hand was clenched so tight around the peppermint that it hurt. So Ayda was safe. If Ayda was safe, he could only assume that the others were safe. But for how long? It sounded like bombs were still going off in Eden. Ayda’s dad had been scared, scared enough to beg for help. That was bad. He knew that was very bad.

Florence stubbed out her cigarette and lit a new one with a box of matches. “Audacity,” she said. She blew smoke out of the side of her mouth so that it wouldn’t hit Marty. “What audacity.”

“It sounds like the people are fed up with the way things are being run in Eden if they’ve resorted to direct action,” said Flick. He had put a kettle on the fire and poured two cups of tea, then handed one to Jules and set the other on Florence’s desk. “That’s how the Duke started it here in the Strath. Bombings. A dictator can only push people so far until they fight back. If we’re lucky, the people of Eden will destroy Botega on their own. This sounds like a good thing to me.”

How long before Marty could talk to Ayda? How long before Eden repaired their interface? He tried to think about what had happened during the war in the Territories. Everyone had tried to shelter him, but he remembered being hungry when he was very small, back when he and Jules and Mama lived together in Stasya’s cottage. There had never been enough food.

“We’re going to help them though, right?” Marty asked Florence. “You’re going to send trucks south, aren’t you? Trucks with food and– and medicine?”

Florence’s mouth twisted. She reached out and ruffled his fluffy black hair. Marty scowled but it wasn’t like he could push her away. “Where do you think food comes from, eh? You think everyone would be happy if I sent our resources to our enemy when we have children here who go hungry because of the trade embargo? When we don’t have enough doctors or architects to take care of ourselves?”

“But he was asking for your help.”

“You’re too young to understand these things. I’ve sent 3 envoys south to Eden asking for their help. They’ve been shot at the gates each time. The people in charge of that place are blinded by their pride, they’ll never accept help from outside. I doubt that they’d even let their people know that it was being offered.”

His shoulders slumped. “You– you’ve tried to send people to Eden?”

He imagined himself in one of the cargo trucks, traveling down the south road. The truck would be full of supplies and people who could help Eden through its crisis. He imagined himself seeing Eden for the first time, Eden with its marvels of technology and architecture. And Ayda! If he went to Eden, he could see Ayda without the barrier of the screens between them. Not only Ayda, he could see the others, he could see Kip! Kip. As averse as Marty was to hugs, he knew that he would like it if Kip put his arms around him. Kip with his bright eyes and big smile, Kip with his strong arms and–

“Marty’s very fond of a girl who lives there, Prime Minister,” said Flick helpfully. “Agapama’s daughter.”

“I’m sure his little girlfriend will be quite safe.” Florence rolled her eyes. “It’s time for you two to leave my office now, scurry back to the east wing. Phillip, go round up Reed Kimble and Beatrice. I have many things to discuss with them.”

Flick gave her a curt nod and then limped out. Jules made eye contact with Marty and jerked her head toward the door.

There was nothing else to do. He would have to wait, ridden with anxiety, until Ayda or one of the others contacted him themselves. They were safe. Surely they were all safe. He tried one more time. “You’ll send them help, won’t you? You won’t ignore Eden the way they ignore us?”

“I’ll do whatever I think is right.”

That was that. Marty followed Jules and left the office.

While they walked, Jules looped one arm through Marty’s. He was so exhausted and beaten down that he allowed her to do so. Sleep. He needed to sleep but he didn’t want to risk missing any calls. When they got to the kitchen, he’d stop and make himself a pot of coffee.

“You feel better?” asked Jules, eyeing him as they walked. Each step she took was deliberate because she was not wearing shoes. “You look better.”

“I’m tired.” Marty couldn’t think. His brain wasn’t working. The waves of emotion that had crashed through him over the last hour were too much. Ayda. Kip. It was still his fault that this had happened, but maybe they would be OK. He would keep telling himself that they were OK. Ayda’s dad wasn’t a liar. He believed him.

“I’ll make you breakfast. I’ll have Ivan go out to the smokehouse and get the trout we caught last week. You’ll feel better after you eat.”

“I just want coffee.”

By the door leading to the east wing, Jules hesitated. Marty stopped too. He felt dead again. He wanted to lie down and never get back up. It was hard to even keep his eyes open. His entire body was heavy. The adrenaline surge from earlier was completely gone and left him feeling more exhausted than before.

“I didn’t realize that you were so close to those kids from Eden,” said Jules after a beat. She unhooked her arm from Marty’s and crossed her’s in front of her chest. Her posture was stiff and uncomfortable. “Did that man tell you that they’re alright?”

Marty shrugged. He didn’t feel like talking anymore. He was shutting down. It had all been too much. His mind and body had been in a state of terror for hours and now there was nothing he could do but wait and trust Ayda’s dad. Maybe Jules would stay with him for the rest of the day. He did not want to be alone.

But something was wrong with Jules. Her expressions and movements were usually so natural, she flowed into one and then the next with such ease. Now he could tell that she did not know what to do. Maybe she wanted to hug him again. She fidgeted with the rings on her tattoo-blackened fingers. “You sounded like you’re very close to that boy Kip. You said you liked him very much.”

Ice shot through every inch of him. Marty froze. What had he told her when he was hysterical and panicking? What had he said? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember any of it. Marty looked at Jules. He couldn’t speak and he couldn’t move.

“What did you mean when you said that?”

“Nothing.”

Did Jules’ face look scared? Worried? Her eyebrows were furrowed as she looked at him. Her mouth was tight. “You said you didn’t like to think about how you couldn’t be with boys here, what did you mean?”

This wasn’t a conversation Marty ever wanted to have. Not here. Not with her. And especially not after everything he had been through for the last 24 hours. There was no way out. Jules was standing right next to him. What had he told her? Oh god, what had he said in front of her and Dog while his grief and fear overcame him? He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Jules reached out and took his hands. “You– you’ve never wanted to talk to the girls here. Boys your age start to notice girls, that’s all they ever think about. I’ve never even seen you look at a girl.”

Fuck fuck fuck. She knew. She already knew, she had figured it out. Stupid Kip! This was his fault, his and Marty’s for not being able to keep his fat mouth shut. Jules was going to hate him. She was going to hate him. The only time he had ever heard her talk about gay people was in the context of men preying on younger boys– she was going to think he was some kind of freak! Without Jules to look out for him, Marty was done for. He was cooked. He’d have to leave and join the garrison with the other war-orphans, and they’d almost certainly beat him to death for being a degenerate. Fuck! It was over, it was all over.

It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t like he had asked to be this way.

Marty wrenched his hands away from her. “I don’t like talking to anyone.” He was going to throw up. He was going to just collapse. “I don’t like anyone.”

“And this boy Kip?”

“No! Just leave me alone.” Luckily Jules was not savvy enough to ask for his phone. If she ever checked his messages and saw the pathetic, needy, desperate way he talked to Kip, she would really lose it. God forbid she ever learned about Lee.

Who was he kidding? He wasn’t fooling anyone. It was all over him and he couldn’t hide it.

“Marty.” Jules swallowed hard. Her expression was only worried. It had not changed to one of disgust or hatred. There was gentleness behind her eyes. “You’re alright.”

“You obviously don’t think I’m alright.”

“I’m scared you’ve spent so much time talking to people in Eden that you forget what life’s like here. People will hurt you, do you understand that? People will really hurt you if they think you’re different.” Her voice was tight. Again, she tried to reach out and touch him but Marty jerked away. “I’m sorry about your friends. But you can’t– you can’t talk like that in front of anyone. I don’t want you to ever talk about feeling like that to anyone. It’s fine if you want to have feelings for a boy from Eden, but you can’t think of anyone here that way, do you hear me?”

It would have been better if she had yelled at him. “I’m tired.” Marty edged away from her. Sleep. He just needed some sleep, just an hour or so, just until Ayda was able to talk to him again. “I’m going to bed.”

“I won’t be able to live with myself if someone hurts you,” said Jules. She didn’t move to follow him. Her voice sounded small and scared.

“Nobody is going to hurt me.” Marty left to go to his room. He didn’t look back at her.

After all– that night he had learned that nobody could hurt him as badly as he could hurt himself. Not his mother, not the soldiers, not Lee, not anyone. The bombing was still his fault and he had to live with the consequences.

When his head hit his pillow, he fell into a deep and blessedly dreamless sleep.

Ayda did not contact him for a week.

For a week Marty was wracked with fear and guilt. He did not speak. He did not leave his room. Jules brought him food, she told him about how Florence sent a caravan with aid south, she told him about how they stopped communicating within a mile of Eden. Marty stared at the ceiling. He did not eat. He could not imagine anything worse than being unable to talk to the people he cared about.

And after all that time, when she did finally message him, it was worse. It was worse than anything. It was worse than Marty could possibly imagine.

One message. Two words.

“Kip’s dead.”

Marty would never open his heart up again.

#writing

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thecoleopterawithana · 3 years

Text

Corporal Punishment

There are numerous accounts of how Jim occasionally walloped his sons when provoked—Mike McCartney even claims they were “duly bashed”—but his sister-in-law maintains they are untrue. “Jim and Mary never smacked the boys,” she says. “They took them to their room and gave them a good talking-to, but they never hit them. Never.”

— In Bob Spitz’s The Beatles (2005).

‘I was once hitting Michael for doing something,’ says Jim. ‘Paul stood by shouting at Mike, “Tell him you didn’t do it and he’ll stop.” Mike admitted he had done it, whatever it was. But Paul was always able to get out of most things.’ ‘I was pretty sneaky,’ says Paul. ‘If I ever got bashed for being bad, I used to go into their bedroom when they were out and rip the lace curtains at the bottom, just a little bit, then I’d think, that’s got them.’

— In Hunter Davies’s The Beatles (1968).

I once saved Paul’s life, viewers (but we’re quits, he later saved mine)! He was ten at the time and I was about eight. One day we found a lime pit which had filled with rain and turned into a small pond. Some workmen had left a plank balanced across it and, needless to say, we had to walk across it. [...] In the end we decided we’d both go together. That meant disaster. We were about halfway across when the plank began to sway dangerously and suddenly Paul lost his balance and fell in. The plank then wobbled so much that I fell in after him. We might have drowned - really! [...] I remember digging my fingers into the soft, slippery earth and getting a grip on a big stone or something and then starting to haul myself out. But when I turned to see how Paul was doing, I saw that he had fallen back, spluttering and gasping, and his head was going under. I grabbed him by the collar and held on. He caught hold of my arm and clung to it. We stayed like that until a neighbour, hearing our cries, rescued us. That night, by way of reward, Dad gave us the hiding of our lives. We went to bed crying and lay with our heads on the pillows sobbing bitterly. I was prepared to regard the hiding as just punishment. But not Paul. He dried his eyes and began to think out ways of getting revenge on Dad. Some of them sounded like ideas out of a Chinese torture book, only dafter. Finally, he said: "If I could, I'd take Dad up to 15,000 feet in a plane, dig a hole, fill it with water, and drop him in!"

— Mike McCartney, in ‘Portrait of Paul’ for Woman Magazine (21 August 1965).

I never much liked authority. I didn’t like school teachers or critics telling me what I should do. Or myself telling me. I’m alive – do it!

— Paul McCartney, interviewed by Nicci Gerrard for the Observer: The long and winding ode (11 March 2001).

PAUL: I always had ambitions to be something good. I didn't know what it would be. You know, I was always quite ambitious but I wouldn't buckle down at school like a lot of people. The teachers just didn't help. We had some right perverts as teachers. PARKINSON: In what way? PAUL: Well they used to beat the shit out of you! There was this one guy with a plimsoll that he used to take it out on us with. You know, bend over, whop!

— Paul McCartney, on ITV's Parkinson Show (17 December 2005).

HARTY: Did you ever get caned for being naughty? PAUL: I did occasionally, yes; I must admit, your honor. There were a couple of occasions. HARTY: And your mates were caned as well, sometimes? PAUL: Mates were caned, yes. We did— They used to cane us, "six of the best" kind of thing. But I remember this time George got caned — George Harrison, because we were mates at school — and I mean, we never really did anything wrong, but we might have like tight trousers and Ted hairdos. So that pointed you out as someone— "Here's a troublemaker." So George got done once, and the teacher missed him and got him here [mimics getting caned on the inner wrist]. So he had— a couple of big wheels came up here, you know those rash things. And he went home and he's having his tea with his dad and they're all chatting about how it went at school. His dad said, "What's that?" He saw these things [on his inner wrist]. And George told him, "You know, the teacher did it." So the next day they were in class and someone popped their head around the door of the class, "Hm, Mister—" whoever the teacher was that caned George, "come out here for a moment, please." He came out, and it was George's dad there! He said, "Did you do that to my son?", across the— "Yes, I did." [mimics Harry Harrison punching the teacher in the face] Oh! Right there! Honest, honest! HARTY: And what happened after that? PAUL: Oh, he was a hero! He was— he was just the school hero, George's dad. That was it, you know. But I used to tell my dad, "I got caned, dad." "Well, you probably did something wrong." HARTY: No help from there at all. PAUL: "Dad, you know, dad, hit him!"

— Paul McCartney, on BBC's Harty Show (23 November 1984).

Mike McCartney was once knocked unconscious by a master; when he told his dad [...] Jim merely said, "Don't be silly son, the masters are always right," and went back to his crossword.

— In Mark Lewisohn's Tune In (2013).

I nearly did very well at grammar school but I started to get interested in art instead of academic subjects. [...] The words they used in their end-of-term reports: ‘If he would only buckle down...' and you'd go, 'No! No! Get out of my life! I hate you. You should say I'm great. I've got to take this home, you know.'

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles’ Many Years From Now (1997).

I don't like criticism whatever. I don't think I ever liked it when my Dad said, ‘I don't like your trousers’.

— Paul McCartney, in Paul Gambaccini’s In His Own Words (1976).

And his dad was the whole thing. Just simple things: he wouldn’t go against his dad and wear drainpipe trousers. And his dad was always trying to get me out of the group behind me back, I found out later. He’d say to George: “Why don’t you get rid of John, he’s just a lot of trouble. Cut your hair nice and wear baggy trousers,” like I was the bad influence because I was the eldest, so I had all the gear first usually. So Paul was always like that. And I was always saying, “Face up to your dad, tell him to fuck off. He can’t hit you. You can kill him [laughs], he’s an old man.” I used to say, “Don’t take that shit off him.” Because I was always brought up by a woman, so maybe it was different. But I wouldn’t let the old man treat me like that. He treated Paul like a child all the time, cut his hair and telling him what to wear, at seventeen, eighteen. But Paul would always give in to his dad. His dad told him to get a job, he fucking dropped the group and started working on the fucking lorries, saying, “I need a steady career.” We couldn’t believe it. So I said to him—my Aunt Mimi reminded me of this the other night—he rang up and said he’d got this job and couldn’t come to the group. So I told him on the phone, “Either come or you’re out.” So he had to make a decision between me and his dad then, and in the end he chose me.

— John Lennon, interviewed by Peter McCabe and Robert Schonfeld (September 1971).

PAUL: But you know, it’s funny talking about this sort of parents— the thing was he did use to kind of hit me, occasionally. Like, that was what they did in those days. You’re not allowed to do it so much these days, but— [...] You know, I was— [mutters] it was not all great. But I tell you what, what comes to mind — or just the memory — of the one moment when I was about, I don’t know, sixteen, seventeen or something. And he came in with the usual stuff. He’d just sort of slap me. We’re having an argument, he’d slap me. [...] So, I just stood there — and it was like an amazing moment in my life — I said, ‘Go ahead. Do it again.’ And he was like [makes descending sound]. And he never did it again. It was, ‘Go ahead’, you know. This was it. [laughs] The record companies would sue him.

— Paul McCartney, interviewed by Howard Stern for the Stern Show (18 October 2001).

Children; Up to a certain age, I love all of them. After that, some of them get wrecked, mainly by parents.

— Paul McCartney for Melody Maker: Pop Think-In (1 January 1966).

I told you for instance that I didn’t like dogs and cats, until I got a dog and a cat and love them for what they are, just ’cause they’re dogs and cats. I’m quite willing to accept that dogs and cats are dogs and cats. And I still find that there’s a vague little sort-of sadistic thing in me about dogs and cats and if I ever have to punish her [his dog Martha] I can do it quite easily. Which I hate.

— Paul McCartney, interviewed by Barry Miles for International Times: A conversation with Paul McCartney (November 1966).

LESLIE: And if my mother only knew! PAUL: [concerned] What would she do? LESLIE: It’s not— I— [unintelligible] No, we’re not supposed to be allowed to— PAUL: [unintelligible] about civil liberties. LESLIE: Oh, that’s interesting. PAUL: Yeah, right? It’s great! LESLIE: In England or in America? PAUL: Well, all over the place, eventually. We’ll get some liberty, you know. [unintelligible] And it’s just about all the kind of things that people clamp down on young people for when they don’t actually know what’s going on! So I’m just trying to give the point of view of the people that, you know, don’t really want to be spanked anymore, thank you, daddy! Just sort of tell us why you don’t want us to do it. Explain it clearly, and maybe we won’t do it. But if you keep spanking us, we’re gonna be naughty. You know, and try to explain that one away.

— Paul McCartney speaks with Leslie Samuels and Donna Stark, two young fans who visited him at his home in 7 Cavendish Avenue (July 1967).

[Just a hazy collection of quotes on Paul and corporal punishment. There were some that I wanted to include but just couldn’t locate; for example, Paul talking about how he wouldn’t hit his own kids.

It’s interesting to contrast the two brothers’ response to the same punishment. Mike seems to have no problem talking about it — and in quite explicit terms — from as early as 1965. Paul, on the other hand, would only go deeper into it until almost 50 years after the fact. Mike also recounts how he was ready to accept the punishment, while Paul resented it so much he needed to exact some kind of revenge on his parents, realized or imagined.

I feel like Paul was especially sensitive about this type of punishment for how profoundly unfair it felt. Regardless of what he had done (or what was considered normal for the times), I think Paul always found it unacceptable to be treated in such a way. So he couldn’t make peace with it as easily as his brother. This in turn influenced and was influenced by his general relationship with authority.

I feel it also somehow connects with Paul’s preoccupations with making it clear that John never hit him — as was represented in the movie Nowhere Boy — which he felt the need to state again in The Lyrics.

Essentially, I feel that for a person like Paul — who values control over his own person/personal freedom so much — having his bodily integrity and autonomy violated in such a way was/is a big deal, which shaped how he dealt with other figures of power. (Insert here a whole essay on Paul’s borderline-traumatized reaction to Allen Klein and his forceful advances, and how he argues John took Klein on because he wanted a “daddy”.)]

#the beatles #paul mccartney #mike mccartney #jim mccartney #John Lennon #allen klein #It's like school #I never much liked authority #compilation #meta #my stuff

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — One: Direction

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person's relationship with his son. You've heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You've felt his pain and anguish and you've never been able to relate to anything more. But things don't come easy for you, and they certainly don't come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Taglists (let me know if you wish to be added!)—

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth

I Believe In Love: @mrschiltoncat @thebloodrobin @greatvaluedazzler @bxxbxy @marydjarin @the-feckless-wonder @typicalnerd98 @biharryjames @thwiso

Rating: 15+

Word count: 4,700>

Masterlist

Previous - One - Next

"I wish to travel to the world of man," you announced with a deep breath and a confident smile. Hippolyta looked at you and laughed. Her Amazonian guards copied the actions of their queen and burst into a fit of giggles that made you feel like a silly small child.

"And where has this outburst come from?" Hippolyta asked with a quirked eyebrow as she folded her arms across her chest. The laughing slowly quietened down as she waited for a response.

"I've been having these dreams," you began to explain hesitantly. Hippolyta leaned forward in her throne and looked at you quizzically, making a small gesture with her hand that urged you to continue. "I've been seeing death and destruction, I've been watching the world of man crumble…"

"You want to travel to a collapsing society? Don't be foolish, that doesn't sound safe. Why leave the beautiful walls of Themyscira to travel to the world of man?" You had heard stories about the world of man and how it was filled with greed and corruption. Themyscira was peaceful. It wasn't that you wanted to leave, it was that you knew deep in your heart that your time had come.

Hippolyta was right. You looked around the palace that you had stepped foot in, the marble floor under your toes and the gold intricate details that patterned across the walls. "You let Diana." you mumbled under your breath, turning away from the queen and beginning to walk towards the double doors that you had entered through, ready to leave the palace.

"What was that?" Hippolyta asked, rising to her feet. You opened your mouth to answer but an excruciating pain shot through your head— and that's when you heard him. You heard his voice again. His pain. It wasn't just in your dreams anymore… you could feel him like he was there, with you, like he was part of you. You screamed and fell to your knees as tears spilled from your eyes, your fingers clenching into a fist so hard your knuckles turned white. The pain was so intense and you heard his words over and over again. Hippolyta ran over to you, sinking down to your level and cradling your weeping body in her arms. She called your name. "What is it?"

"He's calling for me," you choked back a sob. "The world of man is in grave danger."

"From who?" Hippolyta questioned, wiping your tears away as you tried to regulate your own erratic breathing.

"I don't know, but I must help." you gasped. "I must help him. Please allow me to go." you grabbed Hippolyta's arms and looked at her with pleading eyes. "You allowed Diana."

"Diana was a fighter, our best one," Hippolyta said slowly, shaking her head at the memory of her daughter. "You are not a fighter." She said the four words matter of factory but her denial made your anger rifle through your body.

"Maybe I can win this without fighting," you sobbed. "Yes, I have no training. I do not use a sword or a shield, but my mother taught me that battles can be won if we just use our heart. If we love." you felt like you were begging as you recalled Hestia's words to you. Your Themysciran tribe were of a peaceful nature, and although small, your leader, Aphrodite, preached about the power of love.

"Olympus and Eurydice loved and what happened to them?" Hippolyta scolded, her question rhetorical. You recalled the story in the back of your mind and winced, knowing their fate. "We are Amazonians. If the world of men needs saving, then Diana will save them. Go home my child, I forbid you from leaving Themyscira."

Your heart broke. You couldn't believe that Hippolyta was confining you to the walls of Themyscira. She didn't understand. She couldn't understand. It was only once in a turn of centuries did an Amazonian connect with someone from the outside world— and now, you had. You had made that connection, but Hippolyta forbade you from acting upon it. You composed yourself as you stormed out of the palace and hurried down the stone steps. Tightening the buckles on your gladiator sandals, you wiped your furious tears away and took a deep breath as the anger consumed you.

It wasn't fair. You had spent your childhood studying the world of man, learning about them and their ways. Nobody had cared more about helping others than you. Your desire to care for those around you came from your very own purpose. When Zeus sculpted you in his own image, he made you goddess of home and hearth. He gave you your abilities for a reason. Amazonian's outside your tribe shamed you for your kind and compassionate heart— telling you it was a weakness more than a strength. They belittled you and made you feel unworthy. As you remembered your childhood trauma, you pulled out your hair from your tiara. You lived on Themyscira your whole life but it never truly felt like home. You always craved for something more.

You ran home. You ran as fast as your feet could carry you, letting your tears fall and your screams of anguish echo through the Themsycrian forests. It wasn't fair. What did Hippolyta expect you to do? Deal with this for the rest of your life. How could you not help the man who's pain was destroying his very soul? The Gods had connected you and him for a reason. You had to go. You had to.

As soon as you arrived home you broke down. Your mother heard your cries and found you in the garden, picking at the native Themysciran flowers as your salty tears dropped on the lilac coloured petals. "Hippolyta denied your request?" Hestia asked, sitting on the wall next to you. You nodded sadly. "Sweet child, tell me more about these dreams. About this...man."

You didn't see the point now that you knew you wouldn't be able to leave Themyscira. But Hestia was your mother and you loved her dearly, and so you took a shaky exhale and done your very best to explain. "It feels like I've known him forever, like he's always been a part of me," you admitted. "But— I don't even know his name." you shrugged helplessly and cracked a small smile, listening to how pathetic you must've sounded. Maybe Hippolyta had a point. "I don't even know how he looks. Even if I did venture to the world of man, how could I possibly find him?"

Hestia sighed, unclipping her lasso from her tunic and wrapping it carefully around your wrist. You looked up at your mother, your eyes comically wide as the lasso glowed yellow. "Close your eyes, my child," Hestia whispered. "See him. See the truth."

You closed your eyes and let your soul space away as the lasso transported your mind to elsewhere. To him— the man of your dreams.

"Alistair?" Maxwell cleared his throat, his son's head snapping in the direction of his father. "That was your mother. She wants you home." Maxwell pointed aimlessly back at the telephone.

"But daddy, you promised the whole weekend together!" Alistair's eyes began to well up with tears. Maxwell ran to his son's side, his heart aching at the sight of disappointment and he pulled Alistair into his chest.

"I know, and I will keep my word," he hushed Alistair, smoothing out his hair. "Don't worry." Alistair nuzzled his face into Maxwell's dress shirt, sniffing in fear of losing his father again. There was a few beats of silence as Maxwell's brain ticked like clockwork, trying to work out what his ex wife's intentions were. "Does your mother… does she ever talk about me?" Maxwell asked hesitantly, unsure if he was about to regret the question.

"I hear her, sometimes. I hear her talk about you to Ted," Alistair admitted, referencing his mother's new boyfriend. Maxwell hummed, still stroking his son's hair. He wondered whether or not he should ask Alistair what exactly she said, but decided against it, not wanting to hurt his son anymore than he already had. He knew that Juliana had nothing good to say about Maxwell.

"Ted? I thought he liked to be called Theodore," Maxwell chuckled, rolling his eyes and Alistair giggled back. Max and Alistair would often joke about how pretentious Ted could be.

"Well now he wants me to call him dad," Alistair sighed, too young to understand the implications of that revelation. Maxwell's heart broke. Of course Juliana wanted her son to call her new boyfriend 'dad'. She got Alistair on the weekdays and Maxwell got him on the weekends, it was more than likely he saw Ted more than he saw Max, and Max knew for certain that Juliana's hatred was fueled further with his every breath. The prolonged silence urged Alistair to speak up. "But I told mom I won't."

"You did?" Maxwell smiled sadly. "Why?"

"Because you're my dad!" Alistair grinned. "And you'll always be my dad, no matter what."

Maxwell couldn't bring himself to reply. His stomach twisted into knots as he thought about Julianna's words over the phone. "You do not deserve him. I don't want you anywhere near my son ever again."

He knew the level of determination his ex wife possessed and if this meant she wanted sole custody of Alistair then Maxwell knew there would be very little that would stop her. He had messed up bad this time. Alistair felt tiny in Max's arms, but Max knew his son's heart was huge and filled with unconditional love. But the worry and guilt consumed him. How could Max possibly fight and win this case— after everything that had happened? He didn't even have the money for good lawyers. Maxwell whispered an incoherent 'I love you' into the crook of Alistair's neck, his shutting as a tear slipped down his cheek.

Your own eyes snapped open, your chest heaving and panting as the lasso of truth unravelled itself from your wrist. "What did you see?" Hestia asked, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Did you see the man of your dreams?"

You tried to process everything. "I didn't see him," you whispered feeling defeated. "But I heard his voice. And I learned his name. He's a father and he's afraid of losing his son," you explained, taking in everything you had learned. "And his son is afraid of losing his father."

"When you awoke last night, what did you hear?" Hestia asked.

"He was crying. He said he renounced his wish. I've been struggling to understand what exactly that means but…" you closed your eyes, remembering the dream like it was a perfect painting illustrating the patterns of your memory.

Hestia smiled wearily. "I always prayed to the Gods that you would not be chosen. My dear child, I love you so much, but it's clear that this man needs your help. You're the goddess of home and hearth, and Zeus blessed you with the ability to bring families together and that is your purpose. To live a life without serving your purpose— who would you be?"

"It doesn't matter," you sighed sadly, rubbing your eyes. "Hippolyta won't allow me to leave." you reminded your mother.

"I can help you leave Themyscira," Hestia cupped the side of your face with your hand, her thumb brushing over the height of your cheekbone. "But if you are to help this man there is something you must know."

"What is it?" you asked your mother, your eyes beckoning for answers.

"There were once two brothers; Romulus and Dolos. Their entities combined were a force of pure evil, but the brothers left Olympus to go to the world of man. When they left, Zeus gave them two magical citrine stones, and the brothers practiced their powers on the stones. Dolos went to a place called Greece, where Romulus travelled to Italy and built the city of Rome. Not much is known about the stones, but now, only one remains. We don't know which one or where it is, but it's dangerous."

"Why are you telling me this?" you furrowed your eyebrows together in bewilderment.

"The stones are indestructible, unless the power of the stone is harnessed by a person themselves. Then, the entity of the stone vanishes but the power lives in the person. The power of wish granting. If he has renounced his wish, that means…"

"...he's had a wish granted," you clicked on to what your mother was saying. "How do I find out which stone has been destroyed?"

"You need to find the man of your dreams and ask him who granted his wish," Hestia explained. "You must destroy the final dreamstone."

"But why?" You quizzed, your shoulders falling limp as you took in this abundance of information.

"Because Romulus and Dolos are the God of Lies." Hestia whispered, her hands falling from your shoulders as she clipped the lasso back to her tunic.

Your heart sank into your chest as the revelation hit you. "The God of Lies?" you repeated.

"If you go to the world of man then your purpose must be more than just helping this man and his son," Hestia told you. "You must find the final dreamstone and destroy it."

"How can I destroy the God of Lies?" you shook your head furiously. "No, nuh-uh, not happening. I can't even fight. I don't have any weapons— never trained. I can't do it. I can't." you scowled, standing up and brushing down your Amazonian dress, turning away from your mother. You felt her hand grab your shoulder.

"Remember what I taught you, my child. Battles can be won through the power of love," Hestia smiled. "If I didn't think you were worthy, then I wouldn't be allowing my only daughter to travel to the world of man. But I am because I believe in you. And I believe in love."

***

Maxwell couldn't focus on the video game anymore, shuffling around uncomfortably at the mere thought that Juliana and Ted could be on their way to collect Alistair for themselves. "Hey, how about we get some fresh air?" Maxwell asked, nudging Alistair playfully. "I think there are still some 4th of July celebrations happening in the park."

Alistair grinned ecstatically. "Really daddy? We haven't been to the park since… since… you were still with mommy!"

Maxwell scrunched up his nose and brushed off his sons comment. "Go grab your coat, okay?" he urged and Alistair bolted out the living room and into his bedroom.

Maxwell caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. No amount of biotin was going to rid the dark circles from under his eyes. At least he had his health restored, but he hadn't thought of the implications of utilizing the government's multinational broadcasting service.

Every single citizen of the world had seen Maxwell. Knew him by name, by face. Maxwell had no idea how people were going to react upon seeing him again. He contemplated a disguise, but figured the best he could do was roll up his shirt sleeves to his elbows and brush out any hair product from his dark blonde locks. At least he wasn't wearing his signature tailored suit and ties. On the surface, he could just be mistaken for an ordinary guy. Maxwell Lord had never wanted to blend into society this much in his life.

The memory of how power corrupt he had become before Diana had saved him struck his heart like a dagger of guilt. But he couldn't regret. He had to think forward and think to the future if he wanted to change his errors.

Maxwell jumped when Alistair took hold of his father's hand and pulled him to the door. "Hey, let me help you zip your coat up." Maxwell smiled, kneeling down and making sure Alistair would be warm enough.

By the time they arrived at the park, it was as if nothing had happened. It was like the world had returned back to the way it was before all the death and destruction. Children squealed merrily as they played on the swing sets, families sat on the grassy fields eating picnics and vendors were serving hot dogs, burgers and cotton candy.

"Why don't you go play with the kids over there?" Maxwell pointed towards a group of children standing by the slide. "Daddy just needs a moment to himself, but then I'll come play. I promise." Max kissed Alistair on the forehead and Alistair nodded understandingly before racing off into the playpark.

Maxwell scratched the back of his head and took in the cool Summer air as evening began to dawn. He looked around at the happy families and figured it was something he could get used to. He imagined living a peaceful life outside of the spotlight. No fame, no money, just him and Alistair. But things didn't come easy for Maxwell Lord.

You woke up in a muddy puddle under a tree, groaning as the brown dirt stuck to your arms and legs. You looked down at your dress and tunic, thankful that the leather material could be washed easily. You smelt something unfamiliar yet distinct, your nostrils twitching as the scent of burgers and hotdogs from the vending vans engulfed you.

The screams of children alerted you and you looked over at the playpark, watching intently as the kids laughed and danced around. There wasn't many children back on Themyscira, but being the goddess of home and hearth; it filled your heart with joy and happiness.

You slowly walked over to the playpark, looking around at your awe inspiring surroundings. So this was the world of man? You beamed upon seeing the swans in the duck pond and the beautiful flowers that grew around the stone path you walked upon.

It was mesmerising, but your delight was cut short when you heard a thud followed by a child's cry. You looked over to see that, not too far away, a group of children had pushed a young boy to the ground. The boy fumbled to get to his feet but the children circled around him, pointing and calling him names. You walked over to the crowd of children and placed your hands on your hips. "Excuse me?" you called out and watched as the kids stiffened up and their circle disbanded. They ran away, shooting you a strange look before you could even say anything else. You extended your arm and helped the little boy to his feet. "Are you okay?" you asked, kneeling down to mirror his short height. The boy nodded sadly, his dark eyes glazed with tears. "What's your name?"

"Alistair." the boy mumbled, his cheeks heating up with embarrassment.

"That's a beautiful name," you gleamed before introducing yourself. Alistair smiled at the compliment.

"I like your costume," he pointed excitedly. "Are you a princess?" he pointed at your tiara which held back your hair.

"Something like that," you shrugged with a small laugh. "Are you here alone?"

"No, I came with my daddy." Alistair informed you, looking around as he tried to locate his father. Your gaze followed his and you watched the young child begin to panic as he couldn't find him anywhere.

"You can't see him?" you asked with an empathetic frown. Alistair burst into tears, holding his head in his hands. "Hey don't cry!" You pulled the child into you and hugged him tightly. "He won't be far. Come on, let me help you look for him."

"He-, he always leaves," Alistair sobbed and your eyes widened slightly. "But this time- this time he promised. No more leaving."

"You must believe in your father, okay?" you whispered, pulling Alistair's hands away from his face and wiping his tears. "Tell me, what does he look like?"

Alistair sniffed and grabbed onto your hand for support. "Strong," Alistair smiled. "Really really cool. Best dad in the world." you chuckled at Alistar's words, and how he had described his father's personality rather than his physical appearance.

"Do you remember what he was wearing?" you quizzed as you and Alistair exited the playpark and back down the stone path.

"Umm, a white shirt and grey pants," Alistair recalled. "He's on the television sometimes."

You furrowed your eyebrows together. "Television?" you asked curiously and Alistair nodded before gasping.

"Look! There he is!" Alistair screamed, pointing across the road into a store window, at a man with golden coloured hair and chocolate brown eyes. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you took in his appearance. The man shook his fists and nodded his head, grinning enthusiastically.

"That man on the screen over there?" you tilted your head as Allistair squeezed your hand and dragged you out of the park, across the road, and over to the shop.

"Yep, that's daddy!"

"Welcome to the future, life is good, but it can be better. And why shouldn't it be? Everything you've ever dreamed of is right at our fingertips. But are you reaping the awards? Do you have it all? Welcome to Black Gold Cooperative, the first oil company run for the people, by the people. Think about finally having everything you've always wished for. For a low monthly fee, you can own a piece of the most lucrative industry in the world. And everytime we strike gold, you strike gold! No matter who you are, no matter what you do, you deserve to have it all. Do you have everything you've always wanted? Aren't you tired of wishing you had more? Join me today. You don't need a pile of money or some business degree to get started. You don't even have to work hard for it. At Black Gold Cooperative all you need is to want it."

You were so hypnotized by the man's business scheme, you didn't even notice Alistair disappear. Your eyes widened as you looked around, desperately trying to find him. You called his name a few times, hoping he wasn't far.

Maxwell tugged on Alistair's arm and dragged him around a corner. "What are you doing?" Max hissed and Alistair looked away from his father nervously. "You don't talk to strangers, do you understand me?"

"I couldn't find you in the park, she was helping me look for you." Alistair explained, his voice timid.

"So why were you out of the park, huh? Standing outside a television store watching one of my-" Maxwell sighed. "-one of my infomercials?"

"I wanted to show her what you looked like," Alistair frowned. "I'm sorry daddy."

Maxwell leaned down and kissed his son's forehead. "It's okay, just please don't do that again, alright? This world is full of bad, dangerous people. You need to be careful." Maxwell said and Alistair nodded his head. Max slid his hand into Alistair's and walked him back into the park. "So, who was that woman anyway?" Maxwell asked, quirking his eyebrow.

Maxwell had barely managed to get a glimpse of you, but if your short warrior tunic was anything to go off, he figured you were someone hired to be in costume for one of the 4th of July celebrations. He didn't see your face, only the back of your head, but in the split second he saw you, he admired the way your hair gleamed under the amber setting sunlight and the shape of your body, how your dress sculpted it perfectly. He shook away the thoughts, reaching into his pocket and taking out his wallet as he approached an ice cream vendor.

"She was nice," Alistair smiled as he looked at the ice cream menu painting on the side of the van. "She told me she was a princess and she helped me." Alistair recalled the way his bullies ran away when you had come over.

"Helped you how?" Maxwell quizzed, pulling out a few dollar bills.

Alistair stiffened up, not wanting to tell his father about the bullies. He was afraid Max would be ashamed of him for not sticking up for himself. "Can I get a raspberry sundae?" Alistair asked his dad, brushing off his initial question. Maxwell nodded his head and slid the cash over to the vendor who began to prepare the ice cream.

"Hey, I'm looking for my friend Alistair?" you were asking plenty of people wandering the streets of DC the same question. "Do you know where Alistair is?"

Some people would reply with, "Alistair who?", but most people would look you up and down with disdain and hurry away. You wondered why nobody else was dressed like you, and why nobody knew who Alistair was. Back on Themyscira, everyone had their own individual, unique name and everyone knew who everyone was. You frowned. It clearly wasn't like that in the world of man. You needed a different tactic. You thought back to Alistair's description of his father and tried to remember the words he spoke on the television. "Welcome to Black Gold Cooperative."

"Do you know where Black Gold Cooperative is?" you asked an aging lady who was walking along the sidewalk.

She, like everyone else, looked you up and down in bewilderment. "The headquarters?" she asked. "East Avenue, about a ten minute walk away."

"Which direction?" you prodded further.

The woman blinked. "East." she repeated.

"Thank you." you smiled, curtseying politely before setting off to find this mysterious place that the man on the television spoke so highly of. If he was really Alistair's father, then maybe you could find Alistair there and ensure his safety. That's what really mattered.

You found it difficult to walk in your gladiator sandals, and the quality of the air made leather tunic chafe against your thighs. Nevertheless, you preserved, ignoring all the sky comments that were being made by passers by regarding your appearance.

Finally, you found yourself standing outside Black Gold Cooperative headquarters; the large building looming over you as a cold shadow hung above your head. Attempting to go through the revolving doors proved to be a challenge in itself, as there was no such creation back on Themyscira. After a few attempts of trying to push through you finally found yourself in the deserted lobby. "Welcome to the future," your head snapped up to the television on the wall, where the same infomercial you had seen in the store window was playing in the reception area. "Life is good, but it can be better."

You slid behind the main desk and placed your hand on the television screen, allowing your fingers to trace the man's face. It was that same charming smile and honeyed brown eyes you remembered. His hair was golden and styled perfectly, curling at the nape of his neck, like a fairytale prince you had read about in the storybooks of your youth. He was fitted in colourful patterned suits which accentuated his broad shoulders and every word glided off his tongue so sweetly. That's when it hit you— his voice. That was the feature that had attracted you to him. It was what brought you to him. It was the voice you had dreamt of, the voice you had heard over and over again. The voice that had brought you to the world of men. It was fate that had brought you to Alistair, something that could've only been written by the Gods. That man was the first man you had ever seen, and my oh my, he was something else.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #ww84 #wonder woman 1984

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dumbass-extraordinaire · 3 years

Text

Duck, Duck, Grief

The newly reopened wound on Aubrey’s thigh throbs dully as she limps away from the base of the ruined Mt. Kepler and back towards the gate. She hears a voice in the back of her mind, the sensible one that sounds a lot like Duck, telling her that walking on an injured leg is a bad idea and that she’s only gonna make it worse. A louder, more vicious voice tells her she deserves it. This one doesn’t sound like Duck. She ignores them both and keeps walking. The night air is cold, numbing her exposed arms and face. Aubrey is grateful for it. Having a body feels like an impossible task right now. Thinking is out of the question, because thinking means acknowledging everything that just happened-

(gone all gone all gone he’s gone he’s gone it’s all your fault why couldn’t you heal him useless you didn’t even try you told him to leave he was supposed to leave now he’s gone it’s your fault)

-and she wasn’t ready. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and her ears were buzzing and it was too cold and she couldn’t breathe-

(he’s on the ground his eyes are open he doesn’t see you he isn’t breathing why isn’t he breathing his hands are cold he is never cold he is always warm warm warm warm smile warm laugh cold)

“Miss, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

There is a voice above her-

(it is not his voice you will never hear his voice again your fault all your fault dead dead dead)

-the voice continues, but it is not talking to her anymore.

“I think she’s in shock-- Oh god, she’s bleeding, oh that’s real bad, aw jeez,” warm hands grip her arms and lift her to her feet. She doesn’t remember falling to her knees. That explains why her leg feels like it’s on fire-

(burning burning the house is on fire there is a man in a mask her dad is on the ground burning)

She is vaguely aware of being half-carried over to an ambulance. They sit her down, telling her to put pressure on the wound, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. She does this without comment, cannot open her mouth for fear that the words will come tumbling out and never ever stop. She does not move.

…

Duck and Minerva had just finished taking down the abomination and were making their way over to Leo Tarkesian and Dr. Sarah Drake when they saw the top of Mt. Kepler lift into the air, then came crashing back down, shaking the earth and causing the telescope to creak and sway a little, which in all honesty was really terrifying.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Duck yelped as the ground shook with the aftershocks of the mountain’s collapse. He lost his balance but Minerva grabbed his arm to steady him before he could fall over.

“Duck Newton You Should Be Careful! Core Strength Is An Integral Part Of Any Hero’s Skill Set!” She exclaimed cheerfully, clapping a hand onto his shoulder with almost as much force as the mountain’s collapse.

“Thanks Minnie,” he wheezed, rubbing his sore shoulder. Sarah ran up to them, her eyes wide with shock.

“What the hell just happened to the mountain?” she asked, her face pale with fear.

Duck scratched his head. “Honestly, Sarah? I got no earthly idea, but we should probably go find out,” he sighed. “C’mon, we got a ways to go.”

The group of four made their way across the field towards the parking lot, Minerva still giving Leo a piggyback ride on account of his injuries. When they reached the front gate, Sarah paused and turned to Duck. She looked as exhausted as he felt.

Running a hand through her hair, she sighed, “As fun as this has been, I think I’ve just about maxed out my daily limit for weird. If it’s all the same to y’all, I think I’m gonna head on home.” She points to him, “Don’t think this means I’m gonna let you off the hook about this, mister. I expect an explanation.”

He salutes her playfully, “Yes, Ma’am. I’ll have that report on your desk by Monday.”

She smiles and says, “See ya around, Newton,” before turning and walking into the night.

Duck, Minerva, and Leo do the same, making their way to Duck’s government-issued truck. He chucks the extra broadsword into the truck bed, slings Beacon back around his waist, and slides behind the wheel exhaustedly. A part of him waits for Aubrey to call shotgun before remembering with a start that she isn’t with them. He’s so used to having her and Ned as back up in life threatening situations that their absence right now is disconcerting. He’s more than a little anxious to see them again; they’d all been so busy with their own situations the past few days that they hadn’t had much of a chance to hang out.

“What A Fine Chariot This Is, Duck Newton,” Minerva booms jovially, slapping the roof of his truck. There is the distinct sound of crumpling metal.

Duck squints blearily at her as she squeezes into the passenger seat, mentally cycling through the five stages of grief as Minerva buckles her seatbelt. He turns the key in the ignition and drives out of the parking lot.

…

The closer they get to Amnesty Lodge, the more nervous Duck gets. Not for the first time since the whole Sylvain mess started, he resents Kepler’s location in the Radio Quiet Zone. Usually he didn’t mind not having a cellphone, but right now he would give just about anything to call Aubrey and Ned and make sure they’re okay. The herd of ambulances and police cars heading towards the Lodge do nothing to quell Duck’s mounting anxiety levels.

His anxiety turns to dread as he turns onto the dirt road leading to the lodge and sees the crowd of townsfolk gathered in front of the gate, an ambulance parked off to the side. He jerks the truck to a stop and jumps out, not even bothering to take the keys out of the ignition as he scans wildly for his friends. Minerva moves to follow him, but he stops her, telling her to watch out for Leo. Things are complicated enough without throwing an honest-to-fucking-god alien warrior into the mix.

When he finally does see Aubrey’s colorful shock of dyed hair, it is both a relief and an extra source of stress. A relief because she’s alive, and a source of stress because she’s sitting in the ambulance.

Duck rushes over to her, his heart dropping into his stomach as a list of every worst case scenario runs through his head. Someone found out about the lodge, someone went through the gate who wasn’t supposed to and went on a rampage, Agent Stern arrested someone, someone got hurt, someone got killed. At least Aubrey is okay. And while he doesn’t see Ned anywhere, Duck isn’t too worried about the old guy. He’d survived ramming into a Pizza Hut sign with a jetpack, as well as the explosion of said jetpack immediately afterwards. The man was damn near unkillable. He skids to a stop in front of Aubrey, his momentum almost causing him to crash into the side of the ambulance. He takes her in, noting the bandage on her leg and the shock blanket around her shoulders.

“Y’okay, kid?” He asks, “Aubrey?” She doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at him or even seem to register his presence.

That’s his first clue that something’s wrong, because he’s seen her like this before, after the whole ordeal with the Pizza Hut sign. The hollow, haunted expression on her face is nearly identical to the one she’d worn that day. It scared him then and it scares him now.

“Aubrey,” he repeats her name. “C’mon kid, ya gotta talk to me. I just got here, I’m way outta the loop.” Nothing. She just keeps staring blankly ahead. He crouches down in front of her, waving a hand in front of her face to get her attention. Again, nothing. Shit.

He stands back up and starts pacing, raking his hands through his hair, “Aubrey!” He snaps. The longer she stays unresponsive, the more nervous he gets, “I need you to say something, kid, you’re fuckin’ scaring me!” Try as he might, he can’t quite keep the panic from bleeding into his voice.

Finally, finally, she looks up at him, and his heart breaks.

Aubrey looks absolutely wrecked. Her eyes are bloodshot and ringed black with smeared mascara and eyeliner, her face blotchy and tearstained. Disconcertingly, both her irises are a bright, piercing orange. Duck figures this is something important, something he should ask her about right away. He doesn’t, though, because he couldn’t care less about whatever earth-shattering event made Aubrey’s eyes change color. He doesn’t care about all that world-saving, chosen one stuff, and he never has. He cares about people, his people, and right now that’s Aubrey and Ned. They’re the Pineguard, his family, and he would rather die than see them hurt.

“D-Duck,” Aubrey whimpers, her voice fragile like his ma’s best china. “Duck, I couldn’t…h-he…” She shatters, then, curling in on herself as she sobs.

“Hey now, uh,” Duck has never been good at comforting people, especially when they’re crying. But this is Aubrey and she needs him, social anxiety be damned.

He sits down next to her on the tailgate of the ambulance, shifting so that he’s almost facing her, and puts his arms out, “Do you-- Ooph!” Before he can finish his question, Aubrey collapses against him, sobbing into his shoulder. Duck freezes for a moment, unsure, before wrapping his arms around her.

“I-It’s all,” she hiccups, “it’s all m-my fault, Duck, I-I couldn’t…” She dissolves into sobs again, too distressed to continue. Her shoulders shake with the force of it.

Duck pats her back awkwardly. “Aw, Aubrey, I don’t know ‘bout that,” he says, “I don’t think-- don’t blame yourself, kid. I’m sure you did everything you could.” Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because she starts crying even harder.

He doesn’t know what to say, so he just hugs her tighter instead. He hates himself a little for that, wishes to god that the words didn't stick in the back of his throat like old gum on the underside of a picnic bench. Aubrey hiccups, and Duck rubs her shoulders soothingly. He’s never seen her like this before, never seen her this broken. Sure he’s seen her cry, seen her upset, but never like this. Something is very, very wrong, and Aubrey’s clearly in no shape to tell him what, so he scans the crowd for someone who can.

Finally, he makes eye contact with Jake Coolice. Which, okay, not exactly ideal, except for the fact that he’s standing next to Mama, who’s engaged in conversation with Detective Maygen. Duck jerks his head towards the matriarch of Amnesty Lodge, hoping Jake picks up what he’s putting down. The neon-cloaked Sylph looks confused, and he points at Mama and mouths her name in a silent question. Duck nods emphatically. Jake smiles and gives him two thumbs up before tugging on the sleeve of Mama’s duster to get her attention. The older woman turns to Jake, who points in Duck’s direction. She squares her shoulders, like she’s preparing for battle, and makes her over to the ambulance.

The first thing Duck notices is how tired she looks. The second is the blood on her shirt and hands.

His blood turns to ice in his veins, “What the fuck happened?” he demands, “Are y’okay?”

Mama sighs, her whole body moving with it, “It’s not mine,” is all she says, and her shoulders slump in something a bit too much like defeat for Duck’s taste.

“Whaddya mean, whose is it then?” he asks, panic setting in.

She exhales softly through her nose. “Duck, honey, I’m real sorry,” she begins, “now I don’t want you blaming yourself for this, ‘cause it ain’t no one’s fault.” Mama pauses, looking up at the night sky before running a hand down her face. There is dried blood under her fingernails.

“Whaddya mean, Mama, what happened? What don’t ya want me blaming myself for?”

She looks pained, “Duck, sweetheart--.”

“No! Don’t baby me, I aint a fuckin’ kid,” he snaps. “What. The. Hell. Happened.”

“I-it was Ned.” The response comes not from Mama, but Aubrey. She pulls aways from Duck, exhaling shakily and wiping her eyes.

Duck stares at her. “Whaddya mean, did he get hurt or somethin’?” he asks, pretty sure he already knows the answer to that question and hoping to god that he’s wrong, “Aubrey?”

She shakes her head. “No, uh,” she takes a shaky breath, “Shit, I can’t do this. Mama, uh, can you explain, please?” Her voice trembles as she gives the older woman a pleading look.

Mama gives her a sad smile, “Sure, baby.”

“Thanks,” Aubrey sniffles. Duck puts an arm around her and she buries her face in his shoulder.

Mama takes a deep breath, “Duck, ya said ya didn’t wanna be babied, so I guess I better just say it outright. Ned ain't hurt, honey. I’m so, so sorry, Duck, but he’s dead. Ned’s dead.”

The words hit him like a punch in the gut, leaving him breathless and gasping.

That can’t be right, Ned can’t be dead. Ned ‘Cowardly’ Chicane, the only one of them with any sort of self-preservation instinct, the guy who just the other day had assured Duck that he didn’t need to worry about him getting hurt because he quote-unquote, “knew when to get the hell outta Dodge” was dead? No way. This had to be to work of the shapeshifter, or some sick practical joke. It couldn’t be true, because if it was, it would mean Duck had failed. It would mean that something happened and he hadn’t been there to take the big hit. It would mean that Ned had taken the hit instead. And he can’t handle that. What’s the point of being the “Chosen One”, the so-called savior of the planet if he can’t keep the people he cares about safe?

“Duck?” Mama’s voice cuts through the haze of grief and shock clouding his brain. He doesn’t respond, “You with us?”

He wants to argue, wants to break down and scream at the injustice of it all. But he doesn’t, because he’s not the only one grieving Ned’s-- he’s not the only one affected. Aubrey’s here too, huddled against his side like a barnacle on the hull of a ship. God, she’s so young, still just a kid, really. She shouldn’t have to deal with this alone. She shouldn’t have to deal with this at all, truth be told, but that’s not in the cards. The least Duck can do is be strong for her. He’s good at being strong. So he pushes aside all his grief and anger and self-recrimination, packing them away in a cardboard box in some dusty corner of his mind to deal with later. Aubrey comes first.

He takes a deep breath, “Yeah, Mama, I’m with ya.” He runs a tired hand down his face, “What, uh, what happened?” His voice trembles right at the end. He clenches his jaw.

Mama glances ever so slightly at Aubrey. “I’m fine,” is all the young woman says. Mama looks to the night sky, as if hoping the stars can tell her how to make this easier. Whatever she was looking for, it isn’t there and she faces Duck once more.

She does that thing again, squaring her shoulders like she’s getting ready for a fight, “The Abomination, it took Ned’s shape an’ then spilled the beans about everything on television. The lodge, the gate, Sylvain, all of it. That’s why all these folks are here,” she gestures to the crowd of townspeople.

“Ned, he killed it and came down here to try and divert ‘em, send ‘em on a wild goose chase. It sorta worked, actually, he got rid of about half of ‘em. He starts talkin’ folks down, tryin’ to get the rest of them to see sense,” she laughs bitterly, “And it mighta even worked, too, ‘cept then the glowing coffin shows up and out pops Dani. And she’s all feral, completely outta her mind after being separated from the hot springs for so long.”

Her mouth presses into a thin line. “And then she, well… She charged these here folks, and Ned, he tackles her. Thing is, you get a buncha scared folks with guns in one place, well, someone’s bound to get hurt. And tonight, that was Ned. He got shot, and by the time the ambulance got here it was too late. There wasn’t nothing any of us could do,” she looks over at Aubrey when she says that. “And that’s… that’s the whole story. I’m sorry,” she gives him a sympathetic look, “Y’alright, Duck?”

Duck says nothing, just nods sharply. Because how do you respond to something like that? What do you say when someone’s been ripped from your life and you can’t remember the last thing you said to them? What do you say? What can you say that would be enough to encompass the raw, gaping wound that takes the place of your heart, the way your stomach drops, when you think of all the things left unsaid? What do you say?

As it turns out, “Let’s go home,” is a pretty good start.

#i wrote this right after listening to ep 28 of amnesty and it's been sitting in my docs ever since so i figured i'd post it here #enjoy the angst y'all #ned chicane #duck newton #aubrey little #mama #taz amnesty #taz fic #taz amnesty spoilers #my writing tag #angst #grief #found family #fanfiction #fanfic #baby's first fanfic #writers on tumblr

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icefire149 · 3 years

Text

Tearing Apart At The Seams

(Read on Ao3 | Story warning: temporary major character death)

Overwhelmed was an understatement. Despite spending the car ride with her stare glued out the window in silence, Mary felt like an exposed nerve that had been thrashed with steel wool. If she closed her eyes she could still see things as she knew it: a house with a yard, laughter bouncing off the walls, toy cars on stair steps, hope in the mirror reflection. Her life wasn’t perfect, but it was hers.

Everything was wrong. The last thing she remembered was running into Sam’s nursery, but now, here she was standing in 2016 because God’s sister said so. Her chest felt incredibly tight. The man behind the steering wheel – no, Dean. She had to keep reminding herself – was peeking at her out of the corner of his eye every so many minutes.

She still didn’t know what to make of him. He knew the right stories. He was the right age. But….how could she swap the Dean she tucked into bed hours ago for this hardened stranger?

“It won’t be long,” Dean said, breaking the silence. “We should only be about a day behind Sam and Cas.”

Mary nodded, feeling chilled. The thought of seeing what became of her baby was horrifying. He wasn’t even a toddler yet, and now…..

Her arms ached for her baby, but she couldn’t break now. It wasn’t safe yet. Turning to look at Dean, she asked an unexpected question. “Who’s Cas?”

Dean didn’t take his eyes off the road, but his expression softened. He laughed, “He’s….Cas. He’s my best friend.”

“Oh.”

His shoulders relaxed as he leaned back more comfortably in his seat. “He lives at the bunker with me and Sammy. That’s where we’re going. It’s home.”

“The….bunker?”

“Yeah,” Dean’s tone was fond. “It’s a long story.”

“So it’s an actual bunker?”

Dean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Yup.”

The rest of the drive went by without another word. Mary honestly didn’t know what to say. For the most part she just wanted to sleep and hopefully wake back up in 1983.

“Home sweet home,” Dean mumbled as they parked in the garage.

Mary was stunned by the collection of cars there. She actually felt a spark of excitement at the possibility of taking one of them out for a spin.

Slowly, she followed Dean inside. He nearly bounced down the steps, he was eager to get to where ever he was heading.

“Sammy!” Dean called. “Cas!”

Dean only took a few steps into the main room before whipping around on his heels. "Something's wrong," he said pulling his gun out. "Stay put."

He quickly disappeared down a hallway at the other end of the room. Mary didn't stray too far. What she could see was enough. Books and papers were scattered on the floor. There were drops of blood near the tables. The toe of her boot connected with an odd silver blade.

She picked it up, studying and turning it over in her hands. It wasn't cold like metal usually was. There was a warmth that felt like something more than what was left from whoever held it last. It was strange, but Mary wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Dean hadn't trusted her with a weapon, but fate did. Her fingers curled around the hilt; she wasn't letting go until Dean gave the all clear.

When she turned around, one of the walls had some kind of sigil drawn in blood. She shivered, already assuming the worst.

Home was supposed to be safe. This was supposed to be a home. The memory of blood twisted her gut. She lost her parents at home. She lost John....her babies..…

A voice deep down in her core screamed at her to run. She caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. Spinning, she saw a man stalking towards her.

"Is he still here?" His voice boomed, and Mary couldn't stop her eyes from instinctually glancing at the door Dean went through.

She didn’t know enough about this place to form a strategic plan. How many exits, if any, were down that hallway? Was Dean on his way back? Could he hear her if she ran or screamed?

Catching herself, Mary glued her stare onto the man. His steps slowed, but his piercing blue eyes were fixed on her as well. The way he moved, she realized, he was aiming to go past her around the tables. Mary started side stepping slowly to meet him step for step until there was only a large table between them.

She could tell that his mouth was moving, but all Mary could hear was her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. The longer she looked at him, the more convinced she was that he wasn't human at all.

Swallowing, her own spit went down like a rock. The air in the room started to crackle like it was electrifying. The man-shaped thing slammed his hands on the table, and she jumped. Her eyes darted again towards the doorway.

The image of her Dean with chocolate smeared cheeks blended into the stranger who tapped his fingers on the steering wheel hours ago while he quietly sang along to the radio under his breath. Stepping backwards, the heel of her boot alarmingly slid an inch. She didn't need to look down to know it was blood. Her lungs refused to take another breath. She could practically see Sammy swaddled in his baby blanket and his chubby, pink cheeks. The tightness in her chest felt like it was moments away from popping like a balloon.

The creature's mouth was still moving. He leaned forward. Hands still on the table. His eyes glowed an unnatural blue, and all Mary could see was the moment her dad’s eyes flashed yellow. She threw the blade.

It hit, burying deep into his abdomen and knocking him staggering backwards. The creature ripped it out, blood running down his hand like ribbons tying around his fingers. His hand shook, sending the blade clattering to the floor.

Mary stepped around the table, eyeing the thing cautiously. She could see that he held a hand against his stomach, but there was also a blue-white glow emanating from the wound. A shiver crawled up her spine, making the hair on her arms stand up. There was not a single monster that she could think of that bled both blood and light.

The creature fell to a shaky knee. A sheen of sweat on his forehead was visible in the light as he tilted his head up. He made no move to pick up the blade, but his eyes bore into her challengingly.

She couldn’t understand him. Mary’s eyebrows pushed together, studying him. He was going to let her kill him. Whether it was a trick or not, she couldn’t risk wasting this opportunity. Mary snatched the blade up, and drove it deep into his chest.

The only fight he gave back was the hard push he gave her, sending her flying across the room. Mary couldn’t see him from where she landed because of the table, but the room filled with that blue-white light. It was blinding, and the air felt like it was being completely sucked out of the room.

Mary opened her eyes to see scattered papers lightly floating down to the floor. The air had settled and she gasped for a deep breath. The strange light was finally gone. She got herself up, and hesitantly crossed the room.

Her hip cracked painfully into the table the moment she realized what she was seeing burned around the body: wings. “Dean!”

The word left her lips before her brain even caught up that she just called for her son. The next thing Mary knew, she was standing in the doorway Dean left through. Her hands trembled, but her mind kept circling around the fact that she called out to her four year old for help.

“Mom?” A rough voice called out far away. On coming footsteps echoed down the hall. “Mom!”

Her heart sank. Of course it was the Dean who walked away with a gun aimed high. “There’s….there’s a body in here,” Mary’s voice shook.

Dean sprinted down the hallway with eyes wide with fear. “Where is it?” he demanded.

Mary nodded in the direction of the table, and Dean pushed past her. His gun hit the floor with a loud crack. He froze in place half way to the body.

“Dean?” Mary stepped forward to see his jaw hanging open. Dean’s bottom lip trembled, and tears started running down his cheeks. She suddenly felt painfully cold.

Dean surged forward, dropping to the ground next to the body. Carefully, he pulled the blade out and tossed it aside.

Mary came closer, but at the same time continued to keep her distance. Her hands clutched the lip of the table.

“You stupid, son of a bitch,” Dean muttered quietly. He placed a shaky hand on the creature’s chest, closing his eyes like he was still trying to feel for a heartbeat. A sob tore through him. His fingers curled in the drying blood and the fabric of the white button up shirt. “I could go with you… you dumb bastard. You didn’t even fight back, did you?”

Dean pulled the body into his lap, cradling him. Gently, he brushed some of the hair sticking to the creature’s forehead back. Dean’s hand pressed the creature’s head into the crook of his neck. Tears started pouring, and his whole expression crumbled in silent despair.

Finally, Mary could see traces of the son she rocked for hours during his earaches and colds. She could see crystal clear the day Dean’s little hand slipped from hers at the supermarket. Not once was she willing to admit it, but she never knew how much time had passed before she realized that her hand was hot and clammy only from the warm day. When she found him, he was sitting with the potted plants bawling his eyes out. That night he’d confessed that he thought he’d never see her ever again.

Here Dean was decades later, but Mary recognized the way his face was falling apart. It was no different.

“Dean, who is that?”

Like he just realized that she was there, Dean’s eyes snapped over to her. His mouth quivered. “He’s my…..” His grip on the creature tightened.

“He’s not human,” the words slipped from her lips. She was still finding it hard not to focus on the massive wings burned into the floor.

“He’s an angel,” Dean snapped forcefully. “Castiel….”

"Oh." The word punctured her chest. "He's Cas."

Her knees tried to buckle, but Mary's knuckles were white from holding onto the table so tightly. She'd only been here for a day, and she did this.

She couldn't look away. Dean rocked like he did the day he tore his knee open in the street. He clutched onto the angel for dear life like she did when she held John's lifeless body.

An icy feeling crept up her spine. The glazed look in his eyes never left her. As much as they disagreed and marched in different directions, her hand always ached for his. It throbbed now like it was seeking a lifeline that it was never going to find again. Especially now with angel blood crusting under her nails.

She needed space. Air. Something. Mary’s legs wobbled under her, but she pushed on ahead keeping a hand on the wall when she disappeared down the hall way. She needed the images cycling through her head to stop.

Mary breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the kitchen. The air felt cooler and less stifling. The hum of the refrigerator was familiar enough she could close her eyes a moment, leaning against the counter. She needed to get her head screwed on right.

There was nothing she could do for…...now, and if he wasn’t responsible for the mess and Sam’s disappearance, who was? Where did he go? Dean needed a clear head.

First things first, she needed to scrub her hands. The blood wasn’t too stained into her fingertips yet. A deep exhale left her slowly as the water ran clear down the drain. Glancing around, she spotted a pale yellow hand towel in reach. She dried her hands, stopping only to get a better look at the bee embroidered to the bottom of the towel. It was unexpected, but well made.

Tossing it aside on the counter, Mary turned the water back on. She leaned forward, ducking her head into the sink and taking a long drink. Once she felt more alert, she realized that Dean, like it or not, he was going to need some water.

Her hand shook carrying the glass while she retraced her steps. Mary wasn’t sure what she would find when she made it back. Holding her breath, she found Dean in the same spot. His eyes were squeezed shut, but his mouth was moving silently.

“Are you….praying?” Her head crooked to the side as she stopped with in reach of him. She felt antsy to be standing this close to the wings.

Dean opened his eyes. “Chuck’s put him back together before,” his voice croaked. She held the glass out, but he shook his head. “I don’t know why he’s taking so damn long to answer. I don’t know where he went with Amara.”

Mary placed the glass on the table. She heard that name before. “Amara’s the one that brought me back, right?”

“Yeah.”

Nodding, Mary crossed her arms. “How do we find Sammy?”

Dean’s mouth curled into a snarl. “I’ll find them, and they’ll pay for this.” His knees cracked and shook, but Dean stood up. He refused to let go of Cas.

Mary shot forward to help him, but the look in Dean’s eyes made her freeze. She watched him hobble out of the room. With one last look at the wings burned into the floor, she followed after him.

Gently, Dean laid the body down on a bed in what looked like an infirmary. He brushed some stray hairs presumably back into place and hesitated there, like he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

She opened her mouth to speak, but a quiet melody of music started playing.

Dean dug his hands into Cas’ jacket pockets until he found a small rectangular device. He stared at it forlornly. “No. No No….” His voice fell to a pained whisper as his eyes darted back to the body.

“What’s wrong?”

“The kid’s calling,” Dean’s voice broke. “H-how do I tell her….no.” He tapped something on the screen and pocketed the device. Rubbing his neck, he argued, “I’m not going to upset her when he’ll be back….He’ll be back.”

“He has a child?” Mary’s voice was practically non existent.

“It’s complicated.”

Silently, they walked back the way they came and Mary didn’t fail to notice the way Dean refused to look in the direction of the wings. He pulled out a chair and sat.

Every muscle in Mary’s body felt twitchy. Closing her eyes, she didn’t move from where she stood in the room. She longed for home.

Why was she even here? For what purpose? From the very moment she laid eyes on this...Dean, nothing felt right. And that made her feel worse. She loved John, and Sammy, and Dean. Looking at this man made her feel like she was about to combust.

And that’s not his fault. She knew that, but Mary also knew that she literally was plucked from 1983. This was wrong. It didn’t matter how much this Dean wanted her here. She needed to go home.

Opening her eyes, she saw Dean leaning an elbow on the table. Sternly, his eyes were coldly fixed into space. Another one of those odd rectangles, she assumed now was a phone, he had it pressed against his ear.

“Crowley,” his pain was masked well. “I-Yeah, I know. Not dead. Long story. Get Rowena and meet me at the bunker now.” He hit the screen and let the phone slide a ways on the table.

Mary eyed him carefully. Dean hid his face in his hands, leaning over the table. “So….” She felt utterly useless while Dean lowered a hand to meet her stare. “What now?”

“Just give it a-”

And suddenly, there were two new people in the room. Mary stared at them in shock while the woman smacked the man’s arm with her bag.

“There better be a bloody good reason-” The woman growled until she finally turned to see Dean at the table. “How are you alive?” She rushed forward and placed a hand on his chest. “Where’s the bomb? I did not mess that up. My work is impeccable.”

Dean slapped her hand away, and she rolled her eyes before focusing her attention on Mary. The man did too, but his mouth twisted into a sickening smile.

He turned his attention to Dean. “Now how on Earth did you manage to bring dear old mummy back?”

“Amara,” Dean answered. He pointed his thumb in the woman’s direction. “The bomb’s gone. Chuck and her worked their crap out. Then-” His eyes turned to Mary. “-she decided to leave me a gift and they left.”

The man took a few steps towards Mary. Observing her far too closely. “So…why are we here? Celebration perhaps? I’m afraid to tell you that we already dug into the booze shortly after we last saw you.”

The woman didn’t move from where she stood, but she did take in every detail of the room that she could see. Her posture stiffened. “Where’s Samuel?”

“That’s why I called-”

“We don’t know,” Mary answered, surprising herself. “We got here and….” She gestured at the room around them. “It appears that something happened. Sam’s gone.”

The man rolled his eyes. “So why are you moping around? Who else did you manage to piss off recently?” He made his way over to the shelves where he knew there would still be some bottles stashed. “You wouldn’t suppose Lucifer limped his way back from where ever Amara threw him?”

Dean shot out of his chair. His pleading gaze locked onto the woman. “Can you track Sam?”

“I suppose,” the woman started. She crossed her arms. “I don’t understand why you needed me for something that simple. I’m not an on call service, and Fergus can work a spell that elementary.”

The man didn’t even look at the bottle he plucked off the shelf, and he took a big swig. Glaring, he turned on his heels. “Mother dearest, my day to day schedule is a teensy bit busy. Remember? Being a King is a full time job!”

Mary couldn’t handle another word. Her head felt like it was spinning. “Dean, who are these people? How did they just...appear in the room with us?”

“Oh, sorry sweetie. I’m Rowena.” The woman stepped forward with a smile Mary didn’t trust for a second. “And...that’s Fergus.”

“Crowley,” he barked. “I’m the King of Hell, and that’s my rotten, bitch of a mother.” His eyes flashed red. “It’s lovely to finally make your acquaintance. Dean and I go way back. We-”

Dean’s phone clocked Crowley right in the temple. The phone clattered into the floor and Crowley looked mildly annoyed, rubbing the side of his head. “I get that your Moose is missing, but what the hell was that?”

He started crossing the room towards Dean, but the toe of his shoe stepped on something that rolled under it. He looked down, and his cool demeanor cracked. “Where’s Castiel?”

Dean turned to Rowena. “Can magic resurrect an angel?”

Several emotions – confusion, grief, fear, and curiosity – flashed across her face. “I don’t think anyone’s ever had reason to try.”

“But can you swing that kind of mojo?”

She reached forward and lightly patted Dean’s cheek. “My dear, I can swing anything, but it’d be new magic. Old magic, new technique…..something that’s never been done before. It’ll take time.”

Dean waved towards the bookshelves. “The bunker’s resources are yours.”

Rowena’s eyes lit up, and she gave Dean another pat. “I like you so much more when you and your brother aren’t trying to shackle me, or kill me.”

She bounced off towards the shelves, but stopped the moment her eye caught the wings. Rowena frowned, “He really was a pretty bird. It would have been nice to see his wings….in another circumstance.”

Ignoring that, Dean pointed at Crowley. “Spell. Now.”

After that, Mary could only hear static. It wasn’t until she saw Cas, bloody and dead, in the infirmary that she even knew that she left the room.

"It's horrible, isn't it?"

Startled, Mary flung around on her heels ready for combat, but the room was still empty. Goosebumps broke out across her skin. "Who's there?"

There was a click of a tongue behind her. "You Winchesters can't ever just let yourselves be happy?"

Mary saw a woman in the room with her now, standing next to the bed where Cas laid. Worried lines creased her forehead. Slowly, her eyes met Mary's.

"The name's Billie."

"What are you?" Mary could feel the skin on the back of her neck prickle.

"A reaper."

A small, pained laugh escaped Mary. Of course. Another monster.

Ever since she could remember, her parents prepared her for the world. Nothing was glossed over or simplified. The ways of hunting were straightforward. You save people. Mothers. Fathers. Daughters. Sons. Friends. Loved ones. They needed protection from the things that disrupted the natural order. It was a line drawn in the sand, and one she couldn't afford to touch.

And yet, she never planned on giving her boys that lesson. Any of it. She feared to ask that question burning in her gut: when did that change?

Her mind circled back to the strange mother son duo. And why were her boys involved with demons, and witches, and......angels?

The reaper's stern expression softened. Almost pitiful. "You don't belong here."

Mary crossed her arms, discretely eyeing the room for possible weapons. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to put out the fires. Someone has to try, at least."

"I don't understand."

"You," Billie answered simply. "Amara made a mistake."

Her heartbeat quickened. From fear or hope, she wasn't entirely sure. "Could you send me home to my boys?"

Billie frowned.

"I don't understand," said a different voice. And then a brunette woman materialized.

Mary took a step back. Mentally, she wasn't sure how far she could run before she could reach help.

Billie held her head up high. "Amara."

The woman looked at Billie strangely. "Why are you interfering with my gift? I wasn't expecting to over hear this when I was checking in."

"It was a poorly thought out gift." Billie pointed at Mary. "You can't steal a soul from Heaven and expect the world to continue down the same path. There are consequences."

There was all hot wave and then all bitter tang on Mary's tongue. She thinks she bit it. Billie's words were echoing in her head. Dean looked at her the way he did because........she never saw past 1983, didn't she?

"A small price to pay for a gift this sweet," Amara answered simply. "Losing her tore a hole in Dean that he has never been able to mend. He can now."

"He can't," Mary whispered. Her whole body was shaking. It took all her focus to keep hearing Billie and Amara's voices.

Amara's eyebrows pinched together. "I'm still learning to understand humans. I need more to follow."

"I'm not a mender." The words rolled off her tongue. "I was raised to hunt, and kill, and hide...." Her gaze fell to her hands. She could still feel the blood under her nails, weighing her down. "I tried to be different. To be normal, but I can't stop destroying, and losing, and failing everyone I love."

The look on Amara's face softened. She sighed, "The world is far different now I'm told. I did this for both of you. A second chance. Don't you want to know your son?"

"I know my Dean," Mary snapped. Her hands curled into fists as tears beaded in her eyes. "He's 4 years old with freckles on his arms. He likes to spin in circles while he sings. And he cries when he can't find the birds he can hear chirping outside his bedroom window."

There was a quiet pause while Mary took several deep breaths. The thump of her heart made her chest ache. She sniffled. "I know....I know across this bunker is.......he's a stranger. He's been through hell and back and I badly just want to run the other way when I see him. I want my boys. I want to go home."

"Do you understand, yet?" Billie spoke to Amara. "Humans aren't your toys. They're unpredictable. Complicated."

"I think I'm starting to understand," Amara said like she was only partially considering it. She crossed over to the bed. Her head tilted, and she frowned. "What happened to the angel? Dean's attachment to him was immeasurable. Terrifyingly powerful." Her lip twitched.

"Like I said," Billie answered. "There are consequences. It wasn't his time, and yet, he's gone." Her gaze slid over to Mary. "Her time ended decades ago, and yet, she breathes."

Amara looked at Mary carefully. "Why?"

"I didn't know what he was. I acted on instinct."

"And now your son is going to do something cosmically stupid to fix this."

Mary blinked. "He's gonna try, but it's not like he's gonna get anywhere. His plan A was prayer."

Billie's stare rolled over to Amara. "Consequences."

“Can’t either of you bring him back? Then no drastic measures would be taken,” she argued. Mary’s eyes rested on Cas. He might even know where to find Sammy.

Billie raised an eyebrow. “And that’s how we got here in the first place. Tearing holes in the natural order of things.”

“It would soothe things,” Amara said. “Get us past this snag.”

“No.” Billie’s gaze moved between the two women. “This goes far beyond poisoned gifts.”

A chill settled into Mary’s bones. “Yellow eyes. Bringing John back so I wouldn’t be alone.”

Billie smiled. “Precisely, and since then your family has torn hole after hole.”

Mary’s jaw clenched. “No.” The flash of yellow burned into her memory made her stomach revolt.

Sympathetic, Billie sighed. “You’re not the only one who made deals, and-”

“Let me be the last.”

“How so?” Amara asked, curious.

“I...I think I understand what you were trying to do,” Mary began. “But, I’ve only caused more pain being here. I can’t make him happy. I….I-” Her mouth trembled, trying to find the right words. “I’m barely holding myself together. From the moment you put me here….I…” She looked at Billie. “You’re right. I don’t belong here. I want to go home.”

Billie crossed the room, stopping directly in front of Mary. She held her eye. “There’s no home to go back to. Only memories. If you stay, this is it. This is home with the men your boys became.”

Mary’s breath got stuck in her throat. “Then my decision is made for me.” I can never go home. “Fix what I broke, please.” Her gaze moved to Amara. “Give Dean back his heart.” And then it slid back to Billie. “And I’ll go with you. Let things continue the way they were meant to.”

“And what stops your boys from tearing more holes in the future?”

Mary sighed, trying to understand the angel her son carefully laid in this room. She couldn’t imagine how they found each other, and how her son came to care about him so completely. Hopefully, he could forgive her one day. Both of them. “Tell Dean, that if him or his brother decide to play god and mess with the fabric of things again…..the price will be to kill the person they love most. The price will be blood.”

Billie arched her eyebrows. “Your boys are good at surprising me, but I think that’ll suffice.”

Frowning, Amara stepped forward. “Are you sure? Dean will be upset.”

“His feelings will pass, but my discomfort won’t if I stay. I’ll never stop wanting to claw my way back to my boys. And that’s not fair….to the men that they are now.” She hung her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “And he’ll never forgive me for killing….”

“I’m sorry,” Amara said, and she sounded like she meant it. “Would it be alright if I visited your Heaven one day? I’d like to understand, and...I’d like to meet your boys.”

She wasn’t exactly sure what Amara meant by ‘your Heaven’ but she nodded.

Amara smiled warmly. “Thank you.”

“Are you ready?” Billie asked resting a hand on her arm.

Exhaling, Mary nodded. Surprisingly, the reaper’s touch was grounding. This was the calmest her mind felt in years. “Let’s go,” she said, closing her eyes.

Behind her, Mary heard a baby’s cry. Turning around, she was in her kitchen. The afternoon sun warmed her hair and her son stared at her from his highchair. Her mouth curled into a smile. “Sammy, there you are.”

#spn #supernatural #mary winchester #my writing #destiel #read notes on ao3 for more info / my thoughts on this one #forgive me my loves

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labyrinthof-fan-fiction · 3 years

Text

We Were Happy

Sam Wilson X Reader

Summary: Sam’s ex-fiancee is a member of the Falcon/Winter Soldier duo, fighting alongside them. It’s all good, until the events of TFATWS Episode 4. (this summary sucks, but my brain is so wiped from writing this)

A/N: This one is not for the faint of heart. I was listening to Taylor’s “We Were Happy” on my drive home today, and for some reason my brain immediately just went to Sam, I really can’t tell you why. I don’t own TFATWS, its characters, or “We Were Happy”

Warnings: Major Character Death, Blood, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Gore, Death, Violence, Funeral Scene, Swearing.

Word Count: 2,665

Sam was shaking, Karli had threatened Sarah and the boys. He wasn’t thinking straight. “She overstepped.”

“Sam, you can’t take her on alone.” You said, pulling on your combat jacket.

“I agree,” Bucky said, as you both chased him down the stairs and onto the street.

Violence begins after page break.

You knew you were walking into a fight, but you hadn’t expected John Walker and Lamar Hoskins to show up. You should have known they were tailing you. They always were. All hell broke loose, then you heard Lamar’s body hit the column next to you. You glanced down and knew he was gone. John ran and checked his pulse, but you knew he wasn’t going to find anything, then you saw his eyes turn black. You had seen that look before, “John, don’t.” You started, the Flag Smashers in the room shifted uneasily, then they started to run.

John snarled and chased one out the window. For a fleeting moment you glanced back at Sam, he was shaking his head. You closed your eyes and ran headfirst out of the window, your wings caught the breeze and you landed on your feet, chasing after the man clad in red, white, and blue.

He tripped the man he was following and threw him into the fountain, the shield raised above his head. You picked up your speed and slammed into the Flag Smasher, pushing him out of the way and putting yourself directly under the shield. A scream fell from your lips as the first blow landed on your chest. Your head fell to the side and you saw people gathering as John continued to deal blows to your body, cellphones filming.

“John.” You managed to say, but you looked up and saw the unhinged look in his eyes and you knew, this was your last fight. You glanced over and saw Sam run up with Bucky next to him, Bucky grabbed onto Sam’s shoulder. Tears fell from your eyes as you saw the panic rising in Sam’s eyes, you focused on him, just Sam. Maybe just staring into his eyes would be enough to save you.

Sam was frozen in place as he watched John deal the final blow to your chest, horror washed over him. Bucky’s grip on Sam loosened and he ran to your body on the steps. “No, no no,” He chanted as he fell to his knees at your side. He tried to not see the blood that was pooling under you, tried not to think about how bad it truly was.

“Sam.” You murmured weakly, reaching your hand for his. He clasped yours tightly.

“You stay with me, you hear me dammit? You’re not going anywhere.” He said through a clenched jaw, tears were falling down his face. His eyes traveled down to the wound from the shield and he saw the engagement ring hanging from your neck. He pressed his spare hand against the wound, trying to stop the blood.

“Couldn’t get rid of it.” You said before a cough shook your body.

“Baby, please.” He whispered, “Please hold on, we’ll get you to a hospital, they’ll save you.”

Your eyes closed as another cough ripped from your lips. “Sam,” You murmured. “I love you.”

His other hand moved through your hair to cradle your face. “I love you too, baby, so much. Hold on. Please, hold on.” He chanted, but he heard your breath growing weaker. He gently placed his forehead against yours, “Please, God, not this.”

Your eyes met his as you felt the rattle in your chest grow stronger. “Goodbye, Sam.” He watched as a small smile came across your lips and your eyes closed, he felt your hand grow slack in his.

“No, no, no!” He shouted through his tears as he pulled you close to him, resting your head against his chest as your final breath left your body. He could see the cellphones all pointed at him, he couldn’t take it. He cradled your body against his chest and found himself eye to eye with John as he stood.

“Sam….” John started, Sam’s eyes fell on your blood on the shield, he refused to meet the man’s eyes.

Sam gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw, he knew that this was not the time to say what he truly thought of the other man. Not here, not now. He expanded his wings and took off with your body, not saying a word to John.

Sarah helped him with planning the funeral, honestly she did most of the work. Choosing flowers, the casket, making arrangements with the church. He found himself on the dock, standing next to the family boat. He stared out on the water, remembering when you both had been children and played on the docks while your parents worked. He could hear your laughter. He was broken from his stupor by Sarah coming up next to him.

“Are you going to carry her?” She asked gently.

Sam met her eyes, “I…” He had spent the past few days trying not to think about your funeral. “Yes.”

Sarah placed her hand on his back, rubbing a circle, comforting him like she had when they were kids. She looked down and saw the engagement ring he was twirling in his fingers. “She held onto that for so long. She was convinced that you were coming back.”

Sam chuckled, “Then I came back and fucked everything up.”

Sarah sighed, “I don’t think you fucked it all up, you both had the past few weeks together.”

Sam looked over the water, “There’s so much I wish I had said. I wish I had done.” The sun started to sink beneath the horizon. “And now, I’m not sure where I go from here.”

“You don’t have to have a plan right now. No one expects you to have everything together, after what you just went through.”

Sam scoffed and stared out watching the sun fade beneath the tide, wishing that you were next to him. John had murdered you, in broad daylight, with the shield that Steve had chosen him for. And Sam rejected it, gave it to America, and America gave it to the man who ended your life. He knew the reasons he gave it up, at the time, they had been the right reasons. But now, all he wanted was to go back in time and force himself to keep it, let it rust in a corner of a barn for all he cared. If he would have kept his nose out of any of the Avengers business, you would still be here.

Tears were streaming down Sam’s face as he carried your casket to your final resting place. He had remained silent through the entire funeral, Bucky at his side. Bucky had given him space and he was grateful, but now he was grateful for his support. Sam watched as they lowered your casket in the ground, Taps began to call through the cemetery, the shots of the salute felt like they ripped through his heart. He remained silent as they finished, then a man walked up to him with a folded flag.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He saluted, then placed the flag in Sam’s arms. Sam’s eyes fell on the small triangle that was meant to honor your memory, your service, then a sob broke through his lips. He felt his knees buckle and Bucky grabbed his elbow to hold him steady. The cemetery cleared and he was left with the flag cradled in his arms. Bucky removed his arm from his elbow and Sam’s legs gave out. Sam’s heart felt heavy as he sobbed at the pile of dirt that covered you, Bucky stood vigil with him until the sky turned to night and the stars sparkled against the black. Bucky accompanied him back to the house. Sam paused on the street, remembering the night he had proposed to you, right before you both had been sent to you assignments. The porch lights had illuminated the two of you, he put his hand in his pocket and thumbed at the ring. The two of you had been so happy in that moment, carefree kids, for just one moment.

A week later, Sam was alone in your apartment, he took in the sight of the kitchen, almost expecting you to step into it and chide him for standing there and doing nothing. He moved around the table and found an envelope with his name scrawled in your handwriting. It seemed so out of place in your kitchen, he thumbed at the edge, debating if he wanted to read it. What could you say? Did you know this mission would be your last? He sighed and opened the envelope, seeing multiple pages inside.

Sam,

If you’re reading this, I’ve gone and done something stupid. I don’t know if you’ll be the one to find it or if someone will pass it along to you. Maybe it will end up on a landfill somewhere, unopened and left to rot into the Earth. Either way, I’m going to assume you are reading this.

I’m sure you’re wondering, why a letter? We have technology, there is such thing as video recordings. Well, after the snap, I went to therapy. Yes, I know, hell froze over. But losing you, I dug myself into a hole and Sarah pulled me out, then left me on a therapist’s doorstep.

As a way to cope with loss she recommended that I write letters, to you, about you, put everything in writing. And I did, this won’t be the first one I wrote. I doubt you will find them, maybe you’ll be the one cleaning my apartment and you will find them. When I got the call to join you and Bucky I was surprised. Things between us hadn’t been the same since the blip, you barreled headfirst into work as an Avenger. Did I ever tell you how proud I am of you for becoming an Avenger? Baby, I am so proud of you. God, you’re amazing. I’m babbling, I know, but I’m probably dead, so let me get the last word in.

Remember when we were younger and we’d sit by the dock, watching the sunset over the boats. We hatched that scheme to buy back Dad’s farm, you’d have equal parts in the fishing business with Sarah, and we’d live out the rest of our days there. We were happy, weren’t we? I mean, on some level we had to be, I was going to marry you. You wanted to marry me. Then life got in the way.

I still wear the ring, on a chain around my neck, but it’s still on me. During the blip people told me not to hang onto it, he’s gone, find someone else and move on. But I couldn’t let go of you, not even when a crazy purple alien ripped you from existence. Because loving you was the happiest time of my life, I know you might not believe me, with how we left things that one night.

I don’t know how I’m going to die, I guess no one does, maybe you do, don’t the Avengers have the ability to time travel now? Ideally, I’m 99 and I’m sitting on Dad’s old porch, in the rocking chair next to you, watching that sun set behind the boats. We’d have lived a full life, had some kids, grandkids, kept the Wilson legacy alive. I’d like to think my last breath was taken, holding your hand the minute the sky changed to night. But I know, in our line of work, that’s not what happened. Don’t blame yourself, I expect that I knew what the consequences of my actions would be. I probably bet too much on luck. But that’s life, it’s a give and take, and eventually we all get the take end of the stick. Don’t turn to vengeance, I know you’re an Avenger, but don’t take that so literally. You are one of the best people on this planet, revenge would not be a good look on you, or Redwing.

The last thing I need you to know is that I never stopped loving you, I don’t think I will even in the afterlife, if there is such a thing, I’ll be waiting. I know I said harsh things that night, we both did, but that doesn’t mean I stopped loving you. I assume that I will end up in at least what is heaven, although thinking back to some of the things we did as kids, maybe not. But let’s say that I get to the pearly gates, know that I’ll be watching you, making sure you don’t meet me too early. Maybe I’ll see you in the clouds, but let’s not pull an Icarus, I don’t know if I’ll be able to save your ass. Do you think I could get my own pair of permanent wings?

One last thing, I know I’m longwinded, but c’mon, I’m dead, these are my last words. Remember when the circus came to town and we snuck in? Something I don’t think I ever told you is, that was the first day I realized I loved you. You wrapped your arms around my neck and pulled me in for a kiss. I don’t know what that kiss meant to you, but that kiss, when we were stupid teens, ruined me for anyone else. I wish I could have apologized to you, made amends. We both needed a break, to find ourselves, to remember who we were. The world changed so much after all those people snapping their fingers. Maybe if I was braver I have said these things to you before you read this, if not, I’m sorry. Sam Wilson, I love you and have always loved you. Even though we’ve been on hold, I always knew that we would make our way back.

I don’t want you to think that you have to hold a candle for me until the end of times. Find someone who cares about you, who loves you so much. Maybe move into Dad’s farm, and make a home with them. I probably haven’t told you yet, but I bought that old farm a year ago. It’s not in the best of shape, it needs some love. The deed is enclosed with this letter, along with my will. If you don’t want it, sell it, give it to Sarah and the boys, hell torch the place. But it’s yours, just like my heart.

Love you, forever and always.

Sam’s tears fell onto the pages, he moved them away and wiped his tears away. He’d be lying if he said that he moved on from you. You both had decided when he returned that taking a break would be a good plan, he was going to be focused on missions and you were trying to help others rebuild their lives. Then he asked you to help him with missions, with Bucky. It had almost felt like nothing had changed. It was great, until John got involved, until John killed you. His fingers tightened on the pages, wrinkling the edges. He sat down at your table, reading over the pages, looking at the deed in his hands. He had set the will on the table, keeping his eyes from it. The top corner that he could see had his name scrawled across it.

He glanced around the kitchen, and looked back at the letter, I’m so proud of you. “We were happy, baby. We were so happy.” He folded the letter, deed, and will and put them in the pocket of his jacket. He zipped the jacket and exited the building, Bucky was waiting outside, he raised his eyebrow at Sam. Sam simply tilted his head and the pair fell into step next to each other, walking the streets of your old town, intent on their next mission.

#sam wilson x reader #Sam Wilson Imagine #tfatws imagine #tfatws episode 4 spoilers #i don't know if i needed to tag that #oh well #violence #murder #blood #death #read the warnings #falcon imagine #i really don't know why my brain wanted to do this to Sam #need something fluffy for him now #god i'm so sorry #sam x reader #sam imagine #we were happy

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sh1tbird-shantytown · 3 years

Note

Imagine Susan full on slapping Steve's dad for both leaving his son home alone year round and also for cheating on his wife

Billy had showed up just to see Steve sobbing on his own doorstep. An extra car parked crookedly in the driveway. A silver convertible.

He had walked, wanted to enjoy the last of the summer season. Now he wished he’d driven as Steve looked up from his balled up position, eyes wet and eyelashes blown out, face reddening and doused in still falling tears. Big tears. Tears he could remember his own grandfather calling crocodile tears in moments of distress. But this was real.

“Steve?” he called out as he jogged closer, even though Steve had already seen him. He was wiping away the tears, a useless move since they just kept flowing. And Billy knew something was horribly wrong. Steve never cried. No matter how hurt he was. Billy had watched him keep a straight face through monster bites and screaming customers alike. Got flustered and anxious, yes, but never once stressed a single tear. He didn’t hesitate to kneel down so that Steve and him where eye to eye. “What’s wrong, Steve?” he asked as gently as he could.

His hair was wild, obviously from relentless grabbing. Billy watched as his hands clenched and unclenched, eyes bolted to the ground. Steve was just as out of breath as Billy was, chest heaving up and down. He took Steve’s trembling hands and brought them to press against his own chest slowly.

“Breathe with me, baby,” he guided, made sure his chest moved more exaggeratedly. Kept doing until Steve finally started making sounds.

“I—“ he started thickly. Billy squeezed his hands that were still against his own chest. Steve looked up and exhaled slowly before trying again. “My father is home,” he whispered, throat closing on him and making his voice stick in a few places.

And Steve didn’t talk about Mr. Harrington very often. Mentioned how his mother visited sometimes when he got too busy. Said maybe once how they were suspicions of Mr. Harrington cheating on his mother. But Billy had known Steve for two years now and never once had Steve mentioned the man being home.

Billy couldn’t keep the growling back, “What happened, Steve? What did he say? What did he do?”

The breath the other took sounded like that of someone drowning and just breaking the surface. “My mother caught him with his assistant.” His eyes were dull suddenly. “My mother wants a divorce, not that I blame her. But I also know that she won’t go through with it.” Billy waited, knew by Steve’s shifting gaze that there was something else. “And he wants to move out to Greece for a few years to get away.”

Billy’s eyes widened, “You’re moving?” Not only did Billy’s stomach completely drop and then shrivel from the heat of the sudden news, but he knew Steve would be miserable. All he’d ever had was Hawkins. And they’d just started their new thing. And it was good. So good.

But Steve, near aggressive, shook his head, “I’m not invited.” The way he said it let Billy know that it was probably something that was already stated. Told by his own family that he couldn’t even have a choice. This was something knew to Billy. He was still trying to comprehend. It was one thing, something he’d already gone through, to be forced into picking up and leaving. It was another to be outright refused by your own family to not go with them. “He dropped the idea and now mom’s in a fit because she actually cares about me sometimes,” his face was creased with anger. Billy put a hand out and caressed his cheek to smooth them out with his thumbs. It worked, Steve softened a little and leaned into the touch. Then he picked up again, “That’s not even the end of it,” he whispered. Exhausted.

Billy sat beside him and let Steve lean into his side, “What else, baby?”

A shaky breath, “She just showed up.” The way Steve’s voice clamped up with complicated emotion was enough for Billy to see it was a major deal. But he couldn’t figure who ‘she’ was. Steve was ahead of him though, after a moment of quiet. “The woman my father has been having an affair with. Showed up and demanded my father leave my mom because she’s pregnant.”

Billy was speechless. Hugged Steve. Didn’t care that it was a preppy neighborly setting. Pulled Steve Harrington right onto his own lap to comfort right on the Harrington stoop.

“When did that happen, Steve?” he asked as his hands rubbed Steve’s tensed back. Pulled him even closer as the muscles went lax.

“Like—” Billy felt the breaths as Steve counted to himself, “An hour ago. When the yelling started up again and— well I came out here.”

Billy wouldn’t give up now though, “And what, baby?” There was hesitation, so much so that Billy almost repeated the question.

“She had some words to say to me,” he pressed his forehead against Billy’s shoulder.

Billy’s skin ran cold and his muscles tensed without him realizing, “What did she say?” he asked through clenched teeth. Steve didn’t answer until Billy hugged him even tighter.

“She said my father told her I was useless and that I’m spoiled for getting to live in such a big house.” Billy froze up, not prepared for the onslaught. But Steve kept going, underlining venom in his speech. “She said that I didn’t deserve my father and his fucking money. That she did because he loved her. That my family wouldn’t ever love me, and that my father would gladly leave my mom and I for her. Because he would love her baby too much. She said he told her himself.” Steve wasn’t crying anymore, but the coldness and the lack of feeling Steve gave out now was scary. Very scary. Steve was an emotional person even if he didn’t usually cry. And Billy could tell that he was just put out now. Completely overdone.

And Billy was livid.

He knew he couldn’t do much about this. Wanted desperately to get in a grand fight for Steve’s honor. To pummel Mr. Harrington and his bitch into the ground. Destroy them slowly and painfully.

And then Steve said one last thing that finally cocked Billy’s metaphorical gun.

“She pulled my hair when I asked her to leave.” Steve was dead weight at this point, “When she started screaming at my mom and I tried to stop her.” Billy tilted his head and saw Steve’s messed up hair closer. He knew Steve hated it when people touched his hair. Made him panic. Extremely panicked. And the fact that he had been violated by this invasive stranger only fueled Billy more.

He pressed a long kiss to Steve’s temple, “There’s a pay phone down the street, right?”

Steve didn’t move from where his face was planted against Billy’s shoulder, “Yes,” his muffled voice responded.

They stayed there for a little while longer, and he whispered to Steve about just how perfect he was. And how much he loved Steve Harrington. Told him over and over that he was worth everything.

Didn’t move till Steve could handle a smile. Even if it was still broken up.

———

Susan arrived in way that reminded Billy of those crime shows. Where the car skidded on its wheels messily only to just make it into an almost perfect parking job.

Susan stepped out of her run down wagon of a car. Her heels clicked and clacked as she scuttled up to the duo just in front of the steps.

The woman didn’t hesitate to give Billy a worried look, as she gently patted at Steve. Billy let his partner go and allowed Susan to track over them both. She hugged Steve and grasped the back of his head like one would do while holding their baby. Billy’s chest warmed.

There was faint yelling inside again, had started up not too long after they had returned from the pay phone. The convertible had also disappeared. Steve explained it was most likely his mother’s doing. Running for it when she knew her son was at least gone from the damage for the time being.

Susan’s arms left Steve as she faced the door. Billy hadn’t told her what he’d like her to do, but Susan had gained confidence lately with Neil’s lack of company. She wasn’t one to simply step away anymore. And apparently they’d caught her at just the right time.

She flattened her patterned blouse and ironed skirt to impeccable neatness. Straightened her stance like a fighter would before a battle. She knocked and Billy took that as a notion to ease Steve back and away from the door. Out of direct sight.

The yelling stopped, the door opened, and a much older and colder looking version of Steve stepped out. Permanent and spiteful frown engraved on his face. Billy started seeing less and less of Steve the longer he stared at the man.

They collectively gasped when there was the sound of Susan’s hand connecting to Mr. Harrington’s left cheek. The skin blotching immediately. Steve was frozen and all hard edges, still enveloped in Billy’s arms protectively.

Nothing moved except Susan’s mouth.

“How dare you,” she spit out at the man, “Leave your son for who knows how long,” she looked up to the sky as though she were ridiculing him to God herself. “Neglect your son and then call him all those horrid names! What a coward! And what a sin you’ve committed,” she scolded, “Cheating on your wife! Wait until that gets around. No decent woman stays with cheaters.”

“Now, Miss—“ Steve’s father was slowly recuperating.

Susan hissed at him and held up one finger, glare shifted to someone behind the man’s shoulders, “Is that her? The bitch that made Steve cry?” The assistant, Billy assumed.

“What’s it to you?”

Billy could have growled like a rapid animal, could have ran in to yank her hair out by the way Steve flinched at the sound of her.

Susan stepped through and into the house, another crack in the air. Billy was baffled by how quick she was. Because Susan was suddenly in front of John Harrington again.

Spat at his feet with a thick blob of saliva right on his blue dress socks and told him to his face, “You’re a useless parent and you don’t deserve the son you were blessed with.”

Billy covered Steve’s ears when Mr. Harrington and his mistress started shouting again. Guided him to Susan’s car and buckled him in when Steve seemed to be unable to move.

Kissed the top of his head right as they left the driveway. Beamed when Steve started to smile again and definitely didn’t miss Susan’s proud smile and kind eyes as she caught him.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #susan hargrove #stranger things #mr harrington #i’ve been saving this one >:)

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 2

So the first part did decently well, so I figure I could add a second part.

---------

For the next few hours I waited, making sure he was truly asleep. The Michael I knew was a heavy sleeper, but I would never be able to tell if that was a lie too. During that time, I tried to make a plan on how to escape. If this was Michael’s apartment building, it meant it was on the outskirts of town and nowhere near the police station, so my only option was running. But it had been a while since I had any food or water, so my ability to do any running was limited to one short sprint. As far as getting out of the chair went, there was the knife that Michael threatened me with at my feet. But I was conflicted about using it. Had he left it there on purpose to taunt me? It was my only way of escape, so caution had to be thrown to the wind.

Using the rubber on the soles of my shoes, I carefully got the knife handle between them. The next challenge was to get it up to my hands. All those crunches Coach did were paying off. I took the knife from my shoes and relaxed, gripping the handle tightly. Awkwardly, I began slowly cutting at the duct binding my hands together and then around my chest until I was free. Every cut took what felt like hours, but I didn’t want to be loud to make sure he didn’t catch me. By the time I got finished it was the end of the afternoon, the sky slowly fading from blue to the sunset. Once free, I stood up slowly, hoping the floor wouldn’t creak underneath my feet. I took my steps slowly, feeling my heart pound. The door to the outside world felt so close yet so far away. Out of the corner of my eye, Michael’s door was in my vision. But the problem was that the door was closed earlier, but now it was opened with just a crack.

He was awake, but he hadn’t heard me. It was now or never, I walked quickly to the front door and made my way into the hallway, the heavy door slamming behind me.

“(Y/N)!” I heard Michael shout. I started to run, Michael’s apartment was on the third floor so running down the stairs was the only option since taking the elevator would mean he would be at the bottom. By the time I had made it to the second floor, I could hear his booming steps behind me.

“GET BACK HERE!” I picked up my pace, almost tripping down the steps multiple times. Until I saw the front door of the building, slamming into it and making my way outside. The parking lot was empty except for a black Camaro, a man was leaning against it, looking towards the woods. It was a risk, this guy could be working with Michael. But Michael never really worked well with others in school.

“HELP!” I screamed, feeling my legs start to ache from running all those stairs. The adrenaline running through my veins halting, “HELP ME!” The man turned and my heart almost stopped. It was Derek Hale. One of the survivors from the Hale fire six years ago.

By now he had turned to face me, looking at me and then Michael who was hot on my heels.

“Help!” I shouted, crashing into him. He didn’t move, it felt like running into a wall, “Please help me.” I held on tightly to his leather jacket.

“Please.” I pleaded, hoping that he was just there at the right place at the right time. By that point, Michael had caught up.

“Hey, man.” Michael panted, “Thanks for catching her. My girlfriend gets a little crazy when she’s off her meds.”

Derek looked down at my face, his expression became hard and frightened me a bit. He took my hands from his jacket. It’s over, he’s going to hand me over. But then, he pulled me so I stood behind him, keeping him between me and Michael.

“I think you should leave.” Derek said. I had never heard him speak before. From what I could remember from high school, after the fire Derek had become reclusive and kept to himself.

“Listen, pal, if you don’t hand her over, I’ll need to get physical and we both know you don’t want that to happen.” Michael warned, gripping a knife in his hands. But the way he spoke made it seem like they knew each other, but Michael had never mentioned Derek before.

“(Y/N), come on. Let’s go home.” Michael said.

“No.”

“Fine.” He glared, “Then leave.” He spat his words like they were laced with venom. Derek glanced towards the passenger door, like an invitation to freedom as he made his way to the other side of the car. Michael, however, went back on his words. He stalked towards Derek, knife in his hands.

“No!” I scrambled to stop his path and the knife meant to Derek’s back found its way into mine. The pain itself made my body seize up, making me fall into Derek once again, his green eyes looked full of panic.

“Shit.” Michael hissed, pulling the knife from my back and sprinting away. My knees buckled, the last of the adrenaline gone.

“Hey, hey.” Derek held me up, pulling me with ease towards the back of his car, “You’re gonna be okay.” He laid me down in the back seat, slamming the door and getting into the front, starting the car. The Camaro’s wheels screeched on the pavement as they sped off onto the road. His eyes kept looking back at me in the rear view mirror.

“Hey, stay awake, (Y/N).” I tried to speak but my vision was going black, as it was I could hear Derek’s voice farther and farther away.

“(Y/N)?” A sweet voice called, “(Y/N), can you hear me?” My eyes slowly fluttered open, then squeezed shut at the bright lights.

“Where am I?” I whispered, my throat was sore.

“You’re in the hospital. We took you into surgery, everything went well and you’re healing just fine.” She said sweetly. I was finally able to open my eyes and found the nurse who had been talking to me. She wore burgundy scrubs and had her blonde hair pulled back into a bun.

“The Sheriff is here to see you, but I told him that you still needed rest.” She said, standing up and writing her vitals.

“No, it's okay to let him in.” She took a deep breath, “He’s my godfather.” The nurse nodded and she walked out the door. But instead of Uncle Noah, Stiles rushed into the room, the nurse right behind him. I slowly began to sit up to greet him.

“Hey, hey, hey, you sit right back down. Are you okay?” His words rushed from his mouth.

“Slow down.” I smiled weakly, “I’m okay.”

“You got stabbed.”

“I’ve been better. How’s that?” Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the Sheriff make his way in the room.

“Hi Uncle Noah.” I said softly. He looked like he usually did, stressed and tired.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry.” His voice was somber and brought back the memories that my parents and my home were gone forever. My eyes brimmed with tears, my lips tight to hold back my sobs. Uncle Noah came to my side, and sat on the edge of the bed. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side, rubbing her shoulder softly. I turned into his side, wet spots growing on his uniform from my tears. Stiles held my hand, moving his thumb across my knuckles.

Later after feeling a little more lucid, Uncle Noah wanted to take my statement.

“Can you tell me about what happened last night?”

I took a deep breath, “I went out to go to a party. Around eleven o’clock. On my way there I ran into Michael. He….” I looked up, trying to avoid tears again, “He knocked me out and took me to his apartment. And he tied me up. He showed me the news telling me mom and dad were dead.” I hiccupped back a little sob, “He threatened me with a knife then he went to bed. He dropped the knife at my feet, I cut myself out, and ran. He was running behind me and I ran into a guy in the parking lot, Derek Hale.”

“Derek Hale?” He asked, stopping his note taking.

I nodded, “Yeah, he was just there in the parking lot. I ran up to him, he was going to drive me away from there. Michael came after him with the knife and I got in the way. I don’t remember much after that.”

He nodded, taking his notes on a small flippad.

“Isn’t that the guy who survived in that fire five years ago?” Stiles piped in from a chair in the corner.

“Yeah, that’s him. I’ll have to track him down to find him. Get his statement.” Uncle Noah put his notepad in his pocket. “Get some more rest, kiddo, you’re getting discharged tonight into my care.”

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

Read part 3 here!

Reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated!

Message me or comment below to be added to the taglist :)

#derek hale #derek hale x reader #teen wolf fic

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datleggy · 3 years

Note

Happy Birthday! I feel like we should be the ones gifting you fics instead of the other way around. But (a twist on the) birthday prompt: Buck gets adopted by Bobby and Athena bc apparently adult adoptions are a thing. On the day they get the papers back from the gov't, they decide to throw Buck a surprise 2nd "birthday" party. Cue ugly happy tears

thanku!!!! :) also this prompt made me ugly cry isdzhobgirohd

Buck wakes up in a hospital, groggy and exhausted and in pain.

There had been a fire at a middle school and Buck had stayed behind when they'd called for all firefighters to evacuate. "There's still a kid down here!" he'd shouted. "I can hear her!" and so he'd ignored orders and gone deeper into the lions den.

And he'd managed to rescue the kid and had even managed to keep her safe and exit the building just in time to watch it collapse behind him. Buck had been so hyped up on the adrenaline of it all that he hadn't realized anything was wrong until Bobby had come up to him and asked if he was alright. It was the grounding hand on his shoulder that brought Buck back to reality and in an instant his knees had buckled and everything had gone black.

"Evan?"

Buck blinks. That doesn't sound like anyone from his crew or even Maddie. "M-mom?" he turns to the voice and there she is, his father at her side. "You're here." he says, awed.

His mom nods, though she won't come closer to the bed than she is, standing at a distance. "I--" she inhales sharply. "Evan I can't. I can't do this. I'm sorry. You need to stop doing this to me." and just as quickly as she came she's gone.

Buck gulps, "Dad? What--what happened, I--"

His dad sighs, "You can't keep doing this. You couldn't save Daniel, and that's--" he looks away regrettably. "That's no one's fault. But it doesn't mean you get to put us through this torment. We're both trying, we really are. But you know hospitals are a sore spot for your mother."

"Sorry." Buck mutters pitifully, his eyes welling up with tears as his dad wishes him a speedy recovery before following his mom's lead.

Not two seconds later Bobby and Athena enter the room.

"You're awake!" the Captain sighs in relief, "How're you feeling kid?" he rests a hand on his shoulder and Buck throws himself at Bobby, digging his face into the crook between his neck and shoulder. "Buck?" Bobby gently wraps his arms around him, concern pouring out of him.

Buck is trembling, sniffling like he's holding back tears.

Athena knows his parents were just in here. She'd been surprised to see the Buckleys had actually shown up for once, though she hadn't said anything. She'd seen Buck's mother bolt out of the room a few moments ago and then his father next, less frantic, but with a grave look on his face.

She wonders what went on in the few minutes they'd come for a visit to make Buck break down like this. "Buck, honey, what's the matter?" she asks softly, her hand running soothingly down the small of his back.

But Buck shakes his head, unable to speak, and Bobby holds him that much tighter, "It's ok Buck, we're here."

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

A few months later Buck is at the Grant-Nash household for dinner and Athena is telling Buck about some idiot she caught streaking across the damn highway today when Bobby suddenly dims the lights and when Buck looks up in surprise there's a small round cake with exactly one bright candle atop it coming his way.

Bobby places it right in front of Buck on the dinner table and smiles warmly. "So...it's official." he announces proudly. "You're ours."

Buck blinks up at him, confused. "Uh--I--what?" he looks down at the cake again and in fire red frosting it reads: Happy Birthday Son!

Beside him, Athena pulls out some paperwork she's been eagerly waiting to show him all day. "The adoption finally went through and we got the certificate in the mail today. We thought we'd celebrate our kid's first official birthday with us."

Buck remembers that after his short stay at the hospital he'd been trying his best to pretend none of it had happened, the thing with his parents, that is. But he couldn't get the words out of his head.

"You couldn't save Daniel."

He knows his father hadn't meant anything by it--or at least, he hoped--but it had stung him to his core to think that all these years his own parents held some kind of resentment towards him for not being able to do the one thing he'd been brought into this world to do: save his brother.

Eventually the Captain had sat him down in his office and asked, concerned, what was wrong. "You've been distracted on the field, Buck. I just need to know you're ok."

And Buck doesn't know why but he had blurted everything out, like word vomit: his mother's wounded expression as she'd begged him to stop doing this to her, like he was intentionally choosing to hurt her. His father's thoughtless words. His own guilt over the whole thing.

"I'm a bad son." he'd finally said, head in his hands.

And Bobby had rounded his desk and pulled Buck into a hug so fierce it had taken his breath away and he's said, "You're such a good person, Buck, and anyone would be lucky to have you as their kid, I promise."

Bobby must have gone home and talked to Athena about it, because the very next day they'd presented him with the adoption papers.

And if he thought he'd cried like a big baby then? Shit.

Buck wipes at his tears with his sleeves, "Th-thank you." he sniffles, trying his best not to outright sob with all the emotion building up in his chest.

Bobby wraps an arm around Buck's shoulder and squeezes lovingly, his own eyes bright with tears. "Happy birthday son."

#911 fox #athena and bobby are bucks parents #both in my head #in canon #and in this ficlet #pls and thanku #thanku for the prompt <3 #long post is long #drabble #bday prompt #hurt/comfort

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dreamsafterhours · 3 years

Text

⚠️ tw: tragic backstories and crippling angst lol, mentions of deceased parents, drowning mentions, implied suic*de, grief, renjun's cute english (all mistakes in his dialogue are intentional. enjoy)

i had no idea this would get such enthusiastic reactions. thank you everyone who requested a continuation, hope this makes you feel something and answers some questions ♡

this is part three of merman!renjun, find parts one and two here :))

1:44pm: "did it hurt?"

merman!renjun glanced up at runaway prince!jeno's prompt, who stared expectantly at him through the bars of his cell.

"what?"

the prince gestured at renjun's legs and spoke matter-of-factly. "your tail. it's gone. did it hurt?"

"oh... yes." he wiggled his toes. "it hurt."

"a lot?"

renjun paused and hugged his knees a little closer into his chest. "yes."

"and you... can't transform back." pirate!you lifted your chin to make eye contact with renjun, who pursed his lips and nodded in response.

"magic is no-come-back," he said with a shrug.

"irreversible," the prince offered.

"irressimble. no merperson ever come back from land."

your heart and eyes sank to your lap. "right."

poor haechan.

you found yourself getting to your feet. "i... i'm gonna leave you two to catch up." dusting off your palms on your hips, you cleared your throat. "let me know if you, uh, need anything, alright?"

renjun nodded.

"right. um... your highness." you offered a quick curtsey towards jeno, who scoffed lightly at the difference between your usual domineering behaviour and your attempt at character continuity.

as you made your way up the stairs, you remembered the time pirate!haechan had first opened up to you about his past. you had both been younger, yet already best of friends.

"cap'n the only family you got?" he tossed a grape into his mouth.

"we have an older sister. on land, though. runs an orphanage."

he made a noise of interest. "parents?"

you shook your head as you reached for another grape. "shipwreck, funnily enough. you?"

"three siblings. all younger than me."

you chortled at the thought. "you? the eldest?"

"i'm more responsible than you give me credit for," he retorted, a dramatic hand placed on his chest in mock offence.

"yeah, right. i'll give you credit when you don't slack off."

he laughed, and the two of you sat in silence for a moment.

you reached the top of the stairs, and took a moment to let yourself adjust to the sunlight. scanning the deck through squinted eyes, you spotted haechan at the bow of the ship, his back turned to you as he stared out at the ocean.

"your parents still around?" you had asked.

his brow had furrowed at the stars above and his chewing grew hesitant. you had started to apologise, realising you'd struck a nerve, but he shook his head and reassured you it wasn't your fault.

"dad's there, yeah. mum's, uh... mum was a mermaid."

a sound of surprise escaped your lips.

"—or so my father told us. she came to shore, grew legs and lived as a human. had my siblings and i... and loved my father. loved us."

you chose to listen in silence and watch as he focused on peeling the skin off the grape he held in his hands.

"we were at the beach one day. i guess she missed her home, 'cause she barely said anything and just stared out to sea." he took a slow, shallow breath. "i asked her to come and... and play with us. and she... took my hands, told me she loved me... let me go, and—and just walked straight in. right through the waves. didn't stop. never saw her again."

you didn't know what to say, so you went with the safe option. "i'm so sorry."

"nah," he said, trying to disguise his sniffling with a deep inhale, "all in the past. i used to be mad about it, but i'm over that now. she's probably happier."

you sighed at the sight of him. he was barely moving, but his loose shirt and hair whipped around in the wind. no, you aren't.

leaning your elbows on the taffrail next to him, you watched the hull of the ship split the ocean surface, leaving waves in her wake and advancing still.

you weren't taken aback when you turned towards haechan and was met with tears streaming steadily down his cheeks, their trail from his grief-stricken eyes shining in the sun.

he could barely maintain eye contact with you, his gaze drawn to the horizon again. a wet exhale left his lips before he pursed them tighter and gripped the railing until his knuckles turned white.

"the merman's telling the truth, then?" he managed, his tone laced with anger. "you can't transform back once you grow legs?"

"haechan, i—"

"you can't transform back, then what happened to my mum, huh?" he demanded, perhaps towards you, perhaps not. "you're telling me she walked in to die? to drown in her own home?"

"haechan."

"you mean i let her go for what? for nothing?"

"hey—"

he sniffed and shook his head, "no. no, it can't be true. maybe he just doesn't know her. my house is on the other end of the earth, he probably never even heard of someone returning because he's never met—"

"haechan." you caught his shoulder and he gripped your hand, to throw it off or for support, you couldn't tell—until his breath was sucked out of his lungs, his head hung and he gave in to the sobs that racked his body. his weight fell forward as his knees buckled, and you caught him with practised foresight.

the two of you sank to your knees, his face buried in your shoulder and balled fists clutching the fabric of your shirt. murmuring your words of comfort and drawing circles on his back, you let him grieve his mother a second and final time.

when he finally exhausted himself and you stopped having to remove your hand from his head to wave away anyone who approached you, renjun climbed onto the deck in search of you. he frowned in confusion when he recognised haechan and stayed wary as he drew nearer.

haechan noticed his presence and pulled himself out of your arms and onto his feet. clearing his throat, he raised his eyes to the merman's.

"i shouldn't have touched you," he began awkwardly, "i was... stupid, and... it almost cost you your life. i'm sorry."

renjun looked like he didn't know what to respond with. "you are welcome," he replied hesitantly.

taken aback at the unexpected answer, haechan cleared his throat again and walked past the boy.

renjun turned back towards you, tilting his head in puzzlement. "why is he sad?"

you sighed deeply before standing up too. "haechan's mother was a mermaid."

renjun's lips parted in shock.

"she had legs, too, and lived on land. but she missed the sea, so she said goodbye and went back." you gestured over his shoulder at haechan's disappearing figure down the stairs, his gaze following your hand. "he never knew merpeople couldn't transform back, so he thought she was still alive."

the boy didn't meet your eyes when he turned back around. a moment of silence smothered any further words you might have said.

"and he tried help me and push me back in water."

"... yes. he thought... you would be happier in the water."

another beat.

"he is not happy."

"no, he isn't."

you paused to let him contemplate.

"but. she was happy."

"hmm?"

"his mother. she was happy."

then it was your turn to tilt your head to the side.

"mermaids choose legs," he explained, "his mother choose land."

"merpeople choose to transform permanently?"

he nodded eagerly, "choose to t...ransform pernamamently. i choose because you protect."

"because i protected you?"

"yes. i am in danger and you protec-ted me. i choose tarnsform tail to legs."

you mulled over this consideration. "i... i'll let him know. thank you, renjun."

"you are welcome," he responded with certainty, offering you his first smile, albeit small.

you managed to smile back. "alright," you declared, "how about some lunch? you hungry?"

i reckon there's room for part four.. hm hm thoughts thoughts

part one | part two

taglist: @whattaweeb @radiorenjun

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popcrone818 · 3 years

Text

Spitfire-chapter 3

Sorry that I've been gone for so long, here is the next chapter in my Sweet Pea story.

Hope you enjoy please leave feedback.

Aurora’s POV

I stormed out of Sweet Pea’s trailer, tears coming to my eyes as the scene played on repeat in my mind. He only saw me as a friend nothing more, no matter how close we had been. I heard a bang coming from his trailer and I knew that he knew I wasn’t coming back. I sat in my car just outside Sunnyside Trailer park as I watched Toni and Fangs ride in on their bikes. I knew they were going to Sweet Pea’s as today was our normal day of watching movies until we got bored and ordered food. It’ll be a shock to them that I’m not there cuddled up to him already. I threw my car into drive and took off back to my house, hoping that Archie was with Veronica and that dad was at work. I didn’t want to deal with anyone else today I just wanted to lay in the bath and listen to music. There were no cars in the drive way when I got home so I headed straight upstairs to my bathroom and started running a bath with bubbles for myself. I had cried the whole way home and my eyes were puffy and my makeup smudged. I lit a few candles around the bathroom before I heard the doorbell ring just as I was about to get undressed. I groaned and headed back downstairs my socked feet making little noise on the hardwood floors.

“This better be fucking good I’m not in the mood.” I swung the door open to be face to face with Toni. She grabbed my shoulders and pulled me into her body. I felt sobs wrack my body as she moved us inside.

“It’s okay, come one I know that you want a bath, I’ll help you.” She led me upstairs and back into the bathroom that smelt like the teakwood candles I had lit before Toni arrived. She helped me undressed which isn’t weird even though she’s gay, this isn’t the first time Sweet Pea has been a dick and I’ve needed a bath. She switched on her playlist specifically designed for moments like these and she came to sit on the edge of the bath with some make up wipes. After helping me take off my smudged makeup she sat down on the cold tile of the bathroom and turned to me. “Tell me what happened. He told us what happened but what happened with your side.” I sunk down lower in the bath before I answered her.

“Basically he thinks that I need protecting, that I’m so fucking breakable that he needs to protect me from everyone.” I took a deep breath and looked at her.

“Oh honey, no he doesn’t, he knows how strong you are. You have never not once backed down from putting him in his place, when most people would from one single glance from him. That first day we met you I remember talking to him once you left, he said that no one has ever stood up to him like that. We teased him saying that he liked you but he brushed us off. When you did your dance he couldn’t take his eyes off you. But I know for a fact he wasn’t thinking sexually, there was nothing going on in his pants when Fangs looked at him. That may sound bad but what I’m really trying to tell you is that; he may be a dick, and he may have anger issues that he really needs to resolve but he does like you, as more than a friend, he’s just afraid of you leaving, he only has us. Well us and the serpents, but even then he really only has the three of us and he’s terrified of any of us leaving him.” I blinked back tears as her words sunk in. I had just walked out of one of my best friends lives just because he called me a friend and because I thought he thought of me as breakable.

“Should I go back over there?” I asked her.

“God no, make him grovel, you’re a badass bitch who don’t need no man. Make him want you that much more, make him squirm. Honestly he probably deserves it. Tonight you and I are having a girls night.” She giggled causing me to giggle. “Now where do you hide your face masks?” I pointed out the bottom drawer in the vanity. She nodded and got out all the different masks that I have before she took off out the door. I shook my head at her before she came back in dressed in a pair of my pjs and carrying another pair along with underwear for me. She was wearing a light green pair that consisted of booty shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top. For me she had grabbed my black booty shorts with my huge tshirt that I had stolen from Sweet Pea. I glared at her before I got out wrapping a towel around my body and drying off.

“I thought we were trying to make me feel better not make me miss him.” I held up the shirt to the front of my body.

“Shit I forgot that was his.” I waved her off and pulled it over my head. I may be pissed at him but he still smelt amazing. Even the candles I had put on reminded me of his scent. We spent the rest of the night talking shit about Sweet Pea and Fangs and also laughing our asses off at memories either with or without the boys as we did masks and watched stupid girly movies which made the both of us cry.

Sweet Pea’s POV

Summer had came quickly. Rory was avoiding me at any cost, serpent meetings she would stay by the bar with Toni, or she would be working the bar. She never came to the wyrm to just hang out anymore and when I saw her in school she kept her headphones in and her head down. I had been spending a lot of time with Josie McCoy and she was fun sure but she was no Rory, I thought she could help me get over her but she couldn’t. She and I were just using each other and called it a summer fling but a couple weeks in I couldn’t do it anymore. I had watched Rory laughing at Fangs and Toni in the wyrm and I just felt like absolute shit, so I stormed out of the wyrm jumped in my bike and made my way to Josie’s.

“Didn’t know we had a hook up scheduled.” She chuckled as she opened her door.

“I’m not here for a hook up.” I told her looking down at my feet. “I cant keep doing this Josie, I’m sorry.” I went to turn back around and leave when she grabbed my shoulder turning me around. Her lips were on mine and before I could even think we were up in her room hooking up yet again. I looked at her and suddenly I couldn’t see Josie anymore I saw Rory which made me kiss down her neck and bite harshly. I felt her moan which only spurred me on more.

It wasn’t until I was laying down staring up at the ceiling that I finally saw Josie not Rory. I frowned and looked at Josie before I got up to collect my clothes.

“This is it, no more I cant keep doing this to myself.” I told her as I buckled my belt back up.

“You love her don’t you?” She asked as she wrapped a sheet around her body.

“Who?” I asked her playing dumb, in the last 6 months all I have been able to think about is Rory, I have finally come to the realisation that the things we used to do we did because I liked her.

“Aurora Andrews.” I looked down at the floor as I shrugged on my jacket.

“Yeah I do. I have since I met her.”

“Then go get her dumbass. You’re the reason she has changed and you and I were only doing this so that we could forget other people. And I know I’m not the only one it hasn’t worked for. I don’t know how many times you’ve called me Rory.” I turned away from her and started to head out the door. “I hope it works out for you Sweet Pea, you’re a really great guy and I’m sorry for using you these past couple of weeks.”

“I’m sorry too, I hope everything works out for you.” With that I walked out of her room and out of her house.

I made my way to Wyrm knowing tonight was a night she was doing a shift with Toni, I had to talk to her, I needed to talk to her even if I can only get her back as a friend I don’t care. I quickly spotted Toni as I walked in, but she quickly ducked into the room behind the bar.

Aurora POV

Toni joined me in the back room as I tied my hair up getting ready for my shift.

“He’s here, you either start the plan now or you keep waiting hoping life will go on. But I know the both of you are miserable without the other.” She went to turn around and walk out before I spoke up.

“He has Josie now.” She spun back around to me as my voice was so quiet. “He doesn’t want me anymore and the plan is now null and void. Can I just have the night off?” She shook her head and grabbed both of my shoulders before pushing me out the door. I stumbled a little bit before I crashed into a strong chest. Their arms wound around my waist and I was hit wth a familiar scent, one I hadn’t smelt in months, other than the occasional candle that had a similar scent. Minus the leather and cigarette smell. I looked up craning my neck slightly as I was in heels so I wasn’t as short as I normally would be, and I found myself lost in his deep dark pools of whiskey. He cleared his throat and I pushed myself away from his strong arms and chest standing on my own. I crossed my arms over my chest and just stared at him as I waited for him to say something.

“Rory.” He breathed out reaching his hand out to me. I took another step back away from him and saw his face fall. “I’m sorry about that night, I’m a fucking idiot, I didn’t realise only calling you a friend and making you think that I thought you were fragile would do this. I like protecting you, even though I know you can protect yourself, I like knowing that I’m needed. These past couple of months I have missed your touch, have missed our banter, I’ve missed the way you push me to be someone better than just a drug running Serpent. Aurora Andrew’s I miss you so much and I never thought I would ever say that about a Northsider but you are different.” He took a deep breath and our eyes locked. I felt my resolve crumple around me and I reached my arms up and tangled my hands in his hair bringing his body closer to mine. Feelings aside, because he never mentioned them and I knew he was with Josie now, I knew I missed my best friend.

“Ive missed you too Sweets, I’ve missed sitting on you, I’ve missed our movie nights and cuddles. I’ve missed everything about you even the way you smell, which sounds weird now that I say that out loud. I had this whole plan to make you regret being a dick but standing here in your arms I know that I never want to go that long without your arms wrapped around me again.” I buried my head in his chest and I felt him chuckle as he ran his fingers through my hair.

“What did this plan entail?” He asked me pulling away from me slightly.

“Basically it was just making you regret the way that you spoke to me, showing you I wasn’t fragile and kicking some Ghoulie ass, but thinking about that now I can see how stupid it was.” I laughed and brought him in for another hug. His head rested in the crook of my neck and I felt his breath fan over the exposed skin.

“Rory, shift is starting!” I heard Toni yell from behind the bar. I pulled away from Sweet Pea and placed a soft kiss on his cheek before I strutted away swinging my hips more than normal as I felt his eyes on me. He is such a boy. I joined Toni behind the bar and watched as Sweet Pea walked over to Fangs to start a game of pool. “So… that looked promising?” She questioned me as we started to serve some of the patrons of the bar.

“He apologised and told me all of these cute things that he missed about me, I was fucking putty in his hands and he knew that. I wanted to make him work for it but as soon as I felt his touch I was fucking gone. Toni I think I love that man over there.” She squealed and pulled me into her.

“I’m so gad you finally see it. Ive been saying that for months and you’ve just brushed me off every time. I actually remember you threatening me over it once too.” We giggled at each other and my eyes found Sweet Pea, he was already looking at me and we made eye contact before I blushed and turned away from him back to the job at hand of getting the older serpents drunk.

“Hey pretty lady, what are you doing after you finish up here?” I heard a deep baritone voice coming from behind me and instantly tensed up. I turned around slowly and threw the rag I had in my hands at Sweet Pea.

“I was seriously about to cuss you out and tell you I had a boyfriend, they always leave me alone when I do that.” He threw the rag back at me and I got back to the tedious job of cleaning all the glasses.

“You get that often then I assume?” He asked me as he sat at the bar. I rolled my eyes at him and grabbed a beer out for him.

“Every so often, once they saw I wasn’t around you as often they started to get worse. I guess your just a really scary badass Serpent that even the older serpents are afraid of.”

“Yeah I kicked one of their asses a few months back and no one has looked me in the eye since.” He took a swig of his beer before my attention had to be taken away by another Serpent.

“Hey hot stuff!” I rolled my eyes but went over to him anyway. “Once your done with mister 30 seconds I’ll take a beer and your number thanks.” He winked at me and I watched from the corner of my eyes as Sweet Pea clenched and unclenched his fists. I bent over slightly more than I needed to in Sweet Pea’s line of sight as I got the beer out.

“You can have the beer, because that’s my job, but my number and my attention are saved for him, so I would appreciate any rude remarks to be kept to a minimum or non existent.” I sent him a wink and shoved the beer into his hand before turning back to Sweet Pea.

“Um, when did that happen?” He asked gesturing to my body.

“Um, when my big cuddly teddy bear decided to be a dick. I told you I could take care of myself, now you’ve seen me in action.” I rolled my eyes at him as he looked back over to the perv from before. “Plus he probably heard you hit on me and I didn’t say anything so he thought it was alright tonight.” I shrugged and started to wipe down the bar.

“I always knew you could handle yourself Rory, I’m just very protective, and I guess you could say territorial as well.” He looked down at the bar not meeting my eyes.

“Oh I know you are Sweets, why do you think I let you give me all those hickies anyway?” He gave me a questioning look finally meeting my eye as I leant against the bar on the other side.

“Wait, what? You knew I was doing that to keep pervs like that fuckwit away from you?” He asked me, I nodded and leant over closer to him on the bar. My boobs getting squished between the bar top and my body.

“Of curse I did, I also knew you beat up the first Serpent that tried to hit on me too. I’m not stupid Sweets.”

“Never said you were. What time do you get off anyway?” He asked me as I leaned back to look at the clock.

“Uh, in 15 why?”

“Movies at mine? No Fangs, no Toni just the two of us?”

“Absolutely!” I looked around for Toni hoping I could get off early. I found her over by the pool tables with Fangs. “You go talk to her, I’ll make sure everything is right for her to take over.” He nodded and got up making his way over to Toni and Fangs, I saw her nod her head as I wiped the bar clean.

“So you having movie night without us tonight?” She asked as she retied her apron on her hips. I nodded and blushed. “Get out of here, and if I don’t get an update tonight I’ll assume things went great and we should start planning your wedding tomorrow.” She winked at me causing me to blush even darker. She pulled me into a tight hug before placing a kiss on my cheek.

“Ready?” Sweet Pea asked from behind Toni. I nodded and pulled off my apron before going into the back to get my things. Sweet Pea placed a hand in the small of my back as we made our way out of the Wyrm.

“USE PROTECTION!” I heard Fangs yell from inside and I blushed and looked at Sweet Pea.

“Toni also thinks something is going to happen tonight.”

“It can if you want.” He whispered in my ear before handing me his helmet. I shook my head and gestured to my own bike. His eyes nearly fell out of his head at my baby. I grinned before placing a kiss on his cheek and skipping off to my bike, turning the key and hearing the engine roar to life. I looked back to Sweet Pea who hadn’t moved yet, his jaw going slack before I winked at him and sped off to his trailer.

Being back in his trailer again after so many weeks of not being here was weird, he handed me a glass of water before we sat down on his couch and faced each other.

“How have you been?” He sat down his glass and licked his lips. I found myself watching his every move.

“Not too bad, been busy working and you know things with school.” He ran his fingers through his hair and I felt my fingers twitch.

“Okay, look we used to be close, I want to get back to that and this small talk bullshit is not helping our situation. In the last couple of months we have both been avoiding each other, after you stormed out of my trailer Toni told me why she thought I lost you. Look, I called you a friend because I thought that’s what we were, just best friends.”

“Look I understand that we were friends and I know that you calling me a friend shouldn’t have effected me the way that it did. But it happened and I acted on impulse,”

“The way that you left effected me in a way that it shouldn’t have as well. We were both acting on emotions, I love you Aurora, that is why I protect you, that is why I acted the way I did with Mantle that day, and why I got so emotional when you told me you could handle yourself. I know you can but I like feeling like I’m needed, needed by someone so important in my life. It gives me a feeling of accomplishment. I miss the feeling of your fingers on my skin, I miss when you would push me in the chest when I was being a dick, I miss you sitting in my lap and wrapping my arms around you, I miss cuddling in the couch and watching movies until all hours of the night.” He reached forward and took my hand in his anger one, he looked down at our interlocked hands and started to fidget with one of my many rings. “These past couple of months have been hell for me, as Im sure it has been for you. Toni hardly spoke to me she would talk to me through Fangs, and I knew she was with you when she wasn’t with us. It killed me not having you right beside me.” I squeezed his hand and looked into his deep whiskey eyes. I’m could see a slight sheen to his eyes and squeezed his hand again.

“Sweet’s, these months have been just as hard for me too, that’s why Toni stayed with me. I reacted the way I did because I thought we had something, because I thought you could see I could handle myself and when you would jump in it made me feel like you didn’t have that faith in me. I thought you cared enough to let me be myself. It hurt Sweet Pea,”

“Noah,” I cocked my head to the side and looked at him strangely. “My name, its Noah.” He looked down at his lap and I felt my face contort into a smile. “No one knows, so please keep it to yourself.” He avoided looking up at me. I reached forward with my free hand and grasped his jaw tilting his head to look at me. I held his gaze.

“Noah, I will never let anyone know. Thank you for sharing that with me.” He let go of my hand and I felt his calloused hands rest on either side of my face.

“I want to do something.” I nodded my head holding eye contact with him. He leaned in pulling my face closer to his, I closed my eyes as his lips gently brushed mine before he pulled my face even closer and deepened the kiss. He pulled away from me slowly I kept my eyes closed but caressed his hands gently as they laid on my jaw. “Aurora Andrews, I have loved you since you stood up to me, I felt soft and weak under your gaze,” I felt his thumb softly rub his thumb against the apple of my cheek. “I honestly hated the feeling but I found myself drawn to you, to feel your touch and to feel your gaze on my skin once again. I craved the feeling of your skin on mine, I became protective of you, I hated it when you joined and did the dance, I never wanted this life for you, I don’t even want this life for me, but if you feel the same I will work tirelessly to give you the life that you deserve.” I felt a tear roll down my cheek and Sweet Pea was quick to wipe it away. I opened my eyes and felt myself get lost in his honey coloured eyes.

“Of course I feel the same, I’m strong but I feel weak around you, I feel butterflies whenever you touch me, which is a lot by the way. I want a life with you Noah, we can get out of this together and have what we want.” I took his hands off my face and held them in my own. “I love you Noah.”

“I love you Aurora.” I pulled his face closer to mine and planted my lips on his, he pulled back slowly and rested his forehead on mine. “Be mine?” I nodded keeping my eyes closed when he pulled me impossibly closer almost sitting on his lap before kissing me passionately with his arms wrapped around my waist.

#sweet pea imagines #sweet pea x oc #sweet pea x reader #riverdale

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