#ch; Carol Ferris

[snikt111]

hi hi hi hi I found out about Hal Jordan TODAY and am going so autistic over him it’s insane can you please give me a rundown on what his deal is I think you’re the Tumblr Green Lantern guy

omg hi, insane compliment btw, tysm! i'm glad to give you a rundown!! also definitely check out @katmaatui for more hal info, red is SUPER knowledgable abt him. @rillette, @catboyollie, @halcarols, @starsapphire and @yellowcorps (along with so many others that i cant think to tag off the top of my head) have some great hal takes too! (edited the post just to tag more ppl)

apologies if this is a bit rushed/messy, i'm doing this while i smelt stone in minecraft LMAO

that being said... i think this will be a long one, so more below the cut :3

(cw for light mentions of pedophilia, abuse, canon typical violence)

okay, so hal jordan is the first human green lantern of the GREEN LANTERN CORPS. it's important to note that there was technically a human green lantern before him (alan scott, originally from earth two/the justice society, but integrated into main DC canon after crisis), but his power comes from a different source- which is a whole different ballpark that would take ages to explain, lol, so i'll move on from that.

hal was originally introduced in a showcase issue in 1959, but ended up getting a solo run in the mid 60s because of his showcase issues doing well. he's been a test pilot, middle brother, compassionate, rule follower (although being surprisingly liberal for the time) with an interesting relationship with star sapphire carol ferris since those first appearances. for the first 20 odd years of his appearances we had no information on his parents, but we got a lot from other family members, such as uncle titus, cousin hal jr (aka airwave), younger brother jim jordan and older brother jack jordan. through the 60s and 70s those members of his family were developed along with him; with the audience learning that jim's wife sue thought jim was green lantern, rather than hal, and hal himself training his cousin, hal jr.

the most known version of how hal got the ring in the first place is probably based off of geoff john's rewrite in the mid 00s, reiterating the original story of abin sur crashing onto earth and dying, leaving hal with his ring to be trained by sinestro and the rest of the glc, while also changing miniscule details that had been developed in emerald dawn 1 & 2 (which was released in the 90s, more on that later). the main premise of abin sur's crash has stayed the same, but the story around hal's current life, job, family and stability keep changing. for instance, the original comic with abin sur in showcase only showed hal getting the ring, the guardians choosing him. the first rewrite i can think of was emerald dawn volume 1, published in 1989 and continued in emerald dawn v2 (1991). here we get the classic hal watches his father die in a plane crash with carol ferris beside him as a pre adolescent, and some of the biggest implications of the mistreatment from his father. we also get introduced to hal, despite his stick to the rules, straight edge attitude, making some serious mistakes and putting people in danger and even death- with the implication of alcohol abuse. the audience HAS known hal used to be in the air force since sometime in the late 60s or early 70s (sorry, i don't remember the exact issue!), but emerald dawn shows us that hal's moved on from the air force and into test piloting, and that his mother keeps having to bail him out for making mistakes. emerald dawn vol 1 shows the abin sur moment, followed by fights that cost hal's friends life, and is followed up by sinestro training hal in emerald dawn vol 2, where we get to see the iconic scenes of hal finding out about sinestro and his... dictatorship.

along with that; how the guardians and rings are treated and hal and the glc's perception of them is vastly changed over time. in the early days of gl in the 60s, the guardians were really never to be seen. hal was repeatedly summoned to them and then had his memory almost fully wiped- only leaving a vague notion of his orders. the guardian's called hal to them at seemingly the worst times, ending up with him almost getting injured, getting in trouble at work, and even ending up jobless and homeless. the chaos of being a green lantern has been around the WHOLE time, but originally, the green lanterns didnt really... fight it. the guardian's were their masters (and even father figures, to hal) and not to be questioned. the rings in the 60s were also much more powerful, despite the yellow weakness (the yellow weakness is the notion that from about the 60s to the mid 90s the green lantern rings were completely unable to be used against anything yellow). time travel, phasing, teleporting, etc were all very viable and common things- as well as forceful shapeshifting, invisibility, mind control, mind reading, etc etc. these days, writers have dampened these powers down to mostly shooting light and constructs.

okay, it's parallax time. the emerald twilight arc from the mid 90s wasn't an arc that was as thoroughly planned out over a long period of time as it probably should have been. a lot of fans at the time (and even now) hated what happened there, and claimed it ruined hal's character entirely. i can understand why! but, at it's core, the parallax arc is a story about a broken man pushed to the limit, fully grieving his home and family (originally, he lost his brother jim in the destruction of coast city, along with a lot of other family members) and being goddamn fed up with how his "masters" treated him and the rest of the corps. the so called "perfect lantern" (no, he wasn't that much of a rebel, despite what johns wants you to think) snapped and essentially tried to gain as much power as he could to bring back coast city. when the guardians stripped him of his powers so he couldn't, hal became enraged and took down every lantern in his path, just to get to the guardians and that power. long story short, he kills the guardians and absorbs all the energy from the central power battery on oa, becoming parallax- essentially a god. this marks the start of zero hour, an event made by dc to restructure and reset; giving the comics a new generation of heroes. hal destroys the world and remakes it, but is ultimately taken down by kyle rayner, the new green lantern, with the help of the jla, jsa and associates. there are a few more run ins with parallax after this, before kyle convinces parallax/hal that he can make up for all of this by reigniting the sun after it went out- aka killing himself. hal does it, is stuck in limbo for awhile and then becomes the spectre to continue to make up for the horrible things he did as parallax. the spectre is the spirit of god's wrath and vengeance, a weapon used to drag sinners to their very own, self made hells, and scare the shit out of people. the spectre, from it's very first appearance, is a ghost like spirit that takes on a host, and is primarily described using christian terms and is used in a very... christian ideology. HOWEVER, the spectre 2001 confirms that hal is jewish (jewish mom, catholic dad) and that belief system, plus his personality as a whole, literally makes him change the spirit of vengeance into the spirit of redemption, for at least as long as they are bonded. the whole parallax to spectre arc is about grief, pain, cycles of abuse and terror, redemption and guilt. it is NOT about a fear bug that possess hal. (im so serious though, the spectre 2001 is one of the best comics ive ever read. amazing. changed my world view) but... geoff johns changed all of it, decanonized the spectre, and ruined the legacy of parallax and hal's growth as a person by releasing green lantern: rebirth in 2004/2005. this retcons hal's breakdown and journey through grief into him BEING POSSESSED BY AN ENTITY CONTROLLED BY SINESTRO THAT FULLY CHANGES PREVIOUS GREEN LANTERN CANON AND IMPLICATIONS. also, fucks up the importance of kyle becoming ion, but whatever. geoff johns writes hal (and even more so, carol) so very wrong, and change their stories so vastly in ways that go against the stories very meanings.

SIGH.

now... time to get started on some rougher stuff. hal jordan misconceptions. i'm saving that arc for last.

- hal jordan wasn't much of a rule breaker or rebel until the 70s/80s, where he BEGAN (very slowly, mind you) to be radicalized by oliver queen during denny o'neil's green lantern/green arrow. hal was painted as more of a conservative during this period (which, admittedly, kind of goes against previous canon... he's always been relatively central to liberal, not to any extremes like ollie though, lol) but gets more and more understanding of how power structures work and how lower classes are mistreated during this time- which ends up opening his eyes a bit to how shitty the guardians are. (this is helped by the guardians literally just. leaving. the green lanterns and kind of disbanding them so they can go fuck the zamarons, lmao). geoff johns tried to change this narrative into making hal a very... maverick-from-top-gun type of character, who punched his way out of the military (when, in reality, the original story during emerald knights in the late 90s was that hal had been framed for stealing a jet and was dishonorably discharged, which he took the punishment for because he knew someone had to) and hits on women constantly and gets ladies and allat (which, funnily enough hal was awful at getting carol to like him for a long time, since carol fell for green lantern rather than hal. not to mention the awkwardness of carol's proposals or hal's many, many failed relationships). hal has always been insecure and lowkey boyfailure, he is NOT a top gun maverick tom cruise sorta guy! fuck you jeremy adams!

- hes not that much of an idiot asshole. hal can be a real dick, he's had that going for him since the beginning, but he isn't what you read in batfam fics. he's not stupid and shouldn't be the laughingstock of the justice league. i assume this idea started from the obsession with batfam and the fact that the jla has quite the history of ignoring hal and his issues (as well as. all of their issues. theyre not so great at work life balance), but it's gone too far. hal isn't making fun of the robins and pissing bruce off bc of that. hal isnt fooling around on the job 24/7 (he takes being a gl and pilot VERY seriously, although he does enjoy some danger and high stakes) or slacking off to get girls. again. not top gun maverick.

- hal has not been a creep since the beginnings. hal was not weird with carol in the 60s. things were weird between them, yeah, but that's based off circumstance and the craziness of star sapphire and green lantern. he was NOT being horribly sleazy! i hate that i even need to say this, but i see this take too much not to

- going off of what was said above, lets discuss the arisia arc. if you want to be a real hal fan, this is unfortunately something you need to know about. in action comics, after crisis and the guardians left to go fuck the zamarons, most of the green lanterns fell apart and seperated. a small group went to earth- led by hal and consisting of hal, john stewart, katma tui, kilowog, salaakk, ch'p and arisia rrab. (also sometimes guy gardner, but that's complicated) previously to this arc, hal treated 14 year old arisia like a beloved little sister, welcoming her and leading her into the corps just like everyone else. things started to change once the timeline gets closer and closer to crisis, where arisia starts showing that she has a crush on hal (who is roughly 30s at this point). any advances made by arisia are shut down by hal at the beginning, because she's a child. now, it's unfortunately a common thing to just call hal a "pedophile" because of what happens in this arc- but it really isn't that simple. still weird and icky, but definitely not to the degree of which some fans like to act like it is- esp to attack hal fans for, which is... an odd choice regarding how many fucked up things every character (esp male characters) did back in the day. arisia ends up using her power ring to artifically age herself up, making her body AND MIND into that of a young adult (the comic makes this very clear). once this happens... hal stops rejecting her. they get together, they kiss. the only person in the group of green latnerns who actually has an issue with it is john (salaakk is meh about it, but he just doesn't like human-esque romance no matter what), and katma even directly encourages their relationship. kilowog ends up crushing on arisia as well, and guy gardner hits on her repeatedly throughout the whole period. eventually, hal and arisia break up, but this legacy (thank so much englehart, for wrtiting this. /sarc) is a big controversy among the comics crowd. "is hal jordan a predator?" personally, and i know a lot of friends/mutuals/other gl fans choose to erase the arisia arc entirely (versus how canon ended up retconning it to be 14 earth years is equal to that of an adult and she didn't really get super ages up, or whatever) and go with the familial relationship between hal and her. that's my preferred version! i know red (@katmaatui) has explored that version as well as an alternate version where the arisia arc did happen, and how it affects arisia in particular, which is really depressing but super interesting. anyway, it's complicated and weird and nuanced, but that whole occurence doesn't mean hal's a bad character or person (cause yk. retcons) and it's certainly not bad to like his character. (definitely ignore any guy gardner fans who try to bitch about this arc. cough cough. guy was ALSO into her and hit on her repeatedly. smfh) most people who bring this up to demonize fans didn't even read the arc, and don't know the nuance or the other weird shit that happens in it. (hal is not a horse, sigh)

OVERALL NOTES!

hal jordan is a super complicated character with an extensive history spanning from the 60s to his worse written appearances in modern age. it's okay to like any version of the character, but it is important to note the changes that have been made, the storylines butchered and lost, and more. he has quite the legacy, and he's particularly interesting as from a moral standpoint. hal's a real sweetie though, when it gets down to it! he's neurodivergent coded (imo at least.. his dad very much gets onto him for being disrtracted, hes kinda shit at social interaction (and then amazing at it the other half of the time) etc etc. "spacecase") and his dad is an abusive asshole, who he desperately doesnt want to be like but thinks he NEEDS to be like!

[theyvolunteered-arch]

@lightsxinthedarkx     x

“Are you trying to charm me, Jordan?” She asked but her blue eyes are bright. “Thank you though. I feel beautiful.”

“ I think that would be pretty obvious Ferris.’ He admired her eyes in particularly before sneaking a look around, “ Can I tempt you to some time alone?’

[dcmultiverse]

Jessica Cruz and Carol Ferris in DC Superhero Girls: Spaced Out #9 (2018)

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Dolls’ Eyes — A Jaws AU

Pairings: established Peggy/Steve, developing Brunnhilde/Carol Rating: T Chapters: 14/14

Summary: Tony Stark snapped his fingers and the vanished half of the universe returned, but Thanos escaped the battlefield, fleeing into space. Now that he’s virtually powerless, most of the Avengers consider chasing him all over the universe a waste of resources, but Peggy Carter—newly deposited in the 21st century—is determined to finish the job. Brunnhilde and Carol Danvers have the same idea.

When scattered rumours of fresh killings escalate to the death of one of their own, the three women team up to defeat Thanos once and for all.

read the prologue

read ch. 1 one / 2 two / 3 three / 4 four / 5 five 6 six / 7 seven / 8 eight / 9 nine / 10 ten 11 eleven / 12 twelve / 13 thirteen / 14 fourteen

After everything, Carol wasn’t surprised that Brunnhilde put up a fight over being told to just rest. Carol reminded her that she was lucky to be alive, to which Brunnhilde responded that it wasn’t anything like luck, and went on to list the incredible, lifesaving properties of her fine armour, explain the enhanced durability provided by her Asgardian biology, and enumerate all of the injuries she’d previously sustained that were apparently worse than being electrocuted half to death, and then nearly drowning while incapacitated. Carol didn’t believe half of it, but it was kinda hot when Brunnhilde bragged.

So, in spite of Carol’s efforts, Brunnhilde kept getting up the second her back was turned in order to haul bodies off of Thanos’s ship. As they started to fix everything Carol had broken (including a patch job of that hole in the roof), a scan of the local environment informed them that almost all of the life on this planet was aquatic. They left the stack of corpses on land. Whatever water critters were around, they didn’t need toxic eyeball goo leeching into their habitat.

Carol caught Brunnhilde shaking out a twitching arm and made her sit to do electronic repairs rather than manual labour. (Carol had that handled anyway, plus, she knew where all the bodies were because she was the one who’d left them there.) Brunnhilde protested that she was the captain. Carol came way too close to saying not of this ship, but stopped herself. Instead, she suggested Brunnhilde do like any other captain would and let her underlings take on the grunt work. That got a smile, if not verbal agreement.

Thankfully, Peggy was a fast learner; Carol explained the basics of what she’d done to wreck something and Peggy quickly understood how to walk back the damage. They worked their way through the ship, staying at neighbouring stations so Carol would be there if Peggy had questions, and Peggy would be there if (when) Carol had messed something up so badly that it needed four hands to fix.

“Maria would’ve been great with this,” she said without thinking, holding up a fistful of wires while Peggy tinkered beneath.

“Maria?”

It was easier to talk about her than it had ever been before. Like with the repairs, she could tell that Peggy understood without Carol having to do much more than gush over how good Maria had been at fixing stuff, how thorough she’d been with the plane she’d kept in the hangar on her property, how reliable, how trustworthy, how patient…

“Yes,” Peggy told her with a smile. “She sounds like she was wonderful.”

“She was.”

But when the two of them had finished their circuit of the ship and Carol went to tell Brunnhilde they were good to go, she wasn’t there. Carol panicked, worried that Brunnhilde had overheard all her praise of Maria and somehow missed the tone of a person who was in the late stages of grief, who had accepted the worst and was keen to keep living, maybe even loving.

When she couldn’t find her on the ship, she jogged down the ramp, intending to look for her outside. The second she turned to face the water, she spotted Brunnhilde coming towards her from the escape vessel. Carol ran out to meet her.

“What’s all this?” she asked in a tone of amusement, because Brunnhilde had her arms full.

“Food, Peggy’s jacket, a couple beers that didn’t get smashed when Thanos rammed us, uh…” She tried to examine the rest of the pile she was carrying, but it teetered and slipped; laughing, Carol scooped a few things out of her arms before they could end up in the shallow water.

“I thought you might’ve taken off on us,” she said lightly.

“I didn’t think you thought I’d be capable of that after getting zapped.”

“I was just…”

Brunnhilde walked close, pressing her arm into Carol’s.

“I know. I would’ve been the same way if it’d been you.”

“I don’t even know if I can get electrocuted,” Carol said.

“I’m not gonna recommend trying it for fun,” Brunnhilde told her. “Anyway, I used all my discs on Thanos and I dropped the remote in the water somewhere… You’d have to go to Thor with your request, ask him to bring the lightning down.”

“Straight to Thor?!” Carol laughed. “That seems a little extreme.”

“Or you could just stand around outside in New Asgard during a storm and wait for it to happen naturally.”

“And why would I need to be in New Asgard specifically?” Carol asked in a teasing voice. “I could get struck by lightning anywhere.”

She watched Brunnhilde flounder but couldn’t get an answer out of her, not on the way to the ship, not while she was distracted with Peggy asking her a slew of health questions, and not while they were trying to figure out how to get this humongous spaceship off the ground with a crew of only three people.

As they made their rocky assent, Carol was too busy to wonder whether Brunnhilde had heard her talking about Maria before she’d left the ship to scavenge from the escape craft. They had just broken through the atmosphere, blue sky giving way to black, when Brunnhilde spoke.

“Love’s like war.”

It was so sudden that Carol snorted a laugh.

“Ok, poet,” she said. She was tempted to devote some time to getting Thanos’s ship to play her music, if only to put on ‘Love Is a Battlefield’ for Brunnhilde. To let her know what had been said on the subject already.

She smirked to herself when Brunnhilde continued, clearly not giving a shit about her interruption or joking criticism.

“It is.”

“What do you mean?” Carol asked more seriously.

Brunnhilde shifted in her seat, engaging different protocols for outer space travel. Carol noticed the tremor had gone from her arm.

“You do better in both because of experience,” Brunnhilde said, looking straight out the viewport. “Anybody who can’t appreciate the benefit of falling for someone who’s been in love before is a fucking idiot.”

“And you’re not a fucking idiot.”

“I hope that isn’t a question.”

Carol smiled and shook her head. They flew in silence for a while.

“When we get back,” she said eventually, peering shyly over at her captain, “I owe someone important to me a visit, but then I’m coming to see you. Just a heads-up.”

“Vaguely threatening.”

“Sorry.”

“No,” Brunnhilde told her, grabbing her forearm to get her full attention, “I liked it.”

Heat raced up Carol’s neck until she was blushing as bright red as her suit, or the dumb acid burn on her arm.

Just then, Peggy’s agitated voice came from the other end of the wide flight deck.

“Someone’s coming right at us!”

Before Carol had the chance to say what the hell? or who? or again?, an incoming message threw a distantly familiar face up in front of them, hovering in the form of a hologram.

“Hey,” Carol greeted. “Small universe.”

—

Peggy had never thought to imagine what Gamora might be like. She’d had an account of Peter Quill’s affection for her from Rocket, but had recognized that a portrayal of the woman that crew had known—the woman Peter had loved enough to forfeit his life in the quest for reunion—couldn’t be fully accurate. At best, the Gamora they described would be one layer removed from the real person. The Gamora they had known and the one whose hologram had just appeared before Peggy, Carol, and Brunnhilde were a handful of years and a thousand experiences apart.

It seemed absurd to Peggy that this woman may wish to harm them, but she really ought to have considered it.

“Was it your distress signal I picked up?” Gamora asked flatly, eyes locked on Carol in the pilot’s seat.

“Umm… yep.”

“And you still require assistance?”

Carol glanced at Brunnhilde, then over to Peggy, who nodded. They certainly had worked wonders, she felt, in getting this massive spaceship off the planet, but who knew how many things could go wrong between here and Earth? Peggy doubted either of her shipmates had told her the half of it. They were simply short-staffed, too few fingers available to plug any metaphorical leaks they might spring on the journey.

“Yes please,” Carol told her.

With a nod, 2014 Gamora went from unknown quantity to ally. Peggy sighed in relief.

The three of them were transported directly from Thanos’s ship to Gamora’s. The process was quite indescribable, Peggy thought. Tingly, quick, with a bit of a lurch as she rematerialized on an entirely different flight deck from the one she’d just left. Had the transfer been instantaneous? Had she, perhaps, ceased to exist for a moment or two? She was full of questions but unsure to whom she should direct them.

Gamora, while welcoming in deed, was somewhat inscrutable when they met her face-to-face. Standoffish. Unsure of herself, Peggy realized. Immediately, she warmed to the woman. She had been in her place herself once, sort of, if not precisely in her intimidating boots. It hadn’t been so long ago that she’d been ferried through time to find the world completely changed. What Gamora needed was a reason to trust them the way they were trusting her.

“I take it you killed my father?” Gamora asked plainly once they were aboard.

Oh dear. It seemed they weren’t off to a very auspicious start.

Brunnhilde stepped in front of Carol, who’d just been opening her mouth to speak, presumably to claim responsibility.

“I was the captain,” she stated. “Thanos was killed on my orders.”

“Uh, no, not explicitly,” Carol argued.

“Anyway,” Peggy piped up, “I’m the one who shot him in the head.”

“And he was only vulnerable to that because I electrocuted him to within an inch of his despicable life and his helmet fell off,” Brunnhilde countered.

“On a planet I flew us to,” Carol reminded them.

“We’ll be sharing the blame,” Peggy informed Gamora on behalf of her crewmates.

Gamora cocked her head consideringly.

“And if it’s approval?” To their universal silence, she explained, “I know what he was capable of in my time, and I saw enough of Earth to get a general idea of what he was set to accomplish if he wasn’t stopped.”

“Were you out here hunting him too?” Peggy took a step towards her.

Directing her gaze away from them, Gamora blinked rapidly, looking momentarily confused and upset. In the next second, she’d hidden any outward hint of those feelings.

“I should’ve been,” she said, “but I’ve never been able to stand up to him like I should have. After I left your planet… for a while, I wasn’t looking for him. But I began to see signs. And then Peter Quill came.”

“Peter!” Carol said. “You saw him? Did you talk to him? Rocket never said—”

“No. I just watched. I followed him for a while. I knew he was looking for me. He was so… loud.” Gamora made a face. “Leaving word for me everywhere, telling traders and transports that he was my boyfriend. He was an idiot, but an entertaining idiot… I barely noticed that I’d stopped keeping track of Thanos until he just showed up…

“I was a coward,” Gamora went on. “I saw my father intercept Peter’s ship and I knew what would probably happen, but I couldn’t put myself between the two of them. Was I supposed to stand up for this guy when I’d never been able to stand up for myself? I was raised to be cruel, to think of myself, that attachments formed to accomplish anything but the acquisition of power make you weak. I know Thanos killed Peter. It’s my fault he’s dead.”

Peggy stood in front of her, refraining from placing a reassuring hand on Gamora’s shoulder when she gave her cagey eyes.

“It’s not,” Peggy told her firmly.

“I only heard your distress signal because I heard Peter’s first,” Gamora said. “I went onboard after my father had left; it was days before I could force myself to do it, maybe longer. I used his communications system to speak to his crewmates on Earth.”

“You must’ve just missed us leaving,” Brunnhilde said.

“That’s what he told me. He said three more morons had left the planet, on their way to hunt down Thanos.”

“And you’ve helped us,” Peggy said, tone insistent. “If you do feel any responsibility for what happened to Peter, then surely you should also believe that you’ve redeemed yourself by saving our backsides.”

Gamora’s eyes squinted as though she were in pain.

“I owed him more than this and I hate it,” she said, jaw clenched. “He was no one to me. He knew someone I’m never going to become.”

“Shhh. I know,” Peggy said soothingly.

“I don’t see how that’s possible. Have you ever had someone tell you they love you when it feels like it’s impossible that they even know you? That whoever they loved had to be a different person from who you are?”

Peggy’s shoulders fell. She could feel the bittersweet smile on her face.

“Actually, yes.”

Gamora appeared surprised to have been brought up short in such a manner.

“Do you have any advice?” Peggy urged softly.

For a minute, Gamora was quiet, staring hard at the wall. Peggy could feel that the others had backed away, giving them time and space when Gamora’s stream of information had been diverted by the confusing grief she was obviously experiencing.

“Whatever lengths he goes to because he thinks you’re better than you are…” Gamora finally said, turning her head to look Peggy in the eye. “Try to be worth it.”

“Got it.”

Peggy folded her hands together, pressing her right palm to her wedding ring.

—

They were about to get underway, their new crew of four on a significantly smaller, though sleeker, ship. (Brunnhilde didn’t mourn for the one they’d left in the shallows; it had served them well, first the Asgardians and now the team responsible for the death of Thanos.) However, staring out the viewport from the seat in which she’d been installed as the effective second-in-command, Brunnhilde didn’t feel right. The sight of Thanos’s ship just hanging there in space unnerved her. It would be better if no trace of the Titan remained.

“Let’s blast it,” she suggested to the deck at large.

“Thanos’s spaceship?” Peggy checked.

“Yes.”

“Well,” Carol said, “we aren’t near anything. There’s nothing for the debris to hit…”

Brunnhilde smiled slightly and looked to the captain.

“Gamora? Do you have any weapons on this ship that could do the job?”

“There is one thing I’ve been saving for a special occasion,” Gamora said, gaze fixed on Thanos’s ship. “First, we’re going to need to get clear.”

She piloted them away—away from the planet, away from the ship. Part of Brunnhilde wanted to request the honour of launching the torpedo Gamora was setting the coordinates for, locking it onto her late father’s final vessel, but she was already satisfied with the role she’d played. Let Gamora take this final, symbolic step. It was like Thor’s hideous couch; Brunnhilde had helped him lug the thing into the open air, but permitted him to drop the match (once she’d soaked the cushions in lighter fluid, just in case it wasn’t sufficiently saturated in spilled beer). She would content herself with watching it go up in flames.

And it did. It was an impressive explosion, scattering wreckage in a wide perimeter Gamora had kept them outside of. They were briefly silent as jagged hunks of metal twisted in the void.

“That’s one way to get the stink of dead bodies out,” Carol noted, and Brunnhilde turned to her, shoulders shaking with laughter Carol quickly joined in on.

They flew for some time, and it was good just to relax, to stretch in her seat and tilt her head from side to side so that her neck cracked horrendously and Peggy said things like “good lord!” while Carol laughed her ass off. Brunnhilde remained alert though. She couldn’t help it. In the old days, with the Valkyrie, there’d been a certain relief when the battle in which they’d been engaged was done, but they’d only known true rest once they’d returned to Asgard. Home. The last time she’d been on a ship bound for Earth, the atmosphere had been one of intense grief, muffled weeping in the corridors. They’d known Earth as Midgard and had little admiration for its country of Norway, chilly with fog and swathed in the bleak colours that reflected their inner emptiness. Nothing they loved was there—not their people, not their gleaming towers and soaring statues. How could it ever possibly feel like coming home?

Brunnhilde had honestly believed she’d lost her ability to experience that feeling, that, without her sisters-in-arms, the sensation was lost to her. Yet, despite the tension she still carried from the fight, she felt it easing. She felt herself longing for home, her little house at the water’s edge. For the chance to return to her people as their king and announce a great evil defeated. Maybe this tension was only anticipation after all.

In contrast to the fruits of her own contemplation and revelation, Gamora’s private thoughts had left her expression mournful and roving. Brunnhilde exited the deck to relieve herself and find something to eat in Gamora’s stores, and when she returned, she addressed her.

“You’re not taking us all the way to Earth, are you?”

Gamora flicked her gaze sideways to assess her. Brunnhilde knew there was no judgement to be found in her face, so she stared back calmly.

“I’m taking you to Quill’s ship. Thanos, in his infinite arrogance, didn’t damage it. Maybe he thought he might like to return to it some time and claim it as part of his fleet. It’s a tribute to how much I continue to feel my father’s influence that I planned to do the same. Not build a fleet, but go back. There’s something about that ship… I find it comforting.”

Brunnhilde frowned thoughtfully.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take it and leave this one for us?”

“No. What I felt when I was onboard, examining it and… and removing Quill’s body for space burial… that was just a feeling of, I don’t know, another life. There’s a group on Earth for whom that ship means something. And it’s the only thing they have of him. I couldn’t keep it.”

“One of those people is your sister,” Brunnhilde said carefully.

“Yes.”

“I tried to talk to her, but she doesn’t like me very much. I don’t blame her,” she added as Gamora gave her a wary look. “She was upset.”

“Nebula is at her most dangerous when upset, and she’s always upset, so she’s always dangerous.”

“She was upset about Peter’s death. But I think also because, without him, no one was out here looking for you.”

Gamora stiffened.

“If she really wants to find me, she can come look for me herself. I’ll be ready.”

“She doesn’t want to fight you,” Brunnhilde said. “She misses you. I think. It’s really none of my business.”

“Why would you wish to get involved in our family affairs?” Gamora’s voice was more curious than accusing. “Besides murdering our father, of course.”

Brunnhilde sighed before answering.

“I’ve lost many people I cared about. I don’t have a family anymore.” She glanced over to see Carol and Peggy bent over a screen together, Carol’s sudden snort infecting Peggy until they were both laughing. “I mean,” Brunnhilde corrected herself, “I didn’t.”

When they arrived at the Benatar and Gamora transported Carol and Peggy off her ship, Brunnhilde motioned for Gamora to hold off a moment on removing her.

“If we don’t meet again,” she said, sticking out her arm for Gamora to grasp.

Gamora gripped her tightly and nodded.

“I think we might though. I thought about it and realized it’s easier for me to find Nebula than for her to find me.”

“I may have left you her coordinates.” Brunnhilde released Gamora’s arm. “Enjoy Missouri.”

She joined Peggy and Carol on the Benatar, pausing to bend over Carol’s seat to surprise her with a deep kiss before she took up her own position. She brushed stray strands of hair back out of Carol’s dancing eyes.

“I’m going to have to redo your braid,” Brunnhilde told her.

“Oh, we’ll have time. We’ve got quite a road trip ahead of us. Luckily… Peter left us his tunes.” Beaming, she started up a song with a bright beat.

Brunnhilde smiled and went to her seat, fastening herself in as Carol readied the vessel for launch.

“You know,” Peggy said thoughtfully, slinging her jacket over the back of her chosen seat, “before all of this, I was actually quite afraid of outer space.”

Carol laughed.

“I can’t imagine why.”

[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 29

AO3 link here

They had planned to spend Christmas up in Brooklyn, but two weeks beforehand, Bucky calls and ruefully announces that the chickenpox have gotten ahold of his kids. Steve knows that there’s nothing to be done - Steve has had them, obviously, as has Peggy, but they’re the only Carters who have that they know of, and it’s particularly important that Drea not get sick - but he still lets himself groan along with the kids when he tells them at dinner that night.

“You know,” Peggy says, brushing out her hair in front of her vanity that night, once she’s gotten home from her late meeting, “Howard mentioned that he’s giving Jarvis the week off - his first vacation in years.”

“Where are they going?” Steve asks, sitting on the edge of the bed to strip off one sock and then the other.

“He promised Ana that he would take her to some exciting ski resort.” Steve snorts, and Peggy smiles at him in the mirror and adds, “Well, I’m certain that for Mr. Jarvis, it will be closer to an exciting book in front of a fireplace. Perhaps an extreme cup of tea if he’s feeling adventurous. But regardless, it means that Howard and Maria are alone for the holiday as well. We might ask if they would like for us to host them.”

Steve calls Maria the next day and asks if the Starks would join them for the holiday.

“Oh, you know how it is with the baby,” Maria says. “I don’t know how well he would put up with the trip. Why don’t you come here? I can take care of everything.”

He tries to imagine her doing all that cooking with Tony on her hip or whining from his seat - he has no confidence at all in Howard’s helpfulness - and tries tactfully suggesting that the Stark home could be the site of the festivities with all the preparations left up to him. But Maria’s hostess sensibilities simply cannot allow for a guest to take care of things that way…

It takes a bit more wrestling back and forth before they agree that they will all travel to the Stark’s home in Maine, and Steve and Maria will do the cooking together.

(“Now we’ll both be a little inconvenienced and probably step on each other’s toes, but I guess it’s a compromise,” Steve tells Peggy the next morning.)

Christmas Day is on a Tuesday this year, and the Carters leave on Saturday afternoon, sleeping over for the night in Connecticut and pulling up to the house just before noon on Sunday. The kids know the routine and join their parents in unpacking the car; several trips ferrying suitcases and the boxes of supplies that Steve had brought, and they’re done and ringing the doorbell.

Howard and Maria step out onto the porch, Tony forced to hold one of each of their hands because of the wind and the icy steps (he keeps straining away from them and pouting when he can’t seem to best their strength). There is a flurry of greetings before the kids slip through the doorway to choose bedrooms and set up games, somehow stealing Tony from under his parents’ noses and swooping him inside with them as well.

(Steve has the feeling that Em is going to regret thinking he is going to be a discreet and amenable accessory.)

There are plenty of trees on the property, and Howard, who had offered to pay someone to cut one down, leaves his wife behind serving drinks to Peggy and reluctantly bundles up and shows Steve to the caretaker’s shed where they find a saw and round tape measure. That evening, they all have hot chocolate while trimming the tree with a combination of decorations brought from the Carters’ home and the Starks’. If Howard is proprietary about the tree, primping its branches, making sure the ornaments are properly balanced so it can look its best, commenting every so often about how he’d spotted it behind a larger, showier one and knew it was the perfect candidate, Steve only lifts an amused eyebrow to Peggy and says nothing.

Later, he is in the kitchen, taking advantage of Maria having gone to take Tony to bed by putting away the supper leftovers that she had told him she would take care of. In the hall, the phone rings. The kids have the TV up, watching Mary Tyler Moore, and he barely registers it until his wife joins him in the kitchen. Without a word, she begins covering dishes, arranging the refrigerator, judging whether the last dinner roll is worth saving on its own.

“Who was that calling?” Steve asks after several minutes of quiet. There’s an edge to this particular silence of hers, a feeling of suspended breath.

Peggy stands with the refrigerator door open, scanning over the shelves. “Mrs. Truman,” she says finally, closing the door. “Her husband wants to see Howard and myself.”

“He doesn’t have long?” Steve leans against the counter. The newspapers and broadcasters have been reporting each turn of President Truman’s declining health over the past weeks.

“He was apparently barely awake long enough to ask for us. I expect—” Her mouth pulls inward. "I expect he will try to request our reassurance about the bomb again.” Peggy’s tone does not speak to any futility she might see in obeying such a summons, especially at this particular time, when the man in question might not be aware enough to receive them, might not even be alive when they arrive. It is as if she is already preparing herself for the visit, even here with him, setting on a mask. But then she steps toward him, taking advantage of his open arms and pressing herself against his chest. “I’ll tell the children,” she says, muffled against his neck as he moves automatically to hold her. “I know they’ll be disappointed.”“We’ll do it together.”

Their kids are old enough to handle their mother potentially missing Christmas with a decent amount of grace - even Nate is thirteen, though he would likely have accepted the news with equanimity even before - and Tony is too young to really understand what is happening and too accustomed to his father’s travel besides. Still, there is an air of slightly forced cheer replacing the natural cousin of past holidays. As dusk falls on Christmas Eve, Emma bakes several trays of gingerbread cookies, the scent filling the house warmly. Rosie lights the fireplace and suggests/pressures them into singing carols; Maria has a lovely voice and somehow manages to hit some fairly impressive notes even as she must redirect a scrabbling Tony away from the flames. Steve grins at her, one parent to another.

He had revived his old skill and crocheted the stockings for each of his children, along with ones for himself and Peggy, and though he’s offered to make new ones over the years, the most they have ever agreed to is repairs as necessary. The last thing they do before the kids head to bed is hang them over the now-cooling fireplace. The Stark stockings are far more elaborate than his simple ones, but he feels a little sad seeing Maria hanging them herself, Tony having exhausted himself several hours ago.

She sits looking at them with an afghan draped over her lap, head tipped gently to one side, while he mixes a martini and gets her one of Emma’s cookies. (He would have poured some eggnog, but he doesn’t know her feelings on it.)

“Are you alright?” he asks softly once he’s settled on the couch next to her. This might be the first time they have been alone together. He likes Maria and considers her a friend, but they have rarely had occasion to talk just the two of them, without Howard or Peggy or both. He isn’t even sure that he’s correctly reading the sadness in her expression.

She breaks off a piece of gingerbread (the point of a star: Steve didn’t bring cookie cutters, so Em did the best she could with a knife; it’s resulted in some slightly lopsided but tasty shapes) and bites into it.

After a moment, she says slowly, “I know that marriage is hard, every marriage is in its own way. But sometimes being married to Howard...It’s different, and lonelier than I thought it would be.” She breaks off another point, but sits looking at it rather than eating it. “Sometimes I don’t know what he was imagining in a wife, and I don’t know that he does either. It’s hard to build a family, a life, a home, all the traditions that come with it, when it seems you’re doing it by yourself. Not that Jarvis and Ana aren’t darling, the most wonderful, and I’m so grateful for them but—I married Howard, not the Jarvises, and he’s so busy all of the time, rarely shares his work with me. I know what he does is important, but it would be—I would—I wish things would just stop, so I could have my husband for a while. I wish he would make the time, even when things haven’t stopped.”

Setting the cookie down, she meets Steve’s eye and takes a hasty sip of her drink. “You and Peggy must have had some of the same problems, though. I know that she’s different from Howard, but the things she can’t tell you, the times when she works late or has to travel and leave you alone with the kids…”

“It is hard,” he says gently, and she lets out a breath of relief, as if she feared he would say that he’s never been bothered, it’s only her. “It’s hard knowing that something urgent can call her away when the kids need her - and maybe it’s selfish, but sometimes I need her too and she can’t be there. It’s hard being the one at home, knowing that the work can be dangerous, feeling as if no story about a dry-cleaning mixup or a good sale on cereal can match up with what she deals with every day. Going back to school, finding friends and hobbies of my own, that’s helped. We’ve also been at this a long time. We’ve learned to talk about the way we feel and, as much as we can, about the work. Sometimes there isn’t anything she’s able to say, and all I can do is make her a cup of tea or settle an argument between the kids so she doesn’t have to do it. But she always knows that I’m there to listen if she needs it.”

Maria nods, looking down at the blanket on her lap. She picks a little at the stitching before seeming to catch herself and smooth it back. “You’re right,” she says, a little overly bright. “I’m glad I’m not the only one. And it’s probably different because Peggy is Peggy and not Howard, and she’s not married to me, she’s married to Captain America.”

Steve’s instinct is, strangely, to freeze, as if he might sit still enough to rewind time. When he gathers himself, seconds that feel like an eternity later, he says, very carefully, “I hadn’t realized that Howard told you.”

“Told me?” She finally pops the little piece of gingerbread into her mouth, chewing a little puzzledly. “Oh, that you’re Captain America? Well, Howard didn’t need to tell me that. I knew that he did a lot of top-secret work during the war, it’s what brought him to SHIELD now, and you knew him and Peggy from back then. The two of them never call you Grant, only Steve, just like Bucky and his family, and that crew who attended our wedding - the Howling Commandos, even if no one introduced them that way. I didn’t realize it was meant to be a real secret.”

“You’re a smart woman,” is all Steve can manage, torn between the urge to review the last twenty years for any others who might have caught on, and the urge to laugh because despite the apparently shoddy cover story and his proximity to the US intelligence apparatus, Maria is probably the only one who ever has.

“I know I am,” she says simply. From what Steve’s been told over the past few years, she had graduated top of her high school class and gone right out to work - perfume counter jobs, secretarial work, bank teller. The academic scholarships she’d earned, in and out of state, hadn’t made a difference when there were still room and board and fees to be covered, and parents and three younger siblings to support besides. “But apparently not smart enough for my husband to want to share much of anything with me, even the identity of one of his best friends, who happens to be my son’s godfather.”

He’s still a little overwhelmed by the idea that she even knows who she is - that she has for nearly this whole time, that she just figured it out on her own and it didn’t seem to matter to her - but he knows that it’s less important right now. He rests his hand atop hers. “It has nothing to do with how smart you are, or how trustworthy. With this, and of his work, Howard—He’s my friend, and I know that he loves you, but I also know how he gets caught up in things. Doesn’t always remember the value of what he has, and it shouldn’t have to be your job to constantly remind him. So if you put your foot down, if you put in the effort, and he doesn’t really change, I hope you know that whatever decision you make for yourself, and for Tony, I’ll support you. And I think I can speak for Peggy when I say she’ll support you too.” He smiles. “If anyone can sympathize with having to deal with Howard….” She smiles back, though it is bent at the corners.

“I think,” she tells him, “that nearly anyone else would have said that there was no decision to make, that it was simply my lot to stand by him, for our child or whatever status our marriage grants me, or because that is a wife’s duty. Even with all the change in the last decade, all the lectures I’ve gone to, the legislation I supported, the women who I know do things differently, it sometimes seems as if that’s only for other people - stronger women, or more exceptional ones.”

“I’d say that you’re a strong woman, and an exceptional one,” Steve says in return. “But you shouldn’t need to be. All the changes being made are important, of course they are, they’re necessary, but you don’t need to think about it as setting an example or being an inspiration for others. You can just be a person making the right choice for herself.”

She takes down the last of her drink, the remains of the ice chips tinkling in the bottom of the glass as she gestures to the mantle. “Good advice, handy with a needle - those stockings you made are darling, I saw how much the children adore them - and you say you cook too,” she jokes. “Peggy’s lucky to have you.”

And although he knows that she’s trying to change the tone of things, he shakes his head. “I’m luckier to have her. And you deserve to have the same, whether it’s Howard or someone else or no one.” She looks past him and her breath catches, but finally she meets his eyes and nods.

“And I don’t say I cook, I’ve proved it more than once,” he says, teasing now, allowing things to move forward. “But we might want to head to bed ourselves if we want to be awake enough to pull off the menu for tomorrow.”

They tidy up a bit, making sure the fire has entirely burned itself out before they walk down the hall together. As Steve goes to turn the knob on the guest bedroom where he and Peggy are staying, Maria puts a hand on his wrist to stop him.

“It’s hard finding someone who understands,” she says, coming up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Steve, for listening.”

How strange to hear her say his name. It’s been such a long time since someone new called him by it. He smiles. “Any time. Really.”

The next morning, as the kids are unwrapping presents and Tony is collecting the wrapping paper to hoard, Maria looks to see what’s been added to her stocking in the night. Along with a small box of chocolates, there are three crocheted stockings, a little hastily made and clearly with some yarn remainders patched in where certain colors have run out, but in corresponding plaids with names stitched at the top. The note inside reads, Always time to start new traditions if you want to.

Steve is bent over the open oven with a meat thermometer, listening with one ear to Tony who is ignoring his new Fisher-Price farm set and play telephone in favor of crumpling, uncrumpling, and tearing up his wrapping paper stash, when he hears footsteps entering the kitchen behind him; probably Maria coming back from showing the kids where the plates are.

“Do you want to take care of dessert, or getting the Brussels sprouts ready to roast?” he asks.

“I hope you didn’t think I’d learned to bake in just a day.”

He closes the oven and puts the thermometer on the counter before turning to see his wife standing, arms crossed, in the doorway.

“Hey,” he says, the smile coming to his face without thought at all. His chest is filled suddenly with a tenderness. He hadn’t even fully realized how much he missed her until he has her back here with him.

She steps forward and he does the same, meeting her in the middle of the kitchen tile. Her kiss is brief and sweet, so sweet, against his mouth.

“Do you want to talk?” he asks softly, knowing without having to be told that she’s come back troubled, and her head barely considers a nod. “Well, I have a lot to tell you,” he murmurs into her hair, and she steps back to look at him, seeing something in his face that makes her nod and put a hand to his cheek.

“Later tonight, we’ll talk,” she says, as good as a promise. And he feels lucky, so lucky, not just at everyone together for the holiday, the warm smells of food around them, his family laughing in the next room, but because he is able to have this woman by his side, all of their yesterdays and today and the tomorrows too. He turns his head just so, and touches a kiss to her palm, and hears her breath catch for just that second.

“I’ll—I’ll cut the sprouts, shall I?” she says, indicating the knife and cutting board on the counter. He nods, pressing one last kiss to her hair before she moves to rinse her hands and roll up her sleeves. “What exactly are you looking at?” she asks, concentrating on the vegetables, when he still hasn’t moved a minute later, still watching her.

“Merry Christmas, Peg,” is all he says. She smiles over at him before saying mock severely, “Not if there isn’t cake, it won’t be,” and he laughs and goes to gather ingredients. He’ll make her favorite, but he knows that it will be a good day either way. With their kids all safe and healthy and her back with them again, it already is.

More chapters here

[sararaiden]

DC moodboards ( c ): Carol Ferris﹙Sᴛᴀʀ Sᴀᴘᴘʜɪʀᴇ ₂₈₁₄﹚

Love is beautiful. Love is inspiring. But love is also lethal.

[galahadwilder]

For Hearts Long Lost and Full of Fright, Ch. 1: Highball

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Hearts Long Lost Archive

AO3

*

It’s peaceful up here, he thinks. This high. Just him, alone in the cockpit, the rumble of the engine and the vast blue sky. If he could, he’d ride this wave forever.

”Dammit, Highball, eject!”

Well, there is the fact that when he looks up he sees ground. That’s not supposed to happen.

”Hal! Bail the fuck out!”

”I’ve got this, Carol,” he snaps, yanking on the stick, trying to correct the roll. The plane yaws the wrong way. “Crap!”

”I feel like ‘got this’ means something different in Hal,” Tom interjects.

”Yeah, no shit,” Carol says. “Eject, dammit!”

”I am busy...” Hal yells through gritted teeth, “...saving...” He yanks the stick the other way. The plane spins wildly. “...your plane!”

”I’d rather not lose a pilot!” Carol yells. “Where’s your damn ring?”

”Uh, Ms. Ferris?” Tom says. Hal knows he’s probably holding it up to her. She’s right, he’s been wearing it too much lately, but now was probably a stupid time to start listening to her. Too late now.

“Shit.” Carol sighs over the intercom. “Okay, hold onto your ass.”

The air outside the cockpit turns bright pink.

In the control room, Carol massages her temples. "Okay," she says. "Okay okay okay."

*

Tom is still holding onto Hal's ring—what the hell was that idiot flyboy thinking, leaving it on the ground?—but everything is under control now. She's caught the plane in a crystal construct, and it's going to the ground at a more reasonable pace. She leaves the plane upside-down though. Let the jackass sweat for a bit.

She focuses on splitting her attention the way Aga'po taught her, making sure not to drop her pilot. "Ring," she says, holding up her hand. "Scan the plane for any structural or mechanical abnormalities."

[Scan complete,] the ring responds. [Hydraulics failed.]

She sighs. "Mr. Kalmaku."

Tom immediately snaps to attention. "Yes, Ms. Ferris?"

"Who did the work on the plane's hydraulics?"

Tom swallows. "Jackson, ma'am."

"Right." She clenches her fist. "Jackson's on probation, as of now." She leans forward, pressing the intercom button. “Captain Pearlman.”

Jillian’s voice comes clean over the intercom; Carol threaded Kryptonian data tech throughout the facility months ago to make sure the emergency crews were never out of contact, which came with a side benefit of crystal clear audio. “What’s up, C?”

”I need a favor,” Carol says. “Can you head down to the hangar and slap Hal for me?”

Jillian giggles. “With pleasure,” she says, and then the intercom cuts off.

Carol collapsed back into her chair. “I think,” she says, “that’s enough excitement for today.”

”The hydraulics snapped, Hal,” she says, projecting the ring scan in violet-pink directly in front of his face. “Landing that plane wasn’t possible, even for you.”

”It worked out, didn’t it?” Hal says, unzipping his flight suit. He has a fresh red mark on his face from where Jillian slapped him.

”Only because one of us thought to wear their goddamn ring today,” she says. “You’re lucky I even had it on me.” She steps toward him, jabs him in the chest. “You’re not Laminsky, dammit! I put you in the prototypes because I know that no matter what goes wrong, you have an out!”

”I’m fine, Carol!” he snaps. He’s not looking at her.

She crosses her arms. “Uh huh,” she says. “How many times have you died?”

He stares at the floor. “...Four.”

”Right.” She purses her lips. “You’re benched until further notice.”

He glances up at her as if to protest—but her ring cuts him off.

[Warning. Will detec—Love dete—Will detected.]

She turns to the window just in time to see a young woman in green plow headfirst into the tarmac at 180 miles per hour.

*

Hearts Long Lost Archive

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[snikt111]

i can be normal about halcarol

[snikt111]

welcome to the xmen. hope you survive the experience! (or dont.)

m ✨ he/no prns+ 🦦 yt + ndn 🕯️ a dult

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[dcmultiverse]

You have been chosen, Carol Ferris of Earth. You will be the queen. Queen of earth.

Carol Ferris by Daniel Acuña in GREEN LANTERN (2005)

[dcmultiverse]

Carol Ferris in GREEN LANTERN: NEW GUARDIANS Annual #1 (2013)

[platypanthewriter]

Stories of the past:  Billy

The Keg-King of Elfland’s Sword, Ch. 8 for @ihni​

Here are links to the other chapters

As they approached the docks, they could see flashes lighting the night sky up dark blue from across the lake, showing the the legs of an enormous spider crab overarching the lake, silvery in the ferry lanterns, but black against the sky. The gleaming light shone off the flank of Wheeler’s white deer, tiny against the backdrop of waves, mountain, and lightning.

“The Lady of the Salt Lake,” said one of the boys, pointing, and Max stared. “She rides it, when she fights against the Nuckelavee.”

“Now she rides against us,” said the little one, Will Byers, the one who ought to sound angrier, Billy thought, after escaping with a body full of crustaceans.

“She can try,” said Max, readying her sword.

“They’ve been herding us here,” said the curly one, with the club. “Because we’re children. Makes it easier to find her, at least.”

Harrington snorted, and held a hand out for his club.

“I can stop her,” said the little girl—Ellie, Billy remembered, the one who’d been held captive by the men with cannons. The spindly-legged crabs spilled over the stones at the river’s edge as they ran, and Ellie turned, set her feet, and whipped her hand through the air at them. The crabs scattered like a glittering pile of mica in wind, and Billy’s mouth fell open. He nearly tripped, then registered Harrington’s voice in his ear.

“She may be one of the Fair Folk herself,” Harrington whispered. “That’s—that would be why she believes she is the child. The one the Lady seeks.” She’d escaped, somehow, and Billy abruptly wondered whether it hadn’t been the Nuckelavee, but her, causing the skeletons. He would have been tempted to ask, if the children, even Max, hadn’t been sending him glances like he was some storybook bogeyman: He Who Strikes From Behind.

“You can’t go with her,” one of the assorted boys took Ellie’s hands. “She can’t make you leave—”

Billy, who was trying to place him, thought he might have been at the Ball. There were too damn many children, as far as he was concerned, though he was fairly certain this was neither the one who puked crabs, nor one of the two who had held weapons on him, so if he needed to save any, he decided, he’d be the first after Max. Ellie, apparently, could handle herself.

“I’m the one she stole,” said the one Billy believed to be a fellow William, the crab-puker. “It’s me she wants, Ellie, you don’t have to—”

“What would she want with any of you,” Steve groaned, and Billy resisted the urge to nod.

“The Fair Folk like children,” said the one with Billy’s sword. “She’s not hunting one of us. She hasn’t given Callie back. She’s herding us all here—”

“We do not— we don’t all steal people—” said the hitherto Least Objectionable Child, and Billy raised his eyebrows, wondering who he was.

“She’s never taken children before, either—” Curly said, and Ellie spun on her heel to yell “I will stop her.”

Harrington set his jaw, swallowing. “They were coming anyway,” he told Billy, under his breath. “I—I couldn’t let the little goblins come alone.”

“Of course you couldn’t,” Billy whispered back, with a snort, and yanked Harrington’s head closer to kiss his temple. “Hero Harrington. Max can be hard to—”

Harrington rolled his eyes. “I’m not trying to be a hero—”

“You aren’t,” Billy pulled him close again, licking his ear, and Harrington shoved him, laughing. “That’s why I—want you. Wanted you. When I heard about you, at the Ball.”

“...I thought it was my looks,” Harrington said, snickering, and the children stopped to glare back at them, white-faced, tight-jawed, and teary-eyed.

“I thought you two hated each other!” wailed Curls, and Max swiveled to fix her fury on him.

“Billy’s staying,” she hissed, and Harrington yanked Billy close, pressing warm kisses to his face.

“You intended to stay,” he whispered, laughing. “Even—even—after. Before.”

Billy hadn’t, and yet, he couldn’t imagine himself having left without fixing like a post under Harrington’s chamber window, standing in wind and weather until Harrington let him speak. “I could hardly leave without you hogtied over my saddle,” he whispered back, and Harrington burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the silvery night.

At just that moment, there was another crash ahead, and a scream. Little Will-of-the-crabs shoved away, running to the docks, and the others followed, their footsteps smacking loud against the paving stones over the sounds of the rushing river. Billy stopped, squinting, when his footsteps changed to hollow thuds on boards, but Harrington drug him forward across the dock, to where they could see Ms. Byers, Will, and Ellie trying to keep the Sheriff from sinking in the roiling foam. In the darkness, the dock looked too short, and Billy realized it was broken, the jagged edges breaking away as Ms. Byers tilted forward with another scream, and Max charged in, throwing her sword to the side.

Billy dodged back as Wheeler’s white stag clattered up, joined by Buckley and the others, and the children gathered around trying to help everyone out of the water as the ferry jutted up sideways and slammed into the docks hard enough that the horses staggered and reared.

Thomas fired off a crossbow bolt at the dark shapes above, then fell as the great silvery tree trunk of the Lady’s steed-crab’s leg came down on the docks, amid shrieks from the children. Billy nearly fell to his knees, supporting Harrington.

“I am here, children,” said the Lady, and the silvery light around them grew. It was bluish, and the small hairs on the backs of Billy’s arms and neck lifted. “This town that harms children will be washed clean. Come.”

“No,” cried one of the boys, and Billy wished him luck. “You’re the only one hurting anyone! Give Callie back! And my sister’s friend, Barbara Holland!”

Harrington hauled him closer, as Billy tried to find Max. Buckley was standing next to Wheeler, with another crossbow, and Carol alongside, the three of them placing themselves between the Lady and the panicked confusion over the disintegrating dock. It looked like everyone was out of the water, crawling away from the building waves.

“These people have frightened children,” the Lady told them, her hair lifting and crackling from her head. “They have stolen from me. Ellie,” she held out a hand. “Dear one. I saved you. Why did you run?”

Ellie shook her head, sniffling.

“She wanted to be with her real mom,” the boy holding Ellie’s hand yelled back.

“I will wash this place down to its stones,” the Lady told him. “I have fought for them. Every spring, for their sakes, I have fought the Nuckelavee back into its lair. I have—I have suffered for them. We—” she held a long, pale hand out to Wheeler, who shook her head, raising her crossbow. “We of the mountain have protected their fragile lives, and in return they captured a child—” she waved a graceful hand at Ellie, “—and threatened her into breaking a hole between worlds. Much sadness will come of that,” she whispered, staring over them all with fixed eyes that shone with their own inner light. “Many of their lives will be further shortened. Animals, running in fear. But come, it needn’t all be grief. Come, children. You shall be harmed no more.”

“No!” Ellie yelled back, trying to stand as the roiling sea shook the dock.

“Wait,” Thomas shouted suddenly. “What did we steal?”

“Shut your mouth, Tommy,” Billy heard Carol hiss, but he ignored her.

“No, really, we didn’t blow up her house, but I know what she means—but what exactly did we steal?”

“Me,” said Ellie, and Will nodded.

“Ellie left her, and then came with us,” Thomas yelled. “What did we steal?”

“My own child,” the Lady hissed, swiping her hand around her, and the deep, chill water pulled back to leave a sphere of crackling air around the docks, leaving only glistening rocks, mud, and gasping fish. The darkness was split by surges of light from the Lady, dazzling their eyes and reflecting off the wall of ocean growing taller than they could see.

“What did those letters say, Steven Harrington,” Thomas turned, holding his hands around his mouth to project his voice. It quavered. “Madness in his blood. Witchcraft, from a woman who thought she was a fae princess. He’s looking for his mother.”

“Shut your mouth, Thomas,” Carol yelled, raising her sword, and he bared his teeth at her.

“It’s important,” Thomas yelled, “Young Master Harrington. He’s lied about everything. He’s brought her on this town. Give him back to her.”

Billy felt as though he’d gone numb, his brain trying to take in the phosphorescent shape of a floating woman, and the towering cliff face of water, lifting over Hawkins.

“...Billy,” Steve whispered, clenching his hand on Billy’s shoulder.

“No,” Billy shook his head. “No. I can’t—Harrington—”

“What nonsense to you speak,” the Lady asked, with a snap in her voice they could taste. “The people of this place will hurt no more children—”

“When I was a child, a wave took the lower town,” Harrington whispered, staring at Billy. “When we were children. Billy, how old are you? When did your father move to Australia?”

Billy shook his head, swallowing. “No! I—I’m two and twenty—I was six, but—”

“She’s here because of you,” Harrington said, and Billy flinched, shaking his head. Harrington ran his hands through his hair, taking deep breaths. “She—she called the ocean, and sixteen years ago, she took the lower town. Because her lover took her child... very, very far away. She couldn’t find him—”

Billy shook his head, swallowing. He could hear Max yelling something, obscured by the rushing in his ears. “No. She—she tried to drown me, she—”

“She doesn’t understand humans,” Harrington stared into his face. “She thought she was helping Ellie. She’s the Mother of the Sea, Billy, she thought you’d be able to breathe water.”

“No,” Billy shook his head harder, feeling Harrington pull away as he stood. “No, Harrington, I can’t—”

Thomas hailed the Lady. “This is him. Your child,” he waved a hand. “He came back looking for you.”

“...no,” said the Lady, stepping off the crab to land in the middle of the ferry with a loud crunch of wood. She jerked her foot back out of the broken decking, and walked across the water and collapsing wreckage to stare into Billy’s face. “You are not he,” she said, and his eyes burned, as though, he thought, he’d wanted, just for a moment, to be claimed. He staggered forward at a grating blow to the back and sides of his neck, and she stepped back, a gleaming trail dangling from her hand in the uneven light, the chain of Billy’s necklace broken from his neck. “Yet you have my gift.”

“No,” Billy forced his voice through his raw throat. “No, the-that’s mine—”

“You are not my child, you are another thief,” she said, energy crackling around them, and Billy shook his head, unable to find his words. In the dazzle, he felt hands on his arm, and heard Harrington’s urgent voice.

“It’s the necklace you gave him! It’s been twenty years! Babies grow!”

“...that is so.” The crackling light dimmed, and Billy could see again, a little. His throat ached. “But it cannot have been so long. This stranger—”

“I’m sorry,” Billy breathed, reaching for the necklace, as she clicked it. Harrington’s voice came out, and she threw it down, leaving a blackened hole in the dock.

“You traded my voice,” she whispered, as Billy watched it fall, dropping to his knees next to the hole. “Was it so valueless, to you?”

“...he recieved it with no voice,” Harrington said, and Billy jerked back to attention, standing up.

“Lies. I sang to my child,” she said, stepping close, so every hair on Billy’s body lifted, and his clothed fluttered as though there was wind. “I could not keep him safe, but I told him of his home, and of my love.”

“...he—he must have—wiped it clean,” Billy whispered, shaking. “My—my father. I carried it as a gift from—from you, but I had no—I thought you had...nothing to say.”

“I had the world to say,” she whispered back, and his eyes blurred. Harrington’s fingers were bruisingly tight in his shoulder.

“I didn’t steal it,” Billy told her, glancing past her at the enormous wave suspended over the town. His voice shook. “I’ve always worn it—”

The great silver crab crushed another piling holding up the dock, and Hopper swore as the boards under them juddered and creaked. He and the Byers woman were dragging the children ashore.

Buckley shouted, “—we didn’t steal him. Can’t you—can we—take him back, if that—”

“Wait, we only have his word he didn’t know,” Thomas yelled over her. “He probably knew all along. Only the Lady can control the Nuckelavee, Harrington! The Sea Mither. His mother. He was never in danger at all, he probably called it—”

“Shut up, Tommy,” Harrington said through gritted teeth.

“Why have you never sent word,” the Lady asked Billy, reaching out. “I would speak with you, my own. Dear one. Where came you these bruises? Who has assailed you?”

Billy fought to talk, his muscles spasming at her closeness. His jaw wouldn’t open until she lowered her hand, and he wheezed deep breaths.

“I knew he was hiding something else,” Thomas laughed, and Harrington yanked Billy closer, but the Lady turned her gaze on Thomas.

“My child’s blood is upon you,” she whispered, floating higher, and raised her hand. The wave began to fall.

Everyone ran to get off the dock, stumbling, screaming, and swinging up on horses—except Thomas, who stared out at the wave, then swung around on Billy, grabbing his shirt. “You’ve killed him,” he hissed. "You've killed us all."

Billy swung at him, trying to free himself, but Carol, Robin, and Harrington started hauling them towards the town.

“There’s no time!” Carol screamed, shoving at Tommy’s hands.

Tommy reached past Robin to grab for Billy, teeth bared, and Robin staggered at the edge of the dock, when Carol shoved past Thomas to grab Robin around the waist, hauling her bodily back towards town. Thomas hung in the air for a moment, and then the water struck.

Billy heard a yell from Harrington as the air was smacked from his lungs, and tried to kick towards him. The roiling foam was white, and bright turquoise, and a green so dark it was almost black, and he was knocked sideways by the coils of the eels and the tree-trunk-sized leg of the Lady’s spider crab steed. He couldn’t find anyone, any frantic flailing arms, or limp, drifting bodies. Harrington’s voice rang in his head, saying ‘she took the lower town, one day.’ And Thomas’, ‘You’ve killed us all.’ The water numbed his skin, and the remaining air in his lungs went sour. It was as dark with his eyes closed as open, and he closed them against the sting, curling into a ball as his shoulder thudded and scraped against something else, knocking bubbles out of his mouth. He saw something glint, and reached out, feeling the shape of a shell, and the broken chain.

He kept swimming, though he didn’t know which direction to go.