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study-coffee-chicago · 4 years ago

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Seasons of PD and Med: Season 0: The Backstory (A Halstead! Brothers + Halstead Sister! imagine)

Hey, I had an idea to pick episodes from every season of PD and Med and write them as if Will and Jay had a younger sister involved. This is the first installment and it will deal with some big things in Jay and Will's young adult years and Y/N's childhood years! Stay tuned for the next update which is season 1 of PD (I'm not gonna say what ep it is yet because I want you guys to be surprised.) I just made up a name for Mama Halstead since she hasn't been named in the show...I'm still waiting on that crumb that the writers neglected to add.

Anyway, enough of the long note, enjoy!

Will's age: 20

Jay's age: 18

Your age: 4

"Dad, I'm leaving tomorrow! It's not like I can change it now!" Jay yelled at his father as he paced the living room, his mom and dad sitting on the couch. His mom was trying to calm his dad, but that wasn't working very well.

"Both of you, keep your voice down," Amelia Halstead hissed at her husband and youngest son. "Y/N's sleeping. And if either of you wakes her up, there will be hell to pay tomorrow."

"Sh- Crap," Jay fixed his language quickly, knowing that he shouldn't swear around his parents. "Y/N."

Amelia's eyes went wide. "Jayson Halstead! You haven't told her yet? You said you wanted to be the one to tell her!"

"He won't have to tell her anything if he doesn't go," Pat Halstead shrugged.

"Patrick." Amelia gave Pat a warning look. "He's his own person and as much as we both hate it, he's an adult in the eyes of the law and can make his own decisions. One of which is whether or not he wants to join the military."

"I just think he should go out and get a real job. Why is it that none of my sons want to do that? Will wants to become a doctor and waste God knows how much time and money in school and this one wants to go and get himself killed. And for what? Because you want to play with guns?"

"Dad," Jay groaned. "We've been over this. I want to help protect people and I want to do that somewhere outside the country because there are others over there who really need it. Also, I like the adrenaline rush."

"Jay, not the time," Amelia scolded in reference to the last part.

"Sorry, Mom," Jay mumbled.

"I'm still not okay with this, no matter your reasoning. I don't need you to come home in a coffin!" Pat yelled.

You heard the booming voice of your dad down the hallway and jumped awake. Why was he yelling? Shouldn't he be sleeping just like you had been? But, maybe he was just yelling at the Blackhawks game as he did that often. Maybe if you got up he'd give you some juice. Your mom was always strict about no sugar before--or during--bedtime, but your brothers and your dad were a lot more easygoing.

So, you slid out of bed and walked down the hallway, excited to see if you'd be able to get some grape juice in your favorite princess cup. You clutched your Build-A-Bear in your hand, which was also dressed in pajamas, as it was bedtime, and walked down the hall. But, you stopped short when you heard that Jay was yelling as well.

"I'm leaving tomorrow and there's nothing you can do about it, Dad! If you hate it so much, feel free to stay home when we all go to the airport!"

Jay was leaving? Did he have another seven-sleep-long soccer camp? He always had those in the summer. And, when you went to his games with your mom when the leaves changed, he scored lots of goals.

"Jay wait--"

"Mom, I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

Jay got halfway down the hall before he saw you.

"Hey, what are you doing up? Isn't it way past your bedtime?" Jay asked, his voice softening as he crouched down in front of you.

Your lower lip started to tremble and you pulled your Build-A-Bear, who you had affectionately named Beary, close to your chest. "You go to soccer for lots of sleeps again, Jay Jay?"

Jay sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Of course, you had heard him say he was leaving. And of course, the only thing you had to compare it to was him leaving for his soccer camps which he always went to at the end of July.

"What's the biggest number you can count to?" he asked, trying to sound excited.

"Um...um...um," you furrowed your eyebrows, trying to remember what you had learned at daycare. "Ten," you finally answered.

"I'm gonna be gone a long time," he told you.

"So, ten sleeps?" Ten was a long time. It had two numbers!

"Longer than that." He placed a hand on your shoulder and went to hug you because he saw the tears in your eyes, but you ran away from him. "Y/N, wait--"

"Mommy!" you yelled as you ran into the living room as fast as your little legs could carry you.

Amelia Halstead jumped up from her place on the couch. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" She crouched down and then picked you up.

"Jay Jay," you hiccupped as tears rolled down your face. "Jay Jay leaving for more than ten sleeps! He not my favowite broder anymore!" you wailed.

The door opened, revealing Will who had just returned from the library since he was taking some summer classes. "What am I, kiddo? Chopped liver?"

"Will my favowite now."

Will put his backpack in his room and then entered Jay's, who was sitting on his bed with what looked like a new outfit for your Build-A-Bear right next to him.

"So, I'm assuming you told her?" Will asked after he had sat down next to his younger brother.

"Yeah. And she hates me now, so there's that."

"Nah, she's just confused. She's four, Jay."

"I know that."

"Did you tell her why you're leaving? Where you're going?"

"No. When I told her I'd be gone for more than ten sleeps she started to cry and then ran to Mom. I made her cry, Will. You're the only one who's supposed to do that."

"Hey," Will smacked Jay upside the head. "I stole her bear once and I'm forever dubbed the horrible brother, yeah okay."

Jay laughed. "I mean, it's true, though. She hated you and cried for hours until you came home and gave it to her because you hid it in your car."

"I agree. It was a dick move." Will picked up the bear outfit. "What's this?"

"I got her a military outfit for her bear. Figured maybe it'd help her feel like I'm not so far away. And, it wouldn't freak her out when she sees me in my uniform tomorrow."

Jay and Will looked up at the sound of his door being opened. "Someone wanted to see you," their mom said, still holding you in her arms. "Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

You nodded. "Down peas," you said, trying your best to say please.

The minute you were safely on the floor, you ran to Jay's bed and hauled yourself up all by yourself. "I sowwy," you told your big brother.

"It's okay. But you know what will make me feel better?" you shook your head no. "A hug."

"Okay!" you jumped into Jay's lap and hugged him, unknowingly jumping somewhere that hurt him, causing him to grimace and Will to burst out laughing. After a warning glance from your mom though, Will stopped.

Once Jay regained his composure, he grabbed the bear outfit from next to him. "I have a present for you."

You pulled away from him and looked at him expectantly. "Weally? But I was mean."

"I know you didn't mean it. I forgive you."

You had no idea what he was talking about, but nodded anyway.

"You know how the good guys fight the bad guys?" Jay started. You nodded. "I'm leaving to fight some really bad guys."

"So you a good guy?"

"Yes," he chuckled. "And I wear something that looks like this. So, I thought maybe Beary would like his own. That way, you know that me and him are both the good guys and when I'm gone, he'll fight off all the bad guys in your bad dreams."

"Beary can fight da bad guys?"

"Yes, it's because he has this. He can even just wear the hat and be fighting bad guys."

He handed you the camo shirt, pants, and hat for your bear.

"You not wearing dis," you told him.

Now it was your mom's turn to butt in. "It's because he's sleepy. He doesn't wear it to sleep. But, he'll wear it tomorrow and Beary and Jay will match."

"Beary match Jay Jay 'morrow?" you asked, looking up at your mom expectantly.

"Yes. And they'll match faster if both you and Beary go to sleep."

"Weally?"

"Really. Now, how about we go to sleep and you can put Beary's new outfit on tomorrow?"

"Okay. Night night, Will. Night night, Jay Jay."

Once your mom had taken you out of the room, Will spoke up. "Damn, now I'm gonna have to get that bear a white coat once I graduate from med school just to one-up you."

"His name's Beary," Jay told him.

Will rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'm gonna have to get Beary a white coat when I graduate from med school. Happy now, little brother?"

"Beary happy."

***

You, your mom, dad, and Will all walked into the airport to say goodbye to Jay before he boarded his flight. Beary was dressed in his camo, but you hadn't seen Jay dressed in his yet as he had left early to say goodbye to Allie and some other friends before you had gotten the chance to see him this morning.

"Look, there's Jay," your mom said, trying to be as happy as she could so that you wouldn't get sad. But, on the inside, her heart was breaking. But, once again, this is what her son wanted to do, so she wouldn't stop him.

"Hey guys," he said as he walked up to you, again, trying to be as happy as he could. But, since you couldn't really read the tone yet, you missed the nervousness in his voice.

"You and Beary match!"

"I told you we would! Would I ever lie to you?"

You shook your head no. You trusted both your big brothers to always tell you the truth.

"C'mere." Will was the first one to give Jay a hug. "I'm gonna miss your annoying--" Will leaned in to whisper in Jay's ear, knowing that if his mom heard him swear around you, he'd never hear the end of it. "--ass."

"I'll miss you, too. And all that annoying school talk you do. Dad?"

He turned to his dad and he hugged him, shocking both Jay and Will. "Stay safe out there, son."

"I will."

"Mom, please don't cry," Jay said as he turned to your mom, who was still holding you in her arms.

"I just love you so much. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Mom," he said as he swallowed a lump in his throat and hugged her. "I love you, too."

He pulled away and then looked at you. "And you, I am gonna miss you the most."

"Weally?"

"Yes, don't tell Will, but you're my favorite."

"Mommy! I'm Jay Jay's favowite."

"Flight 51163 now boarding."

"I gotta go. But, remember what I told you, okay? Beary will always fight your bad dreams for you because he has his own uniform now."

"Just like you?"

Jay nodded. "Now, can Mommy put you down so I can get a big Y/N hug?"

Your mom set you on the ground and Jay crouched down to your level and enveloped you in a hug. "I gotta go," he said as he pulled away. "Be good for Mommy and Daddy."

"I will. I love you Jay Jay."

"I love you, too." He stood up and looked at the rest of his family. "All of you."

He turned and started to walk away. More than ten sleeps is too long! And, before your mom could pick you back up, you ran towards him, dropping Beary in the process.

"No no no Jay Jay, peas stay!" you yelled.

Jay's head whipped around just as you attached yourself his leg with tears running down your face.

"Y/N, Jay's gonna be home before you know it," your mom said.

"But- But I don't want Jay Jay leave. I want Jay Jay home!"

"I know, I know. But remember what he told you last night? He's gotta get all the bad guys. And, you want him to get all the bad guys, don't you?"

"You pwomise to get all da bad guys, Jay Jay?" you asked, still holding onto his leg.

"I promise."

Your mom reached down to grab you and then lifted you up into her arms.

Another guy wearing the same clothes as Jay came up to you. "Is this yours?" he asked you.

"Beary! I dropped Beary, Mommy!" you exclaimed as you reached out and took your bear from him.

"I see that. Now, what do you say?"

"Tank you!"

"You're welcome," he said.

Then, you waved goodbye as your mom walked away with you and returned to Will and your dad. All the while, you clutched Beary, making sure he didn't fall out of your grasp again.

"Kid sister?" the guy who handed you Beary back asked Jay.

"Yeah, she's four. Doesn't really get what's going on. Thanks for giving that back. She would've gone crazy if she got in the car and it wasn't there," Jay answered. "I'm Jay Halstead by the way."

"Greg Gerwitz," he replied. "But everyone calls me Mouse."

***

Will's age: 22

Jay's age: 20

Your age: 6

"Mom is gonna be shocked, man," Will said to Jay as he parked his car in the driveway. "I just hope she doesn't me kill for keeping it a secret from her."

"I think that'll be the last thing on her mind when she sees me. Now, you said that her and Y/N are leaving at 8:15, right?"

"Yeah, so you better go stand outside my car now because it's 8:14."

Meanwhile, inside you ran back down the hallway to your room. "Y/N!" Your mom shouted after you. "We have to go! You don't want to be late on your first day of kindergarten, do you?"

You ran to your room and then grabbed Beary. You had changed him back into his military uniform outfit--or, what you called Jay Jay's clothes--earlier this morning. It was the only thing Beary wore during the day since Jay's been gone. You'd put him into his pajamas at night and then right back into the military uniform outfit when you woke up.

"I'm back, Mama! Beary's coming to school with me!"

"That reminds me," she pulled out a small toy backpack from behind her back. "Beary can't go to school without a backpack now, can he?"

"No, Mommy! Thank you!" you quickly put the red backpack on Beary's back and then your mom took a picture.

Then, you and your mom stepped out the front door.

Jay and Will were both leaning against Will's car. Tears came to Jay's eyes when he saw that your bear was still in that military outfit he'd gotten you two years ago before he left for basic training and then for Afghanistan.

Through a rushed phone call a few months ago, Jay had asked Will when your first day of school was. He didn't want to miss it, being the good big brother he was. So, once he had a date, he went on a mission to get himself off his tour one week early. Somehow, he was successful. Then, he coordinated with Will about what time his flight was landing in Chicago and he'd picked him up. The two brothers spent the night at a hotel--Will saying he was staying at a friend's house--and then driven home that morning.

You were having a very intense conversation with your mom about what you hoped kindergarten would be like when she stopped in her tracks and put her hand over her mouth.

"Mommy, what's wrong?" you asked, looking up at her with wide eyes.

"Hi, Mom."

You knew that voice. But, usually, it only came through the phone and your mom wasn't holding the phone right now.

You looked away from your mom and towards the sound of footsteps.

There, right in front of you, was your big brother in his military uniform that matched Beary's.

"Jay Jay!" you yelled and sprinted towards him.

"There's my favorite kindergartner!" Jay exclaimed when he picked you up. "Did you miss me?"

"I missed you this much!" You spread your arms out as far as they could go.

"Really?" You nodded your head. "You missed me a lot, huh? Well, I missed you more!"

"Did you get the bad guys?"

Jay swallowed, images from his deployment and having people bleed out in front of him coming to the forefront of his mind. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, Y/N. I got all the bad guys."

"Good!"

"How did you- How did you both do this?" your mom choked out, in tears.

"Mommy, don't cry," you told her, still in Jay's arms. "Jay Jay's home, be happy."

"I am happy, baby. These are happy tears. But how did you do this? I thought you weren't supposed to be home for another week, Jay!"

"Me and Will talked about it. I found out when Y/N's first day of school was, and the rest just fell into place. I couldn't miss walking my favorite sister to her first day at big kid school, now could I?" he asked, tickling your stomach, causing you to giggle.

"No, stop! Jay Jay stop!" you giggled and he set you back down on the ground.

"How about you walk to school with us and then the three of us go out for breakfast?" your mom suggested.

"What about me?" you asked, looking up at your mom. "Can I come?"

"You'll be in school, honey. And, remember what I said you'd get after school?"

"A donut!" you exclaimed.

"Wow! Someone's lucky!" Jay said, overexaggerating it.

"Make sure you tell them it was your first day of school, Y/N," Will started, "because I know they'll be sure to put extra sprinkles on it."

"Mommy! I get extra sprinkles!"

"So, I heard. But, we better get going, we don't want to be late."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Mom," Will started, "But I gotta start heading back to New York."

"Med school can't wait another day, huh?" Jay asked.

"I've already missed one lecture, but it was on the ethics and implications of not respecting a DNR...which is common sense in the medical world. But, I don't think I can afford to miss anymore. Sorry guys."

"You'll be back soon though, right?" you asked.

"Yup, I'll be back for Thanksgiving. A lot faster than Jay got back."

"Okay!" you exclaimed. Then, you grabbed your mom's hand and Jay's and walked to school in the middle of them, excited to have your big brother who fought the bad guys back home.

***

Will's age: 25

Jay's age: 23

Your age: 9

It's been three years since Jay's first tour ended, and he was currently overseas on his second tour. You were in third grade now, so you enjoyed getting to write letters to him and tell him all about school. You'd also send some to Will in New York so that he didn't feel left out. And, Will would send you these super cool things called postcards with pictures of different places in New York on them!

Overseas in Afghanistan, all hell had broken loose. Jay and Mouse were in the same unit again, which was great, but what wasn't so great was what happened with his Humvee. The Humvee had hit an IED and left Jay and Mouse as the only two survivors. Jay was trying to do his job the best he could, but he wasn't sleeping, the images of that day etched in his mind and always there, even when his eyes were closed.

In the northeastern part of the US, Will was procrastinating all his homework--but somehow still turning it in on time and doing well on exams--while he worked long, unpaid hours at a hospital, learning everything there was to know about treating patients and performing surgery. He was also partying a lot in his spare time. He had seen one of his professors, Yates, at a party, so that was weird and freaked him out. A grown man partying with his students? Why? But, Will had more important things going on to worry about than why the hell one of his professors was at a big ass house party.

Back at home, your mom was crying and you had asked her what was wrong, but she told you not to worry about it. Despite that, you were worried. You had never seen your mom cry like this. She didn't even cry this much when Jay and Will left!

"Mom?" you asked when you got home from school to see her sitting at the kitchen table crying.

She frantically wiped away her tears to try and play off that nothing was wrong. You looked down at the stack of papers in front of her and noticed that one said something about a will. There wasn't an "a" in front of Will's name! He was just Will!

"Mom! They messed up Will's name! See? I'll fix it!" You picked up the pen next to you and uncapped it.

"No!" your mom yelled.

"Why? It's wrong."

"I'm sorry, baby. These are just really important papers that you can't write on, okay? They're adult papers."

"Will and Jay are adults?" you asked, your eyes going wide. No, they weren't; your mom still called them her baby boys.

"They are!" She laughed at your expression.

"When will I be an adult?"

"You've got nine years yet, baby. You have to wait until you're-- until you're eighteen," she stuttered, trying not to get choked up as she realized that she probably wouldn't be here when you turned eighteen. If the doctors were right, she wouldn't even be here for your tenth birthday.

"Mom, why are you crying?" You sat in the kitchen chair next to her and looked up at her with curiosity in your eyes.

Now was as good a time as any, your mom thought to herself. Both Will and Jay knew and Jay said he'd be home any time now since he had been honorably discharged between the Humvee and IED incident and your mom getting sick.

"Sweetie, mom's really sick," she told you.

You cocked your head to the side. "So, you just need to go to the hospital or get Will to fix you up."

"I wish it were that simple, baby. But, the sickness is way inside my body and is moving around too much to have Will fix it."

"But can't they go inside with those fancy tools that Jay's scared of?"

"It's not as simple as going in with a few needles, baby."

"But what about that yucky stuff you give me?" you asked, referring to the grape flavored medicine.

You heard the door open. "The important thing is that I'm okay right now. I'll just be a little tired and we might have to go to the hospital soon."

"Mom? You here?"

"Jay!" you yelled and ran to the living room, the emotional talk with your mom long forgotten the moment you heard your older brother's voice.

"Y/N!" Jay yelled, matching your enthusiasm as he crouched down and opened his arms wide.

"I missed you!" you told him as you squeezed him tightly.

"I missed you, too! Now, is Mom here?" he asked as he stood back up.

You grabbed his hand. "She's here. Did you know she's sick, Jay?"

You led him to the kitchen, where your mom was still sitting at the table.

Jay glanced over at the paper sitting in front of your mom. He swallowed as it all quickly became real for him.

His mom was dying and he was home. But, his older brother wasn't. Will was off partying while their mom was dying.

***

"No, chocolate's better than vanilla," you argued as you and Jay both walked the short walk home holding your ice cream cones.

"No, vanilla's better. You're just a weirdo. Now, how about you eat your ice cream before it melts and drips on you and you get all sticky?"

It was the first day of May and Jay had been home since February. Your mom's condition was rapidly deteriorating as the cancer spread throughout her body. You had noticed she had been more tired than usual and that your dad hadn't been as excited to watch you at soccer practice. He didn't even want to come with you and Jay when you went to the ice cream shop today. It was opening day for the season, and it was a Halstead tradition that the whole family go get ice cream together. And, Jay wasn't going to let his dad wreck that for you, so he took you.

Jay had finished his ice cream and you were at the bottom of your cone when you walked up the front porch steps.

"You're just going to give up, Amelia? You do know that's what this is right?"

Luckily for you, you were so focused on finishing your ice cream, that you didn't hear the yelling between your mom and dad right away. But, Jay did.

"Hey, Y/N?" you looked up from your cone at your older brother. "How about you go grab your soccer ball from the garage and I'll get some water bottles and we can go to the park and practice for your game on Saturday, how does that sound?"

"So I can get better at stealing the ball from the other team?" you asked.

"Yup. Now, let's hurry up, okay?"

"Okay!"

As soon as your back was turned and you ran off to the garage in search of your soccer ball, Jay entered the house.

"Pat, that's not what this is and you know it!" Amelia argued, using what little strength she had after chemo to stand up.

"Then what is it?" Pat roared.

"I don't want Y/N to see me deteriorate!"

Jay rushed into his parents' bedroom. His mom was clutching the bedpost as if her life depended on it.

"Mom," he started, causing both his parents to focus their attention on him. "How about you sit down? You're tired."

"Jay, will you get me the phone please?" she asked, still standing.

"Amelia, you are not making that call!"

"It is my life! You are not taking this last big decision away from me!" Her voice softened. "Jay, sweetheart, the phone please."

"What's going on?"

"Your mom wanting to stay at the hospital is what's going on," Pat spat.

"Mom, no. You- you can't. Stay here. Please," he begged. He knew this was the last straw. Staying in the hospital likely meant she'd die there. She only had a limited time left. And, he wanted her to be here, at home with him. He had missed so much when he was away in Afghanistan. He just wanted more time of her staying home, of them being a normal family, despite her battling cancer with all her might.

"It'll be better for me there, Jay. They can give me painkillers and probably other things to help me feel better."

Jay hated it, but his mom was right. It probably was what was best for her.

"Okay, I'll get you the phone."

He walked into the kitchen to grab the phone and walked back to the bedroom to give it to his mom.

He reached out his hand to hand it to her, but it hit the floor with a thud.

"Dad! What the hell?" Jay yelled.

"You know what! She's staying here, Jayson!"

"Last I checked, it was mom's decision, not yours! And, she said she wants to go to the hospital! Respect that!"

"Like you and her respected what I had to say when you wanted to leave for the army? You didn't respect what I had to say then, so why should I respect what she's saying now?"

"Because she's your wife and she's dying!" Jay yelled. "You're stressing her out and stress is bad for her."

He picked up the phone and went to hand it to his mom. She took it.

Pat reached out his hand, but Jay stopped him. "You touch her or that phone, and I will lay you out where you stand. It's mom's decision."

"You'd really hit your old man?"

"Try me."

There was silence for a moment before Pat turned. "I'm going for a drive. I'll be back later."

"You didn't have to do that, you know," Amelia said to her son once Pat was out of the room.

"You did the same thing for me when I left to go to the army. You respected my decisions, so I'm respecting yours, Mom."

"When did you grow up so much?" A tear rolled down her cheek.

Jay sat down next to her. "Army will do that to you."

"Jay? You ready?" Jay heard you call for him.

"I'll be right there, Y/N!" he hollered back. Then, he turned back to his mom. "I was gonna take Y/N to the park, but I can stay here if you want me to?"

"No, go, Jay. You're a good brother. Promise me you'll watch over her when I'm gone?"

"Mom don't say--"

"Promise me. She needs you, both you and Will to look out for her. Who knows how your dad will get through all this. She needs her big brothers."

"I promise, Mom."

"Jay?" he heard you yell for him from outside.

"Be right there!" he yelled back.

After grabbing and filling up two water bottles, he walked outside to be met with your puzzled face. "What's wrong?"

"Why'd dad leave?" you asked, holding the soccer ball under your arm.

"Uh," Jay faltered. No way in hell was he going to be the one to explain this to you. Him leaving for the military, yeah, he could explain that one. But your guys' mom dying and telling you that she was going to the hospital because the end was near? Yeah, not gonna happen. He'd leave that to someone else...someone that was not him. "He's running a few errands," Jay answered.

"Oh, okay. Can Ben come to the park with us, too?" you asked.

Ben was your best friend and also your neighbor. Jay had dated his older sister before he left to fight the bad guys far away. Sometimes, when Jay had to babysit you, Allie would come over and bring Ben. And then, you'd get lots and lots of candy and get to watch movies for a bit. And, they'd promise you both Mcdonald's if neither you nor Ben said that Allie had come over. It always worked. You didn't know what the two teenagers were doing, but all you knew was that you got french fries and candy out of it, so both you and Ben had kept your mouths shut...despite it being against both your parents' rules to have a boyfriend or girlfriend over when they weren't home.

"You know what, I think that's a great idea," Jay answered. And then, you made your way to the Corson's and then to the park, thinking nothing of it.

***

Jay was sitting in the hospital room, clutching his mother's hand, just wondering how his life had turned out like this. Will was almost to the hospital; he'd gotten a last-minute flight from New York to Chicago, knowing that that would be faster than driving. Your dad was picking you up from school an hour early on a Friday. But right now, right now Jay was alone. And his mom, well she was still here, but he knew it wouldn't be for long. He knew that she was sleeping right now, and he wanted that for her because at least she wouldn't be awake to feel the pain of death, but at the same time, God, he wanted her to wake up. He wanted her to wake up so bad. He wanted to tell her that she was the best mom in the world. He wanted to tell her that he should never have had gone to Afghanistan, that maybe Dad was right, maybe he should've stayed in the States. Maybe he should've stayed in Chicago. He should've stayed home, just so that he could have had those three missed years with his mom. So that there could've been those extra two years before Will went to med school where the five of the Halsteads would be a real family. Because, in a matter of hours, hell in a matter of minutes, the Halsteads would dwindle down to a family of four forever. And, then, when Will left to go back to New York, it would dwindle down to three, at least for the time being.

Damn it. He just wanted more time. More time with his mom. He'd give anything for just a little more time.

"Jay! Jay! How is she?" Will burst into the quiet hospital room looking more worse for wear than normal. He had just gotten off an eighteen-hour shift of his med school rotation when he had gotten the call from his dad to get to Chicago as soon as possible. He found the first available flight--not caring about cost--and left, not even glancing at the clothes he threw in a duffle bag.

"Shhh!" Jay hissed at his older brother. "She's sleeping. And, shouldn't you know from your fancy schooling that as long as those monitors are still beeping, that she's still alive? Or did you just get too drunk and not even study and leave me to deal with dad and a very distraught and scared Y/N?"

"Man, you know I stopped doing that once I started working long shifts at the hospital!" Will whisper-yelled, trying to keep his voice down.

Jay sighed. "I'm sorry. We can deal with this later."

"You said Y/N's scared. What's she actually doing?"

Jay swallowed, trying to hold back the tears of what you'd been asking him those last two and a half weeks. "Um, every morning when she wakes up, she asks me if Mom went to heaven when she's sleeping. And then- And then before she leaves for school, she tells me to tell Mom she loves her if I go to see her."

Will rubbed a hand down his face. He didn't know what to say. He knew he should've been in Chicago for his little brother and sister, but he hadn't been. And, he couldn't change the past now. And, he knew he couldn't stay in Chicago after the funeral. It was no use telling Jay and you that he could stay; it'd just be an empty promise.

"William," Amelia's hoarse and groggy voice broke through the silence.

Will rushed to the opposite side of the bed to grab his mom's hand, the one that had the pulse-ox on it. "Mom, I'm here. I'm here."

"I need to- I need to tell..."

"Here, Mom." Will held the water cup with a straw in front of his mom. "Drink a bit. Please."

Amelia obliged and listened to her oldest son. After all, he was going to be a doctor one day. And, she hoped a damn good one at that.

"Thank you, baby," she said once she had taken a few sips. "My ring."

"What about your wedding ring, Mom?" Jay prompted.

"It's not a race...but whoever finds...the right girl first...gets it."

"Mom, don't say that," Will choked out. "You'll be okay. Everything will be fine."

Jay wanted to scoff. Leave it to Will to say that. He wasn't the one sitting in the hospital every damn day just watching their mom deteriorate and waiting for the inevitable.

"But, I'm supposed to wait until Sunday," you told your dad as you entered the hospital room, clutching the present you had made in art class for Mother's Day.

"I think it's close enough. And, it'll make Mom super happy," your dad answered you.

You nodded, the clay heart clutched in your hand. "Will!"

"Hey, kiddo."

"I missed you."

"I missed you, too. Now, what about this mother's day present? Why don't you come over here and give it to mom?" God, he didn't know how he did it, how he talked to his little sister like this was just a normal day and their mom wasn't minutes away from leaving them forever. He thought that his time working in a hospital and watching doctors and nurses deliver devastating news to families might have something to do with it, though.

"Mom." You stood on your tip-toes so that you could fully see her since her bed was tipped so that she was in a semi-sitting position.

"Yes...baby?" she asked, her voice no more than a whisper.

"I made this for you. I'm supposed to give it to you on Sunday since that's when Mother's Day is, but Dad said I can give it to you now." You passed the ceramic heart which was painted a shade of lavender and had I love you, Mom carved into it in your messy third-grader handwriting. "Do you like it?"

"I love...it, baby...I'll...cherish it...forever."

"I love you, Mommy." You hadn't called her Mommy in years. But, you knew it always made her happy when you called her that. Maybe, this would make her feel happy.

"Where's...Dad?" she asked weakly.

"He had to go to the bathroom," you answered.

"I love...you...my three...babies."

The sound of the monitor flatlining filled the room. Jay let out an agonizing scream, one unlike you had ever heard before.

"No," Will sobbed. You'd never seen him do that before. He always tried to be the big brother who didn't cry. Both your big brothers did.

Will wanted to start chest compressions, but he knew they'd be no use.

"Mommy," you whispered, shaking her shoulder. You knew it was no use, but maybe, just maybe she'd wake up. "Mommy, come back. Please."

"She's gone, Y/N," Jay said. "She's not coming back."

"Jay!" Will yelled.

"She needs to know that! Mom's gone, dammit!"

Jay slid down the wall, his anger, sadness, frustration, all of it, getting the best of him and he cried. Sobs racked his body.

He heard whispering near him and vaguely made out that Will was telling you that Jay didn't mean to sound so mean. And, then, he felt a pair of little arms wrap around him.

"Jay Jay," you whispered.

And that just made Jay cry harder.

Will came over and joined the hug, all three of you sobbing.

You heard a gasp and the sound of someone running into the room. Then, you heard a blood-curdling scream, the sound of a husband losing his wife way too soon.

The ceramic heart you had made for your mom fell to the floor, finally becoming too heavy to stay put in her lifeless hand now that there was no grip left. It shattered into sharp, lavender pieces, much like your real hearts. Despite still beating, they may as well stop, too. Because, just like how that ceramic heart would never be whole again, without your mom, your heart would never be whole again either.

***

Jay's age: 24

Your age: 10

It had been about a year since your mom had died. Day by day everything was getting easier. But, a part of you was missing, and you'd come to accept that it'd never be filled. Jay moved out right after your mom died and you'd see him sometimes. He worked different hours now since he was a police officer. But, even if you wanted to watch one more movie with him at his apartment, he wouldn't let you and he'd never let you spend the night. He'd always bring you back home to your dad.

You were in bed, Beary laying next to you since you had let go of him in your sleep, when you were woken up by the sound of sirens.

You located Beary from beside you and walked out into the hallway. The light was on as you still didn't like it when you woke up to go to the bathroom and it was dark. So, you walked to your dad's bedroom and pushed to door open.

"Dad," you whispered as you placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hmmm?" he asked, opening his eyes. "What's wrong, honey?"

Since your mom died, you and your dad had grown a lot closer. You'd always watch hockey games with him and he'd come to every single one of your soccer games and take you out for a snack after. He always made sure he was home from work before it got too late so that he could help you with your homework and make sure you weren't scared of a thunderstorm at night. He was the dad that Will and Jay never had. He just hated that it took the death of his wife for him to become a better father.

"Why- Why are there police officers at Ben's house?"

"Police officers? At the Corsons?" your dad asked.

"Yeah, from my window I saw the flashing lights. What's going on?"

"Just give me a minute and we'll go see if they need anything, okay?" he asked, not knowing there was crime scene tape everywhere.

Once your dad was ready, you walked outside, holding tight to his hand and to Beary.

"Uh, yeah, tender-age male. From the looks of it raped and possible cause of death being asphyxiation."

You had no idea what anything he was saying meant, but you knew that Jay was the one who was talking. He was here! Maybe he'd know what was going on! And, maybe he'd know where Ben was, because, from the people around, you hadn't spotted Ben yet.

"Jay!" You let go of your dad's hand and ran towards him, ducking under the bright yellow crime scene tape.

"Shit," he muttered as he ran towards you, trying to block your best friend's body from your view.

But, he was too late.

"B-Ben?"

Jay grabbed you and pulled you close to him so that his body was blocking you from seeing the body any more than you already had. But, he knew that it was no use; the image of your best friend laying in the grass with a rope tied around his neck and duck tape on his mouth and wrists, pants on backward and shirt haphazardly threw on, would forever be etched in your mind.

"Ben!" you wailed.

"I'm gonna take her back to the house. You got it from here and I'll meet you back at the station?" you heard Jay say to who you assumed was his partner.

"Yeah, who is she?"

"My little sister. Kid was her best friend."

"Take as much time as you need, Halstead. I'll tell the sergeant that you might not be back tonight."

"Thank you."

Your dad stayed with Danny and Gail, while Jay brought you home.

"Do you want some water?" Jay asked quietly as you entered the house.

You shook your head. "What happened?"

"Maybe when you're older I can explain, okay?"

"So, he's with Mom now?" you asked, looking into his teary eyes.

"Yeah, he's with Mom now. She'll look after him." He pulled you into a hug. "I love you, kid. You're my favorite sister."

"I'm your only sister, Jay."

"That's why you're my favorite."

Jay took a deep breath as he held you tight. That could've easily been you laying on the ground instead of Ben.

After that night, any day that Jay didn't have to work in the mornings, he'd walk you to school. He did that for the rest of the year. He never told you why; he'd only say that he wanted to spend time with his little sister and sometimes he'd even bring you a donut. But, you knew it had something to do with Ben...and the fact that the person who hurt him had never been found.

You weren't supposed to know that information, but you figured it would've been on the news if they found the person who did it. After all, the case was on the news when it first happened.

Little did you and Jay know, that it would be three years until justice would be served and that Jay would almost lose his badge over it.

A/N: Hey, sorry this took me so long to post! It took me a while to write since most of the scenes were sad. Anyway, as I mentioned at the beginning, this will be a series, so look for the next installment! Those will be better because the age will be when Y/N's a teenager...and I write those a lot better than I do when I have to write times when Y/N is a kid.

Thanks for reading and please feel free to comment! It gives me so much motivation to continue writing!

#jay halstead #will halstead #jay halstead imagine #will halstead imagine #jay halstead fanfiction #will halstead fanfiction #Halstead Bros #halstead sister #halstead sister imagine #halstead brothers #chicago pd #chicago med #chicago pd imagine #chicago med imagine

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qqueenofhades · 4 years ago

Note

Fake dating AU for the idiot Heartrender Husbands! I beg of you!

As ever, I am preposterously easy to enable, and since they will eventually make an appearance in A Phantom in Enchanting Light, I decided to write their backstory for that verse. Also, “fake dating but it’s only fake because they’re both idiots” is an Aesthetic. I love them.

Moscow, 2010

The guy is most definitely late. Fedyor got here early – probably too early, since they’re supposed to meet at eleven and he arrived by quarter past ten – but it’s now 11:08 and still no sign of him. Fedyor has claimed a corner table in the coffee shop just off Red Square with its splendid old tsarist-era décor, surrounded by the murmur of conversation and clicking laptop keys as his fellow Muscovites get on with their daily lives. The rule is fifteen minutes, yes? If Ivan Sakharov doesn’t show up in another seven, Fedyor is free to bail. But it’s been so long, and Nadia, the mutual friend responsible for this set-up, has begged Fedyor to give him a chance. And since it is understandably difficult to date as a gay man in Russia, Fedyor’s patience must be tested longer than usual. He sips his flat white and glances at the door again. Still no Ivan.

Fedyor opens his phone and checks the photo that Nadia sent him, trying to decide if this man is attractive enough to compensate for his tardiness. It’s hard to tell. It is 11:14, and he is absolutely about to pack up and leave by no later than 11:25, when a tall, grim-faced man in a red windbreaker strides in. He stops short, glances around, spots Fedyor, and powers over with such single-minded determination that Fedyor fears he’s about to be arrested. “Hello,” he says curtly. “I am Ivan Ivanovich Sakharov. I believe you are waiting for me?”

“Ah – ? I am Fedyor Mikhailovich Kaminsky, yes,” he manages, offering a hand, which Ivan crushes in a Terminator grip. “It’s – nice to meet you?”

Ivan snorts, pulls out the other chair, and drapes his jacket over it, then orders a small plain coffee (black like his soul, evidently). Then he returns, sits down, and claps his hands as if he is calling a misbehaving class to attention. “Where are you from?” he barks. “How long have you lived in Moscow?!”

Fedyor continues to gape. He’s genuinely not sure if this is Ivan attempting to get to know him on speed-run, or if he’s being interrogated by a FSB agent who can’t even act for two seconds like he’s not. It’s ominously possible. Dmitry Medvedev is the president and there are hopes that there might be a social liberalization, but the Orthodox patriarchs and the far right have been increasingly agitating against Russia’s embattled LGBTQ community, and things could just as easily get worse. Is this a setup or a setup? Nadia would never knowingly put him in a dangerous situation, of course, but maybe she was likewise fooled. You’d think that if this was a sting, they could have found a guy who was actually capable of pretending to be on a date, but maybe that’s the point? What the hell is going on here?

Fedyor opens his mouth, then shuts it. As a matter of fact, he is originally from Nizhny Novgorod, but moved to Moscow for university and has lived here for seven years, but if Ivan is with the FSB, he probably already knows that. Is this a trick? Is Ivan trying to match him to some police intelligence file or see if he’s a liar? Fedyor is seriously about to get up and walk out (or maybe sprint out) when Ivan, perhaps realizing that he’s blowing this to a heretofore unprecedented degree, says, “Sorry. I am from Krasnoyarsk. I enjoy rugby.”

Of course he likes rugby if he’s from Krasnoyarsk. This is a disaster. “Uh, what side?”

“Krasny Yar,” says Ivan, in the tone of a man about to stand up and belt out the fight song. “I also enjoy football. Yenisey Krasnoyarsk. Though I have begun supporting Lokomotiv since I came to Moscow. That was five years ago.”

So, he’s definitely a hooligan. Fedyor does his best to keep smiling. In the flesh, Ivan is definitely not unattractive. His hair is crisp and brown, there are glints of hazel in his eyes, and he has that hard, chiseled handsomeness that Fedyor always ends up getting suckered into. Except for the fact that he is lively, extroverted, and outgoing, likes clubbing and mingling and making friends, and this man does not appear to have ever heard of a single one of those things. What was Nadia thinking? It’s not like her to whiff this badly. Or did she have to be so circumspect in asking Ivan if he would like to meet Fedyor that, even if he’s not an undercover cop, he is in fact clueless about the true nature of this social engagement? Thinks it’s guys being pals?

“Did you have somewhere you were coming from earlier?” Fedyor asks, after another excruciating silence. “Is that why you were – ?”

“My apologies. The bus was late. I am normally very punctual.” Ivan scowls ferociously, as if the bus ever dares to do such a thing again, he will personally murder it. “What hobbies do you enjoy, Fedyor Mikhailovich?”

“I think you can call me Fedyor, yes?” They are clearly nowhere near “Fedya” and “Vanya” just yet, but “Fedyor Mikhailovich” always makes Fedyor look around warily for his grumpiest professor at MSU. He tries to think of subtle conversational gambits to find out what Ivan knows, without being obvious. Oh God, he really should just cut his losses, but something – perhaps the pathetic conviction that even a terrible date is better than no date at all – keeps him in his seat. Presuming that he does get out of here alive, he will call up Nadia straightaway and ask her many, many questions, mostly consisting of Why??! “Well,” Fedyor says at last. “I like having fun?”

“I also enjoy fun,” Ivan says, stone-faced. “I am very funny.”

Russian humor is normally extremely deadpan, to the point that Fedyor does wonder if Ivan is in fact a diabolical troll genius, but somehow he doesn’t think so. The rest of the conversation proceeds in this fashion, but by the end of an hour, Fedyor still has no idea if he has just been on a date or a trip to the gulag. Ivan gets up, administers another bone-crushing handshake, thanks him for his time, and marches out. Fedyor can practically hear the Red Army Choir thundering some patriotic anthem in his wake.

When he gets home that afternoon, Fedyor is resolved to write off the whole thing, except it was weirdly kind of not as bad as he first thought, maybe, somehow. If nothing else, he’s fascinated by this, like watching a slow-motion train crash. He takes out his phone with the intention of calling Nadia, only to see a text message from an unfamiliar number. When he opens it, it reads, Hello. Your company was agreeable today. Thank you. Perhaps we could meet again next week. Please reply yes or no. The message uses the formal styles of address, and some of the spellings are slightly old-fashioned. He has also signed it – Иван Сахаров – in case there might be some confusion with another Ivan the Terrible at Dating of Fedyor’s recent acquaintance. It is a bit like getting a text from the undertaker.

Fedyor stares at it, insanely tempted to burst out laughing, and finally, just because now he’s too curious to refuse, texts back his gracious acceptance. Still chuckling, he makes dinner, and then, as his phone pings with Ivan’s response, wonders in horror what on earth he is getting himself into.

This is how things continue for the next six weeks. Ivan and Fedyor meet up for the second time, stroll sedately around one of Moscow’s many city parks together, then part ways, and this time it’s Fedyor’s turn to ask if he would like to do it again. He isn’t sure exactly why, except that Ivan is unexpectedly easy to spend time with, and he nods in stoic approval of whatever Fedyor says. Of course, they follow the usual rules of dating which are especially important in Russia: don’t talk about politics, don’t talk about religion, don’t talk about America, don’t talk about Ukraine, don’t talk about Chechnya. From what Fedyor can glean, Ivan’s views tend to the doctrinaire, but he is surprisingly undogmatic, and willing to at least act as if he has an open mind. If he was an FSB agent, it feels like he would have busted Fedyor by now, but maybe he is waiting for him to do something unmistakably gay. That’s not it. Right?

Nadia calls, wanting to know how it’s going, and Fedyor grills her for forty minutes over whether Ivan is a law enforcement plant, a lonely guy looking for a friend, the world’s most method practical joker, or just extremely stupid. Nadia insists that he is actually very nice once you get to know him (HA, thinks Fedyor) and has no particular affection for either the ruling classes or the oligarchs. He can certainly be an acquired taste, but he is not evil.

Forced to accept it, still chickening out of asking Ivan whether he knows they’re dating, wondering if they are dating, if Ivan knows that Fedyor knows they’re dating, if Fedyor only thinks he knows that they are dating while they are not actually dating, or if Ivan thinks he knows that they’re dating while they’re… whatever the fresh-fried fuck is truly happening here, Fedyor trudges off for what has become his almost-weekly rendezvous with Ivan the-Maybe-Not-Quite-So-Terrible. They manage to have a few conversations verging on meaningful, and Fedyor has found himself telling Ivan about his family and Nizhny Novgorod and other such things. Fedyor likes to talk and Ivan likes to listen, though he breaks in now and again with a bone-dry quip. He’s still never what you would call loquacious, or easily forthcoming, but Fedyor likes that. Ivan is tough, complex, enigmatic, guarded, occasionally willing to let down his walls but only if the other person is worth it, and Fedyor finds, to his surprise, that he wants to be worth it. If this is a long-con mind game, he almost doesn’t care. (Almost.)

The problem, however, is that they’ve been seeing each other regularly for a month and a half and they haven’t gotten any closer than walking through a park, outdoors, in full view of their fellow comrades. Even the first time Fedyor takes the plunge and invites Ivan to his apartment, they sit three feet apart on the couch, watching a badly-Russian-subtitled version of Die Hard and providing critical commentary. Fedyor’s English is a lot more fluent than Ivan’s, and his middle-class family, while not exactly wealthy, is definitely better off than Ivan’s hardscrabble clan of miners and loggers in Siberia. That upbringing certainly does explain, to some degree, why Ivan is the way he is, and Fedyor wonders anxiously if Ivan views him as an insufferably posh city boy. Ivan barely finished high school and went straight to working in a Krasnoyarsk aluminum factory. He definitely did not faff around Moscow State University and attend global development seminars in Paris.

Nonetheless, despite their obvious differences, they do get along, and Fedyor is unable to deny the fact that he would, if it’s all right with everyone, like it to be more than that. Of course, finding out if Ivan knows, etc. etc., has been the paramount challenge, and there is no way to find out other than to go for it. Fedyor is 75% sure that they’ve been going steady for two months, but if it’s actually the other 25%, this is going to get awkward in a hurry. Is this essentially a fake relationship, or is it only fake because they’re both idiots?

After having duly commended his soul to God, Fedyor invites Ivan over on Saturday night. He rents a tiny flat by himself since he’s been burned on rooming with strangers, but Ivan is used to it by now, and it doesn’t feel too small with the two of them. Fedyor strains his limited culinary skills to cook supper, probably making his babushka cluck her tongue and sigh in a judgmental fashion back in Nizhny Novgorod, and they sit down and eat in silence for five minutes. Then Fedyor says, “Vanya?”

The consistent use of the diminutive has started sometime in the last few weeks, neither of them remember quite when. Ivan doesn’t correct him. “Yes?”

Fedyor clears his throat. “Do you…” He winces. “Do you… like me?”

“Yes?” Ivan says again, looking confused. “I would not have spent so much time with you if I did not, don’t you think? We are friends.”

“Yes, I know that we’re friends, but…” Fedyor looks at the ceiling. It doesn’t help, so he looks back at Ivan. “Are we… special friends?”

Ivan continues to look blank. “Are we?”

Fedyor resists the urge to tug at his collar, thinking that it’s a damn good thing that he didn’t go with his other idea of just leaning across the table and passionately kissing him. With absolutely no change of tone or expression, Ivan says, “Please explain. Special friends how?”

“Friends who want to…” Fedyor takes a deep breath. “Be… more than friends?”

“How?” Ivan orders again, ruthlessly. “Be clear, Fedya.”

“Are we maybe… boyfriends?” Fedyor’s voice squeaks on the word. “As in… we have feelings for each other that aren’t just… friendly? Like… feelings which are… romantic?”

Ivan continues to stare at him like a statue for several more seconds, and Fedyor contemplates the feasibility of tunneling directly through the floor of his apartment and running all the way to Latvia. Then at last, Ivan throws his head back and – startling Fedyor deeply – breaks into real, genuine, belly laughter, the kind that he has never heard from Ivan before. “Oh my,” he chortles, slapping the table. “Your face. You were sweating bullets.”

“WAIT, WHAT!?!” Fedyor pushes his chair back and stands up with a clatter, incandescently outraged. “Are you – were you messing with me?!!”

“Maybe a little,” Ivan says, wiping his eyes. “You know, all this time, I have not been sure if you are shy or a terrible prude. Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“God’s Mother in Heaven – ” Fedyor feels another prick of disloyalty to his babushka for swearing on the Bogomater, but some people deserve it. All inhibitions forgotten, he charges at Ivan like a runaway train, as Ivan springs out of his own chair in readiness, and starts pounding on his chest in transports of fury. “You are the worst! You are the worst person ever! For two months, what have we been doing?! I have been afraid this whole time that maybe you don’t know what’s really going on, and now – ?! You are the worst!”

Ivan catches Fedyor’s flailing arms, holds them away from him, and picks him up bodily, swinging him around and pushing him against the wall. “Maybe I am just a dumb country boy from Siberia,” he remarks, “but even I am not that stupid, Fedyor Mikhailovich.”

“I hate you,” Fedyor pants, their faces and their mouths an inch away from each other. “Get out of my apartment.”

“Mmm?” Ivan cocks an eyebrow. Then he plants both hands on either side of Fedyor’s head, leans in, and deeply, savagely captures Fedyor’s mouth with his own.

Every remaining vestige of barely rational thought in Fedyor’s head evaporates in screaming shock. He still wants to shove Ivan away, knee him in the balls, or break a chair over his head, but if he did that, he would have to stop kissing him, and he can’t do that either. He moans, Ivan’s tongue takes the opportunity to slip into his mouth, their hands clutch and claw and their legs melt out from under them, they turn away or break contact only to gulp a breath before diving back in again, and the next time Fedyor is aware of anything, they have collapsed on his kitchen floor in a wrung-out, entangled, gasping heap. Ivan says in his ear, “Do you still want me to leave, Fedya?”

“No,” Fedyor manages. “Because now, I am really going to make you suffer.”

Ivan’s smile is dark and full of promise. He pulls back, gets to his feet, and holds out a hand. “Then I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

(Ivan doesn’t leave Fedyor’s apartment that night. He doesn’t leave it the next night either. At the end of the week, Fedyor calls up Nadia and informs her that he hates her so much, and when they do next see each other, he’ll shake her by both shoulders and then thank her for introducing him to the no-good, truly awful, very bad love of his life.)

#ivan x fedyor #heartrender husbands #henchmen deserve happiness too okay #a phantom in enchanting light #mearcatsreturns #ask #fivan ff

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heretherebedork · 3 years ago

Text

I am here to hurt myself by watching WBL2. I know it ends in a reward but the beginning is nothing but agony and why I haven't watched it before. I am already in pain just from watching any tiny amount of pain of these boys.

lol I am literally refering to this as my day of atonement.

... I did make a very nice Rosh Hashanah post but that doesn't make me particularly religious, tbh. Cultural Judaism, yo.

Also, pain. Hi pain.

Ugh, I avoided this pain for so long. Now I'm here for it. One post. I'm only making this one post. @absolutebl I'm doing it! I know how much you love this, though.

Oh, fuck it, if I'm trying to limit all my rambling to one post I might as well read more it. I ramble so much.

Ep 1:

Oh look pain. Pain. And more pain. Yup. Yup. I hate this kind of plot even if I know it resolves well. At least it's not cheating but STILL hi dying. Shu Yi is a darling boy who deserved better than five years of nothing for any reason and Gao Shi De should have been better than that. Even knowing it ends well doesn't make this easier. dgkldf GODDAMN IT SELF. Just watch the show and stop being a baby about emotional pain.

Awww, the matching ties! I've seen that post a dozen times and love it every time and it's good to see.

The fucking way Gao Shi De just tries to walk back into his life without a second word or hesitation or thought makes me SO DAMN TWITCHY. Poor Shu Yi. Also, Gao Shi De deserves every punch and slap and uuughhh this show was designed to hurt me. I HATE relationships falling apart. Absolutely my least favorite trope/plot point of practically all time.I hate it I hate iiiit I hate it so muuuuuch.

I mean, damn, the acting here is amazing beyond words, obviously. But that just makes it hurt more. Especially Shu Yi's pain that he's put behind so much anger and work just to keep himself functional and it's damn gorgeous DAMNit.

Ep 2:

Darling Shu Yi deserved so much better. Even though Gao Shi De wasn't cheating on him, he deserved better than the silence and disappearance and he deserves the goddamn world. Ugh literally like a minute into the episode and already there is so much pain. I know they end up happy but I almost want to just tell Shu Yi to tell Gao Shi De to fuck off forever.

Nope, Gao Shi De, you deserve the pain. Shu Yi does't, you do, your upset doesn't get me upset. Shu Yi's pain is the only one I regret in this show. But, seriously, doing all this in front of the whole company is such a bastard move in his part honestly. Poor Shu Yi, seriously.

I do love my tiny obviously favorite character, though, and his tiny inability to sit and his tiny double hands for everything and I adore him beyond measure.

Ugh, Shu Yi choosing to fake the return of trust and friendship and love and I am proud of him for doing that and no, I don't care, Gao Shi De deserves it. I mean, it's not a good or healthy choice but, you know what, I'm okay with that.

But seriously. Poor Shu Yi. Has to deal with being ghosted and then Gao Shi De's return and then an extremely drunk ex crying on him when he's just trying to go to work... at midnight, okay, maybe not healthy either.

Ep 3:

Oh, Gao Shi De. You're an idiot. I mean that... only with a tiny bit of affection and mostly with me rolling my eyes. Making a promise to his dad wasn't bright of you. I mean, seriously, 5 years without contacting him, telling him what happened and on the condition that Shu Yi doesn't try to move on in five years of being completely ghosted. That's just dumb to an astonishingly level of dumb.

Ugh, poor Shu Yi. Your dad and your ex are both idiots and they deserve to get away from you just like you want. Seriously. You poor young man. You deserved so much better from the people you love.

But seriously fuck Gao Shi De and Shu Yi's dad. You're both idiots who don't deserve him. Especially his dad. But also especially Gao Shi De. Seriously. This is why we talk to people, damnit. Poor Shu Yi.

Why, yes, that's my main take away from this show. Shu Yi deserved so much better. Gao Shi De's need to constantly solve everything by himself is the biggest problem in the show, oy vey.

OF COURSE he wants to go back to that time. He was loved and loved and trusted you and happy and comfortable and who wouldn't want to go back to that?

Yu Zhen Xuan is my darling, obviously, and Pei Shou Yi's wanting to take care of him but also to stay away from him for his own sake. Oh, boys.

Ep 4:

I know they get better at some point. I really do. Shu Yi is still breaking my heart, though. I just want to see the poor darling smile and not in a flashback.

Oh, Shu Yi. You deserve the world, seriously. I mean, I'm glad you've managed to come back around to trying to believe in Gao Shi De. I really am. But man he doesn't deserve it. But also ugh, this embrace, utterly fantastic. Darling Shu Yi is finally smiling!

And poor Yu Zhen Xuan trying to ask about Pei Shou Yi so deseperately and being denied everything... ugh, I love him so much. But mostly just Yu Zhen Xuan wanting that connection so badly but always, again and again, denied and I just want to comfort him so badly. Yes, he's coming to you but, I mean, what is friendship but going to other people for comfort? Awww, the two ramens. The BABY.

But also darling Shu Yi is finally smiling and Gao Shi De does bring him comfort and love and they're genuinely good to and for each other, at least, once they're together. Now they just need to actually talk to each other about what happened.

The simultaneous "DAD" was gorgeous. Okay, that was really good.

Ep 5:

Ah, my long awaited darling boy's backstory that I know and love. The tiny panic and fear and the way he jumps and fights back at the tiniest thing... I love this feral teenager SO MUCH and then he grows up into a CTO for a major company and it's even better.

Plus, Pei Shou Yi looking for him after telling him not to come back because the mug got returned? Ugh, heartbreaking but in like a sad, small kind of way.

And the darling CEOs teasing each other in front of their employees while also in suits and being uplifting and good at supporting them? A+ how does one go about getting bosses like that? Also, how Shu Yi looks at Gao Shi De when he's being a good boss? Also A+.

Okay, yes, they're adorable and tiny and the piggyback ride while also in suits and looking fine is simple the best of the best and Gao Shi De taking care of Shu Yi while also confronting his father is frankly amazing. Oh, darling boys.

Gao Shi De, he already admitted that he did this entirely to trick you and Shu Yi is perfectly willing to take a stand against his father. Stop trying to win him over. Let Shu Yi handle his family. His dad's an idiot and he's not gonna listen to you.

Ep 6:

More backstory for my darling feral teenager and the doctor who took care of him at his lowest. I love them both so much. I wish they'd gotten more of a story but I'm not entirely sure I want a third season about them either.

Portable boyfriend! Well! Portable boy... friend...

Also, Shu Yi and Gao Shi De, you have no right to talk about them not communicating, seriously boys, love you to death but seriously communication... actually, honestly, Shu Yi is great at communication. He can criticize them. Gao Shi De has no right.

Pei Shou Yi, seriously, you say these things about not having any emotion but you also admit that you knew he evoked a response from you. You definitely remembered and had feelings about him when you were separated. I mean, you even saved the ramen that was his favorite. You looked for him. I know it's scary but that's okay.

Shu Yi is just so adorable about meeting the in-laws and being all awkward and adorable and it's beyond cute and then the talk about his dad and family and they're just adorable and domestic and sweet and how dare they.

Literally, Shu Yi is the best person in the world and the two people who love him most can learn a lot from him.

Ugh, Yu Zhen Xuan is my baby and I love him so much and he's just doing his best to be his best and he wants to love and be loved but he's trying so hard and I love him so much. He's just such a darling and he also deserves the world and to be loved just as he loves.

And we had to have another pool kiss, of course, what darlings.

Pei Shou Yei: I don't experience emotions... except the ones involved in protect Yu Zhen Xuan because those aren't emotions, those are just natural urges and don't count.

Awww, proposals are always adorable and sweet.

I did it! I've finally watched the whole thing, between dramacool and dailymotion I've managed to watch this show. Yay for me!

#bl drama #bl series #i'm not really gonna tag this #i'm so late to the game #but also agony #so you know #lol i finally did it #now my list of shows i have considered watching but chosen not to is at least one shorter

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crispyjenkins · 4 years ago

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fic with ahsoka as Obi-Wans Padawan? Maybe some angsty jangobi? (Used to be together but broke up and now they pine from afar™️)

(i’m devastated that i don’t get to write ahsoka much, especially as obi’s padawan, so that an anon would come into my inbox.... and request jangobi on top of it..... seriously, though, thank you! can’t say i wasn’t inspired by @autumnchild22’s Kenobi Tano AU, but this doesn’t share almost anything with their take of events (ノ*´◡`) i’m flattered y’all thought i could do something of theirs justice lmao

i have written entirely too much backstory for this one, i think my brainstorming ended up longer than the actual fic so like. rip.

support artists and writers by reblogging, message me for more info if this confuses you!)

It surprises everyone except Obi-Wan that not only does Jango join the clones on the front lines, but he does so as the ARC troopers’ medic. That the son of the Mand’alor murdered by the Jedi would allow his kid to be apprenticed by a lifetime Council member is already hard enough for the galaxy at large to swallow; believing that the man who had at once been the most feared bounty hunter in the Outer Rim wouldn’t even ask for a command position? Impossible.

Obi-Wan knows better. Just as Obi-Wan had picked up Soresu because he could not protect his master on Naboo, Jango had learned to put people back together because he could not save his buir on Korda 6.

Besides, Obi-Wan thinks Mace is a wonderful match for little Boba, even though he’s joining the Jedi older than even Anakin had been. Knowing Mace was among the Jedi to liberate the spice freighter Jango had been sold to, and that he had continued to check in on Jango for years after he got his armor back, Obi-Wan actually finds it rather silly that others on the Council had thought Jango would trust Boba to anyone else.

Which does leave Obi-Wan in quite the predicament, when less than a year after Anakin's knighting, Mace sends him a new padawan in the middle of a campaign.

Ahsoka smiles with all canines, and calls Anakin Skyguy, and has to be tricked into wearing more armor because, according to Cody, she is "not to take the General's lack of self-preservation as the status quo, nor as the basis for field safety." Which, rude, Obi-Wan wears plenty of armor when the situation calls for it; he simply doesn't find many situations where plasteel has kept his men or the Jedi from dying horribly.

Letting Ahsoka gallivant around a battlefield in a tube-top without even a cloak, however, is out of the question, and Obi-Wan thinks Waxer does a brilliant job in sizing down the armor to fit their collective padawan over the next few months. Force, had Anakin really been younger than she when he first started taking him on missions?

"Master?"

Obi-Wan blinks, and smiles down at Ahsoka standing next to him, his apprentice looking quite dashing in the orange paint of the 212th. "Sorry, my dear, what were you saying?"

She shrugs, eyeing him suspiciously. "'Was just asking if we would be working with the ARC troopers on Kiros; Captain Fordo said he would show me how to use a blaster rifle next time they were on the Negotiator."

The Kaminoans intended for a few ARC troopers to be sent with each battalion, but it had quickly become clear that Jango had not trained them that way. Instead, he had raised and created a strike team so efficient, it would have been a waste to separate them; Obi-Wan knows Jango had hand-picked them from cadets, had searched for a spark in them that the Kaminoans hadn't already snuffed out completely. Jango had been like that once, too.

"I would be surprised if we didn't," Obi-Wan decides on, turning back to observe the 212th loading into the Negotiator, and he would be, because the ARCs are often deployed with Obi-Wan’s men, have been since the Battle of Kamino. "But I have not heard anything from Master Shaak Ti, nor Captain Fordo as of yet."

Ahsoka scrunches up her face into a pout, an amusing show of her age that she usually does not allow. "We'll probably get halfway through the mission and they'll just show up."

Obi-Wan chuckles. “Hm, yes, probably,” he agrees, starting to make his way down to the hangar to join his men with Ahsoka trotting along behind, “but perhaps I can convince Captain Fordo not to surprise us too badly this time.”

When the ARC troopers finally storm the Kadavo Processing Facility with Anakin and the Jedi on their heels, the warden Agruss is already dead.

The sudden swell of Jedi presence is nearly blinding after a month of helplessness, but Obi-Wan can't tap out, not yet. Rex, satisfied and vindictive and relieved, sways dangerously and automatically reaches out to Obi-Wan to steady himself.

That Rex trusts him enough to not even think about rank before asking for help warms Obi-Wan in ways he doesn't yet have the words for — he wraps Rex's arm around his shoulders and takes half his weight happily.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan finds himself murmuring as he helps Rex towards the doors, and only smiles at the captain's bemused expression.

"Whatever for, General?" he asks, even as he looks back over their shoulders across the room, to Agruss impaled to his chair with the electrostaff still sparking. Then he returns Obi-Wan’s smile, shaking his head. "That's not very Jedi-like of you, sir."

"I'm afraid I haven't felt much a Jedi since Kiros, my dear." Which is perhaps too honest to allow himself before he's had a proper meal and a full night's rest, but if there is anyone who will understand, it is the man that lived it with him. "We could wait up here for Anakin to find us, but it will likely be a while before they can spare him to start looking; do you think you can keep your feet long enough for us to reach the ground floor?"

Rex snorts and gives a vague wave of his free hand towards the elevators. "Well, I'm certainly not going to wait up here like some damsel, sir, and General Skywalker would kill me if I let you wander around on your own."

"Well!" Obi-Wan laughs, for the first time in weeks, and hitches Rex up to get a better grip on his waist. "In that case, we really should not keep him waiting."

They somehow time it perfectly for what the 187th and the 501st to have just finished rounding up the slavers in the courtyard when he and Rex hobble out of a side door of the warden's tower. Lieutenant Law oversees the Togrutas' move to Mace’s flagship Solace, and Obi-Wan easily picks him and Boba out from the crowd, standing at the base of the loading ramp and speaking with the Kiros colony's governor. Anakin is nowhere to be seen, but Obi-Wan doesn't get the chance to keep looking before Kix spots them from his place by the medical frigate; a shout passes over the nearby clones like a wave, until Kix and an ARC trooper break away to (gently) manhandle both him and Rex to the frigate.

The 187th's medic, Oro, is already on board seeing to the Togrutas too injured to wait for triage on the Solace, snapping a distracted salute that Obi-Wan quickly waves off as he helps heft Rex onto a hoverbed. He fully intends to duck back out and check in with Mace, though things seem well in hand without him, but the ARC with Kix takes off his helmet and glares, until Obi-Wan meekly shuffles to the next hoverbed over.

He could never refuse Jango, after all.

"You repainted your armor," he says conversationally, as Jango pulls a scanner from the bandoleer around his chest and has Obi-Wan roll up his right sleeve.

"'Lost the last set to a sarlacc before our deployment to Kiros," Jango snorts, Concord Dawn accent stronger than any of his clones. "Though it looks like your mission had its fair share of excitement." Running the scanner over the electrical burns on Obi-Wan’s arm, Jango raises an eyebrow at the dried blood on the shoulder of his tunics; Obi-Wan honestly doesn't remember if it's his or not.

And he can only smile at Jango, because even with a decade and a war between them, the corner of Jango's mouth still twitches when he's stressed. "Well, it certainly wasn't boring, my dear," Obi-Wan says, opening the neck of his tunic enough for Jango to stick him with a hypospray that hopefully won't make him too high. "And I can't say I'm looking forward to what is surely going to be a long dip in the bacta tank."

He gets a laugh for that, and can't think of the last time they had done more than make eye contact from opposite sides of a ship. Perhaps it had been Kamino, when Taun We had first sent for the Jedi to meet the army created for them.

Obi-Wan had rather thought Jango dead until then, when he had disappeared from the galaxy abruptly as if he had never lived in it at all. For a time, Obi-Wan believed he had just gotten cold feet, that finally meeting Anakin made it all a little too personal too quickly, but then even Mace could not get a hold of him and no one had seen a Mandalorian bounty hunter in months.

Their... conversation, Jango's stilted explanations of his absence and of how little he actually knew about the purpose for the clones he helped create, left far too much unsaid, but then Obi-Wan had been sent to Geonosis and, well. It's been nearly two years now, and Obi-Wan isn't sure if he's even seen Jango without his helmet since then.

His eyes flick over Obi-Wan’s face, the left side of his lips twitching as if knowing exactly what Obi-Wan is thinking — and he might not put it past him.

"Where are Anakin and Ahsoka?" Obi-Wan hears himself ask, when the silence grows heavy with those unsaid words. And he really would like to check in with his padawan, he can't imagine her last month has been a picnic either.

Jango sticks him with another stim before answering, "Mace sent Skywalker to make sure no slave is missed, and no slaver isn't arrested. As for your new foundling..." That little smile comes back, as Jango nods out the back of the frigate to where someone is cutting a line through the clones guarding their new prisoners.

"Oh dear," Obi-Wan mumbles, barely having time to brace himself before Ahsoka is launching herself at him, and all he can think is how relieved he is to see her out of her slave disguise. Jango steps cleanly out of the way to let Ahsoka smother herself in Obi-Wan’s chest, though it doesn’t stop him from starting to prep bacta patches to tide him over until they can get to the Negotiator’s medbay.

“Hello, little one,” Obi-Wan murmurs, carefully loosening the tight net of his shields for the first time since Zygerria and letting Ahsoka’s presence flood his mind.

“It’s good to see you, Master ‘Nobi,” she says into his tunics, and her voice does not waver at all.

He manages a chuckle, though it does not hold nearly as well as Ahsoka’s, as he feels himself finally relax. Anakin, of course, senses the both of them immediately and prods at their minds, but neither Obi-Wan nor his padawan acknowledge him. “I take it the Queen is dead?”

Ahsoka sighs and pulls back enough to nod. “Count Dooku was there, Skyguy barely got us all out.”

“That was a week ago,” Jango adds, not looking up from the datapad he’s logging Obi-Wan’s injuries into. “Even with the Queen giving us the location of the Processing Facility, we had to wait for the 187th to catch up.”

Running his palm from the top of her head down her hind lek, Ahsoka melts back against him with a Togruta churr he rarely has the pleasure of hearing from her. “Hm, and I imagine Boba was thrilled to work with the ARC troopers.”

Jango snorts, because they both know Boba is thirteen and his rebellious stage where he wants nothing to do with his father for fear of losing his independence. “Originally, the 104th was the closest battalion, but were held up in their own campaign. ‘Honestly didn’t think we could keep Skywalker from rushing in anyways.”

And Obi-Wan has to wince at that, because no matter what he does, he can’t seem to find a way to teach Anakin about attachment in words he understands; truthfully, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have had him knighted until he had at least attempted to master that part of his mind, but, well, the War had different opinions.

“I’m actually just surprised he didn’t try to fight Dooku,” Ahsoka admits, finally releasing Obi-Wan only to hop up on the hoverbed next to him. Jango immediately pulls Obi-Wan’s bare arm back to himself to start slapping the bacta patches over the worst of his burns. “Master Windu had a talk with him, though, I think it was good for him.”

“I’d like to see that!” Jango barks, only half sarcastically: he knows better than most, the sorts of things Mace Windu can talk someone out of, and if it worked for one ex-slave, why shouldn’t it work on another?

Ah, perhaps that shared history should not have slipped Obi-Wan’s mind, not here with thousands of freed slaves needing aid for injuries Jango is intimately familiar with.

“And are you alright?” he asks before he can talk himself out of it, as Jango is cutting his sleeve further back. His brow ticks back up, clearly bewildered by what Obi-Wan could be referring to, but it’s Ahsoka that leans around Obi-Wan to sniff triumphantly up at Jango.

“I told you he still likes you,” she says, and Jango’s hand freezes on Obi-Wan’s wrist.

Obi-Wan sighs. “Ahsoka.”

But instead of denying that he might have actually had such a conversation with Obi-Wan’s padawan, Jango coughs on a laugh. “So you did, edee. To be fair, I did not think that was the issue.”

Ahsoka rolls her eyes, leaning back into Obi-Wan’s side as he automatically raises his arm to accommodate her. “He thinks he lost his chance, Master ‘Nobi,” she tells him. “Even Cody thinks he’s full of banthashit.”

Where Obi-Wan feels a little shell-shocked by the turn in conversation, Jango simply keeps that tiny smile — even if it looks bittersweet and self-deprecating now. “Your foundling has spent the last week talking me in circles about this, I almost think she’s as stubborn as you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I think,” Obi-Wan returns, sarcasm an automatic, subconscious response.

“I wouldn’t need to talk you in circles if you two just talked to each other.”

Shaking his head in bemusement, Obi-Wan gently fixes Ahsoka’s slika beads to lay properly around her montrals. “I’m afraid there’s quite a lot of history there, little one; most of which I’m sure Jango did not actually share with you.”

She wrinkles her nose. “No, he refuses to tell me anything except that you met on a mission. And that he saved your ass from Jabba the Hutt.”

Obi-Wan snaps his eyes to Jango, who looks absolutely anywhere but at him. “Is that how you remember it going, my dear?”

“Could we do this later?”

“Because if I recall correctly, and I do, this is not the first time you’ve lost your armor to a sarlacc.”

Jango looks to the ceiling for patience.

Mando'a: buir — “parent”, gender neutral Mand’alor — “Sole ruler”, contended ruler of Mandalore. edee — “teeth”, “jaws”, used here as an affectionate name for Ahsoka. because she teeth.

#thinking about opening the ask box again but keeping anon off #i miss y’all ꒰๑·̥﹏·̥๑꒱#WHY DO I KEEP WRITING 3000 WORD PROMPT FILLS #well i mean it’s cause i don’t want it to seem slapdash or not thought out and i always have so much plot #but it’d still be nice to not put my chaptered fics on the backburner ‘cause i can’t multitask between them T0T #prompt fill #crispy writes #jangobi #jango fett #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #captain rex #prequel trilogy #au #force sensitive boba #alternate events at and post galidraan #medic jango #clone oc #oro is mine (ノ*´▽`)#real talk tho #i’m super fucked up about everything happening with achievement hunter right now #it’s been a rough couple of days #i hope you’re all safe and healthy and taking care of each other #believe victims not abusers #hashtag crispy stop tagging so much

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gisellelx · 3 years ago

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Since tomorrow is Father’s Day (and also Edward’a birthday I think?) can you share some sappy headcannon moments about Carlisle and Edward?

Ohhhhh anon. Thank you for this. My heart, here it all is spilled out on paper. I am making NO APOLOGIES for the length of this post. You knew what you were getting into, here. And have I got a treat for you about my headcanon and this particular date: First, you must understand that because of the ole' sideblog, I have a very detailed headcanon about where Carlisle is at any given time so that there aren't continuity errors. This is actually one of the fun things about fanfic vs. profic--in profic, at least in contemporary YA, my genre, you are trying to minimize references to actual events and time lest your work not be timeless. But I have a really detailed outline of when all my characters exist; I find I can't write any other way. This is why SM is so baffling to me--it's so clear she just has like, blank gray clouds for any time any given character isn't on screen. Nah. I have backstories for days on even my minor characters. I always know where all of them are. In fic, I get to fully indulge that because no one has to figure out if the fic will still sell five or ten years from now if it makes a dated reference to the new iPhone. So I can set the characters precisely in time, and imagine how exact dates and events affect their lives right then. Carlisle and Esme have been in Wisconsin; the children are all living as individual couples in southern France. You can thank Foi Pur for the headcanon that the Cullens own a home in Toulouse. They were stationed there while Carlisle was practicing in Bergamo early in the pandemic, and the children stayed there while Carlisle followed the outbreaks and Esme refused to leave his side (even though he begged her to). They came to the U.S. last summer; they haven't lived here since they left Forks 8 years ago. The borders have been closed; they haven't seen the rest of the family since then. On June 9, 2021, France opened the borders to vaccinated Americans. As case counts have receded, Carlisle has shifted to being a more standard hospitalist, with the usual 7 days on, 7 off schedule instead of taking off to say, Mumbai, because he bought Esme their old house and she's busy with it. He's working that schedule at two hospitals though, so basically is never off-duty. As soon as France announced their change, he went to both CMOs and said he was taking time off to see his family. He had to finish working that week, and then had to work his next "on" week at the other hospital, which meant that June 19 was the earliest he could possibly travel. In other words, the actual world, and the very real constraints of the kind of work I envision Carlisle to be doing, have converged on the fact that Carlisle and Esme touched down in their private jet at Castres airport early this morning Central European Time. On Father's Day. And Edward's 120th birthday. Everybody met them. There were lots of non-liquid tears. Edward hopped on Sotheby's the moment the news dropped on June 4 and rented an estate in Saint-Tropez that is costing them a quarter of a million dollars a week but it's private and they can all be outside. They got there this morning and are throwing Edward an extravagant party this evening, and Carlisle hasn't been more than six feet from Edward for the last twelve hours. Edward's patience with this is going to tire by midday tomorrow, but for now, he's enjoying Carlisle's attention. (It's 7:30 PM in Saint-Tropez as I write this; they're in the thick of gift-giving.) In other words, these boys could not possibly be happier this particular Father's Day.

So that's the big, fun, sappy, timely hc. Here's some others:

Edward is an only child. There, I said it. Carlisle and Esme talk about having six children and will never in a million years admit, even to themselves, that they actually only have one child. But they treat Edward like he is their only child, and Carlisle thinks of him as separate from the rest. He certainly loves him more.

Edward gets very pouty if anyone but him celebrates Father's Day. Most of the others are very "whatever" about it but Carlisle and Rosalie do have a very father/daughter relationship and so she also likes to honor him on Father's Day. Because Edward is Edward, he assumes she's doing this just to annoy him and it's one more hash mark on the "Rosalie is a bitch" bingo card.

They are best friends as well as father and son. Their relationship is always both/and. It often turns on a dime--they're having a raucous, bawdy time one moment and then something triggers Edward and they are in full-on father/son comfort mode the next. Everything in their relationship happened very offhandedly. The first time Carlisle told Edward he loved him, it was by accident: he thought it while they were playing in the woods a few months after Edward's turning. Edward came to a stop so fast Carlisle almost crashed into him. Carlisle then said the words aloud for the first time.

Edward didn't return those words for nearly a year. Again, it was almost an afterthought: he was thanking Carlisle for a new phonograph and the words "I love you" just slid out. Carlisle almost spontaneously combusted.

The first time Edward called Carlisle his father, they were still living as a man and his brother-in-law. He came home excitedly, having bought tickets to the new moving picture house in town. He was telling Carlisle the story, excited that he felt confident enough to sit in a closed room with a crowd of humans, and mentioned he had bought two tickets because as he'd told the ticket seller, he thought his father would like to come. He was surprised when Carlisle started crying. Edward and Carlisle almost never fight. When they do, it is vicious. Edward is the only family to have ever seriously injured Carlisle; Carlisle has a long gash across his left collarbone and down his left scapula from the most serious attack in 1927. Edward hates it when Carlisle thinks about them. Carlisle has never broken Edward's skin, but there've been a handful of times they've had very tense conversations while Carlisle had him in a half nelson.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, can wound Carlisle more than Edward having a teenaged fit and screaming, "You're not my father!" Edward knows this, but sometimes his brain short circuits and he does it anyway. This has happened only a handful of times and each time it's taken years to repair.

Carlisle was touch-starved for so long that he is very touchy-feely with Edward. Edward is perpetually seventeen and does not like to be cuddled, hugged, or kissed. They met in a place that is nowhere near the middle where Carlisle occasionally puts his arm around Edward. Like, once or twice a year.

This changed a little bit when Renesmee became a teenager and started rebuffing Edward's physical affection. He came to Carlisle and complained about how she never wanted to be hugged anymore and Carlisle laughed so hard he choked. Edward has gotten a little better about being hugged since then. Renesmee has been very good for their relationship in lots of ways, not the least of which has been that it has helped them both view Edward as more of an adult. Anyway. I could go on for days. These details are always lurking, and they're sprinkled throughout any fic I write. Love these boys so much. They are such a fantastic duo to write. Happy Birthday, E.

Happy Father's Day, C.

#headcanons #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #father/son #long post #sorry not sorry #anon #ask #i honestly don't remember where the movie headcanon came from #i have absorbed it as canon so completely it feels like mine but i think i stole it

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bedlamsbard · 3 years ago

Text

Part two of the Caleb and Loth-wolf concept! I am tentatively planning for this to be a five things fic, but I am absolutely unwilling to commit to that at the moment. This follows part one; technically it’s backstory for The Starry Crown, but its relevance there isn’t in any of the posted chapters and it stands on its own.

About 4.7K below the break.

***

When Caleb had a question about anything, which was often, because he didn’t like not knowing things and he liked the satisfaction of having a proper explanation to fill empty spaces in his knowledge of the universe, his preferred method was to pester the crèche masters until he was satisfied by their responses. But this time he didn’t want to let Master Krell know about Rroshaal, since if Rroshaal had wanted Krell to know about him he would have stayed with Caleb instead of disappearing.

So instead, Caleb went to the library.

Caleb liked the library. It was quiet and while sometimes the Knights and older padawans working there looked askance at his presence, no one had ever kicked him out, though he had on occasion been steered away from some of the more restricted sections. Master Nu, upon once finding him struggling to fetch out a holodisk shelved out of his reach because he was intrigued by the symbols on the spine, had shown him how to use the computers to search the Temple databases. Caleb’s log-in was keyed to his DNA and he hadn’t yet figured out how to get around that, so his access was fairly restricted compared to what even an initiate or older youngling might have gotten, but it was better than not having it at all, and he could lose hours scrolling through seemingly endless amounts of information. Sometimes he didn’t even recognize the redactions where information that wasn’t appropriate for his level had been hidden.

He waited impatiently through his last few lessons for the day, which he normally liked but wasn’t in the mood for, then practically ran out of the classroom and towards the library. Caleb made his way through the mazelike corridors of the Jedi Temple with the ease of long practice. He could have done it blindfolded; younglings trained and played that way, placing their trust in the Force and their other senses so that they didn’t become overly reliant on their eyes. This time he didn’t bother.

It was late enough in the day that most of the diurnal species in the Temple – the majority of them – had gone to dinner, either to eat in their rooms or the crèche or one of the big public halls or the gardens. Caleb bounced excitedly into the library and looked around for a free computer. The few Jedi still there looked around at his entrance, indulgently amused at his arrival. Caleb waved at them cheerfully and went over to the nearest computer, raising the seat up until he could see the screen clearly. He poked at the keyboard with his index fingers, trying to think of what the best search terms for Rroshaal’s species were.

Half an hour later, he had found all sorts of canines and felines and other mammals which varied from adorable to terrifying, but nothing that matched his memory of Rroshaal. They varied on the sentience scale, and if Caleb hadn’t been so focused on finding Rroshaal’s species he might have dropped everything to go beg the crèche masters for a miniature hamerlok puppy, but as it was he filed that away to think about later.

Caleb ended up in the library often enough that he knew better than to waste time searching for something when he didn’t know the best way to do so or didn’t have the necessary access. He looked around for one of the librarians and saw Master Nu coming towards him; she had found him on one of his research spirals a dozen times before and knew his pattern. He waved at her and she smiled at him.

“What are you looking for, Caleb?” she asked, resting a hand on the back of his chair.

Trying to sound as grown-up as possible, Caleb turned towards her and said, “I’m trying to identify another species, but I haven’t been able to find him – them.”

“A sentient species?”

He nodded. “But not a humanoid.”

“Someone you saw here in the Temple?”

Caleb bit his lip. Technically he had seen Rroshaal in the Temple, but he didn’t want to admit to Master Nu that he had been in the underlevels, and that wasn’t what she meant anyway. She was asking if he was talking about another Jedi, or maybe one of the civilians who were in the Temple sometimes. “I had a vision?” he said tentatively. It was partially true, after all; Rroshaal had shown him his species through the Force, and that was sort of like a vision. And he had seen Rroshaal with his own eyes, which was technically vision even if it wasn’t a vision. “I read a holobook,” he added, almost immediately afterwards. He read lots of holobooks.

Master Nu looked amused, but didn’t comment on the two contradictory explanations. “Do you know what this other species of yours looks like?”

Caleb nodded firmly. “Big. Furry. Sort of like canines – maybe like lupines. I don’t understand the difference,” he admitted. He pointed at the screen, which was still open on the image of the miniature hamerlok, which was a domesticated subspecies of an Alderaanian predator. It looked a little like Rroshaal had, except much smaller and less fluffy, and the wrong color, though the entry said they came in lots of colors. “Like that. But not. And they can use the Force. And they live in grasslands.”

“Hmm,” Master Nu said. She thought for a moment, then leaned over his shoulder. “Has anyone shown you how to use species identification software?”

Caleb perked up. “That exists?”

“It’s often used by law enforcement, but many Jedi find it useful for other purposes as well,” Master Nu explained. “Most Jedi don’t have to use it until they’re padawans.”

Caleb bounced excitedly at this new information, moving his chair to the side so that she could bring up the program. She had to enter her own ID and log-in information, then adjust the access levels so that Caleb would be able to use it without having someone else log him in. He watched excitedly as she showed him how to cycle through different physical traits, slowly building an image on the screen of Rroshaal as Caleb remembered him. When he was finished, the program offered him a list of possible species that matched the criteria Caleb had inputted.

“Do any of these look right?” Master Nu asked. “From your holobook?”

Caleb shrugged. “No, Master. Can we look at all of them?” There were fewer than a dozen, ranked in order of most to least likely.

“That’s usually the best way to do it.”

Caleb carefully put his finger to the first option, which read TUK’ATA/SITH HOUND (MORABAND). As soon as the new window opened, he shook his head, but read the entry anyway, fascinated, then looked up at Master Nu. “They can’t really all be evil, can they? I mean, if you got a pup and raised it here in the Temple – or away from the Sith worlds, anyway –”

“I can’t recall whether anyone has ever attempted it, but looking up their history might be a good research project for you,” Master Nu said, bemused. “It does seem like the sort of thing someone would have tried, especially during the aftermath of the Sith Wars.”

“I want to try,” Caleb declared.

“That is the sort of experiment that will have to wait until you’re at least a padawan,” Master Nu told him firmly. “Since you would have to go to Moraband to find one – every attempt to traffic them offworld has failed. That’s something else you could look up another time.”

Caleb nodded and closed the window. He touched the next item in the list, LOTH-WOLF (LOTHAL), and as soon as it opened, said delightedly, “That’s him! But they’re not extinct?” he added, seeing the first line of the entry.

“Why do you think that?”

“I saw him. I talked to him.” Caleb remembered abruptly that he didn’t want to explain how he had done so and said quickly, “In my vision.”

Master Nu quirked an eyebrow at him. “Do you want to tell me about your vision?” she asked. “Or perhaps talk to one of the masters who specializes in seeing?”

Caleb shook his head so rapidly that his learner’s braid hit him in the nose. “I have to figure it out on my own,” he said with as much dignity as he could muster when he was lying through his teeth. He copied the information carefully to his data storage account, then went back to get the tuk’ata information too while Master Nu went to find him some more books on Loth-wolves, after first making him promise that if he had another vision he would bring it to her or one of the other masters. Since if he ever actually did have a vision that was more than the flashes of precognition that gave Jedi their reflexes he was planning to tell everyone he knew, Caleb promised this solemnly.

Master Nu came back a few minutes later with a stack of holobooks for him – one a survey on Force-sensitive semi-sentient creatures and non-humanoids, one a travelogue from a Jedi Master who had mapped out many of the known Force-strong worlds, and one a history about Force-users who partnered with non-humanoids or semi-sentients. Caleb quietly thought that both “semi-sentient” and “non-humanoid” didn’t describe Rroshaal at all, but he wasn’t about to tell Master Nu that. Well, the non-humanoid part was true, but it didn’t really sum up what Rroshaal was.

He put the books carefully in his bag, noting that the history book was past his usual access level and wondering why, thanked Master Nu, and hurried off to the nearest dining hall. Dinner was still being served; even if he had missed it there was always food available somewhere in the Temple, though sometimes you had to do a bit more searching to find it. He wrapped a dozen meat pasties in a napkin along with two pieces of his favorite spice cake, then wrapped them in another napkin before putting them in his bag and making sure his water bottle was still mostly full. No one paid him any attention – he had found one of the dining halls that was mostly used by Knights and masters, a few of whom he knew, but everyone in the Temple was used to everyone else occasionally doing odd things. He waved at a Kiffar Knight who was one of his teachers in staff-fighting and left, grabbing a jogan fruit from a bowl as he did so.

He had to pause outside the hall and think about the best way to get down to the underlevels, since he wasn’t supposed to go there. After getting caught down there the previous day he probably really wasn’t supposed to go there, but it wasn’t like every youngling didn’t do it at one point or another. Like almost everything else in the Temple, there were lots of ways to get there, but Caleb thought that it was probably best if he chose one of the entrances closest to where Rroshaal had left him. He wanted Rroshaal to be able to find him again, but he didn’t want to get caught by Master Krell or any of the other crèche masters, either.

Decision made, he went trotting off. It took him longer to reach the underlevels than he had expected, since he was coming by a different route, but eventually he reached the bottom of the last staircase and hesitated, looking around. He had taken care to bring a glowstone with him this time so he wouldn’t get caught in the dark again, even if he couldn’t shake the feeling that it felt a little like cheating. What Caleb should have had was a lightsaber, but he wouldn’t have a lightsaber until after he had had his Gathering, and his cohort wouldn’t go on their Gathering for at least another two years, maybe even three or four.

“Rroshaal?” he called into the quiet, waiting dark of the underlevels. From here it just seemed like empty, unused space, but Caleb knew that it wasn’t. Further away – and further down – the underlevels deteriorated into a series of mazes, layers and layers of ancient temples built on top of each other. He’d read a book on it – well, he had run across it in a history, but when he went looking for more books he had found that they were beyond his access level, and Master Nu couldn’t be convinced to give them to him anyway. Caleb thought he might ask again, now that he had the excuse of having been caught down in the underlevels. He might as well use it for something. Maybe he could convince Master Krell and Master Nu that having to write a report on the history of the underlevels was an appropriate punishment.

“Rroshaal?” he called again. “It’s Caleb Dume. Rroshaal?”

There was no response. Caleb hesitated, wondering if he ought to go further in and away from the stairs. Maybe Rroshaal wouldn’t want to come this close to the entrance to the rest of the Temple, even though he had brought Caleb back yesterday.

He stood there for a few minutes, calling occasionally and hoping both that there weren’t security cams down here and that no one could hear him from the next level up.

There was no response.

Caleb stood there on the last step, feeling heat gather in his cheeks from embarrassment. He’d thought that Rroshaal had liked him. He was on the verge of going back to the crèche to palm off all the pasties on his crèche-mates when he thought suddenly, no. He had been acting like Rroshaal was a dumb animal, like the charhound pup one of the older initiates was fostering. Not that the charhound wasn’t very intelligent, but it wasn’t exactly a person, and Rroshaal was.

He reached with the Force, concentrating on his memory of Rroshaal’s strong sense of personality, and let his mind sink down into the vergence the Temple was built on. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to do that because vergences were dangerous – even Knights and masters weren’t supposed to do that – but Caleb thought that because he more or less knew what he was doing with it that he probably wouldn’t lose himself in the Force. He remembered what Rroshaal had told him yesterday, about the vergence where he lived and being able to move between that vergence and the one under the Temple. In a way, every vergence in the Force was one. They were unique – but at the same time they were also one.

Rroshaal? he thought, layering his memory of Rroshaal’s strong personality onto it. With rare exception, Jedi weren’t telepaths, but for their first few years in the crèche they didn’t have to speak to each other with words, either; they had the Force for that. Rroshaal, it’s Caleb Dume. He added his own mental signature to that, the emotional overtones in the Force that would tell another Force-user that it was him, Caleb Dume, and not someone else.

He could feel the weight of the Force as he opened himself to it. It was like the lake that he had seen on Alderaan when his cohort had visited the planet the previous year, the deep lake that was actually a rift in the planet’s surface and was more than ten kilometers deep. It pulled at him, at the surface of his mind; Caleb was aware of it – of it fluttering at the edges of his consciousness, bits and pieces of things that had happened in the past, that could have happened in the past, that were yet to come, of people who were long dead or were yet to be born or might never be born, of his people and the enemy of his people and all of those who touched the Force in their own way, whether they were Jedi or not.

He had never gone that deep into the Force before. He hadn’t meant to do so now.

He fought aside his instinctive panic, knowing that, like the lake, if he panicked he would drown. Caleb concentrated hard on his memory of Rroshaal, forcing himself to ignore the insistent whispers of almost-sound and the flickering almost-sight at the edges of his mind. Jedi were will. He wouldn’t let himself be swayed from his intention, now that he had set himself upon it.

Jedi were the Force. Whatever it was trying to show him, he already knew – he already was, or would be, or could be. All things were true at once in the Force.

Not trying to show him, he thought, a little dizzy. Do or do not. There is no try.

Caleb stopped fighting the almost-visions and let them pass through them instead, still keeping his mind on Rroshaal. He felt – bigger, somehow, older, as if his body no longer quite fit him in his dim awareness of his own physical form. But it wasn’t not his body, either; there was nothing unfamiliar about it. Caleb accepted that and let his call to Rroshaal roll out again, noting absently that there were layers in his mental signature that he had never been consciously aware of before. But they had always been there, of course.

He felt an instant of sleepy surprise, then acknowledgment.

They came from outside himself and were accompanied by a strong sense of place; Caleb tasted prairie winds and the rock-smell of an unfamiliar world, the warmth of lazing in a sun he had never stood under.

Certain that he had been heard, Caleb dragged himself uncertainly out of his trance. Reality fluttered around him; Caleb could feel it flexing, as if someone had shaken out a sheet and each fold held a different possibility, a different time, a different place. Then, before he had time to panic, it settled again, leaving him gasping in the dim light of the underlevels.

He sat down heavily on the steps.

After a moment he dug in his bag and came up with the jogan he had grabbed in the dining hall, which he ate slowly. One of the earliest things that younglings were taught was to eat or drink something after an intense meditation session, because it reminded them that while they might be the Force and full of light, they still had physical bodies. Caleb ate the jogan in small, neat bites, concentrating on its taste and how it felt in his mouth, and eventually got out of his datapad to read the database entry about Loth-wolves that he had gotten from the library computers. He had finished both and set the datapad aside so that he could wrap up the jogan pips to throw away later when he heard the soft click…click… of approaching claws on the marble floor.

He saw Rroshaal’s glowing eyes first, coming out of the darkness of the underlevels.

Caleb stood up to greet him, momentarily startled by how big Rroshaal was – he’d somehow forgotten. Rroshaal came up to him and ducked his head to nuzzle thoughtfully at Caleb’s hair, then licked Caleb’s face in a greeting.

“Hello!” Caleb said happily. “You came!”

Rroshaal licked his face again. He had been napping, he told Caleb; it was the middle of the day on his homeworld, and most of his people slept then. Caleb got the brief impression of windswept grasslands, too hot under the summer sun for Rroshaal to want to be out in.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he said. “It’s dinner time here. I’ve got dinner,” he added. “If you want?”

Rroshaal made an inquisitive sound and lay down as Caleb dug in his bag for the pasties. He laid most of them down on the cloth for Rroshaal to sniff at, but kept two for himself, watching Rroshaal eat each one in two bites. Interesting, was his observation when he was finished.

“It’s ronto, I think,” Caleb said; he was only halfway through his first one by the time Rroshaal had finished. “Do you have rontos on your world? They’re saurians, they live on desert worlds mostly, and a lot of ranchers breed them for meat.” He pictured the holos he had seen; he hadn’t seen one in person yet.

Rroshaal’s response was in the negative. Hoppers, he replied to Caleb, along with a strong sense of a big four-legged mammal that moved by leaping from its hindmost feet; it used its front legs more like arms and Rroshaal had a strong, vivid memory of being punched in the nose by one during his last hunt. The memory was accompanied by a strong, gamey taste of raw meat that made Caleb blink, a little startled. Lopers. This seemed to encompass several different kinds of hooved herbivores, some of which were nearly as big as Rroshaal and some of which were much smaller. They moved in herds and ran fast, leaping across the grasslands when the pack hunted them. Horrible birds. These were flightless birds two or three times as tall as Caleb, taller than Rroshaal, with toothed beaks and talon-like feet; Rroshaal showed him the scars another Loth-wolf had from being attacked by one some years earlier, but added that they were tasty after you brought them down. Others. He got a flickering sense of what his instructors would have called “a healthy ecosystem,” and recognized a few species he had seen in holos before. Or relatives, anyway, but you saw convergent evolution on many worlds, and colony worlds especially.

Rroshaal sensed the thought and made a little whuff in the negative. Too much prey, he told Caleb. Horrible birds kill some, but only on one continent. Used to be more hunters. Caleb got a hazy impression of several kinds of big felines and avians; the haziness was because they were extinct and Rroshaal had never seen them himself, only through the passed-down memories of other members of his pack.

“Colonists killed them?” Caleb asked, remembering one of his classes. It happened a lot.

Rroshaal made an affirmative sound. Others, he said again, showing Caleb several animals he recognized.

“Those are nerfs,” Caleb said. “They’re all over the galaxy. People breed them for meat and fur. And the little saurians are nunas. They’re meat animals too. I can’t remember what the fluffy ones are, but I’ve seen holos of them before.”

Tasty, Rroshaal observed, licking his lips. Then he laid his chin down on his paws and added sadly, Not enough pups.

That reminded Caleb. “I read about you!” he said. “I looked you up in the library. You’re a Loth-wolf.”

Rroshaal flicked an ear, bemused by the name. The People, he said instead.

“I know, but most species call themselves something like that. I’m a human.”

Rroshaal raised his head and snuffled thoughtfully at Caleb’s knees for a moment before saying doubtfully, You’re People. You feel like People, even if you don’t smell like People.

Caleb put his hands out for Rroshaal to sniff, then lick clean of lingering crumbs. “I’m a Force-user – a Jedi. Maybe that’s it.”

Rroshaal whuffed again, dubious.

“You’re supposed to be extinct,” Caleb said, then hesitated, unsure if he had hurt Rroshaal’s feelings. Instead he just felt the Loth-wolf’s resigned weariness.

Not enough pups, he said again. It took Caleb a few moments to sort through the flurry of information that accompanied the words; Rroshaal had been the only pup in his pack to live more than a year in the last decade. Pups had been born dead or had gotten sick and died soon afterwards. He had heard that other packs were just as badly off.

Caleb said shyly, “We – the Jedi – are having problems too. I heard the crèche masters talking about it with Master Windu and Master Yoda once. There used to be thousands more Jedi than there are now – there are whole sections of the Temple that are shut up – and the cohorts keep getting smaller and smaller. Even two hundred years ago you’d have cohorts of dozens, but mine is only three people, and the ones after me are the same. About twenty or thirty years ago all of a sudden the Temple started getting large cohorts again – large by current standards – and that lasted for about twenty years before they suddenly started dropping off in size. The senior padawans now are from the last few large cohorts. The masters don’t know if not as many Force-sensitive younglings are being born or if they’re just not being found.”

Rroshaal made an inquisitive noise.

“I don’t know all of it,” Caleb admitted. “When babies are born in Republic medcenters, they’re required to have a lot of tests run, and one of those is for midichlorian count. That gets passed onto the Order if the parents consent, and if it’s high enough then someone – usually the Sector Watchman – will check on them regularly. Just because you have a high midichlorian count doesn’t mean you can be a Jedi, though, so the Watchmen have to keep checking, and of course if the families refuse then they won’t. Outside the medcenters it’s mostly just the will of the Force.” He stared longingly at Rroshaal’s soft-looking ears, wondering how rude it would be to ask Rroshaal if he could pet them. “I was born in the Temple.”

Rroshaal’s ears flicked forward, interested.

“It’s not usual,” Caleb admitted. “It happens once or twice a generation, but usually even if one or both parents is a Jedi then the baby won’t be strong enough to be one too. I was. That’s not rare, but it’s not common, either.” He shrugged in response to Rroshaal’s question. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter who they are. If I hadn’t been strong enough in the Force to be a Jedi I would have gone to one of their birth-families if they wanted.” He hesitated, then admitted, “I heard once that one of them is an old military family on Coruscant, but I don’t know if that’s true or not. And it doesn’t matter anyway since I’m a Jedi.”

People, Rroshaal insisted.

Caleb spread his hands for Rroshaal to see. “Not People, not like yours,” he said. Then he got the cake out of his bag and offered one piece to Rroshaal, who sniffed it with interest, then sneezed. “It’s spice cake,” he explained. “It’s my favorite.”

Rroshaal ate it out of his palm in several delicate bites, then lay licking his teeth thoughtfully as Caleb ate his own piece of spice cake. Good, he decided finally, then gave Caleb a grin, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Different.

He licked Caleb’s hands clean when Caleb held them out again, then flicked one ear back as if he had heard someone calling him. I have to go, he said regretfully. My mother wants me.

Caleb had the brief impression of a bigger version of Rroshaal, brown and with a scarred ear, whom Rroshaal regarded with occasionally frustrated adoration. He said wistfully, “Can I see you tomorrow?”

We’ll be away, Rroshaal said, and Caleb could tell that he genuinely regretted it. Embassy to another pack. He thought, then said, Nine days?

“How long are your days?” Caleb asked, then realized that Rroshaal probably didn’t count time in hours. “I’ll look it up.” He hesitated, then added, “Can I hug you?”

At the affirmative response, they both stood up, and Caleb carefully put his arms around as much of Rroshaal’s furry front as he could manage. He was just as soft as Caleb remembered from the previous day and smelled of clean fur and unknown winds, a little musky. Rroshaal tucked his muzzle down against Caleb’s back, then licked his face after Caleb released him. Caleb curved the backs of his knuckles against Rroshaal’s cheek, carefully stroking the short fur there, then giggled as Rroshaal rubbed his cheek against Caleb’s smooth one.

Soon, he promised, then, Bring more of the cake-thing.

“I will,” Caleb said.

Rroshaal licked his nose, then backed away. Caleb must have blinked, because one moment Rroshaal was there, then the next he had vanished into the shadows of the underlevels.

Caleb sighed regretfully and rubbed the back of his hand over his nose, the scooped up the discarded cloths and stuffed them into his bag. He had a lot of reading he wanted to do before he saw Rroshaal again.

#cut scenes and concept writing #caleb and the loth wolf tag #comics caleb is a tiny nerd #as always comments are appreciated #eta: yes I DO have a partially written concept for caleb's extended birth family; the forbidden backstory

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rachelbethhines · 4 years ago

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Tangled Salt Marathon - Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf

Ok, so I’ve tried and tried several times to get this posted, we’ll see if this is the time it goes through. Half the reason why this review series has slowed down is not just the multitude of real life stuff I have to deal with, but also Tumblr just refusing to work with me and deleting my posts. I also can’t save my work else where due to Tumblr messing up the formatting. It’s been a frustrating mess and so far no one @staff has come up with a tech solution or work around.

Summary: Rapunzel helps to rebuild Old Corona, (after its near destruction from the Black Rocks) which will become the permanent home of Red and Angry, who have returned to Corona to settle down. However, she begins to notice strange footprints around the area, as well as the livestock becoming more unruly and fearful. The group comes across a monster hunter named Creighton, who explains to the group that the area is being stalked by a werewolf, who possessed one of Corona's citizens. Aiming to save this person rather than kill them, Rapunzel sets out to find who it is.

When Was This Decided?

No seriously, when was this decided? It’s a pretty big leap go from ‘the rocks makes various towns inhabitable’ to ‘let’s rebuild!’ What’s changed here? Cause the rocks haven’t been removed and Rapunzel failed in her mission to nullify their power. In fact the rocks were not only reawaken in the second season finale but shown to be under the power of someone who’s intentions were made unclear to the heroes.

So I ask again; who thought this was safe thing to do now? What provisions have been made to accommodate the rocks? They blocked the well, remember, and destroyed the fields; how are the people getting food and water?

And most importantly why wasn’t the audience informed beforehand? When you change up the status quo in a story you need to provide just cause to the viewers. I legit thought I had accidently skipped an episode when I first watched because this plot point was not set up properly.

Why Were They Ever Left Alone to Begin With?

In a story where neglect is a central theme and motivating factor for all the main characters, it is super tone deaf to have those same characters perpetuating neglect themselves. The decision to live on their own should not be left up to Angry and Red because they are children. Children are not mature enough to provide for themselves neither emotionally nor physically and when placed in situations where they have to do so it psychologically damages them. Which the series already showcased with Varian so why is this suddenly deemed ok?

This Completely Undermines the Past Two Seasons

The entire conflict of the past two seasons was the rocks forcing people out of their homes. Eugene was made an orphan from them, Varian lost his entire support group because them, they drove out the Saporians from their encampment which prompted them to invade Corona, and Rapunzel and company spent an entire year on the road trying to find a way to stop them from spreading supposedly.

All of that has now been flushed down the drain with this decision. And its super insulting to watch because it’s the writers telling us that we’ve wasted our time caring about this plot for two years. You don’t resolve major conflicts off screen and without explanation; it’s lazy!

Also Where Is Varian and Quirin During All This?

This is not only their home and legal charge, but it’s also the ending to their ongoing story, and they’re not even here in a silent cameo.

Wouldn’t Quirin be overseeing the rebuilding of his town? Wouldn’t Varian be using his skills to find workable engineering solutions for them, fulling his season one goal of saving his home and making his village better with his inventions? Also wouldn’t Edmund want to catch up with his brother and help out now that he’s here?

In fact not a single person who actually lives in Old Corona is to be found in these opening shots.

Oh, But We Do Get Earl

Earl might be from Old Corona, or he might not be. We’ve literally never seen him before. The artists had to create a brand new character model for this character, the writers had to write new lines for him, and the casting director had to hire an actor and have him record these lines for only less than a minute of screen time, never to be seen again. Even though they legit had shepherd models already to go from season one that they could have used. It’s a waste of resources and a prime example of the mismanagement going on in this show.

It’s Too Late In the Series to Waste Time On a New One Off Villain

Speaking of a waste, Creighton might have more story reasons to appear in this episode than Earl does but her inclusion is still a poor decision. The show already has an overabundance of villains, so many in fact that they shipped the bulk of them off in season two, and this is the final season; the season where we should be wrapping up plots and minor characters stories not kicking off new ones.

Taken on her own Creighton isn’t a bad character presa, she works for the episode, but when we could have gotten a resolution to Caine’s, Hector’s, or the Disciples’ story arcs instead it highlights how misused the series assets are.

All This Lore Will Be Forgotten In Just a Few Episodes Time

We finally get like some magical rules and backstory only for future episodes to ignore it from here on afterwards. Red can turn into a werewolf whenever she pleases, night or day, with little explanation as for why.

Just Arrest Her Rapunzel

You’re the acting queen. You have the power and the right to arrest or even merely detain someone who is threating your citizens and refuses to leave. In fact it’s kind of your job. You don't even have to throw her in a dungeon if you thought that too cruel. Just lock her up in a nice room somewhere in the castle until you’ve sorted out the mess yourself.

The series wants to treat Rapunzel as the underdog when she isn’t, and her failure to wield her power effectively doesn’t make her look ‘nice’ it just makes her look stupid and grossly incompetent. This is a conflict that didn’t need to have happened and Rapunzel let it happen.

Oh, So Now Y'all Riot

You didn’t complain when the king orphaned children with his crack down on crime. You rolled over as he dolled out overly harsh punishments to poor people who committed minor offences. You gleefully went along with the royals as they scapegoated a child for their mistakes, even as they endangered your homes. And ya’ll sat on your asses while invaders pulled off a coup and enslaved you.

But this is what you get mad over? A rumor about a mythical creature existing that your princess has zero control over. Seriously?

Man, I hate the townspeople in this show.

Pointless Dream Sequence Is Pointless

This scene tells the audience nothing new and just wastes screen time.

This Is the Wrong Lesson to Focus On Rapunzel

We do not tell the 12 year old to unload their phycological issues onto their baby sister!

You’re telling me parents were involved in writing this show? What the hell!?

Rapunzel you are the adult here. At 20 now you should be more adept to handle listening to the deep seated emotional traumas of a little girl than a fucking 10 year old! And if you’re not, or don’t want to, then it’s your job to find another adult who will.

That’s the core problem with this entire episode. It treats Red’s and Angry’s problems as some eternal issue that they need to work out and not as the inherent failure of the adults around them that it is.

It is neither Red’s nor Angry’s decision on weather or not they get live on their own. Nor is it their responsibility to be each other’s therapist. Yes, a change in living arrangements is always stressful and for children with abandonment issues it can be hard to readjust, but that’s when you need to step it up and deal with the problem; not shove it off onto the kids themselves!

Monty Is Useless

Is this all Monty is good for? Being a red herring in ridiculously simple mysteries? Is this why we wasted a whole episode introducing him back in season one? Really?

Why Are We Still Treating Old Corona As Being Separate from Corona Itself?

Look, I get that it’s a joke, but it’s a joke that highlights how poorly thought out the worldbuilding is in the series. Is the Coronan government in charge of Old Corona or not? If so then you can just make those lease laws yourself as the acting regent Eugene. If not then Frederic shouldn’t have had any say in the matter of relocating Old Corona’s citizens nor putting a child outside of his jurisdiction under arrest.

But more importantly this is a just a repeat of that vague level of responsibility Rapunzel has for people who live off the island. She can’t order a whole village to be rebuilt while simultaneously claiming that she bares no accountability for Varian and Quirin’s problems in season one.

Replacing Guns with Crossbows Isn’t the Safe Option That the Censors Think It Is

I find it kind of amusing that censors will ban showing a 17th century blunderbuss but allow it to be replaced by a weapon that is still mass produced today and can be bought in any Walmart across the country. Like I’m a major advocate for gun regulation in real life, but even I have to find this to be a bit silly. Crossbows aren’t some fantasy weapon. People still own and use them. But it would be seriously hard to get ahold of a working antique firearm.

Seriously This Is How the Girls Have Been Living and the Adults Haven’t Done Anything About It Until Now?

I feel like I’m beating a dead horse by now, but it’s so engrained into the episode I have to keep bringing it up. The show itself is visually telling us that Red and Angry can’t keep living this way, but it never wants to call Rapunzel and the other adults out for not rescuing them from this life sooner.

So All This Tells Me Is That Rapunzel Could Have Easily Checked Up On Varian In Painter’s Block, But Didn’t.

Remember they’re right next to Old Corona; meaning that Janus Point is also right next to Old Corona. Meaning that Rapunzel could easily have checked up on Varian right after Painter’s Block and choose not to. With each passing episode Rapunzel has less and less excuse for her behavior in season one.

Yeah Remember that Plot Point That Wound Up Being Entirely Irrelevant to the Story?

In jokes don’t cover your ass when you make poor writing choices. Quite the opposite in fact as all you’ve done is remind the audience of all the various dangling plot threads that you will fail to follow up on. The disciples plot goes no where and serves no purpose, and it should not have been introduced as this big important thing if you weren’t going to do anything with it.

Nice Idea, Poor Execution

I’ve heard fans of this episode tell me that they enjoy it because of this scene with Red. If you’re a naturally introverted person or neurodivergent and have trouble communicating at times then Red’s speech here can strike a cord. Which is cool; I’ll never deny someone’s feelings and if a piece of media speaks to you on a personal level for whatever reason that is great. What I’m here to discuss though is story structure and whether or not the story’s themes are presented well in context of what it’s set up.

The conflict here does not work from a pure structural standpoint because it’s a surface level deflection of the real issues. Red’s problem isn’t that she is being ignored, it's that she’s been abandoned. Now communication issues can arise from that abandonment and feeling heard can be step forward in working those issues out, but Red’s central trauma isn’t going to be magically fixed by people ‘listening’ to her, i.e. being granted whatever she wants, but by providing her with a real home and with a real guardian to look after her.

Because what Red wants on a surface level is harmful to her, and the reasons why she wants what she wants needs to be addressed more so than then sedating her angry outbursts in the moment. This is treating the symptoms not the cause.

So What Is or Isn’t Real About the Curse?

Once again, we finally get some actual lore and rules for magic and the writers are already throwing it away during the same episode they are introduced. I now have as little context for how the wolf curse works within the Tangled world as I did before the episode started.

This Is Sweet, But Once Again Context Brings It Down.

So just to reiterate, this a surface level resolution to the conflict of the episode that doesn’t actually address anything. It might feel like an appropriate ending but only if you ignore the fact that Red and Angry are orphans who’ve been abandoned but the adults.

Angry apologizing here to Red does not solve any of their problems, especially since Angry, as a child herself, is not responsible for her sister’s behavior, feelings, nor well being. That falls to the adults and they fail to address Red’s core issues and their own failings to her in their apologies as well. Not to mention that the very next scene undermines any optional progress that could have been made here.

Listening to Someone Does Not Mean Giving Them Whatever They Want

This does not fix anything. Red and Angry are still left to live on their own without any real supervision. Giving them a big play house is not providing for them, it’s spoiling them. Would you let all the other orphans in the local orphanage roam free without an adult to take care of them? No!? Gee I wonder why? Could it be because letting a 12 and 10 year old raise themselves is a very stupid idea? One that will potentially damage them later in life assuming that they don't get themselves killed in the meantime.

Moreover this is yet another example of the series overall problem with not understanding that compromise and resolving conflicts does not mean rewarding the characters at the end with everything that they want without having them work for it. That’s not how life works and it’s not how good story telling works.

This Is Beyond Irresponsible

No! Bad Show! Bad!

You do not get to pretend that negligence is the same thing as compromise. Yes I know Eugene said to come to him when they have a problem, but as demonstrated by this very episode children do not always know when to ask for help nor can they always find it when needed, that is why parents exist!

Nor does the show get a free pass for turning it’s main characters into child abusers who neglected three minors multiple times now. Even when they themselves are victims of that same abuse!

How utterly blinkered do you have to be to not see the problem here?

It’s the Return of the Pointless Parallels

Let me count the ways for how stupid this is.

Red and Angry’s conflict has no impact on the on going narrative. Even with them now being reoccurring characters they still manage to contribute nothing to the future storylines involving Cass.

Neither Rapunzel nor Cassandra learn anything from Red and Angry’s spat; Rapunzel because she refuses to acknowledge her own flaws and Cassandra’s not even here for any of it.

The sister’s dynamic between Raps and Cass is not well established and the writers mange to piss all over it by series end because of gay baiting and poor writing. Therefore relying on lazy parallels to other siblings in the show to bolster this connection falls flat.

Red and Angry’s argument has nothing in common with Rapunzel and Cass’s current fighting. One is about abandonment issues and the other is about shallow validation. Trying to tie these two themes together actually winds up undermining both conflicts.

Red and Angry are children. Rapunzel and Cassandra are not. That very much matters.

Red and Angry didn’t drag innocent people into their petty bitch fight and endanger them because they wanted to feel special.

This Makes Zero Sense

I don’t know; she looked pretty happy during Crossing the Line.

She was also able to control the rocks just fine then, so what happened?

Not to mention soon after this Zhan Tiri is telling her she needs some sort of incantation to control the rocks, despite being able to already control the rocks....

It’s almost as if the writers are full of shit and don’t actually know what they’re doing.

So Are We Remembering the Burnt Hand or Not?

Does the hand matter or not? Is it ever a motivating factor in what Cassandra decides to do? Is her waning control over the rocks connected to her burnt hand; even though having a burnt hand is what allowed her grab the moonstone in the first place? Did the moonstone heal the hand? Does Raps singing the healing incantation later on heal it? Does Cass have a forever burnt hand?

Who the fuck knows!

Not the writers that’s for sure, cause it never comes up again.

Don’t introduce plot points and then not resolve them. That’s writing 101 guys.

Wait if she needs the incantation to control the rocks and the angry thing is a lie, then how the heck is she controlling them just now? Make up your dang mind show!

I swear I lose brain cells whenever I have to rewatch the evil Cassandra plot. It is so dumb you guys.... so, so dumb.

Conclusion

It’s not the worst thing ever but series has far better episodes on offer than this one. Even in a season as suck ass as season three.

So there’s praying that this review posts this time and if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me in my projects feel free to leave a tip on my Ko-Fi. Thank you.

https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

#tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #anti-tangled #anti-rapunzel #anti-Cassandra

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biteghost · 4 years ago

Note

How do you come up with so many cool characters?? All of your OCs seem so vibrant and fleshed out. Do you have a specific process for developing them, or do they just kinda come to you mostly formed? I find I struggle with building a compelling OCs for D&D games & would love to hear your thoughts on character development.

(This answer got long, sorry.) This is a super nice sentiment, I’m happy you think my characters are all cool and unique!!

As far as process goes, uh, it depends on the character? I’ve spent a long time (years) rewiring my brain when it comes to what I think about when creating OCs. They don’t usually come to me fully formed - I get an idea in my head about a concept, and then over like a week or even months of fiddling I end up with a character for that concept.

A lot of the time my characters are simply people I wanted to see more of in media as a kid! Mostly, female characters I actually relate to or are as nuanced and messy as their male cast members, haha... (It was a trip when I realized in high school that I didn’t hate female characters - it was actually that none of them were written as well as the cool boys in the anime series I liked, haha! Be the change you want to see in the world, basically.)

Inspiration for characters (and stories for them to be part of) come from a lot of places. An easy piece of advice is to make an effort to intake media you like! Read new comics, watch new movies and television shows, read books, play video games, listen to music and obsessively memorize the lyrics - hell, obsessively learn everything there is to know about black holes or public domain characters (that’s what I did, lol...)!

(Note: ’New’ meaning new to YOU - you don’t need to only be partaking of media that’s created in 2021 - you can find a lot to love in media that was created before your time, or for generations before you!)

I must reiterate: intake new media that you ENJOY! You don’t have to like all the same things as everyone else, you don’t have to be invested in the same shows and podcasts as your friends. Varied interests and taste is part of what makes us all unique! Increasing your pool of inspiration will help you come up with interesting ideas, and help you find YOUR voice. Your particular interests and the niche things that speak to you will help you figure out what kind of characters and what kind of stories you like to create! But the process doesn’t end at just intaking media... When you find the stuff that brings you joy, analyze what exactly it is about that thing that speaks to you... Put it into words. Explain it to a friend. Make it tangible, analyze the feelings and why the series made you feel that way... and then take it and shove it into your own stories, lol!

Engage critically and thoughtfully with work you like, with characters you like, and it will help you have the language and thought process to recreate it in your own work!

My creative process is like an exquisite corpse of all the characters and series I’ve liked over my lifetime. I mesh them all together in a grim blender and what comes out is a shake in the vague shape as an OC, lol

BUT... it seems like you’re asking more specifically about making characters for tabletop roleplaying games like D&D? And THAT is a different process for me than making OCs for my comics or original story ideas!

I don’t usually join a tabletop game with a fully fleshed out character, actually?? I don’t spend a long time on their backstory, and I usually figure it out like halfway through the story, or through collaboration with my game master!

My TTRPG characters are usually whatever I think would be most interesting in the given game setting or set-up and... usually they exist in opposition to whatever the core concept of the game is. So, the examples I have from games I’ve played are:

In Cardians: West (World of Darkness: Hunter the Vigil): we played in a modern-day urban fantasy setting, where players were recruited into a supernatural Hunter group that was also a criminal organization that Did Crimes and Broke The Law in the name of keeping peace and protecting humanity from the supernatural creatures that go bump in the night. I played Andrew, a Lawful Good Police Detective, because I thought playing a character who would need to grow past his original ideals of ‘Right and Wrong’ in the name of the greater good would be interesting! (And it was!)

In SINNING ADVENTURE (WoD: Geist: The Sin-Eaters) we payed in a modern-day urban fantasy setting with the premise that the players all Died and were brought back to life by forming a pact with a powerful spirit (and getting cool ghost powers in the process!) I played Cassius, a character who could not cope with his death, and thus refused to use his new powers because they were evidence that he was no longer strictly human. It caused conflict in the group and world, but I thought it would be interesting! (And it was! Cassius was a Bitch.)

In Rex Machina (Dungeons and Dragons 5E), I wanted to play an Aarakocra, but was having a hard time deciding on a class or backstory... until I found out that in the ‘canon’ of D&D Aarakocra only live to be like, mid 20s???? Their lifespans are insanely short compared to other playable races!! And I thought that was stupid, so I decided to make MY Aarakocra, Izzy, a warlock that’s looking for ways to extend his own stupidly short life. His pact essentially granted that to him, giving him extra time to find a way to achieve True Immortality. His conflict challenges what’s ‘true’ living in this world, and his extended life is in direct conflict with a lot of forces in the world we play in, and while it is very stressful I think it’s really interesting to play!

In Lamplighting (Monster of the Week), my character Aicen is an assassin who made a deal with a demon and gained supernatural perks out of it... except I decided that she doesn’t WANT to be in this deal. She is actively trying to undo it because it wasn’t her deal - she inherited it from a CEO that she killed during an unrelated job. (Aicen is probably my character I’ve put the most backstory into, and that’s just because at character creation in MOTW you are given a lot of questions about who your character is and why they’re where they are!)

In Hand of Adam (WoD: HtV), the concept was that all players were going to join a post-apocalyptic supernatural-hating cult. I played Shouter, who was a self-preserving pacifist coward who also turned out to be a fae (which the cult would have killed him over). It was stressful but very fun. I love Shouter. He ran away from fights and didn’t actually kill anyone until the last episode where they fought God (whom he killed, lol).

NOW. THESE ARE ALL JUST EXAMPLES OF HOW *I* LIKE TO PLAY CHARACTERS!! For me personally, I enjoy playing a character who has built-in conflict either with the world, the story, or the other players. I’m only able to play characters like this because my friend group are all really cool and we all know that conflict is not bad - it’s fiction and we’re just roleplaying! If I didn’t trust my GMs and fellow players as much as I do, I probably wouldn’t have felt comfortable enough playing some of these concepts.

I don’t think you need to know every little thing about a tabletop character, and in fact, not knowing some things and leaving it up to the GM and story to flesh out is an easy way to help you get more invested in both your character AND the story your GM is telling! Tabletops are a collaborative storytelling experience, so if you’ve already plotted out your character’s whole story, there won’t be much participation from other players or your GM. Figure out what your character wants, and let your roleplaying and GM slowly put all the other pieces in place over the course of your campaign!

But the TL:DR about how I make tabletop OCs is that I just... try to give them a goal, an ideal, or a personality that is in direct conflict with some aspect of the game we’re playing. I don’t want the character to be undermining the whole game, because that’s really crappy to do to your GM, but I have to have something for my character to grow through or change. I like giving them built-in character arc starters, lol. I haven’t played a game where my character has gotten along with every other player character and NPC over the entire campaign since my very FIRST game, lol!

Also, if you’re having trouble, why not ask your GM what they think? Again, tabletops are collaborative! Don’t be afraid to talk ideas out with your GM for your character.

A final note about playing in specifically oneshot games (i.e. games that are not long campaigns but are meant to be played in one or two sittings). Personally, I always just retrofit an OC I already have to play in oneshots! When I make a new character for a long campaign, it usually takes me two or three sessions to find their voice and figure out how to roleplay them. If the game you’re playing is only one session, I find it easier to jump right in and get the most out of your character and the game when you’re playing a character you already know pretty well! I’ve played characters from my webcomic quite a few times, and it’s always a lot more fun for me than figuring out a new character on the fly!

SO UH, IN CONCLUSION... sorry if this is mad unhelpfu!! My personal processes are unique to me! but that's the point - no one person will have the exact answer that works for you! You have to keep trying until you figure it out for yourself! Good luck! Keep creating! <3

#long post #asktime #not art #art talk #writing talk #tabletop talk #gif #iwishihadhorns

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schrijverr · 3 years ago

Text

The Media in a Quirk Society

An essay or more a thought piece about how the media adapted to the appearance of quirk. How genres changed and how the media influences and is influenced by society.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~~~

Something that makes me so very curious is how media must have developed in the BNHA universe after the appearance of quirks.

We hear almost nothing of media other than the news within the universe itself. For now it escapes me if All Might Cartoons are actually mentioned in the show or something of fanfiction. But another fanfic phenomena are pre-quirk movies, aka movies of our time.

The latter is a thing we must agree on, since there was a time before there were quirks wherein movies were made. This also implies that the pre-quirk superhero genre has existed (think MCU or DC)

I want to examine how that must have changed with the appearance of quirks based of what we’ve seen in the show.

When we see the beginnings of a quirk society, we meet AFO, who rises in the chaos and especially the scene where he takes and gives a quirk stand out the most. Quirks weren’t excepted yet, especially visible quirks, while at the same time a quirk means power. We also know the hero profession rises here, because it was too much for just law enforcement.

So we have these components, which all make for really great stories… in hindsight.

After the fact there must have been many stories about a lone police officer, becoming a hero as he saw the force around him crumble. Or a weak person, suddenly developing a powerful quirk that helps them get out of an impossible situation. Or maybe even about someone who feels they are deformed and shunned from society by their quirk and how they overcome it.

But at the moment it was happening there was still a lot of resentment about quirks and people who had them.

When quirks first entered the stage, people who had them plunged the world into chaos or had to hide like the man who goes to AFO to get his quirk removed.

I can imagine that if movie productions could continue in those turbulent times they would focus on the normal guy, still fighting against a suddenly super-powered villain or a quirkist (as I shall refer to it) take on a person who gets a quirk and turns evil.

Or they might even ignore the whole quirk situation in general with a new genre that can be boiled down to ‘No Quirks – AU’ wherein the movie is based in pre-quirk times. This genre would have a lot of nostalgia at first, probably, trying to call upon how simple life was when villains weren’t terrorizing the streets and heroes were just a funny thing of TV.

Maybe it will develop later.

Maybe it will become how difficult it must have been back then with no simple quirk solutions to problems. It might even turn into a genre about invention, mostly, with a fascination in the public of how things that run on quirk-solutions now, could have been solved by a quirkless scientist in the before times.

But back to the developing genre that is set the BNHA real world. Wherein quirkless people might have gotten a center stage in the early years, before quirks became so entrenched in society that quirkism developed against what used to be a majority.

I can picture a young Midoriya watching old movies wherein the quirkless protagonist was the hero against the evil quirks, telling himself that one day that could be him.

However, with the rise of heroes the media attention probably shifted.

The manga/anime describes it as ‘ordinary civilians with their own Quirks decided to take matters into their own hands to bring order to society, and thus the first "Heroes" appeared.’ as it says on the fandom wikia.

This shifts the narrative of quirkless hero against the chaos of quirks, to brave citizen stands up using the power they’ve been granted. Maybe they gave it religious undertones or maybe it was the story of taking the moral high ground and doing what was right for your country and neighbors.

In those early days you probably have more stories reflective of the pre-quirk fictional heroes, wherein the main character has to hide that they’re out there every night breaking the law to bring order.

It can be that at this time the narrative that the police is just the ‘villain taxi service’ starts to originate among bitter storytellers, who have seen the police fail where heroes did not. Though this would be more older filmmakers after this era is over, who start this. When heroes have become accepted, but they still remember how bad the police reacted before.

But on the topic of heroes becoming accepted, that must have been a civil right movement, a right that had to be debated with villains reflecting how bad an idea public quirk use could be.

You can see in the ‘Liberation War Arc’ how something like that could have played out and how it makes for interesting media entertainment as it is a story arc in our world, meant to amuse. Mixed with the fact that the first heroes created order in the chaos, there must be a ton of movies following activists or a hero not only having to fight the villains, but also the system.

And then over time heroes morphed into what they are now.

Hero became a profession and quirks the norm. After a while, just focusing on quirks got less interesting and using quirks as just a backdrop became more interesting.

Sure, you still had the hero genre and with actual figureheads these can range from documentaries to inspired by real life movies or just fictive fights with characters that are obviously based off a real hero or just the real hero. Especially when heroes became depended on their popularity, there must have been plenty that signed an acting contract in the hopes of getting their name and image out there.

With Midoriya’s comment about Todoroki having the backstory of a protagonist, it is clear that the hero genre is far from forgotten.

However, the “normal” genres also developed with society and with quirks becoming normal and no one truly aching for the before times, they must be set in the BNHA world we know.

The tropes we know (and maybe love) will get a new twist to fit this society or maybe disappear completely. New stereotypes and assumptions based off quirks appear, even quirkism might become prevalent in media, teaching kids that those without quirks are freaks or weak and weird.

In my mind I picture a movie trailergoing “She has a water quirk, he has a fire quirk. Will they fall in love despite their different personalities?!?” or “When his family is murdered, he must track down the killer with only the quirk as clue. Will he find out what happened on that faithful day or will the path this sends him on be the last of him???”

The horror genre will also be transformed with the fear of people misusing their quirk being a big thing in society.

As for fantasy, this genre will change with super-powered people being the norm, you can have to get more creative to make it truly fantastical. World building, visually, will be more important to distinguish it from our world, creatures too since there are literally people with bird heads, for example, walking around.

Not to mention the potential of quirks being hereditary that can be used in dramas where the partner has cheated or as plot point as grant reveal of a main character being related to one of the antagonists or even in gang movies as them training together to use their quirks and them all being the same. That would make for a cool visual tbh.

Disaster movies also will be different than they are now. With protagonist who can have quirks that work against them in their situation or if it’s a more hopeful movie how they work together, piling together their quirks and other skills to survive.

And the crime genre will be so intrinsically tied to hero society and with the police being seen as kinda useless, it will be so different than how we know it now. Did crime become part of the hero genre? Is this a piece of cop propaganda left wherein the police tries to save their reputation? I don’t know, but I wanna think about it.

It’s just interesting to me how in a world where the super is normal, media has adapted and this has been keeping my mind busy over the past few weeks.

The transformation in society of quirks as something dangerous that needs to be stopped, to a few brave people standing up for what’s right to finally the commercialization of heroes so that they can keep doing their job.

You see these changes, that’s unavoidable.

Media is such a powerful tool and it’s hardly referenced within the source material (which I understand because there are already so many movingparts), but with the fall of hero society it is interesting how all that propaganda for heroes might disappear back to when quirks first appeared and how the cycle may start again.

A/N:

There are probably so many genres and other stuff thatI haven’t considered, so tell me your thoughts about the media in BNHA!

((also I didn’t want to dive in how racism, homophobia, ableism will develop with quirks and notions people will have about them. It is important to think about, but I do not think that I am the right person to talk about it. If anyone does, tag me or comment the link, because I will 100% read it))

#RR writing #BNHA #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #quirks #quirks in society #quirks in media #movies #movie and film #idk how to tag this lmao

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rae-arts777 · 4 years ago

Text

What I Can’t Give You

Summary: Abby can give Makoto many things. But there is one vital thing she can never give him

Note: Ace Abby, Some rough Abby backstory

TW: force sterilization

“Hey I’m home” Makoto walked in, setting groceries on the countertop.

“Yo.” Abby waved, from the couch, focused on a show she was watching.

Makoto headed over and kissed her head, nuzzling her hair “we still going to Cythina’s get together?”

“Of course. If we don’t, they’ll just come over and drag us there.” Abby ran her fingers through his hair, a small smile forming.

Makoto climbed over and sat next to his fiancé, wrapping an arm around her.

Abby shifted her body, laying her head in his chest. She pressed her ear to his chest, listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat.

Makoto played with her hair, softly pecking at her head.

The time for the party came too fast for the two of them. They would have rather stayed in, but knew Cythina would be upset if they didn’t show, especially since the red head hadn’t seen them since they gotten engaged.

Abby decided to dress up a bit. She put on a nice blue crop top complemented with a matching black skirt. She looked in the mirror, fixing her hair.

Makoto walked in behind her, kissing her cheek. “You look beautiful”

Abby felt her face flushed, turning her head away “shut up...I figure I look nice considering....”

“We’re going to see old friends, not some snobby strangers.” Makoto teased

“I know...just...I want to look nice for you ok.?” Abby admitted.

Makoto pecked her temple smiling “Sweatpants or skinny jeans, you always look nice for me” Makoto received a harsh flick to the forehead

“Cheesy bastard”

“You said yes to marrying this cheesy bastard”

“Engaged, I can still change my mind if I want”

“Naaaah you’re stuck with me”

The two finished getting ready, and headed to the hotel together.

Of course Cythina had booked the fanciest suite in the hotel.

Makoto knocked on the door, the Belgian man answering to greet them.

“Welcome love birds” Laurent smiled and let them in.

Cythina rushed over squealing, pulling Abby into a tight hug “oh I’m so happy for you two!! Let me see the ring! Makoto you better treat her well!!”

“Cythina...your boobs are suffocating me” Abby poked her side, making Cythina let go.

“I’m sorry!!! I’m just so happy for you two!!” The red hair grabbed Abby’s right hand and looked the engagement ring “oh it suits you so well! You did a good job picking out a ring Edamame!”

Makoto chuckled and wrapped an arm around Abby’s waist pulling her close. He placed a loving peck on her head “well I know my girl”

Abby blushed and looked away trying to hide her face from everyone “fuck off”

“Not so tough and cold now are we” Laurent smirked, receiving a punch to the gut from Abby.

“Die blonde bastard”

“Worth it” Laurent laughed.

The four sat around started to catch up. Cythina went on and on about her adopted son, how proud she was of him. Laurent talked about his job, bragging about all the high security clearance he now had. Makoto and Abby excitedly talked about the grand opening of their coffee shop, after months of traveling, and in the process of finishing up renovations, they were only a few months away to finally opening.

Just as Laurent popped the champagne, Oz arrived with Kudo and Shi Won.

Makoto and Oz’s relationship was still rocky, but they were doing decent. Oz shook Makoto’s hand, giving his congrats to him and Abby. Abby still didn’t like Oz, considering he was going to be her father in law, she still couldn’t shake the things he had done to Makoto.

Even though it didn’t effect Abby, it effect someone she loved. As Oz went to talk to Laurent, Abby hugged her fiancé back, placing soft pecks on his cheek.

“You good?” She asked

“Yes I’m fine, let’s have fun ok?”

The night continue on, everyone was sipping on champagne and exchanging stories.

Laurent stood up, raising his glass.

“I just want us all to give a toast to the happy couple.” He gestured towards Abby and Makoto “may your future be filled with joy and happiness, and that your love only continues to grow stronger. I think I speak for all of us when I say, we are excited to see your coffee business grow, as well as your family one day, wether it’s four legged cats, or two legged humans” Laurent chuckled.

Everyone cheered with a big smile. Abby leaned more into Makoto’s hold, shutting down a bit. A family? Kids? They haven’t even talked about that yet. They were still young, they had time. Maybe Makoto doesn’t even want kids, but what if he does. Abby placed her hand over her stomach thinking. Kids.

The night started to die down. Abby had gone to the bathroom before her and Makoto headed home. She washed her face and stared in the mirror. Laurent’s words still bothered her. Kids. Maybe by miracle she can give him a child. But the process of getting pregnant. Abby felt her body tense up. It’s not like she would mind. She loves Makoto, if he wants to, she can compromise with it. Still, she didn’t feel ready to give herself to him just yet.

“For Christ sakes you’re going to marry him...” Abby told her reflection “I mean...he’s still going to love me even if we never have sex. It’s not like he doesn’t know you’re ace..hell, he supports you no matter what..he’s always been there..he’s not going to leave just cause you don’t want to have sex, he’s not like that...right..?” Abby looked at her ring “no, he’s not, he loves me. Compromise, baby steps...but...is he still going to love me ...even if I can’t...” Abby placed a hand over her stomach. The word kids rang in her head. Kids, does he expect her to give him kids?

She was pulled over her mind when a knock at the door.

“Abigail?” Cythina called out. “Are you ok hon? Need anything? Girl stuff?”

“No no, I’m fine.” She unlocked the door and open.

Cythina looked down at her with a soft smile “are you sure? You seem tensed. Are you getting cold feet?”

“No, I mean..it’s not like that, I’m just...thinking about the future”

“Don’t worry about the future, you’re just going to stress yourself out” Cythina patted her cheek “just focus on the present ok? And don’t worry about wedding plans! I’ll be back in a few months to help plan!”

Abby chuckled a bit, of course Cythina already hired herself as their wedding planner. Not like Abby minded, it was probably for the best.

“Abby?” Makoto called out putting on his coat “you ready to go?”

“Yeah” Abby gave Cythina a quick hug and rushed to her future husband. She grabbed his arm and draped it over her shoulder with a soft smile.

They said their goodbyes and headed home. The walk was quiet, Abby laid her head against him while they walked. Makoto held her close, his arms felt safe, they felt warm, she knew he loved her, she knew she could trust him, but a part of her was still scared.

They headed inside their house, Makoto heading to the bathroom to shower first. Abby followed and sat in front of the mirror, working on wiping the makeup off her face.

Soon after Makoto finished his shower, Abby went in after him, luckily he didn’t use up all the hot water. Feeling the water hit her skin, she took a deep breathe. She shouldn’t be letting Laurent’s word get to her so much. He was just wishing them a good future, so it shouldn’t matter what type of future they would have together. Right?

Abby finished her shower, using one of Makoto’s shirts as pjs. She headed to their bed drying her hair still. Makoto was in his boxer, laying down, scrolling through his phone.

“Tomorrow in the afternoon we have a meeting with the contractor. He’s set up a few samples of tiles for the bathroom. Also I was thinking we can get local artist to commission some art pieces we can hang up in the shop.” Makoto kept talking about new ideas for the shop.

Abby zone it all out as she sat on her side of the bed. She stared at him, watching his mouth move up and down, but not hearing a single word.

Makoto looked over at her to ask her opinion “what do you think? Should we? I do love red, but I think certain type of yellow would give it more of a vintage feel you know?”

Abby didn’t even know what he was talking about now. She said nothing, still staring.

Makoto sat up a bit “hey, what’s wrong?”

Before Makoto could move towards her, he was pushed back down, Abby sitting on his lap. She strandle her legs around his hips, and put her hands on his chest.

Makoto stared at her blushing and a bit taken back “are you ok? You seem tense” he saw right through, her body wasn’t relaxed at all.

“I....do you want...you know....” Abby mumbled

“I mean...only if you want, Abby, I told you, I don’t care if we have sex or not, I love you for you, that’s all”

“Yeah but...do you...want too..so we can have kids?”

“Ok slow down.” Makoto sat up, adjusting her more comfortably in his lap. “Where is this all coming from?” He ran his fingers through her hair

“It’s just...when Laurent said family...and mention whether they be pets or babies..it got me thinking about kids...”

“So do you want kids?” Makoto asked

“Do you want kids?”

“Maybe one day.”

“Ok....” Abby placed her hands on her stomach and looked down.

Makoto’s face shifted to a sense of worry “my desert flower?” He cupped her cheek “what’s wrong?”

“I....I can give you so much Makoto....you give me so much as well...but....I don’t think..” Abby felt tears streaming out “it would be a miracle.....if I could give you kids....but....I’m sorry....if I would have know i was going to meet you...marry you....have a life with you...I wouldn’t have agreed too.....” Abby broken down in sobs “I’m sorry....I can’t...I can’t give you something so important....I should have told you sooner...I’m sorry...”

Makoto said nothing and pulled his lover closer. He rocked her back and forth, humming softly. “It’s ok..it’s ok..” he whispered pecking her head repeatedly “I’m not mad my sweet flower, it’s ok, it’s not your fault”

Abby buried her face in his chest sobbing “I did what I had to survive...”

“I know..”

“It was so...painful..” her whole body shook “I...I remember being tied down....I remember pain...screaming..” she cried “I’m sorry....I’m so sorry...”

“I’m not mad..I understand Abby..” Makoto kissed her head “I love you so much ok.?”

“Even though I can’t give you kids..”

“I didn’t ask you to marry me cause I want you to give me kids. I asked you to marry me cause I love you ok?” He cupped her chin and tilted her head up, placing soft pecks on her lips “we have years to plan ok.? We don’t have to have kids right away, we’re young, we can wait a few years ok? Even if we don’t ever have any, that’s fine. And if we do, we can always adopt ok? Cause even if we adopt, we will both love that child as our own” he kissed her cheek, wiping her tears away. “It’s going to be ok” Makoto pressed his forehead against hers

Abby sniffled, feeling her body finally relaxed

“I love you so much Makoto..”

“I love you too Abigail”

#great pretender #the great pretender #grepre #makoto edamura #edamura makoto #great pretender anime #abigail jones #abby jones #Makoto x Abby #fanfic #great pretender fanfic

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