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sortasirius · 4 years ago

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What the Fuck Happened to the SPN Finale?

Okay so here it is, my Charlie Kelly style manifesto.

Before I get into it, I recognize that I will look like this to many of you, and that’s okay, I understand:

Secondly, your personal Takes about the writers don’t interest me, I don’t need to hear them. This, as I’ll explain, is going to remain a writer positive blog, and that’s the end of it.

Third, and most importantly: some of what I’m going to talk about is fact, and some is highly educated speculation. I will notate what is speculation, just so there’s no confusion or hot takes in my inbox that I’m a conspiracy theorist or stirring shit up for no reason.

A list of what I’ll be discussing

The episode in regards to the rest of the season

The episode issues: length, editing

Scene placement and speculation of scenes cut

The scrubbing of Jack, Cas, Eileen

Network involvement and general timeline of when things were cut

Misha: theories on where he was, official company line, why we can’t expect to hear anything directly

The silence of the cast post episode (in Misha’s case, mid episode) and what this might mean

Jensen speaking with Kripke about the ending: why it doesn’t mean what you might think (also why kripke remained positive on the ending)

Walker, and why this episode had a major shift

Why the network would do this or get involved

Why the writers of the show simply aren’t the bad guys here, and what I “want” out of this post, since I know it’ll get asked

This is very long and under a cut, but I hope you’ll give it a read.

The Episode In Regards to the Rest of the Season

So, I’ve discussed this already here, but it’s the most obvious thing to me, and that’s the way this episode simply doesn’t fit with the rest of the season.

These people in this room have, truly, been nothing but consistent when it comes to their arcs, especially this season, and the marked dropoff in quality for the finale episode is just too sus to discount to me. Dabb’s whole focus has been character-based. In his seasons, we’ve moved far away from MOTW and bro-codependency, the found family taking it’s place. Does it really sit right to anyone that that was all thrown away in literally the last episode of the entire show?

This is speculation on my part, but as a writer myself, there is no way I would be happy or willing to stamp my name on something that I didn’t think would, at the very least, wrap up the season+ character arcs that I and my team had been crafting.

And before anyone comes in here saying, “well GOT did that!” Bruh. The writing was on the wall for GOT long before the final episode. You could tell that the showrunners just wanted to be done (not only from the plot, but from the fact that they lobbied for a shorter season). Miss me with that, it doesn’t apply here. Andrew has, besides Singer and J2, been with the show longer than anyone. He cares, he is meticulous and detailed, and this ending feels worse than anything Bucklemming has ever written, let alone Dabb.

Additionally, I’ve seen a lot of people say that Dabb was never behind Destiel, that it was all Bobo and Meredith and no one else. That is reductive to the point of insult of the work Dabb has done to get this greenlit. This man did not write the s13 Dean grief arc to be slandered like this. That being said, YES, Bobo and Meredith were the leads on the DeanCas arc this season, but ANDREW IS THE SHOWRUNNER, TO GET EVEN THE CONFESSION APPROVED BY THE NETWORK HE WOULD HAVE TO HAVE THEIR BACKS. AND HE DID.

Finale Issues

So, now that we’ve gotten the fact that this episode doesn’t hit on any of the major themes the show was barrelling towards all season, let’s discuss the fact that the episode is just...weird.

Not only is it shorter than any other episode (I think with the intro and the credits/crew thing at the end, it was around 38 mins), but it was also...idk, 90% filler?

One of the lovely humans in the POLOL server did the legwork here, and broke it down:

This is weird, y’all. Most series finales are LONGER than normal (Lost, SOA, Longmire are the ones I can think of off the top of my head), and for the final episode to be this? I saw more than one person point out that we only really needed 19 episodes, what was the point of 20? AND THAT’S EXACTLY IT? WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THIS FINAL EPISODE IF THIS WAS ALL WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GET?

It simply doesn’t make any sense, the first half of the episode was rushed, a final monster hunt gone wrong, but in the second half? Nothing really happened? Sam lived his entire life and Dean just drove around. It doesn’t make sense to have all the emotional arcs left unaddressed in an episode that definitely needed some kind of spark.

Here’s the speculation I have: the episode seemingly went through a lot of changes between the initial inception of the final season and when we actually got it, but I think it would have been passable (as in, we wouldn’t be sitting here asking each other why each arc feels incomplete) until the editing room got ahold of it. The only think that makes this episode make sense is network fuckery. Truly, that is the only thing. It explains the weird, cuts, the rushed pacing of the first half followed by nothing in the second half, the double montages of “Wayward Son” back to back, and Dean just...driving around for the last half of the episode.

Scene Placement and Speculation of Scenes Cut

Before I get into this section, the info of the shots in the episode I have come from a source that @occamshipper got a week or so before the finale. She’s talked about this here.

So here’s what Min was given:

1-5: 1 INT MEN OF LETTERS – DEAN’S ROOM Dean is greeted by Miracle

6-10: 6 INT MEN OF LETTERS – HALLWAY/SAM’S ROOM Sam has his routine

D1 1 11-15: 15 EXT FARM HOUSE Establishing

N1 1/8 16-20: 19 Dad’s journal, marker, drawing of masked man in journal.

21-25: 23 INT IMPALA – PMP Driver picks the music

N2 1 3/8 1,2 26-30: 28pt2 INT BARN: A face from the past

28pt3 Sam and Dean say goodbye

28pt4 Shot early for technical reasons, presumably the overhead shot

N2 31-45: 41 INT MEN OF LETTERS – SAM’S ROOM Sam’s alarm goes off D4 1/8 1 46-60: 56 INT N7glasses for Sam, laptop.

So...it all fits right? It all tracks with the actual episode, where it lands, etc. The issue is between shots 29-40 which were apparently “too big to spoil.” Uh. Where are they? And where’s 28 pt4?

After Dean dies, the next scene is Sam burning him, then shot 31, the shot of his alarm going off.

So. Where are those 11ish shots?

PLUS we have the boards, which are scenes we KNOW were actually shot:

As well as scenes for 20 that were shot in 19.

It’s just...weird, it’s weird and again hits on the fact that the episode is so short and like 80% montage.

The Scrubbing of Jack, Cas, and Eileen

So now we have to reckon with the fact that Eileen was last mentioned by Sam after she got snapped by Chuck, Jack’s last mention is that he’s off being God somewhere, and Cas’ last mention is a ~knowing look~ between Dean and Bobby.

I’m sorry, make it make sense:

???????? That’s the end if it? They don’t need to be discussed after this??? It’s just simply not something a writer would do, they would not introduce these characters, these arcs, without thinking there’s going to be some kind of follow through here.

So not only were three major characters (including two leads and both of the original characters’ love interests) completely wiped from the finale episode, it was as though Sam and Dean never even needed them, which just...ain’t it.

So why Eileen and Jack too? Why not just take Cas out of it if they were afraid of the gay? Because, ultimately, the episode went back to Kripke’s original story: just the bros, they only need each other and no one else. They don’t want anyone else, they don’t need anyone else. Easier to go back to something they knew was successful than trust the writers and their audience and take a big leap.

Alex even said he shot for 20 with “some of the guys” here. What happened to that footage?

The complete 180 of it all still shocks me, I still cannot believe that we were essentially at the finish line, and the network just stopped short, and decided to go run another race, at the expense of the arc of this fifteen year legacy show.

Network Involvement and When Things Were Cut

Okay, now into the juicy stuff.

So I’ve pretty well established that network fuckery is clear, but how much did they get involved, what was the original intent?

Well again, we may never actually know what Andrew’s original script was, but I think, at the least, it would involve Dean speaking his truth to Cas and Sam living a life with Eileen.

Now, it seems today, that Misha said that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale in one iteration of the script, and while initially my brain was like “that truly makes no sense and he’s either straight up lying or telling a half truth,” I think what may be happening is Misha talking about as much as he can right now.

So Jimmy right. Weird as fuck. Why would he been in the Roadhouse and not Cas? My current thought (this is about as reachy as I’ll get) is that Jimmy had no lines, could he have been in the Roadhouse as a red herring, like it said “Jimmy” in the script but it was just Cas in human clothes, a way to get around the network saying Cas couldn’t be in the final scene. Also, you’ll notice that Misha didn’t say that Cas wasn’t supposed to be in the ep at all, just Jimmy in the last scene.

All this to say, there have clearly been multiple versions of the script, getting lighter and lighter with Cas and Eileen as the network pulled further and further back. Remember, Dabb has to get things approved before they get shot, and if the network kept asking and asking and asking to cut Cas and Eileen, he had to find a way to work around it. Granted, I still think that if we had been able to get a Dabb script that wasn’t torn to shreds in editing, it wouldn’t be so bad. It may not be what a lot of us wanted (Dean speaking his truth to Cas and a reciprocation), but doing everything he could to give it to us in subtext or visual clues.

Plus, in all honesty, my man can’t keep his story straight anyway. He said twice in his panel that the Empty and offscreen Heaven ending weren’t his original ending either.

In addition, remember that Jensen did ADR post episode 18, AND said in a meet and greet last weekend that Dean’s reaction to Cas’ confession was “cut down.” (Source here). Many of us clowns got excited when we first heard about ADR, because we thought it would be upping the ante on Dean’s reaction, but I remember being a little sus when it was just crying. My speculation on that is that they cut out Dean actually SAYING something, @winchestersingerautorepair spoke about that here.

The biggest sins were, in my opinion, committed during editing, where the network got too gun shy and sliced the episode until it was nothing but a heartless bro-fest of a finale, not mentioning anything about the other major characters that we all love, and letting the boys just suffer in separation until Sam died and finally joined Dean in Heaven. The editing came by cutting all the major emotional beats between anyone other than Dean and Sam, leaving the skeleton of the story intact, just shorter and less...poignant than it was ever supposed to be.

Misha

We know Misha was in Vancouver, we know he quarantined, but we also know he wasn’t in the final scene, when he spoke about being in the last moment of the show months ago. We were not crazy, he was there, he quarantined, and, in all likelihood (speculation but fitting with the timeline), he actually may have shot something (not much, but something).

I have sources here, here, here, and here showing where Misha was at that time.

Remember, the man was completely open about coming back until they finished shooting (look at this thread). The switch happened, just like everything else, halfway through them shooting.

Please also remember Jake Abel posting his “Where’s Misha” video here. Jake isn’t malicious, he isn’t being nasty here. Misha was there, and everyone that’s trying to convince people he’s wasn’t just...isn’t telling the truth about it.

This is one of the things that makes me really mad, because they’re literally attempting to gaslight people into thinking, “oh we were totally wrong he was never supposed to be there” WHEN HE WAS THERE, WE KNOW HE WAS THERE.

So we’ve already heard from several people (Meghan Fitzmartin, Jay, a PA on the set of 19 (WHO WAS NOT WORKING FOR 20), Misha himself) that this was all down to Covid restrictions. Ultimately, as this post says, we’ve heard FIVE versions of where Misha was. None of it makes sense, but the Covid protocol seems to be the company line that others are repeating.

You may ask: why? Why lie to all of us when we have questions? Why, in Jay’s case, say that we’re all spreading false lies to stir up trouble, when we just have questions and things that do not make sense. Simply? Warner Brothers is absolutely massive. These people have their careers to protect and are likely all under NDAs. They want to work for WB again and don’t want to burn bridges, including Misha. It sucks, but that’s why it’s unlikely that we’ll hear someone come out and say, “yeah we’re lying to you.”

Silence of the Cast Post Episode

So this is...probably the worst part of all this, at least in my opinion.

The guys had all been pretty excited about the end of the show (especially Jared, but Jensen’s panel last week was Jensen as happy and jokey and positive as I’ve ever seen him. He was so excited about episode 18, about what it meant for Dean and for Cas, and I just cannot buy that he would have been that excited unless he thought there was something more in the episode.

Misha live-tweeted the episode, and was watching it with his kids. It’s well known that Misha and the kids don’t watch the show because it’s too scary, and let’s ask ourselves, why would he have them watch an episode that he’s barely even mentioned in?

He also stopped live-tweeting at a very specific point in the episode (Dean’s death) and has not mentioned Supernatural since then.

None of them, not Jared, Jensen, Misha, or even Alex, said anything about the episode for nearly 36 hours, when Jensen posted a salty photo on instagram. It’s just...not what you’d expect for the end of a 15 year show, when the cast and crew are so close to the fans, so close to each other.

My theory? They didn’t know. They thought Misha was, at least, going to be in the episode in some way, and when he wasn’t, they decided not to say anything.

You really think that Jensen “Heller” Ackles would have been so excited about the end of the show last week if he thought Cas wasn’t going to be in it at all? Nah son, doesn’t make any sense.

Even today, in Jared and Misha’s panels, they seemed sad and...more than a little careful, both saying that there were things they couldn’t say, both talking around things that we all have questions on.

Jensen Speaking with Kripke

So this is where a lot of people are getting fodder to take shots at the writers, saying that Jensen hated it from the beginning, but I don’t think so. I actually think I know what Jensen went to him about, and it wasn’t the lack of Cas or the weird pacing or the montages (which I don’t think were there when Jensen got the script); I think it was the manner of Dean’s death.

I know a lot of people were upset about that, upset with how...normal it was, coming off an episode where they literally beat God. I actually didn’t mind it, I thought it was an interesting thematic take to be like: you can be a hero all your life, but sometimes shit happens, and you just die.

But imagine how hard that was for Jensen to read. He would run to Kripke for that, because for him, Dean dying by being impaled by a piece of rebar had to be tough to swallow.

So, why didn’t Kripke say that? Why didn’t he say, “oh well he had a problem with Dean’s death, none of that other stuff was in the script.”

Guys. Why would he get involved? He’s not going to burn bridges any more than anyone else is. He said the ending was good because it’s the easy thing to do, it’s simple, will cause him no problems in his career, and he can just ignore the people trying to engage with him on it.

Walker

Something else to talk about is the major shift this episode had from the rest of the season: the shift from Dean to Sam. I am NOT saying that Sam isn’t important, he definitely, absolutely is, but it was DEAN who really needed to wrap up his arc, Sam just needed to move on, get married to Eileen, become the leader he was always meant to. So what changed? What was with the shirtless scene, the Austin number and random case there, most of the episode being heavily Sam focused, going through his entire life in a montage?

Anyone else notice the 375 Walker promos, or Jared’s little spiel about Walker and how he hoped SPN fans would “come along for the ride.”

It’s...kinda obvious? CW wanted to appeal to who they think the key demographic of SPN and Walker is: rural areas in the South. It would explain a lot, why so much editing, why so Sam focused, the Austin number, the number of Walker promos, all of it.

I’m not saying this is fact, I don’t know that it is, but it is a little suspicious that even in Jared’s panel today, he talked A LOT about Walker and how he hopes SPN fans will watch it.

Why Would the Network Get Involved?

Simply put: $$$

If they think Walker can be the new SPN, and that those crazy SPN fans liked it originally, it’s a lot safer to go with the “original intent” of the show than do something risky (like making one of your two original leads queer).

And? They don’t care. They don’t care that the episode didn’t make sense, they don’t care that all the emotional arcs were left hanging, they don’t care by (potentially) smashing together two of Dean’s monologues (one to Sam, one to Cas) that it came of as...gross. ( @curioussubjects wrote a beautiful post showing how part of that death speech was likely meant for Dean here). They don’t care, they never have, they just want to make their money and move on from the too-loud fandom that fought for representation too hard for too long.

It can’t help but feel insidious, which, honestly, it might be, but it really all comes down to the next cash cow, which, they think, is Walker, even at the cost of the fifteen year legacy show.

The Writers and What I Want

So here it is, all this weird, sus shit laid out on the line. And you know what? To me, there is no way to blame the writers, because they didn’t want this.

I don’t think Dabb and Bobo would have gone ahead with the confession in 18 without thinking that there would be some closure to that arc, they wouldn’t have done that not only to the fans, but for the sake of their own story as well: no writer wants to start something that they can’t finish. (And this applies to both Cas and Eileen).

Here’s a basic rundown of what I think happened: they had a clear arc from 18-20, ending in reciprocation at some level from Dean, Sam marrying Eileen, Hunter Sam as the new Bobby, Dean in heaven with Cas and big roadhouse reunion at the end. Covid prevented a good amount of that. Network had to stare at big gay 18 for six months, got cold feet. Thought about Walker, target audience and alienation of the rural areas if it went full gay. Misha quarantined and likely shot something (not much), he was then cut by execs and went home. They likely added in lines referencing Eileen and Cas to make it clear but more subtextual. They wrap, editing gets it and hacks it to pieces, so we get a shorter episode that’s mostly montages and jarringly bro-centric with nothing else. Arcs are left hanging. Dabb gets episode but it’s too late, there’s nothing he can do. Actors aren’t told so they can continue to do positive PR for the ending, they all found out at the same time we did: hence almost complete silence about the finale.

And you know what? They warned us. I talked about it here, but they’ve been telling us all season that Chuck wasn’t the writer, he’s the network. I don’t think, still, that they thought it would be cut up like this, into something so unsalvageable that it’s been panned by almost everyone, even people who didn’t care much about Dean and Cas.

Finally, a masterpiece can be ruined by editing, and while I’m not sure even the script they ended up shooting on was a masterpiece (due to the network meddling already), but to me it’s blatantly obvious that it’s no one but the network that caused this, that took away closure for Dean, Cas, and even Sam.

So what do I want? Nothing really, there’s nothing we can do, but I wrote this mostly to show people that the writers are not your enemy. In fact, to the people trashing them? You’re doing exactly what the CW wants you to: blame the obvious targets, blame Misha, blame Jensen and Jared, blame Dabb. Scream and yell at them on Twitter and about how the show is ruined because of them. The network keeps their engagement levels high, they don’t get as targeted for their behavior, and just keep moving along.

Just, please, think about who did this, Mourn the show, be angry, but not at the people who fought tooth and nail for this for literal years, not the people who wanted it more than we did, not the people who cannot say anything because of their careers and the NDAs they’re bound by.

Someone is going to spill eventually, but until then, we just have to wait, and continue to be loud.

#my writing #my meta #supernatural #spn #spn finale trash fire #MY MANIFESTO IS DONE

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jimkirkpining · 2 years ago

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It begins when Louis asks Claudia that one fateful question.

Or, perhaps it begins before that. Perhaps it begins on the day Lestat shoves the last of his boxes into his stupid flashy sports car and peels out of the driveway. Perhaps it begins even before that, when the arguments start getting vicious and nasty, hissed under their breaths so Claudia can't hear. Perhaps it begins in the hospital on the day that tiny wriggling bundle is put into Lestat's arms for the first time and all three of them are bawling. Perhaps it begins seven months before, when Lestat staggers out of the bathroom, ashen-faced and shaking and terrified, clutching that little plastic stick.

Or perhaps it was inevitable from the very start, and really it all begins when their eyes meet across a crowded dorm corridor and Lestat pushes through the throng of drunk strangers to tug on Louis' cloak and waggle his eyebrows and try and deliver a Dracula quote through a pair of terrible dollar-store fangs.

At any rate, the moment Louis can really pinpoint the start of it all at the end of October when he asks Claudia what she wants to do for Christmas.

It's perhaps a little early to start planning, but for the last five years he and Lestat have alternated between who takes Claudia for her birthday and who takes her for christmas, and as Claudia's birthday is at the end of November, if he does need to organise another nightmare of a princess party, he'd rather start doing it in advance. Also, Claudia will be seven this year, and last week Marie forwarded him an article about the importance of agency in choice for young girls - honestly, his brain had switched off after the fourth parenting buzzword in as many sentences, but he did remember that choices were very important - so he wants to give her options.

Claudia kicks her heels against the legs of the stool and chews thoughtfully on the end of her marker; there's a big smudge of red ink over her bottom lip and down her chin from where she'd put the wrong end in her mouth.

"I will have to think about it," she says, with all the solemnity a nearly-seven-year-old can muster, and then she goes back to drawing and watching Frozen for the tenth time that week, and for the moment, that is that.

It takes a while for her to get back to him. He’d half wondered if she’d forgotten, but to his surprise, two days later, halfway through dinner, she shovels a forkful of waffles into her mouth and says, “I know what I want to do for Christmas.”

Actually, it comes out sounding more like “ah-dohwha-ah-wantah-dofah-chrimah”, and he interrupts her on autopilot without even thinking, “Don’t speak with your mouth full.”

She scowls but complies, chewing industriously then swallowing. She announces, “Daddy, I know what I want to do for christmas.”

“Hmm?”

Claudia nods, “I want to go to Gab-Gab’s cabin with you and Papa.”

Louis’ heart sinks.

Claudia had only been two years old when the split happened. For the most part, Louis is very glad of this; she has no memory of the awful, angry, bitter days of her early life, no memory of the stifling tension, the misery, the tears and accusations. She only knows of the cool polite distance between her fathers. She only knows them as two men who interact as little as possible twice a week when they drop her off and pick her up, working together to raise her completely separately. She’d asked him, once, why he and Lestat don’t live together like the parents of her friends do, and he’d been able to satisfy her with the response that, well, for some parents it’s just easier that way. Which is the truth, even if he knows it’s somewhat a cop-out.

She has no reason to believe that her request is anything other than a great idea, and Louis’ heart breaks at the thought of having to disappoint her.

He takes a bite of his own dinner to stall, desperately trying to find a compromise situation to give her almost what she wants, but get him out of having to spend the whole festive season - the most stressful time of the year - with Lestat - the most stressful person he knows.

Claudia watches him owlishly, blue-green eyes big and hopeful. He sighs.

“I’ll have to talk to Gabs about it,” he says, trying to stay firm even as her face lights up, “it’s her cabin, so it’s up to her.”

“Can we call her tonight?” Claudia asks eagerly, bouncing in her chair. Louis holds up a hand.

“I’ll call her later,” he points at her plate. “You finish your dinner.”

As Louis watches Claudia work through the rest of her food, practically glowing with excitement, his heart aches in his chest.

He's not delusional; he knows that he and Lestat breaking up was the best choice for a bad situation, and that staying together would have only made everything worse. He knows that Claudia is happy and well-adjusted. He can't help but wish, though, that things could have been different - that maybe they could have tried harder to save things, been more flexible, or more understanding. He wishes Claudia didn't have to split her week between them, dividing her time between two different households and what must seem like two different lives to such a young child.

Despite all of this, however, when he calls Gabs later in the evening once Claudia is in bed, he finds himself guiltily hoping - and he does genuinely feel bad about it - that there will be some completely unavoidable circumstance that isn’t anyone’s fault at all that will mean they can’t possibly go up to the cabin. Though… well, he knows Gabs. Life may have turned her into a prickly, intimidating, closed-off person with a glare like being hit in the face with a brick, but she is utterly devoted to her granddaughter. If getting Claudia to the cabin for Christmas meant moving a mountain, Gabs would just pick up a shovel and start digging.

Most of the time, it’s endearing. Now? Less so.

Louis settles himself into the corner of the couch with a sigh and hits the dial button. There's every chance that she might not even pick up; Gabs is decidedly not a fan of technology, or even the indoors. Lestat once affectionately compared her to Ron Swanson.

The phone rings for a few seconds, and then the call is answered. Oh well, Louis thinks, disappointed.

"Bonsoir, Louis. Ça va?"

"Ça va bien, thanks, and yourself?"

"Not bad," Gabs pauses. Louis can hear rustling, and wind, like she's walking outside. "Is there something you need?"

Louis can't help but smile. Gabs is one person he never has to bother with smalltalk around, and he does genuinely appreciate that about her. And despite her brusqueness, there's something comforting about hearing her voice - Lestat had worked hard to ditch his french accent when his career picked up, but she still has hers, and in a weird way it reminds him of his father. Gabs’ voice sounds like family.

"I was just wondering about your plans for Christmas."

Gabs hums, rumbling through the receiver. "Can't say I have any at the moment. Why?"

"Claudia asked if we could go to the cabin."

There's a pause, "I see. And who is 'we'?"

She knows! Of course she knows. Gabs is basically a mind-reader. Louis cringes.

"Her, myself, yourself…" he squeezes his eyes shut, "and Lestat."

There's another pause. And then she snorts.

“Well. Were you hoping I’d have some great excuse as to why it can't work?” She drawls.

Louis grimaces, “Of course not.”

“You’re a terrible liar. And unfortunately for you, I’ve got no excuses to offer. It would be lovely to have you all over for Christmas… provided that you and Lestat can behave."

“We're adults,” Louis says, vaguely affronted. She has a point, but still - that point is for him to agonise over endlessly in his own head, not for her to use against him!

Gabrielle snorts again, “Oh, and you weren't adults three years ago when you two got into it at Claudia's birthday party?”

Louis’ mouth drops open in indignation, even as second-hand embarrassment over the memory makes his cheeks flush. “Look-” he says, flustered, “look-”

“I'm not accusing you of anything, Louis,” Gabs jumps in quickly, voice no longer teasing but weary now, “I just don't want it to be fucking miserable, okay? For Claudia’s sake.”

And as always, Gabs has cut right to the root of the issue. Louis swallows, running a hand down his face, leaning his head back on the sofa and sullenly studying the ceiling.

“I know. I just… I want her to be happy,” he says.

Gabs sighs, “I know. We all do,” There’s a pause, and Louis can hear the crunch of her boots as she walks through dead leaves. “Talk to Lestat, see what he thinks.”

“That was my next plan, yes.”

He doesn’t admit how reluctant he is to do it, but then again, he probably doesn’t have to.

“He might surprise you,” Gabs says quietly, after a moment.

"That's exactly what I'm worried about," Louis grumbles.

It takes a whole day to work up the energy to call Lestat, and even then, he only forces himself to because Lestat will be picking Claudia up from school this afternoon and he has a lurking suspicion that if Claudia mentions it first Lestat might - god forbid - make an impulse decision that Louis will be stuck with the consequences of.

He texts and messages Lestat with relative regularity these days, because co-parenting separately takes quite a bit of organisation. If anyone were to ask him, he would admit that he's rather proud of how they work as two independent halves of one team; Claudia is fed, clothed, supervised, transported, parented, and loved as much as any other child, and has grown into a smart, responsible, genuinely delightful girl, if perhaps a little precocious.

From a purely practical perspective, they work brilliantly together - just so long as their relationship doesn’t get personal. Personal is when the problems start again.

He waits until Claudia is at school to make the call, because he’s honestly not sure how well it’s likely to go; he sits in his desk chair in his little home office, feet kicked up, and distractedly scrolling through his work emails, as he holds his phone to his ear and waits for Lestat to pick up.

“Oh, hey,” Lestat says, sounding surprised. “Everything alright?”

It’s fair for Lestat to be a little concerned, Louis supposes. The last time Louis called him out of the blue in the middle of the day was last year, when Claudia had been sent to the principal’s office for biting another kid, and Louis hadn’t been able to come and pick her up.

If he remembers rightly, Lestat took her out for ice cream.

“Oh, yes, sorry, it’s fine, I just, uh-” Louis grimaces at his reflection in his laptop screen and runs a hand through his hair, “I just thought we should sort out what we’re doing for christmas.”

Lestat groans, “Is it that time of year again already? God. Okay, well… you had Claudia with you last christmas, so I’ll take her this year, and drop her back off on the 30th?”

“She said she wanted to go to the cabin.”

“Ah, that’s a good idea, I’ll talk to Gabs and-”

“No.” Louis pinches the bridge of his nose, “She wants us all to go to the cabin.”

Lestat is silent for several moments. Louis sips at that morning’s coffee; it's tepid now, but he's so full of tense energy he needs something to do.

“We can make that work,” Lestat says.

Louis blinks, nearly dropping his mug, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Lestat’s tone is determined, almost defensive. “Yeah, if it’s what Claudia wants then let’s do it."

Louis sets the mug down and covers his face with his hand, "Lestat, have you actually thought about what this will entail? The cabin is nearly a two day drive - there and back - so we'll have to stay at least four days to make the journey worth it. That's eight days, minimum."

"What are you saying?" Lestat snaps.

They're not even in the same room and it's already turning into an argument, Louis thinks, clenching his jaw. There's no way they can survive over a week without making things 'fucking miserable'.

"I'm saying," Louis tries to make his voice as soothing and non-confrontational as possible - the voice he uses when a client starts freaking out on him, "that you and I do not exactly have the best track record when we're together."

Lestat does actually stop and consider that, rather than just flying into a defensive rage, which is honestly more than Louis was expecting.

"If this is Claudia's christmas wish," Lestat says, voice quiet but certain, "then I'm going to make it work."

Claudia's christmas wish. Louis rolls his eyes. He's as sentimental as the next gay man, but he also knows that their daughter is six - last year's 'christmas wish' had been to go to Disneyworld to meet Queen Elsa, and/or to adopt four puppies, neither of which had happened, and both of which she'd utterly forgotten by christmas day in all the excitement.

But… if Lestat has said yes, and Gabs has said yes, that means that if he says no for no other reason than ‘I really really really don't want to’, it makes him the bad guy of the situation. He tries to imagine breaking it to her, watching her little face fall in disappointment, knowing that it’s entirely because of him.

Fuck.

Louis closes his eyes. He tries to exhale the tension out and just accept his fate.

“Alright then. Let’s… let’s make it work.”

He hears a sharp little gasp over the phone. It sounds like excitement. Despite himself - despite everything - it makes Louis smile.

“I’ll handle the travel arrangements,” Lestat says quickly, “I know a good route that’ll give us plenty of places to stop along the way, and there’s an amazing hotel that’s just a perfect distance to hit at the end of the first day!”

The smile drops. The thought of Lestat taking any major part in the planning makes anxiety immediately shoot through Louis, the tension flooding back in.

Look, he has a therapist, he knows that his need to control situations stems from a deep-rooted fear of failure stemming from bad parenting, and he knows that Lestat’s need for control is to mask his eternal terror over being abandoned, also due to bad parenting. It’s always been a source of discord between them. He knows that. But there’s a big difference between knowing it and knowing how to deal with it. His therapist has suggested that he try allowing Lestat to take over little tasks, to practise; letting Lestat pick the time that he’ll drop Claudia off, letting him take the lead in discussions about her birthday presents, that sort of thing.

This isn’t a little thing, though. Louis tightens his grip around the phone, staring at his reflection in his laptop screen. He doesn’t want to give in. He’s already conceded a lot in the conversation by agreeing to do this in the first place. He doesn’t want to let go of the planning too.

“Lestat-” he says, and Lestat must hear something in his tone, because he immediately jumps in.

“Trust me.”

Louis closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. He tries to think about what exactly he trusts Lestat with.

Claudia’s safety, he trusts Lestat with that; despite his thrill-seeking lifestyle during their college days, Lestat has never taken unreasonable risks with their daughter’s safety and wellbeing - that Louis knows of, at least. He trusts that Lestat would never willingly put her in danger. There's no way he'd allow Lestat to have custody of her for half the week if he didn't trust that Lestat would keep her safe and well.

Claudia’s happiness, that’s another thing he trusts Lestat with; again, there's no way Louis would let her out of his sight if he didn't genuinely trust Lestat with this. When she was a toddler and her face would crease in that tell-tale way, bottom lip beginning to quiver, Lestat seemed to have a sixth sense for knowing exactly how to swoop in and cheer her up, and nothing about what Claudia has told him about her time at Papa's house indicates that that has changed.

Louis trusts Lestat with the car; Lestat has always had a weird macho thing about cars, has always been meticulous about keeping any he owns in perfect condition. Louis isn't particularly impressed by the obnoxious sporty beast Lestat drives nowadays, but he does at least trust that Lestat will ensure it can get them to the cabin.

And ultimately, Louis thinks, reluctantly, he can trust Lestat with this journey; Lestat bought Gabs the cabin nearly fifteen years ago, at the peak of his teenage pop-idol fame, so he knows the roads around it and the route up very, very well. The drive will be simple, and Lestat will know the best places to stop if Claudia needs a break, and whatever this hotel is that Lestat has mentioned will be hideously overpriced and needlessly ostentatious, but if he's honest, Louis would rather that than a sleazy shitty motel on the roadside, anyday.

Realistically, letting Lestat be in charge of the journey will be… well, probably fine?

And that’s the worst part; knowing that if something goes wrong - and historically, when Lestat tries to plan things, they do - it won’t be for lack of trying. It won’t be for lack of wanting, or lack of heart. It’ll be because of some tiny but vital detail that got missed, that Louis knows he would have caught if he’d been allowed to plan it, and Louis will have to look between Claudia’s devastation and Lestat’s mortification and guilt, and he’ll have to find some way to fix everything. As usual.

Trust me.

Louis doesn’t want to trust him. But he does know, begrudgingly, that this trip is going to take a lot of compromise, and that Lestat will likely be less hideously insufferable if he feels like he has something that he gets to be in charge of.

“Fine,” Louis says, before he can second-guess himself and drive this conversation back towards a fight. “But this is Claudia’s christmas wish-” god, he cannot believe he is using that as leverage, “so you know-”

“Everything has to be perfect,” Lestat cuts in, “I know. I’ll make sure of it.”

Famous last words, Louis thinks, glumly, as he hangs up.

Marie comes over for dinner every friday. The official reason is to make sure she gets to spend regular time with Claudia, but Louis knows it’s at least partly to do free washing and get away from her housemates. She may be an adult now, and she may have started her postgrad, but she’s still a student, and she’s still his baby sister.

She collects Claudia from school and brings her home, and the two of them are engrossed in something on Marie’s Switch when Louis gets back from a meeting and starts on dinner. Later, after Claudia’s gone to bed, he and Marie settle down on the couch. She swings her legs up and drops her feet into his lap, and after several rounds of him shoving them away and her kicking him in the stomach, she wins, though he uses her legs as a coffee table in retaliation.

“I’ve been thinking,” she says, without preamble.

Louis immediately responds, “Don’t hurt yourself.” She kicks him again, he wordlessly threatens to empty his bottle of drink over her head, she sticks her tongue out - and then the conversation continues.

“I’ve been thinking that you should start a blog.”

Louis wrinkles his nose, “You mean be a - what do they call them - a Mummyblogger?” He grimaces, “Daddyblogger? Oh god, that’s worse.”

“No,” Marie snorts, “I mean… You could if you wanted to, I guess, but I’m talking about book reviews.”

“Book reviews?”

“Yeah,” Marie pulls her feet away and sits up properly, animated in her excitement, “You read so much, and the other day when you recommended that book to me you wrote such a nice, pithy little summary, it got me thinking - you should start a book review blog! You’d be really good at it! And it might help scratch that writing itch.”

Louis sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Mimi, you know I haven’t written in years… with Claudia and my job I just don’t have time.”

“But Claudia’s started school, and you only have her half the week,” Marie protests, “And it’s not like you have a social life now you’ve broken up with Armand and you don’t have to hang out with his weird theatre crowd anymore.”

“Hey,” Louis points a finger at her, “First of all, ouch, I do have a social life, thank you. And second of all, we broke up, but that was over a year ago and we’re still friends, so you don’t get to be mean about Armand.”

“Armand was an asshole and the theatre crowd were super weird. It’s not mean if it’s a fact.”

Louis shakes his head, exasperated, but knowing he won’t be able to change her mind, “I actually heard from him the other day - can you believe that he’s dating one of my exes?”

“Which one?” Marie asks, slouching back against the armrest again and pushing her feet back into Louis’ lap, “You’ve dated, like, four guys, and one of them was Armand.”

“Well… I’m not sure if he really counts as an ex, we only went on one date,” Louis grimaces, “It was terrible, I talked about myself the whole time, it was more like an interview than a date. Anyway, at the end of it he still asked for my number, and I, uh,” Louis cringes further, “I accidentally gave him Armand’s.”

“What!” Marie exclaims, laughing disbelievingly, “How?”

“I don’t know! Anyway, it worked out, because they’ve been dating for three months now. Armand texted me last week to thank me for setting them up. Apparently he’s under the impression that I did it deliberately.”

Marie sniggers, “That’s probably for the best, he already has enough dirt on you, he doesn’t need to realise you’re an idiot too,” there’s a buzzing noise from somewhere near her and she jumps, “Oh, speaking of texts.”

After several moments of searching each pocket, and then under each cushion in her immediate vicinity, she locates her phone and checks it. Immediately, she pulls a face. Louis knows that face.

“Is that…?”

“Yeah, it’s mom,” Marie sighs, “You know she’s been dropping hints about wanting to see Claudia at christmas again?"

Louis’ heart drops into his stomach. He fiddles with the label on his bottle, "And has she…?"

"Changed in any way, shape, or form? Not a chance."

Louis exhales shakily, staring down at the bottle in his hands. It’s something called kombucha - he doesn’t know what it is, but it’s big at the moment so there’d been a promotion on and he thought he’d try a pack. He hates it, although unfortunately he feels too guilty to pour them all away, so he’s stuck drinking his way through them.

Staring down at it, their mother brought so abruptly into the conversation, a traitorous part of him fleetingly wishes the bottle was full of something stronger. He was always braver after a few drinks; stupider, definitely, and meaner, but braver. It would be easier to talk about mom after a few drinks. And then he thinks about the little bronze medallion attached to his keys, with the proud 5 Years embossed on it. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, and exhales the tightness in his chest away. He takes a sip of his stupid kombucha and scowls as he swallows it.

“Louis…” Marie says softly. She pulls her feet from his lap and tucks her legs beneath her, shuffling over so she’s beside him and can squeeze his shoulder. He shakes his head.

"Even after...” he waves a hand, “After everything, I still miss her. I hate it."

Marie opens her mouth, but as he watches, she seems to struggle for the words, and gives up, grimacing in sympathy instead.

Louis turns to her, catching her elbow, “If she’s harassing you about it, I can-”

“No,” Marie says immediately, “No, you said no contact until she stops being-”

“Terrible?” Louis offers.

“I was going to say ‘a homophobic transphobic bitch’ but I guess yours is more succinct - anyway, since she’s still terrible, she won’t be getting any contact.”

Louis frowns, protectiveness rising inside of him like a tide, “I don’t want her to move onto harassing you though.”

“Look, Lou, telling mom where to stick it was probably the most badass thing you’ve ever done,” she snorts. “I won’t let you go back on that just because she’s being annoying. I can handle it.”

“Well,” Louis says, smiling wryly, “At the very least, you’ve got a good excuse to say no to her seeing Claudia at christmas.”

“Yeah?”

“We won’t be here. We’re spending it at Gabs’ cabin.”

“Oh,” Marie says, nodding, “Nice. She’ll love that.”

Louis hums vaguely, takes a long drink, and rips the metaphorical band-aid off, “Lestat’s coming too.”

Marie stares at him, eyes widening

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s…” Louis chews his lip, “it’s gonna be something else.”

She kicks him again, “Hey, maybe you’ll actually have fun.”

Louis snorts

Don’t think you’ve gotten out of talking about the blog!

(The last week of October passes, and then most of November is taken up by planning for Claudia's birthday; with its proximity to christmas, they always try to make a big deal of it for her, though this year she wants something a little more lowkey than usual.

They end up taking a trip to the Museum of Natural History

Claudia birthday party only has a few friends, mention Madeleine, trip to Tulane Museum of Natural History with Marie, Lestat tags along to help supervise, grandmother of one kid - Julia - helps too)

Lestat arrives basically on time, dressed - thankfully - appropriately for an outing to a museum with a group of seven year olds. Early in their relationship he went through a phase of wearing borderline obscene jeans, dressing like a washed up 80s rockstar rather than a washed up 90s popstar. It had been all part of his aggressive attempt to separate himself from his apple-pie boy-next-door image the record label had pushed early in his career, a hangover from his teenage rebellion, but he'd mortified Louis far too many times with his wardrobe for him to ever feel entirely confident on what Lestat might wear. The jeans had been set aside not long after he found out they were having Claudia, and much to Louis' relief, they don't seem to have seen the light of day again.

This time, he jogs in wearing a pair of skinny - but not 'make everyone else feel uncomfortable' skinny - grey jeans, one of those big infinity scarves, a denim jacket, and a pair of designer sunglasses that he flips up onto the top of his head as he enters the building. The whole outfit is so effortlessly stylish that it leaves Louis feeling oddly self-conscious in his chunky knit cardigan and button-up, which is ridiculous because he spent their whole relationship quite contentedly following around in the shadow Lestat's bright light cast, knowing that whilst Lestat had his admirers, one gesture from Louis would have him trotting back to his side like an obedient puppy.

Now, without that devotion, he just feels like the frumpy dad. He does his best to school his expression into something at least borderline friendly as Lestat approaches, for the sake of getting through the day.

For the most part, it goes well; Marie makes for an excellent and engaging tour guide, and Lestat essentially turns it into a two-man comedy act with his annoying knack for performance. The worst thing about it all is that Lestat behaves and is genuinely very funny, and the kids all love him, and so Louis can't even find anything to be irritated by, which just makes him more irritated. So he stews at the back, trailing around to herd the stragglers.

They take a break mid-afternoon for a drink and snack at the museum coffee shop; Claudia demands that Marie sit with her in the middle of the gaggle of kids, leaving Louis, Lestat, and Julia sitting together on a separate table. Louis is absolutely planning on grabbing the three of them drinks to avoid having to talk one-on-one with either of them, but to his dismay Julia offers first, and firmly pushes away their proffered wallets.

It's the first time he and Lestat have been alone in longer than Louis cares to think about. And they're not really alone, not with fifteen schoolkids on the tables beside them, but they are, in all the ways that count, distinctly not with anyone else.

Louis casts around desperately for a neutral conversation starter before the silence gets awkward.

"So," he says brightly, "How was your birthday?"

As long as Louis has known Lestat, he's loved making a big deal of his birthday. Even the birthday just before Claudia arrived, when Lestat was spending every waking moment grouchy and miserable and desperate to piss, he'd demanded an extravagant house party - and Louis presumes, knowing Lestat's love of drama, that the tradition had continued after their break up. No doubt he'd thrown a legendary party and had a wild night with a hundred friends all far too cool for Louis to possibly know, and he'll have enough stories to tell to tide them over until Julia gets back.

To his surprise, Lestat looks almost awkward. He fiddles with his phone, then shrugs, "Uh… well, actually my dad died. So it wasn't great."

Oh god. So much for a neutral conversation starter! Louis cringes immediately, then tries to reel it back into something appropriately sympathetic, "I'm… I'm sorry."

Although, knowing what little that he does of Lestat's father, he suspects Lestat isn't especially sorry himself. Lestat never spoke much about his childhood. A few times, whilst drunk, he'd curled up in Louis' arms crying about how his father had hurt him, but he'd never elaborated or explained, and all Louis knows is that Gabs had been pushed into the marriage at a very young age, both of Lestat's older brothers left home at sixteen, and that the moment Lestat's career success had allowed them the funds, Gabs had hired the best divorce lawyer in the city, Lestat had packed up his stuff, and they'd made a break for it.

Knowing Gabs, that alone told him a huge amount about Lestat's father.

Louis had only met the man once; shortly after Claudia was born, he'd turned up on their doorstep, a desperate wreck. Louis had always assumed that Lestat took after Gabs looks-wise, as after all he had her blond mane and sharp jawline, but he'd known the man was Lestat's father from the first moment he saw him as they had exactly the same distinctive grey-violet eyes. He was destitute, the man had said, his sons wouldn't speak to him, would Lestat…?

When Louis had called for Lestat, he'd taken one look at his father, exploded into furious tears, and locked himself in the bathroom. The commotion woke up Claudia, who began screaming, and Louis had been so overwhelmed and bewildered in his brand-new-parenthood sleep deprivation he'd wound up just giving Monsieur de Lioncourt all the cash in his wallet and calling him a taxi.

Later, once Lestat had calmed down and Claudia had stopped crying, and the three of them were curled up in bed together, Louis had silently agonised for hours over whether he'd done the right thing. To be honest, sometimes he still wonders.

Lestat looks at him, then down at his hands, then shrugs, mouth twisted in an expression more of conflict than any particular emotion.

"I'd been put as his emergency contact," Lestat snorts, "Likely because I'm the only one who can afford to pay his medical bills. The hospital managed to contact Augustin and Olivier, but they didn't even bother to show up. And obviously I didn't ask Gabs," he sighs, "So I spent my birthday sitting in a hospital room for three hours waiting for an old man to die in his sleep. I didn’t really feel up for a party after that, so I cancelled it."

Louis swallows. Lestat is fiddling with his phone again, snapping the expensive rose-gold case on and off. Louis wants to reach out and still his hands, thread their fingers together and stroke his thumb up and down Lestat's, kiss his knuckles and smile softly at him like he used to do when Lestat got anxious or antsy-

-but that's not them anymore, so he just sits and watches helplessly.

"I'm sorry," Louis repeats, at a loss as to what else to say.

"Don't be sorry that he's dead," Lestat says, voice tight, glaring down at his phone, "Because I'm not. I don't think anyone is."

"I'm…" Louis swallows, and as he watches Lestat's jerky hand movements around the phone, the compulsion overtakes him and he reaches out - just to his wrist, a safe zone, Louis' fingers holding around his big expensive watch, not even touching his skin, but Lestat still looks up at him sharply.

"I'm sorry you had to do that on your own," Louis says softly. Lestat stares at him for a moment, and then, to his surprise, Lestat lets out a sigh and the tension immediately leaves his shoulders. He can't meet Louis' gaze, but he nods, acknowledging it.

If you'd asked me, I would have gone with you, Louis realises with some shock. It feels like something he should tell Lestat, and it's on the tip of his tongue, but then Lestat sits up in his chair and pulls his hand away. It takes a moment for Louis to realise it's because Julia is approaching with a tray of drinks.

"Here we go," she says cheerfully, setting down the tray. It has three mugs and a small teapot. Louis stares at the teapot and feels his heart sink. Oh dear.

Lestat, on the other hand, immediately perks up, a delighted grin taking over his face as he takes his latte and looks between Louis and the teapot.

"Julia," he says, "Julia, cherie, you got him tea, how did you know?"

Louis grinds his teeth and glares as Lestat meets his eyes, then quickly pulls up a polite smile when Julia turns to him.

Julia preens, clearly proud of herself, "Well, I said I'd get us three coffees, but then I saw that they sold tea, and I remembered that you had tea at [event], and I thought it might be a nice surprise," she hesitates, "Was- was I right?"

"Of course you were!" Lestat jumps in, patting her hand, "Louis is a Tea Person, can't you just tell from how cultured and refined he is? Look at that cardigan, those elbow patches - doesn't it just fit his asthetique?"

Louis is going to grind his back molars to dust at this rate, but he manages to unclench his jaw for a few moments to thank Julia for her kind thought, then he resignedly pours out the pot into his mug. The conversation is thankfully steered onwards, and Louis cups the mug in his hands and avoids drinking for almost five whole minutes on the excuse that it’s too hot before he has to take a sip.

It’s not that Louis hates tea.

(Lestat grabs mug and pours tea into plant when granddaughter calls for Julia)

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study-coffee-chicago · 4 years ago

Text

Seasons of PD: Season 1: Lonnie Rodiger (A Jay Halstead + Halstead! Sister Imagine)

Any quotes from season one that I put in here, credit obviously goes to the writers of PD. For the sake of my story, Ben Corson was killed when he was 11 so you would've been 10.

Trigger warning for mentions of rape and murder.

Jay's age: 27

Your age: 13

Jay walked up the steps of the front porch of his childhood home. With how crazy gangs have become the past few weeks, it was hard for him to get a good night's sleep without his phone going off, let alone keep track of what day it was. So, when he walked into the district this morning and learned that it was the day of what would've been Ben Corson's fourteenth birthday, he was crushed. He'd learned how to deal with the pain because it wasn't his best friend, it was the little brother of his ex-girlfriend. But, he was your best friend and, despite the saying that time heals all wounds, this day was still hard on you. It was a bit better than when the night he was killed rolled around each year, but it was hard nonetheless. It was also hard because Jay had to see his dad, even if it was just for a few minutes.

"Hey, Jay. How's work?" Pat Halstead asked as his youngest son entered the house. He was seated in the recliner in the living room, catching the highlights of the Blackhawks game from last night.

"Please don't do that," Jay stated.

"Do what?" Pat asked as he muted the tv.

"Pretend like you care. Pretend like you were there for me when I was Y/N's age because we both know you weren't. Remember that fight I got--"

"Jay? Are we going to the Corsons?" you asked, popping into the living room and stopping your dad and Jay's conversation in its tracks.

"Uh, yeah, c'mon let's go," Jay faltered.

You smiled, but it was more of just tipping one side of your lips upward. Today was a day that didn't warrant full smiles, only half-smiles and maybe a few quiet giggles like when you, Jay, Gail, Danny, and occasionally Allie if she was home, told stories about yours and Ben's escapades when you were younger...when Ben was alive.

"Thanks. I made a card, too." You turned to your dad before you left. "Bye, Dad. See you tonight."

"Bye, don't let her eat too much cake, Jay," your dad replied.

"And just for that, you're getting two pieces," Jay whispered in your ear as soon as you were out on the front porch. You rolled your eyes. "Hey, don't use that teenage sass with me, missy."

"Shut up," you joked. "It's just funny because every time Dad tells you not to do something, you do it anyway. It's probably because it's more fun when you're not allowed to do it."

"Okay, fine, I guess you're right about that."

"Ha, you're wrong about something!"

"Technically, I wasn't wrong. I just said you were right. But, do not tell Will."

"No promises."

You walked up the porch steps and Jay rapped on the door of the Corson's. You took a deep breath, trying to forget the many afternoons after school that you'd do the same exact thing, impatiently waiting for Ben to emerge so that you could both play in the backyard together until one of you got called inside for dinner, not without promises to play with each other the next day.

"You okay?" Jay asked, noticing your change in demeanor from joking with him to solemn in a matter of seconds.

You shrugged, not knowing what to say.

"Jay, Y/N," Gail Corson said as she answered the door after you and Jay had each given her a hug.

You walked inside to the kitchen table, where Ben's dad, Danny, was just sitting, staring into space. "Hey, Danny," Jay said.

"Hi, Jay. Y/N," he replied.

You never knew what to say when it came to this day, so you just handed Danny the envelope. "I, uh, I made a card for Ben," you said. "I don't know if you want to open it and read it or just put it somewhere, I just--"

"I'll open it, sweetheart," Gail interrupted and then took the card from her husband.

You had made the card out of light blue construction paper and had used a navy blue pen to write in your best cursive handwriting, Happy 14th birthday, Ben!, since blue was Ben's favorite color. You hadn't known what else to write, because, what else could you write? Tell him what he was missing out on with being gone and cry so hard while making the card that that marker smudged and bled through the other side of the construction paper? No, you couldn't do that. So, you had resorted to printing out some pictures of you and Ben (some with you, Ben, Jay, Allie, and the occasional one with Will) on computer paper, cut them out, and glued them inside the card. You wanted the card to be filled with happy, funny memories, not sad, sappy writing.

Gail let out a sad laugh. "When was this one taken?"

You looked at the picture she was pointing at. It was a selfie no doubt taken on Allie's old flip phone. In it, Jay and Allie were making funny faces and you and Ben were both smiling proudly because of the work you had done.

Jay was supposed to be babysitting you and Allie was supposed to be babysitting Ben since your parents and his parents had gone out for dinner together. You both should have been in bed in your own separate houses since there was a rule about Allie and Jay not hanging out alone together at home when there were no parents around, but you had lost count of how many times they had broken that rule.

It was around 11 at night when Ben had woken you up with two black, Crayola markers in his hand and had told you that both Jay and Allie were asleep on the couch. So, as quiet as you could, you both tip-toed into the living room, uncapped your markers, and got to work.

You knew they had seen the trouble you two had gotten into when you heard running. You and Ben giggled to yourselves as you heard the water running from the bathroom.

Soon enough, Jay flung your door open. And, you guys just couldn't help yourselves and started to laugh even harder.

Then, to get you back, Jay had tickled you and Allie tickled Ben. Once you had all calmed down, Allie suggested that the four of you take a picture. And, the next time Allie and Ben came over when Jay was babysitting, he was sure to hide all the markers on the top shelf of his bookshelf in his bedroom where there was no way either of you would be able to find them, let alone reach them.

"So, you and Allie did hang out together with no parental supervision," Danny chirped. "Don't do stupid things like your brother here, Y/N."

"Hey," Jay started to defend himself. "We learned our lesson...to hide the markers."

"Do you remember when he got in trouble for pushing some kid on the playground, Gail?" Danny asked his wife.

"Oh, how could I forget that! I got a call from the school saying that Ben was in trouble and I knew on my way over there that he'd be grounded from the tv for weeks. But, then in the car on the ride home, he explained to me that some kid in his grade was telling Y/N she couldn't play with them since she was a grade below them. Then, he pushed him down and said that, yes, she could play."

"You never told me the full story of that, Y/N. What's this kid's name?" Jay asked.

"Jay, it was years ago! Give the overprotective big brother thing a rest, would you?"

"Would you kids like some cake?" Gail asked.

You swallowed. Chocolate on chocolate cake, Ben's favorite and yours. But, now on your birthday, you'd switched to marble just so that you wouldn't be reminded of how Ben would never see you on your birthday again.

Jay noticed your discomfort and how you probably didn't want to start bawling your eyes out just because you didn't want Gail and Danny to start crying, as well. Even though they'd probably done enough crying today as it was.

"Actually, we gotta run. I have to get Y/N home because she has homework to do and I have some police business to tend to," Jay answered, sensing your discomfort as the good detective he was.

"At least let me give you a slice to go," Gail suggested.

Abruptly, Danny stood up and shoved his chair under the table, and left the kitchen. You heard a door slam.

You widened your eyes for a split second and then quickly regained your composure. His son was dead and his killer was still on the loose; he had every right to lash out.

"This is always a tough day for him," Gail started. "He won't eat it. I just end up throwing it out."

Jay nodded. "Small slice." He turned to look at you. "And an even bigger slice for her."

Gail went over to a cupboard and pulled out two Tupperware containers and then two plastic forks from a drawer. Then, she cut two slices of cake and placed them inside the containers, handing you the one that contained the bigger slice.

"Thank you," you said.

"Yes, thank you," Jay agreed. "And, if there's anything either you or Danny need, please don't hesitate to call me."

Gail nodded and the two of you left the Corson's house, cake in hand.

"Happy birthday, Ben," you whispered when you were walking down the steps.

Then, when you got back to your house, Jay pulled out his keys and unlocked his car. "Hop in," he told you.

"Where are we going?" you asked. "I thought you had some police stuff to do?"

"You know how on Mom's birthday, we always go to the cemetery and plant flowers?" he asked. You nodded. That day was always full of crying despite how old you got. Hell, even Jay cried. It was one of the only times that he'd let his guard down and let his emotions take over in full force. "Look in the backseat."

There, sitting on the backseat on a towel so that dirt wouldn't get everywhere, was a carton full of Morning Glories. "Blue. Ben's favorite color."

"Yeah," Jay said, the volume of his voice almost a whisper. "We just have to make a quick pitstop first and then we'll go and plant them." You both buckled up and then Jay actually realized that he might have overlooked something. "You don't actually have a ton of homework to get done, do you?"

"No, even if I did, I wouldn't be able to focus on it." You took a bite of the birthday cake. "Does it get any easier?"

"Does what get any easier?" he asked, while still keeping his eyes on the road, his cake forgotten.

"You know, losing people. I know it'll be hard every year for Mom because she was our mom--"

"First of all, she's still our mom, Y/N. No one is going to replace her. Second of all, continue."

"Sorry, I know you got more time with her and knew her better than I did--"

"Listen, if you ever want to hear stories about Mom or Mom and Dad or anything like that, just ask me. I know you were just a kid, hell you are still just a kid, but you can always ask me about her. Always, okay?"

You nodded, feeling grateful that you at least had one brother who looked out for you. Lord knows Will didn't since he was barely home. You didn't hold a grudge against him or anything like Jay did, you just felt like he wasn't there. And, you knew that him not being there had hurt Jay, so it was hard for the three of you to all act like siblings when you felt like you'd need to jump in and stop a fight between your brothers at any moment. If it was just you and Will or just you and Jay, your relationship was great. But, when it was the three of you together, you could practically feel the tension between Will and Jay.

"So, does it get easier? Losing friends I mean. Like, when their birthdays come around or the day they died, does your heart feel like it isn't being ripped out of your chest every second of those days?"

You assumed that Jay had lost friends when he was overseas, which was why he came home from his second tour a year earlier than scheduled. That and your mom was sick.

"That's how you're feeling with Ben? Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

"I knew you had your own stuff going on with being a detective and all and I know you think you know who did it and I don't want you going to prison."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. My job will never be more important than you." It might be more important than Will, he thought to himself. But, you didn't need to know that piece of information. "But, to answer your question, no it doesn't get any easier. I mean it kinda does, because the pain of losing them isn't as fresh as the years go by, but the day still sucks no matter how many years it's been."

"Then how do you deal with? When those days of the year roll around?"

"Distract yourself to try and forget. But, pretend I didn't tell you that. Go talk to someone instead."

"That's not what you do though, is it? Talk to someone?"

"Do as I say, kid. Do as I say, not as I do."

"Will you ever stop calling me kid? I'm thirteen, Jay!"

"Nope, in my head you're still that four-year-old with the Build-A-Bear."

He pulled the car up to the curb. You looked up as Jay put it in the park. "Why are we here?"

"Just, stay in the car, okay? I'm gonna be right outside, but I just have something I need to take care of."

"Okay."

You knew this house. You weren't going to tell Jay, but you walked past it every day when going to school because it was shorter than taking the route your parents had taught you to take. Jay was the one who actually taught you to take this route three years ago when he had walked you to school after Ben's death. But, he told you never to take this way to or from school when you were alone. But, seeing as it was five minutes faster and you were a teenager and cherished every second of sleep, you didn't listen and took this way every single school day.

Jay got out of the car and leaned up against it. Then, he opened his container of chocolate on chocolate birthday cake and began to eat it. You knew what he was doing. It was the reason he had taken this route to school with you. He told you it was because it was faster, but you knew it was because he wanted to tail Lonnie Rodiger...which you assumed was the reason why he didn't want you walking here alone. Because a pedophile lived here. Well, technically he wasn't a pedophile yet because he wasn't convicted, but you had heard enough conversations between Jay, Gail, and Danny when they all thought you were out of earshot to know that Lonnie was the one who killed your childhood best friend.

You saw Lonnie peak out through the curtains of one of the windows. And, if it weren't for Jay's water bottle that was sitting in the cupholder that you quickly took a swig of, you would've choked on your bite of cake.

A patrol car pulled up across the street and a uniformed cop came out. It was the same kind of uniform that Jay had been wearing the night you ran over to the Corson's house when it became a crime scene. You quickly wiped the few tears away at the memory of that night. If Jay got arrested, you knew you'd have to go with him because you couldn't drive. And, you didn't want to be crying in the back of a cop car while Jay was trying to talk his way out of an arrest.

Jay resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, they called the cops! Of course, they did! They'd call the cops and arrest him for harassing a pedophile and a killer, but they wouldn't arrest Lonnie for being a pedophile and a killer.

"Can I see your driver's license?" the patrolman asked.

Jay lifted his shirt, revealing his badge and gun. Despite being off duty, he had it. He always had it when he came around the Rodiger house. If Lonnie struck first, then he'd have him on assaulting an officer...and have an excuse to kill the son of a bitch. It would be in self-defense after all. He feared serious bodily harm.

But, of course, that wasn't going to happen, not today anyway.

"Halstead. Intelligence," Jay answered.

"This is harassment!" Phil Rodiger yelled as marched outside and pointed at Jay, Lonnie right behind him.

"Just eating some birthday cake," Jay said, poking the cake with his plastic fork. "Today would've been a birthday."

You felt your lip begin to tremble.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, you kept telling yourself.

But, it was no use. It was just those three words: would have been.

It would have been Ben's fourteenth birthday if he was still here and if he wasn't buried in the ground in the cemetery, a high collared shirt on to hide the strangulation marks that Lonnie gave him when he wrapped a rope around his neck and pulled, choking him to death.

If he were still here, he would've had a birthday party. It might have been small with only a few people. You might not even have been invited because you're in middle school and middle schoolers like to talk. And, maybe, if you had been invited, people would have said that he had a crush on you and teased him about it.

Maybe, the early stages of puberty would have hit Ben by now and he would have become what you deemed to be cute. Maybe, he would've had a crush on you and you would've had a crush on him if he was still around. But, he would forever be stuck in your head as your best friend, no romantic feelings whatsoever, since he only lived to be eleven years old.

"Arrest him!" Phil Rodiger yelled, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Get him out of here!"

This was it. Maybe the patrolman wouldn't notice you were in the car and you could sneak back home in a few minutes and call Erin, get her to talk to Voight about getting your brother out of lockup. (Yes, you had Erin's number because you needed questions answered that would make your dad and Jay uncomfortable. Even though Will was a doctor, there was no way you would ask him about girl stuff, even though you were pretty sure he had heard and seen it all in New York.)

"Sorry, pal," the patrolman said.

Okay, so you wouldn't be dragged into the back of a patrol car and also wouldn't have to help Jay beat a charge. Thank god your brother was a part of Chicago's famous Intelligence Unit.

You set your cake on the dashboard. You couldn't take it anymore. If Jay wasn't going to say it, you would.

Jay heard the passenger side door open and whipped his head around. "Y/N," he warned. "Get back in the car."

"He killed my best friend, Jay!" you yelled, tears running down your cheeks. "What do you want me to do? Sit in the car and watch him just get away with it?"

The patrolman's eyes grew wide. Seeing that made you realize what you had just said.

You just accused Lonnie of murder.

"Y/N!" Jay yelled. You looked up to see that he had thrown his cake on the ground. "Get back in the car!"

Okay, so Jay's scary when he's angry, noted.

You made your way around the car and into the passenger seat. Then, you just watched as Jay talked to the patrolman, trying to sort this all out.

You didn't mean to do it. It just came out.

You fucked up. Maybe you were going to be the one arrested this time. And, since you weren't a cop, there'd be no way to easily get out of those handcuffs.

You put your head in your hands and changed the radio station, trying your best to make sure you didn't hear the conversation between Jay and the patrolman.

Soon, the patrolman sped off. You were safe. But, Lonnie and Phil were still standing across the street, outside, watching Jay, watching you.

"Get outta here!" Phil yelled.

Jay was almost to the car when he turned around, rage painted on his freckled face. "Three years ago today, Lonnie! Three years! He would've been fourteen! Fourteen!"

"I'm gonna call my lawyer! I'm getting a restraining order!" Phil promised.

"Yeah? Well, I'm gonna give you a reason to need one someday! You and your sick-ass son!"

He slammed the door shut, but you didn't look at him, just kept your gaze on the world outside the passenger side. Jay turned the key and his car roared to life. You heard him sigh, but didn't say a word.

"Look, I'm sorry," he began as he started driving.

"So you get to confront him but when I try it's all get back in the car, Y/N?" you quoted his words from earlier using a mocking tone.

"Lonnie's fu- he's messed up in the head, okay? I don't want him to have any reason to come after you. We both know what he did to Ben and I wish we could nail him on that, but right now, with the evidence that there is, it just can't happen. I'm sorry, I just wanted to keep you safe. I couldn't live with myself if that psycho did anything to you."

"I guess you have a point."

"I always have a point."

Ten minutes later you pulled up to the cemetery. Jay grabbed the small bag of tools and you carried the flowers, not without being warned every thirty seconds not to tip them at all so that they didn't fall out. It was the same thing as when you'd plant them at your mom's grave: you'd always be the one to carry the flowers, but they'd always warn you to be careful with them and then say that you weren't carrying them next year...and then they'd forget they'd said that and the process would repeat itself.

"I'll dig up the first bit of dirt and then you can help me. The top part's always the hardest," Jay said once you had made it to Ben's grave and he started rummaging through the tools.

"Okay." You didn't know what else to say. You just stared at the headstone. You wished he'd just come back to as a ghost or spirit or something for a minute--literally just sixty seconds--so that he could tell you that Lonnie did it.

Twenty minutes later, you and Jay stood up and admired your work. There were flowers there already from the Corson family, but the blue gave even more color to the normally dismal place.

"I'm gonna go find a trash can," Jay said as he picked up the empty plastic pots that the flowers came in. "Give you some time alone."

You nodded, not knowing what to say. Even when Jay left you had no idea what to say. It had been three years, so you didn't feel like you needed to talk to Ben. After all, if he was in heaven, he was looking down on you and knew what was going on in your life, so there was no reason to tell him about it. And, he was a kid, so he had to have gone to heaven, right?

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

You heard thunder rumble from above, which drowned out the sound of your choked sobs. The grass beside you started to get wet from the drizzle that had just started, but by how many seconds there were between each clap of thunder, you knew a downpour was just a matter of minutes away.

So many things could have gone differently that night. If Ben had come over to your house to spend the night, he'd still be here. You knew you couldn't change anything. Hell, you didn't even talk about having a sleepover that night, that week, or even that weekend. And, the night he was murdered was a school night, so your dad wouldn't have let Ben spend the night anyway. There was nothing you could have done.

Despite how many years passed, you wondered if you wouldn't have fallen asleep so fast that night if you would have been able to hear screams and called 911 for help. Maybe he'd still be alive if you couldn't fall asleep that night. Maybe, if Jay was off-duty that day and if there was a Blackhawks game on that night, he would've come over and you would've insisted on staying up late and ended up falling asleep on the couch. But, because of Jay being very observant, maybe he would've seen something, heard something, or even just felt that something was very wrong and could've stopped it and arrested Lonnie before it ended tragically.

You felt something wrap around your arms and looked up to see that Jay was back. You felt goosebumps on your body and that's when you realized your hair was sopping wet and water was dripping down the side of your face and was soaking your jeans and shirt.

You heard the pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the large umbrella that Jay usually stowed in his trunk and pulled Jay's jean jacket that he just laid over your shoulders tighter around yourself.

He picked up his tools and turned to you. "You ready? Can't have you getting sick."

"How long have I just been crouched here?" you asked. You knew your thoughts sometimes got the best of you and before you knew it, an hour could've passed when your mind was focused on one subject.

"Until I thought you were going to freeze to death and get sick. And, it's only been about fifteen minutes. I ran to the bathroom and then grabbed the umbrella out of the car. You ready?" he repeated.

You wiped your eyes, not knowing if it was dried tears or dried raindrops on your cheeks. "Uh, yeah."

Jay picked up the bag of tools and you walked back to the car, the umbrella being big enough for both of you to fit underneath.

Once in the car, you slipped off Jay's jean jacket and tried to hand it back to him. "No, at least wear it until we get home. Dad'll kill me if he sees that you're sopping wet and then he'll think that I just left you out in the rain."

"Brother of the year." And, despite the circumstances, both of you laughed.

***

Math homework is due tomorrow...why does math have letters anyway? I'm never gonna need this in life. Snap out of it, Y/N. You can focus on that later. Just focus on the walk home. You have to be careful now since you're walking by their house.

You tried to turn your attention to the world ahead of you, or more accurately, the road and houses in front of you. You needed to be on high alert since you were about to walk past the Rodiger house. And, they saw you now...hopefully, they hadn't filed a restraining order against you, too. As far as you knew, it was just Jay, but you didn't need to have Jay get you out of trouble today.

Your eyes darted across the street to the house, while you tried to make sure you didn't cast your glance there too long as to be suspicious. It was Jay's job to be suspicious while walking past this house. It was your job to get to and from school safely when walking past this house. You'd leave the detective/spying/surveillance stuff to Jay.

You tried to focus on the road straight ahead of you, but it was no use when you saw movement out of the left side of your peripheral vision.

You turned and gasped. They turned too, and now you were frozen in place.

He widened his creepy eyes and stared back at you, like a deer caught in the headlights, like a criminal caught in the act because right now, that's what you assumed he was.

You felt your breath catch in your throat, neither of you breaking eye contact.

Then, you took off running. No way in hell were you telling your dad what just happened. One time he caught you walking home this way and said if he found out that you walked to or from school this way again that you'd be grounded for an undisclosed amount of time.

No one needed to know that you had just seen Lonnie Rodiger with duct tape and rope, the two things everyone assumed he had used to kill Ben Corson. No one needed to know. Just shut your mouth and don't tell anyone and everything would be fine. You would be fine.

***

Jay was sitting across from Antonio at Molly's, slowly sipping on the bit of whiskey left in his glass. "You knew the family?" Antonio asked him.

"He's the younger brother of a girl I dated in high school. Was Y/N's best friend, too. And his parents, Danny and Gail, they came to my graduation from the academy." When my dad wouldn't because he hates all my life choices. Probably hates me, too, Jay wanted to add but stopped himself. "I still see 'em on what would be Ben's birthday. Y/N comes too and god, you know what she asked me this year, Antonio?" Antonio shook his head. "She asked me if their birthdays or the day they died gets easier when it rolls around every year. She's thirteen! She shouldn't have to remember his birthday. Ben should be alive and Y/N should be seeing him on his birthday. But now all she probably remembers on his birthday is seeing his lifeless body lying in the grass...that's probably what she remembers." He took another sip of whiskey.

"Wait, you're saying your little sister saw the body at the crime scene?" Antonio asked.

"Uh, yeah. Me and my partner were first on scene. And...I see a shoe. I push the reeds back because Gail used to have this huge garden with really nice grass, reeds, flowers, other things. And, now she doesn't because it reminds her too much of that night.

"But uh, anyway, I pushed those reeds back..." He swallowed and tried to keep the tears at bay. He couldn't cry. Not in front of his mentor; not in front of the detective who got him into Intelligence in the first place, even if it was only because he caught a bullet in the process of trying to help Gabby and everyone's favorite after-shift hangout spot, Molly's. "And there he is. I still see his face."

Antonio took a swig of his beer. "How'd your sister find him?"

"My dad told me later that she had heard and seen the sirens and went to wake him up and then they came over to see what was going on. She was only nine, hell, she even had her teddy bear with her when they came outside. She was small and easy to miss. Before anyone could stop her...she, uh, she ducked under the crime scene tape and she saw him. I will never forget how she screamed out Ben's name.

"Then, I ran over to her and tried to block him from view, but you know as well as I do, Antonio, that seeing a body like that, well the damage is already done. So, then I just took her home and my partner explained the situation to my sergeant so that I didn't get in trouble for just leaving a crime scene. I never told her about the rape, just that he was dead. She probably put the pieces together that he was raped since she's gotten older, but I didn't heave the heart to tell her."

Antonio nodded. If he was in the same position as Jay was and Gabby was in your position, he knew he'd do the same exact thing. "I remember his dad alibied him out," Antonio stated. "But, they never had anything on Lonnie. Nothing?"

"No," Jay scoffed. "They caught him jerkin' it outside an elementary school a week prior to finding Ben. They found fucking kiddie porn on his computer. A-And secret pictures that he'd taken of Ben."

"You gotta be kidding me."

"Nuh-uh. We all knew Lonnie did it. But, you know, his dad lied." Jay shrugged. "And, uh, they got a good lawyer for that sick of a bitch."

Jay took a sip of his whiskey, blinking back tears. Antonio sighed and looked at the young detective. "Hey, be careful. You hear me?"

"I know, I just--" Jay was cut off by his phone ringing. He looked at it. Why's Dad calling at 11 o'clock at night? Why is Dad calling me at all?

He declined the call.

"Who was that?" Antonio asked.

"Not important. Anyway, I'll be care--" His phone started ringing again. "Dammit," he muttered and then pressed the answer icon. "Yeah?"

"J-Jay?"

"Y/N? What are you still doing up? Don't you have school tomorrow?"

"I didn't want to tell you because you and Dad always tell me not to walk there by myself, but I saw him and he saw me and I thought I'd be fine but now I can't sleep and--"

"Whoa, whoa. Take a breath, okay?"

You took a deep, shaky breath as few tears slipped down your face. You tried not to think about your encounter with Lonnie earlier today, but as you tried to sleep and the darkness took over the world, you couldn't stop your thoughts from running rampant. What if he was going to use that duct tape and rope on you now because he had seen you? Kill all the witnesses so that there wouldn't be a trial and he wouldn't get convicted?

"Now, tell me again what happened," Jay said calmly, all his cop instincts taking over and talking to as if you were a victim for the time being. "This time slower."

"I took the way home from school that you taught me to take and tell me to never take alone--"

"Y/N," Jay wiped a hand over his face. "Me and Dad told you not to go that way by yourself."

"I know, but I saw Lonnie and he had supplies and he saw me. I thought it was fine but now I can't sleep and--"

"Y/N," Jay started again. "Slow. Down. You saw Lonnie?"

At the mention of that name, Antonio looked up.

"Yeah," you answered, trying to slow your rate of speaking. "He had- he had rope and duct tape. And- and he saw me. I'm scared. I'm so scared, Jay. What if he comes after me now?" You covered your mouth with your hand to stop your dad from hearing your sobs. You assumed he was sleeping, and if he wasn't you hoped he didn't notice that you were on the phone. All he had to do was pick it up and see line in use and then you'd be in trouble for walking that way.

"Y/N, listen to me. I'm not gonna let that happen. I'm gonna leave Molly's right now and then be over there. Are you in your room?"

"Yeah."

"Is Dad still up?" Jay asked.

"I-I don't know."

"Okay, just stay put and I'll be there as soon as I can. And, we can explain it to Dad together, alright?"

"Okay. You promise you'll be here soon?"

"I promise. I'm leaving Molly's right now."

"Okay."

"I'm gonna hang up now."

"Okay, bye Jay."

Jay ended the call and started putting on his jacket. "What was that all about?" Antonio asked.

"Y/N took the fastest route home from school today, which goes by the Rodiger place. She said she saw Lonnie and he had duct tape and rope with him. He saw her, Antonio."

"Shit." Antonio pulled out his wallet and threw a few bills on the table. "I got it. I'll be right behind you."

"Thanks, man."

***

Jay slowly turned the key in the lock and opened the door, Antonio following him. "Dad?" Jay asked.

"Jay?" he answered from the living room, sounding as if he had just woken up from falling asleep in front of the tv. "What are you doing here?"

"I can explain if you wanna go check on Y/N, Jay," Antonio suggested.

"Yeah, yeah that'd be great. Thanks, man."

You heard knocking at your door, causing you to draw in a deep breath. "Y/N? Open up, it's Jay."

You set Beary down--yes when you were scared you still liked to have your Build-A-Bear in your hand because it gave you comfort--and then stood up from your bed to open the door.

"Jay." You launched yourself into his arms before he could even comprehend what was happening. "I'm so scared. What if he comes after me?"

Jay wrapped his arms around you and ran his hand up and down your back, just like he had done a few years ago when he had brought you back home after you had seen Ben's lifeless body lying in the grass. "Shhh, shhh it's okay. You're okay." Now he was most definitely using the tone he used when talking to child victims.

"What if he- what if he comes after me though, Jay?" you asked, soaking his shirt with tears of fright.

"Hey," he pulled away. "Look at me." You looked up at your older brother. "I will not let that happen. Ever. You understand me?" You nodded. "Now, how about you pack a bag, and then you can stay at my place until this all blows over."

"Why?"

Jay sighed. "Just, please do it."

You pulled out a peach-colored duffle from your closet.

"I'll be right downstairs if you need me."

He walked downstairs to see your dad still sitting on the living room couch with Antonio sitting in the chair across from him. "I'm taking Y/N to my place for a few days until this whole thing gets sorted out," Jay announced.

"She was walking that way because you taught her how to take it!" Pat Halstead bellowed as he stood up off the couch and pointed an accusing finger at his youngest son. "If you had never walked that way when you took her to school, then we would never be in this position!"

"We?" Jay asked rhetorically. "I don't recall Y/N telling me that you were with her when she saw that sick son of bitch walking home with his weapons of choice! It's Y/N that's in this position! Not me, not you, not us, Y/N."

"She's my daughter!"

"Yeah, I gathered that," Jay scoffed. "At least you care about her...unlike how you weren't there for me and Will. Or, if my memory serves me correctly, it was when I was in my early teens when you stopped caring. So, I expect in the next two years that you'll stop taking good care of Y/N and stop showing up to her games, like you did for me and Will. Oh, and you'll start questioning her life choices, just like you did almost every damn day to both me and Will."

"It's not my fault that you made a stupid decision with your life and Will decided to leave and waste all his money and to do what? To go to Sudan and then to New York?"

"There you go again, same old same old. You want us to be here, but whenever we are, we just end up fighting."

"Okay, okay," Antonio butted in. "How about we all take a breath and then talk about what's gonna happen next."

Jay took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. Your dad sat back down on the couch and crossed his arms in front of him.

"Good," Antonio began. "Y/N give you anything else about what she saw upstairs other than what she told you over the phone?"

"No," Jay answered. "She just told me that she's really scared that Lonnie's gonna come after her. Noting more about what she saw."

"Jay?" you asked as you poked your head into the living room, duffle bag slung over your shoulder. "I'm ready."

You said goodbye to your dad and then followed Jay to your car. He explained that Antonio was going to come to his apartment just for a little while so that they could discuss how they were going to proceed with the information you had given them. But, that you should go to sleep when you got to his apartment because it was a school night.

"Do I have to go to school tomorrow?" you whined as you set your bag down next to the couch...which would also be your bed until all this was cleared up.

"I know you're not going to get a lot of sleep, but yeah, as much as it sucks, you have to go to school tomorrow."

It was nearing 12:30 and you had to be up for school at 6:00 since school started before 7:30 in the morning. You'd be lucky if you managed five hours of sleep.

"Please, Jay," you begged. "My first two classes are just choir and gym, so I can miss those. And, I'm pretty sure if you called me in it'd count as an excused absence. Please?"

"Fine," Jay conceded. "But just because I think it's stupid how early school starts."

You heard a knock on the door. "Be right there, Antonio!" Jay said, trying to keep his yelling voice at somewhat of a normal level since people in the other apartments were sleeping.

"I'm gonna go grab a blanket," you told Jay.

You grabbed a blanket and threw it on the couch as Jay went to answer the door and let Antonio inside.

"Jay, I'm stealing one of your pillows," you told him as you entered his bedroom area.

"Actually, you can take my bed for tonight," he suggested.

You cocked an eyebrow at him. In all the nights you had spent at Jay's apartment in the past few years when your dad had to work late or went out, you had always slept on that couch. And, it was because it was actually comfortable. (Jay's reasoning was that he didn't want to get one of his nightmares that happened a handful of times per year and break his hand from hitting the coffee table in his sleep because he was thinking that it was an enemy because he thought he was back in Afghanistan. But, of course, you didn't know that.)

"It's just because I need to talk to Antonio and I don't need you having easy access to the conversation."

You nodded, tiredness overtaking you. "Alright." You yawned. "I'm going to bed. 'Night guys."

Jay and Antonio both said goodnight and then you walked into Jay's bedroom area and slid the sliding doors closed. During that time, the two detectives each took a seat at the kitchen table.

"We can put a patrol car out in front of Lonnie's house," Jay suggested.

"You know we can't do that," Antonio told him.

"Well, why not? You know he's gonna kill again!" Jay resisted the urge to slam his fist down on the table.

"You have no solid proof. I know you believe Y/N, and I do, too, but we don't have proof. If we had cam or pod footage, we might be able to do that. But, as far as we know, we don't have that. Nothing's been reported or called in. Hell, for all we know Lonnie's doing a DIY project."

"So get his credit card records and security footage from the store," Jay growled.

"You know as well as I do Halstead, that we can't do that without a warrant. And for a warrant, we're gonna need sufficient evidence. And, the word of your sister just isn't gonna cut it this time. Sorry, man."

Jay sighed and put his head in his hands, then looked back up at Antonio. "I just can't let him do it. I can't let him kill another kid."

"I know. Believe me, neither you nor me want that, but for now, we just need to wait until the right time. And you, need to get some sleep."

"I guess you're right. Maybe sleep would help me figure out how to solve this thing."

***

Jay had just dropped you off at school--he had called the school and excused your absences from your first two classes--and was walking out of a small coffee shop a few blocks away from the district when his phone rang.

"What do you got, Jin?" Jay asked. Benefits of working in Intelligence and having a tech guy for the unit: getting him to dig into things under the table.

"That Lonnie Rodiger credit card you wanted me to track," Jin started on the other end of the line, "Just got a hit from a toy store downtown."

"Text me the address."

A few seconds later, Jin had texted Jay the address and he jumped in his car and made his way into the heart of downtown Chicago.

Then, he sat in his car and stared at the store, waiting for the scrawny, creepy-ass pedophile slash murderer to make his way out of it.

When Lonnie walked out, Jay just stared at him. If he got made, so what? He was in his car. He could say he was doing surveillance for another case that he couldn't talk about right now because it was an open investigation. But, he wouldn't be able to blame surveillance of an ongoing investigation for strangling Lonnie to death, killing him the exact same way as he had killed Ben Corson three years ago.

Lonnie was carrying a bag full of what Jay assumed were toys. The toys, the rope, the duct tape, Lonnie was going to strike again. And, Jay had to act fast to ensure that another kid didn't get their life taken away just because this bastard had sick, twisted fantasies.

Jay was about to call Jin back, see what else he could pull up on him, anything that gave him an excuse to call Atwater and Burgess to arrest him. But, his phone rang.

"Go for Jay," he answered.

"Where you at?" Voight asked on the other end of the line. "I know you came in late because of your sister, but I need you now."

"I'm on my way in," he lied.

"Good. We're in Chinatown. I'll send you the address."

"Oh, Sarge?"

"Yes, Halstead?"

"Do you mind if I leave for a bit around 2:15ish? It's just, Y/N has a doctor's appointment and my dad's working and I don't want her taking the bus--"

"Jay," Voight interrupted, "Take your sister to her appointment. I'll just send the address of where we're gonna be if we aren't at the district. Just, keep your phone on."

"Thanks, Sarge."

Of course, that appointment was a lie; Jay just wanted to pick you up from school and then drop you off at his apartment while he went back to work so that you wouldn't be at home where Lonnie could find you. But, Jay had to push that out of his mind right now because he was on another case with his unit that needed solving, his side case on Lonnie Rodiger needed to be put on the backburner...at least for the next few hours.

***

"Lonnie Rodiger's credit card," Jin said as Jay entered the tech room.

"Yeah, I know, I'm working on a court order so I don't get my ass handed to me by Voight, I know," Jay replied.

"Okay...you deal with that. All I was gonna say was that another hit came up from his card at a Home Depot in Humboldt Park. He bought..." Jin clicked some keys on his computer until the list of things Lonnie purchased popped up. "A two-person tent, a kerosene lamp, and some bug spray. A rapist-murderer planning a camping trip? Not much you can get him on with just that."

"Any chance he purchased rope and duct tape?" Jay asked.

Jin scrolled through the list of items again. "Not that I see here. Why?"

"Not important. Thanks for the help, Jin."

Jay walked back into the bullpen, about to grab his jacket and head into the locker room when Voight emerged from his office at the same time. "Halstead, my office."

"I told you to let the Rodiger thing go months ago," Voight told Jay when the door was securely shut.

"I have...for the most part." I have...until my sister got involved and told me he bought duct tape and rope and now she's staying at my place so that I can protect her from that sick-ass son of a bitch.

"If you're not straight with me, I can't protect you."

"You? Protect me? I don't need protecting, Sarge, but thanks for the offer. I'll keep it in mind if I ever go off the rails and kill someone."

"Jay, listen to me! What the hell is going on with you? You got here later than usual today, which I know you said is because of your sister, but you look exhausted like you haven't slept in days. And don't think I didn't notice that you've been constantly checking your phone when we weren't out in the field."

Jay sighed. "I think Lonnie's gonna kill another kid."

"Jay, I know that kid's family was like your own. But, you gotta be careful. You've got eyes on you. And, it's not just me this time."

"Copy that." Then, Jay exited his sergeant's office, grabbed his jacket off his chair, and headed to the locker room. Damn, did he really want to go home after that conversation with his boss.

"You headin' to Molly's, Jay?" Adam asked as they grabbed their stuff from the locker room.

"Nah, man. I got some stuff I gotta take care of," Jay replied. "Maybe another night."

"If you say so."

***

You were sitting on the couch reading a book when you heard a knock at Jay's apartment door. "Y/N, it's Jay, open up."

You got up and unlocked the door, letting him into his own apartment. "Why didn't you just unlock it yourself? Or, did I get your only key?

"Nope, you got my spare. I have mine." He pulled his keyring out of the front pocket of his jeans and set it down on the counter. "Just didn't want to scare you is all."

"Thanks, greatly appreciated. What are you hiding behind your back? And what smells so good?" you asked, seeing as Jay hadn't moved his left hand from behind his back and was trying really hard to make sure you didn't see what was there. Even when he had walked inside the apartment from the hallway, he still somehow hid it behind his back and out of your view. And, the smell of greasy food was starting to waft around the apartment so you had a pretty good idea what he was hiding.

He pulled a takeout bag from behind his back. "I got us Arby's!"

"Really? Did you get me mozzarella sticks?" you asked trying to grab the bag from him, but he held it out of your reach.

Jay chuckled at your excitement. "Yes, I got you mozzarella sticks. Now, let me get this out of the bag and you can get the game set up?"

"Okay!" You sat on the couch and turned on the Blackhawks game that was going to start in five minutes. "It's ready!"

"Be right there!"

A minute later, Jay passed you a plate which contained an original roast beef and cheddar sandwich and of course, your precious mozzarella sticks and a few packs of Arby's and marinara sauce.

"Uh," Jay groaned as he lowered himself onto the couch.

"You're getting old," you laughed.

"I am not!" he protested.

"Yes, you are! Only old people sigh like that when they go to sit down!"

"Well, excuse me for having to chase psychos around the city for a living." You reached over and grabbed a few curly fries off his plate, hoping he was distracted enough by your old Jay comment that he didn't notice...he did. "Hey!"

"Oops." You squirted some Arby's sauce on your plate and dipped a curly fry in it. "Good." Jay just continued to stare at you. "Fine, here," you said as you handed him a mozzarella stick.

"You're not gonna offer me any marinara?"

You tossed him a pack. "Better?"

"Better." Both he and you turned your attention to the tv. "Remember, end of the second period, it's bedtime."

"Jay," you whined. "Please can I stay up and watch the entire game?"

"No, because I am not calling you in late tomorrow and getting to work later than usual because of it." Luckily today we didn't catch a case until around 10 o'clock this morning, so it didn't matter that I was late and tailing Lonnie anyway. "And, you're gonna be a grouch if you don't enough sleep."

"Jay! I am not grouchy!"

"Yes, Y/N, you are! Whoa, a fight!" And while your attention was quickly focused on the tv, Jay stole some of his curly fries back.

***

Jay walked into the district the next morning to be met with Erin and Alvin. "Did you guys catch the game last night?" he asked them as he slipped off his jacket and slung it over his desk chair. "Eighteen seconds into overtime, Kane scores a backhander. Guy's on fire this season."

Despite Jay telling you that you needed to go to bed after the end of the second period, the game was so good that he let you stay up to watch it all...the one caveat being that you had to get up in the morning with no complaint. And, you didn't complain one single time even though you almost fell asleep with your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth when you were getting ready this morning.

Neither Erin nor Alvin had said anything, they just stared at Jay with worried looks on both their faces. "What's with you two?" Jay furrowed his eyebrows and walked closer to them.

"Halstead," Voight said after he opened his office door.

Jay's eyes widened. Shit, what'd I do now?

"Commander," Jay said as he saw Commander Perry standing in Voight's office. So, even when I'm a grown man, there's still a version of the principal's office. Who knew? Except, this principal controls my job...which means he controls my money. Whatever he thinks I did, it wasn't me.

"Halstead. Have a seat," Commander Perry told the detective.

"I'll stand." Jay placed his hands on his hips.

"Okay then. Where were you last night after shift?"

"Home. Why?"

"So, you're telling me you didn't go out at all last night?"

"I started to drive home from work, but then I turned around because I thought my little sister might want Arby's for dinner. If you want to count a drive-thru as going out, then yes I went out."

"And after that?" Commander Perry prodded.

"Me and my sister watched the Hawks game and I was in bed by midnight."

Commander Perry picked up some black and white photos that were taken from traffic cam footage and held them out to Jay, pointing at specific a specific car. "This was taken last night, right as you pulled into that Arby's. That's Rodiger and that's you, right behind him."

"Okay, so I happened to be getting my takeout behind a pedophile. Maybe he just wanted some curly fries, Lord knows Y/N did when she stole some of mine last night."

"Halstead!" Voight barked. "This isn't a laughing matter! Now shut up and listen!"

Jay clasped his hands behind his back.

"Well, Detective, your alleged pedophile was found dead this morning."

"What?"

"So until this is straightened out, I suggest you find a better excuse than just watching a hockey game and eating fries with your impressionable little sister. Until then, you are officially stripped. Expect a call from Internal Affairs. They'll want to interview you as soon as possible."

"You mean they'll want to interrogate me as soon as possible."

"Jay!" Voight's voice boomed off the walls of the small office.

"I'm the one who wanted to stop that freak! And now I'm the target? Unbelievable!"

Jay flung open the door and was about to storm out when the Commander stopped him. "Halstead!"

"What? I tried to save my sister from this psycho because she saw him buy duct tape and rope and he knows that she saw him! So, excuse me for trying to make sure that my sister stays safe and doesn't end up like Ben Corson!"

"Y/N saw something?" Voight asked. "Why didn't you tell me? I could've helped you."

"I told Antonio, but that's only because we were at Molly's when Y/N called me freaking out. And that's why she's staying with me because Lonnie knows where we live and I didn't want to get a call saying that my sister was murdered and--"

"Halstead, if that's the truth then this isn't just based on your word. We have a witness now. So, I'll talk to Detective Dawson and you go pick up your sister from school. We need her here for questioning. But, you are still stripped until we get this all sorted out."

***

"Can you please send Y/N Halstead to the office please?" the office secretary's voice came over your classroom intercom. "She'll be leaving for the rest of the day."

You furrowed your eyebrows. Leaving for the rest of the day? What? The last time you had to leave for the rest of the day unexpectedly was when your mom died.

"I'll send her down," your teacher replied.

"Alright, thank you." Then, she turned to you. "I'll have your missed work ready for you on Monday, Y/N, and I can email the other teachers you have today that you'll be missing their classes as well if you'd like?"

"That'd be great. Thank you."

"Have a great weekend, Y/N."

"Thank you. You too."

Then, you grabbed your books and made your way to your locker. Once you put everything you needed into your backpack, you made your way to the office. At least you were missing math and science class...you hated both of those subjects. Will got the brains when it came to those two.

But, your relief was short-lived when you saw Kim Burgess and Kevin Atwater standing in the office. You frantically pulled the door open. "Did something happen to Jay? Is he okay? Did he get hurt?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Kim quickly reassured you. "We just need to bring you down to the district is all."

"Why?" you asked, drawing out the word.

"It's better if your brother and Voight explain this to you. But, you are not in any trouble, Jay's not in any trouble, and he's fine," Kevin answered.

"Okay..."

They quickly signed you out and the three of you made your way to the parking lot where their squad car was parked. "Ever been in a patrol car, Y/N?" Kevin asked.

"No," you answered, opening the door to the backseat and throwing your backpack in.

"Well, today's your lucky day. We'll even let you control the music." The three of you got in and Kevin turned on the car and started fiddling with the controls on the radio. "Just tell me to stop when you hear a song you like."

***

"Jay!" you yelled as you ran up the stairs to Intelligence, your backpack bouncing up and down with every step you took. Jay walked out of the break room. You ran to him, narrowly missing Commander Perry. "What's going on? I didn't know I'd need to leave school and then Kim and Kevin came to pick me up and I thought you might be hurt but they said you weren't and--"

"Whoa, whoa," Jay cut you off. "Y/N, slow down. I'm okay. Everything's okay. Voight and Commander Perry here just need to ask you a couple of questions."

"But, I didn't do anything wrong."

"You're not in trouble, kid," Voight said. "Like your brother said, we just need to ask you a few questions and Jay will be with you the whole time."

Since neither Jay nor Voight could get ahold of your dad to get permission to talk to you, they had allowed Jay to sign off on it. And, since you were a minor, the person who signed that paperwork had to be in the room with you the entire time they were talking to you.

"You hungry?" Commander Perry asked as you sat down and Jay stood behind you. "You can grab a snack from the vending machine before we start if you'd like."

It was only 9:00 am. "No thank you," you replied. "I had breakfast a few hours ago and I'm still full from that. Thank you, though."

"You're welcome." He and Voight sat down across from you. "Now, you're probably wondering why you're here," Commander Perry started. "Your brother mentioned that you saw Lonnie Rodiger buy rope and duct tape?"

Your eyes widened and you drew in a breath. "Is he after me? Did he try and break into mine and Dad's house, Jay, because he was looking for me?"

"No, it's nothing like that," the commander interjected before you got worked up even more. "We just wanted to ask you what you saw is all."

You looked to Jay and he nodded, giving you the go-ahead to tell the two men what you had seen when you were walking home from school a few days ago. So, you did just that. You told them about walking home from school and seeing Lonnie with rope and duct tape and him seeing you.

"And you told your brother this?" Commander Perry asked.

"Uh, yeah, I wasn't going to tell him because I didn't want him to freak out or anything, but he always told me that if I saw anything off with Lonnie to tell him. And, I couldn't sleep that night, so I called him really late and he and Antonio came over."

"And what happened next?"

"Jay said that he wanted me to stay at his house until this all blew over because Lonnie saw me. He saw me. And, he knows where I live."

"So, Jay was trying to keep you safe?"

You nodded. "He's even been picking me up from school because he doesn't want me going home--to mine and my dad's place that is--to wait for him to pick me up after he's done with work. He's worried about me."

"Did he do anything else? Take you anywhere in the two days you've been staying with him?"

"No, nowhere other than school."

"Do anything fun?"

"He brought home Arby's last night and he let me stay up late and finish the Blackhawks game! Dad never lets me do that! And, they even won in overtime! And, I stole some of his curly fries."

"Do you know if he left last night after you went to bed?" Commander Perry asked.

"No, he didn't."

"And how can you be so sure about that? You were sleeping weren't you?"

Jay clenched his fists at his sides. You were a kid and this wasn't a trial, it was just getting a statement from you, not putting you on the witness stand.

"Jay never leaves me when he watches me at night. Never has and probably never will. Even when his girlfriend called when he watched me when I was little, he'd either make her come over to our house or would tell her that he was playing with me."

Voight chuckled at how you were spilling bits and pieces of Jay's life before he became a cop and entered his unit. He knew that Jay would never tell him these things, so it was funny hearing how protective and soft the big-shot detective of one of the most elite units of Chicago was with his little sister.

"Okay, thank you," Commander Perry said. "Do you know why we're asking you these questions?"

You shook your head, no.

"Halstead, you want to explain this. We'll butt in if needed," he said. He didn't know how much you knew about this alleged pedophile and murderer, so he figured it would be best to hand Jay the lead on the explanation portion.

Jay sat down in the chair next to you. "Y/N, you're not in trouble. I promise you that."

"You already told me that," you pointed out.

"I know, but I wanted to tell you again."

You furrowed your eyebrows and cocked your head to the side. "Then, why are they asking me questions about Lonnie and about you? Did he kill someone again? Like he did to Ben?"

Jay swallowed. He wasn't about to tell you the details of how someone murdered Lonnie Rodiger. Despite knowing the details of Ben's murder, you didn't need more gruesome pictures of murder in your teenage mind. "Um, Lonnie was found dead last night."

"And they think you did it, don't they?"

Jay's jaw dropped, all his years of being a stone-faced Army ranger and detective flying out the window as you quickly put the pieces together of why you were being talked to by his sergeant and commander. "What? How- Why would you assume that?"

"Dad's not good with turning his Law and Order down when he watches it at night so sometimes when I can't fall asleep, I'll listen to it and I'll hear the interrogation or trial scenes." You shrugged. Then, you turned your attention to Sergeant Voight and Commander Perry. "If you think my brother did it, I can tell you that he didn't because he was home with me all night. I even woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and he was asleep on the couch with his mouth open and he was drooling." You scrunched up your nose in disgust at Jay's sleeping position last night.

"Alright, Sergeant, your unit can investigate this one. But, Halstead, not that I don't believe your sister, but you're still stripped until this gets all sorted out. Go home."

Jay nodded. "C'mon, Y/N. We can go grab lunch or something."

Jay ushered you out of the break room and you grabbed your backpack. "Halstead, what's going on?" Antonio asked, catching you and Jay on your way down the stairs.

"Just, give this case hell for me, Antonio, will you?"

***

"Is it wrong?" you asked Jay when you were driving away from the district. "That I'm glad Lonnie's dead that is?"

Jay sighed. "Listen, I know we shouldn't be glad about someone being dead, but in all honesty, kid, I'm glad he's dead, too."

"Because the world's a safer place?"

"Yeah." And because justice was served for the Corson family, but I'm not gonna talk to my little sister about killing someone for justice...I don't need her to turn into the female version of Hank Voight in twenty years.

"So, were you and Mouse glad when you killed the bad guys over in Afghanistan?"

Oh no, no, no, no, no. I am not about to have this conversation with her. I'm not about to have this conversation with anyone for that matter, much less with my very impressionable, middle-schooler, little sister. "What do you want for lunch? Mcdonalds? Burger King? Wendy's? Pizza Hut?"

"You never answered my question," you told him.

"And you never answered mine. So, what do you want for lunch?"

"Hmmm...I really like the chicken alfredo from Pizza Hut, so can we go there?"

"Pizza Hut it is."

"What are you gonna get? Wait, lemme guess...meat lover's pizza?"

"And, you would be correct."

You arrived at Pizza Hut, which was only half a block away from the Corson's. And, since it was also so close to your school, some high school seniors would come here for lunch...not that you had an open campus at school, but they'd dip out for lunch and then get back unnoticed before their next class. You wondered if you'd be brave enough to do that in high school. You didn't know and you had a few more years until you got to that grade anyway.

"Hey Detective Halstead," a woman greeted Jay.

"Oh, hey Rachelle," Jay said as you both walked up to the counter at Pizza Hut. "How's school going?"

"It's going great actually. And who's this?" she asked, motioning to you.

"This is my little sister, Y/N. Y/N, this is one of my best CIs, Rachelle."

"You're a CI? That's so cool! So you help my brother solve cases? He never tells me about anything he does, so what do you help him with?"

Jay placed a hand on your shoulder. "That's confidential information, kiddo. And don't go blabbing about her being a CI either, because she could get in trouble."

"Got it. She's just someone I know from coming here so much. I have no idea what you're talking about, Jay."

Jay laughed. "Alright, what can I get started for you two?" Rachelle asked.

"Actually, since you're here, I have a quick question for you."

"Okay, let's go around back," she replied, thinking he was going to ask her if she knew anything that might help them with a case.

"No, it's nothing like that. I was just wondering if you'd watch Y/N for a bit while I go run a quick errand? It'd be for twenty, thirty minutes tops."

She looked around the restaurant, it was practically empty. "Yeah, no problem. I can keep an eye on her."

"Awesome thanks. And, uh, she'll have the chicken alfredo and I'll have the meat lover's pizza."

Rachelle rang it up and then told Jay the total. He pulled out his wallet and paid for their food, not without placing a ten-dollar bill in the tip jar. "You didn't have to do that," Rachelle said.

"You're watching Trouble here for a bit, so yeah, I do."

"I am not trouble!" you protested. "Where are you going anyway?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll be back soon."

"But--"

"Hey, Y/N. You want a chocolate chip cookie? I think they just came out of the oven." You frantically nodded your head up and down. "Well, c'mon back here and I'll grab it for you."

She opened the piece of the counter that flipped up and you walked through. Then, she motioned for Jay to leave before you pressed him for more answers on where he was going.

***

"To be honest, I don't feel any sympathy," Danny Corson told Jay as he sat at the kitchen table next to his wife with Jay across from him. "Do the police have any idea who did it?"

Jay had come to the Corson household to tell them the news that Lonnie Rodiger was dead...and to ask Danny some questions that would not go on record.

"We're still trying to piece that together." Jay turned to the red-haired woman. "Gail, do you have ay milk for this?" he asked, holding out his coffee cup."

"Oh, yeah. Let me get it for you," Gail answered.

"Thank you," Jay said to Gail's retreating back as she left the table. Jay turned back to Danny. "They suspended me. They think I did it. So, if you did something, Danny, I need you to tell me now so that we can figure this out together."

"Jay, I have been fantasizing about it for years, but I didn't do it. After all you've done for this family though, if you need me to confess, then I will."

"No, no you will not. I will not let you, or me for that matter, go down for something neither of us did."

"So, you have no idea who did it?"

"At the moment, no."

Jay's phone rang and he held up a finger to tell Danny he'd just be a second. But, then he looked at who was calling him and he practically froze.

"Jay, you okay?" Danny asked.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He accepted the call and placed his phone to his ear. "Rachelle? What's going on? Is Y/N okay?"

"Physically she's fine," she answered. "But, there's this guy yelling at her asking where you are and--"

"Tell me where he is! Your brother! My son is dead because of him!" Jay heard through the phone.

Phil Rodiger.

Jay drew in a breath. "I'm on my way."

He hung up and then turned to Danny and Gail. "I gotta go, I'm sorry. If I find out anything, you'll be the first to know." And then he ran out the door and ran as fast as he ever has to the Pizza Hut half a block away.

***

"He didn't do it!" you yelled. "He was home with me all night!"

"Yeah right! He probably told you to say that!"

"Y/N! Don't say another word!" Jay sprinted over to the booth where you were sitting, your pasta halfway eaten.

"You! You killed him!"

"Phil, we're in a public place. The cops can get called for a disturbance." Jay flicked his eyes to Rachelle and she nodded, picking up her phone.

"Fine! Then let them call the cops! I'll tell them that you killed him! You killed my son!"

He took a step closer to the side of the booth that you were sitting in and Jay quickly placed himself between you and Lonnie Rodiger's father. "You know what? I may have not killed him, but whoever did, did everyone in this world a real favor! Killing a pedophile and a murderer? I'd like to give the guy who killed your sick-ass bastard of a son a medal when they find him!"

"Jay!" you yelled, grabbing the back of his shirt and tugging it so that he would turn his attention back to you.

"Y/N, this is grown-up stuff. Butt out!" He turned back to Phil. "Lonnie brought this on himself and you know it!"

You saw a few people from the Intelligence Unit walking up to the building out of the corner of your eye. "Jay, shut the hell up!"

"You killed him!"

"For the last time, I didn't kill your sorry excuse for a son!"

"Police! Break it up!"

Jay was yanked away from you by none other than Antonio Dawson. Adam and Voight had each grabbed one of Phil's shoulders to keep him at bay. Erin knelt in front of you.

"Are you alright, Y/N?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"What the hell, Halstead?" Antonio yelled.

"Wre're taking you in," Voight told Phil Rodiger.

"Am I under arrest?"

"No, we just have some questions about last night we want to ask you is all. Why? Should you be under arrest?"

"No, but he should! I know you did it--"

"We'll talk to him," Voight said. "Don't you worry about that." He turned to Antonio. "You and Lindsay got this, bro?"

"Yeah, we got this," Antonio answered.

Voight nodded and then he and Ruzek escorted Phil Rodiger out of the building.

Antonio waited until Voight's car was safely out of the parking lot, before trying to lead Jay out of the building.

"Dude, I don't need a police escort. I can drive my car back home just fine," Jay protested.

"Jay, just come on. Or do I need to put you in cuffs?" He pulled his handcuffs out of his pocket and allowed them to dangle off his pointer finger.

"Tony, not here," Erin warned. "Not with Y/N watching."

You gasped. They weren't going to arrest Jay, were they? No, they wouldn't. They couldn't.

"Let's just go out to the car," Antonio said.

Once you were all in the car, Antonio driving, Erin in the passenger seat, and you and Jay in the back, did Jay finally address the elephant in the room...or, well, the elephant in the car. "Just so we're clear, I didn't kill Lonnie Rodiger. If I was gonna kill him, I would've done it the night he raped and murdered an eleven-year-old Ben Corson! I was this close, too!"

Your breath caught in your throat. You had assumed he had been raped, hell you had heard Jay talk about it with Gail and Danny, once with your dad, when they thought you were too far out of earshot to hear or thought that you were asleep. But, hearing Jay say it out loud, right in front of you, made it more real than hearing it when you weren't supposed to. And, hearing Jay say that had thoughts about killing Lonnie before...you didn't know how to feel about that. You had wanted him dead, just like Jay had (and how the Corson's probably did as well) but you never thought Jay would actually admit to wanting to kill him, much less say that he had been close to doing it.

"Shit, Y/N, I'm sorry I never told you about that," Jay said, his voice much quieter now. "I just, I didn't know how to tell you and you were ten, so you shouldn't have even known what rape was and I didn't want to explain it to you under those circumstances--"

"I knew," you told him.

"What?" he gasped as he furrowed his eyebrows. "How?"

"I heard you talking to the Corson's once when you thought I couldn't hear you and once when you were talking to Dad when you both thought that I was asleep."

"Well, either way, I'm sorry you had to hear it from me like this. And, I'm sorry he had to go through that."

"Me too," you whispered.

Erin leaned back and handed Jay a file folder. He raised an eyebrow.

"Lonnie Rodiger's homicide file," Antonio told him. "If anyone asks, no ones knows how you got that."

"That goes for you, too, Y/N. As far as you're concerned, you don't know what a homicide file is."

"What's homicide?" you joked. "I don't even know what that is."

"Works for me," Erin said as Jay flipped open the file.

***

"What'd he say? Jay asked, cornering Antonio in the locker room.

"Not here," Antonio told him and led him to the basement.

Once the two detectives were safely in the basement, Antonio let Jay in on the statement that Phil Rodiger had just given the Intelligence Unit about Lonnie Rodiger's murder.

"Can I run something by you?" Jay asked.

"Shoot."

"So, Phil Rodiger gives his statement, and he says...that his son never came home that night," Jay took a deep breath, hoping he wasn't going to get in trouble for saying this. "But I know he did. I may have not gone straight to my apartment after I got takeout for me and Y/N before we watched the Hawks game together."

"I'll talk to Voight. But, I think Y/N needs some help with homework, so go be the good big brother and do that." Antonio clapped Jay on the back and then started up the stairs.

***

"We're good to go," Antonio told him. "But, we got a problem."

"Which is?" Jay asked, raising an eyebrow.

"They kicked him."

"The hell do you mean they kicked him?"

"I mean, they don't think he did it. But, Jin's getting a location on him." Antonio's phone binged. "And here is that location. Erin, you riding with me? Halstead will follow. I got the photos."

Erin picked up her coat. "Ruzek, watch the kid, okay?"

"You got it," he answered, walking over to the break room.

"Ruz, please do not corrupt my sister."

"I'm hurt Jay, really. That hurt, man," he joked.

The three detectives left the district and made their way to a bar where Phil Rodiger was sitting and drinking alone. The three had agreed that only Jay should go in so that he wouldn't get spooked and try to run off.

Jay entered the bar and took a seat next to Phil. He sighed and rolled his eyes, but started Jay on his reasoning anyway. "In the statement you gave the detectives, you said that you didn't see Lonnie after 10:00 pm, that he went for a drive and he never came back." Jay placed a photo on the bar in front of Phil. "I was following Lonnie that night, and not long after these pictures were taken, I watched him walk into your house. Lonnie got tired of hunting, so he went home. And according to the time of death, he was killed an hour after I took this photo." Phil Rodiger just stared at the photo as Jay turned his attention away from it and onto Phil. "Your son wasn't killed in the park, was he?"

Phil stood up and brought his face close to Jay's. "You got no idea what you're talking about."

Then, he started to walk away, but Jay got up and followed him. Jay was pretty sure his cop instincts were right once again. "Phil, where you going?" Jay paused and looked at him. Phil was looking at the floor and avoiding eye contact the way only a guilty man would. "You killed him."

"He was sick."

Yeah, we all knew that. Took you long enough, Jay thought to himself.

Then, Erin and Antonio rushed in and put Phil in cuffs.

***

Half an hour later, Jay was standing in front of the one-way window with Voight, watching Erin do her thing in the interrogation room.

"I found some pictures on his computer," Phil told Erin. "Boys, same age as the Corson kid. Then I- I confronted him."

"How did you kill Lonnie?" Erin asked, straight to the point. The faster this got straightened out, the faster Jay'd get his badge and gun back.

"We fought. I picked up a belt, and I just- I just kept choking him." Phil tried to keep the tears back, but he couldn't. What kind of father would kill their own son? But then again, most fathers didn't have sons who were monsters.

"And then you dropped his body in the park?"

"Yes."

Jay walked out of the interrogation room the minute he heard those words. He knew Voight had heard the same things he had. So, when Voight motioned for Jay to step into his office, this time, Jay didn't hesitate.

Voight pulled open a drawer and grabbed Jay's badge and gun. "Good to have you back."

"Thanks, Sarge."

"Now, go and get your sister out of here. I think she's bored out of her mind."

Jay chuckled and clipped his badge onto his jeans and holstered his gun. "His dad did it?" you asked, exiting the break room.

"How did you know that?"

"Ruzek told me!"

"Dude! I told you not to corrupt her!"

"Technically, I didn't corrupt her. I told her the truth," he defended.

"Fine, whatever. Mind giving us a ride so we can go get my car back from Pizza Hut?"

"Yeah, no problem."

"I call shotgun!" you yelled and started to race down the stairs.

"No fair!" Jay exclaimed as he chased after you.

***

You and Jay were crouched in front of Ben's grave, the flowers you had planted four days ago brightening the dismal place up a bit. "They got him, Ben, they got him," you explained. "Jay almost got in trouble for it, but it turns out that Lonnie's dad did it." You paused as if waiting for Ben's reaction. You knew he would be saying something along the lines of no way where he was. "I know, no way, right?"

"You okay?" Jay asked as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

You had stopped talking after you asked that rhetorical question. You had no idea what to say now. Ben was still gone.

"I guess it doesn't feel as good as I thought it would," you said, turning your attention to Jay. "It's as if I thought that finding who did this would bring Ben back. I feel relief, but that's it."

"Hey, no matter what you're feeling, it's okay. The way this went down today and the past few days don't matter. We got justice for Ben and that's all that matters. You got justice for Ben. You were the one who saw Lonnie with that rope and duct tape and told me. You were the reason this entire case got off the ground."

"Really?"

"Really," Jay confirmed.

"Well, at least it's justice."

"At least it's justice," Jay echoed.

A/N: Thank you for the amazing feedback on the first installment of this series I posted a few days ago! Your comments really got me motivated to write this one! But, I have some bad news, which is that since I have exams in a week and a half, I won't be posting for at least two weeks, probably closer to two and a half.

Anyway, thank you for reading, and please vote and comment! Reading your comments really gets me motivated to write...even though the next chapter will have to wait a while since I have exams.

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07

#jay halstead #will halstead #chicago pd #jay halstead imagine #chicago pd fanfiction #halstead sister #halstead sister imagine #Halstead brothers #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #imagine

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years ago

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housemates with shiratorizawa

helloo!! new headcanon series here hehe. i hope you like this very long set of headcanons!

how you ended up in a house with these guys:

they're such a tight-knit bunch considering the fact that they've been living in a dormitory throughout high school

it was probs semi or kawanishi who suggested getting an extra roommate to help with the rent (tendou and goshiki are accident prone they need someone to help pay for repairs)

so ushijima made and put up an ad for an extra housemate. although he didn't disclose the fact that you'd be rooming with 7 other dudes

you were kind of desperate for some housing at this point so you just went with it

the person who greets you at the door is shirabu. but its more like he saw you, your bag, and went back inside the house leaving the door open

you stood there for a whole ten minutes before kawanishi came up to invite you inside

you're instantly greeted by goshiki and semi cleaning the house like crazy. semi was punching a couch cushion so that it looked an extra soft pillow

tbh the only normal you see are ushijima and reon. they're probs the ones who interviewed you to see if you were a good fit as their housemate

despite how weird your first impressions of some of your housemates were, you were still keen to move in

and then that's when tendou decided to come home from the pet shop with an iguana

living there:

you're roommate ends up being shirabu because no one else wanted to room with him (jk they all drew straws and he was lucky)

he's a pretty good roommate: clean, keeps to himself, doesn't play music too loudly

except the fact that he ALWAYS HOGS THE UPSTAIRS BATHROOM

the bathroom might as well just be his because it's FULL of beauty products. also shirabu takes a million years to get ready that at this point, everyone uses the downstairs bathroom

lmao y'all get your revenge tho by using some of shirabu's products when he's gone

its particularly you, semi, tendo, and kawanishi who like to do that

kawanishi: *walks past shirabu*

shirabu: bitch, did you use my fucking Splash of Pomegranate with Exfoliating Sesame Seeds: Rainforest of the Sun Bath and Body Works shower gel?

kawanishi:...no?

semi and reon are both roommates and are probably the most normal people in the house which is saying something

also idk why i feel like they both have a thing for scented candles but they're too shy to tell anyone

like,,, they have a closet full of scented candles and everything

reon: hey, want me to light up Spring Lake or Summer's Kiss?

semi: Summer's Kiss all the way

that's why they always keep their door locked and whenever someone knocks, they quickly snuff out the candle and fan the smoke out of the windows

you: whoa, why does it smell so nice here?

semi: ...air freshener

is kawanishi the only sane, normal person in the house? yeah, probably

he's the one who remembers to get groceries and buy toilet paper and shit and he's so happy he has you to help him out

the thing is though, he's a NOTORIOUS prankster. like, nobody suspects him because they assume its tendou who put packets of ketchup under the toilet seat but no, it was kawanishi

but his favorite person to mess with is his roommate: goshiki

okay goshiki is a Heavy Sleeper and one night you and kawanishi decided to draw criss-cross stocking marks on his legs with permanent marker

goshiki is an alright housemate. he's polite, does his assigned chores, rarely gets into your privacy

but oh my god every morning at 5 am he wakes up the entire house BY BLENDING PROTEIN SHAKES

you and shirabu considered soundproofing your room or chaining goshiki to his bed

ONE OF THE HOUSE'S GREATEST MYSTERIES: how does goshiki cut his hair?

tendou knows you've been dying to know why so one day he's all 'do you really wanna know?' and you're like 'HECC YEAH' and he takes your arm and brings you to goshiki's room

in there you find him with a bowl on his head and cutting along the rim with his scissors

shirabu is also with him but he has a ruler for his bangs

its the only time they ever get along

tendou and ushijima has hands-down the most chaotic room set-up

for one, half of it, ushijima's half, looks like a traditional japanese house

you know that scene in BNHA where todoroki was showing off his room? yes that one

y'all are like 'how was he able to bring tatami mats in his room?'

and then tendou's half looks like a weird-ass storage room complete with an iguana tank (yes he kept it)

tendou probs has those color-changing lights too

and the funny part about it is that both ushijima and tendou are completely okay with the set-up

also tendou has the most irregular schedule ever. like,,, circadian rhythms just wasn't installed in the being that is Tendou Satori

like,, he'll be making mac and cheese at 3 am and just enter your room asking if you want anything

you: WHY WOULD I WANT MAC AND CHEESE AT 3 AM???

shirabu, who's still awake because he's a med student: i'll have some

ushijima on the other hand has such a set schedule and daily routine. he's the definition of 'working like clockwork'

you guys even use him as your clock because why not?

you: guys what time is it?

reon: ushijima just left for his morning run so probably 7am

the only thing is that ushijima,,, generally doesn't cook??

and by that he likes to eat raw vegetables. no seasoning, no nothing

and he always offers to make people snacks and he does it so sincerely that you can't help but accept his snacks

*insert scene of you eating raw carrots at 11 pm while studying*

house incident: everyone being a closeted fan of Naruto

everyone in shiratorizawa is a closeted naruto fan (except for a few but we’ll be discussing) and no i don’t accept criticism on this

goshiki MAY have rock lee’s signature bowl cut and sometimes walks around the house in leg weights but he doesn’t say who he copies them from outright

but EVERYONE ELSE

you started having your suspicions when you walked into semi and reon’s room looking for a pencil and found semi sitting in bed with a pile of tissues around him and his laptop on his lap

you guys stare at each other for a while and semi just quickly yells “I WAS WATCHING PORN”

you: I DON’T NEED TO KNOW WHAT YOU’RE WATCHING

my boy semi was actually crying to that part in naruto when zabuza and haku died

his roommate reon on the other hand has a secret tattoo

it’s a sharingan tattoo and its on his back, just between his shoulder blades, which is why he doesn’t go around shirtless (his favorite character is itachi don’t @ me)

reon probably owns an akatsuki cloak too

kawanishi has an ENTIRE playlist of the naruto opening and ending tracks that he got from youtube and converted into mp3 format on youtube mp3 converter which he then downloaded and organized into a playlist with the album art when he was thirteen

sometimes you’ll hear him whistling Ikimono Gakari and everyone in the house is all 👂👂👂

tendou is the only one not lowkey about it but he’s not lowkey about anything he likes

and then one day you and tendou are in the kitchen and ushijima decides to watch tv while eating breakfast

while flipping through the channels he comes across the rock lee vs. gaara fight and he just decides to watch while eating

tendou’s like ‘wakatoshi? do you,,, like naruto?’

ushijima: is this naruto? it looks pretty cool

AND THEN YOU AND TENDOU JUST AMBUSH HIM AND GO INTO A TED TALK ABOUT HOW AWESOME NARUTO IS

while you’re busy ranting about it, semi, goshiki, and reon, who recognize the unmistakable Sounds of Naruto, creep downstairs

semi: oh, cool. it’s naruto

reon: yeah, used to watch it when i was a kid

goshiki: hmm, seems like an alright show

and then USHIJIMA LOOKS AT GOSHIKI AND THEN AT ROCK LEE AND JUST GOES

‘hey, you remind me of that guy’

AND GOSHIKI ALMOST CRIES

reon and semi end up sitting on the couch, trying to hold in their middle-school selves while watching

and then kawanishi comes in and he’s just like OH MY GOD NARUTO!!

now almost everyone in the house is watching. at that part when rock lee drops his weights reon and semi jump off the couch and cheer

they can’t hold themselves back anymore

last but not the least, shirabu, who came back from class, walks into the living room to find all of his housemates cheering and crying in front of the TV that’s playing naruto

shirabu: omg u guys are lame

goshiki, sobbing: WE’RE NOT LAME IF WE FOLLOW OUR NINJA WAY

shirabu: welL, OBVIOUSLY THE BEST FIGHT SCENE IS WHEN NARUTO AND ROCK LEE GO AGAINST KIMIMARO YOU UNCULTURED FUCKS

and then he runs up to his room before coming down with THE FULL BLU-RAY DISC SET OF NARUTO ALL THE WAY UNTIL SHIPPUDEN

basically you guys end up watching naruto all day and semi finally admitted that he wasn’t watching porn the day you came into his room

taglist (still open to anyone who wants in!): @montys-chaos @miyumtwins @strawberriimilkshake @pocubo @sugawara-sweetheart@akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan@therainroguefanfiction@atetiffdoesart@stephdaninja@oikaw-ugh@charliefredb@dramaqueenweeb1469@tremblinghearts@applepienation@doodleniella

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formula365 · 4 years ago

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Champions in the making - Emilia Romagna GP review

The breakthrough kid

It is not always possible to pinpoint the exact moment in which a driver goes from young promise to champion in the making. There can be breakthrough performances, in which a driver lays down a marker and announces himself to the world, but more often than not the progression is so gradual over a number of seasons that the driver eventually makes it to the top in slow steps, a sink filling up drop by drop from a leaky faucet.

But every once in a while, we get to witness a breakthrough moment, one of those weekends that, when looking back into a career, will be seen as a pivotal moment in which the promise has come good, which removes the doubt of whether that potential will be fulfilled. Moments like Sebastian Vettel winning in a Toro Rosso, or Max Verstappen becoming a Grand Prix winner on his Red Bull debut; we knew, there and then, what they would become.

It wasn’t his maiden win, but this is what we witnessed this weekend from Lando Norris.

Coming into this season, the young Brit knew this could be a make or break year for him. He had done really well to match his more experienced teammate in his first two seasons, but the challenge with his new partner was at a different level. No disrespect to Carlos Sainz, who is definitely a talented driver, but Daniel Ricciardo is a proven race winner, someone who had driven for Red Bull and been considered by Mercedes and Ferrari. The Aussie had spent the last two seasons destroying Nico Hulkenberg and Esteban Ocon, no slouches themselves, which meant there was a risk for Norris to be swallowed up by the Honey Badger’s performances.

His first two seasons had shown glimpses of his talent, but also a certain on-track shyness, in contrast to his expansive personality off it. He himself admitted during pre-season that he needed to improve on his aggressiveness and push harder on wheel to wheel battles; he had to drive the car ever closer to its limits. After a couple of seasons maturing and honing his skills, now was the time to be a more imposing figure behind the wheel, including within his own team.

Bahrain had already shown glimpses of that. He started the race behind his teammate, but passed him early on and never looked back. Imola, though, was something else. McLaren didn’t have the right set-up throughout Friday and both drivers seemed to be struggling, but on Saturday Norris looked to be one with his car. Bar a small mistake on his last run, he would have not only out-qualified his teammate, but also Verstappen in a much faster Red Bull. The track limits infringement left him P7 on the grid, but on Sunday he would more than make up for the mistake.

He had blistering pace from the get-go, to the point that he radioed his engineer when stuck behind his teammate to ask to be let through. In a moment that could be defining for the season, Ricciardo did let him through and then saw the youngster disappear down the road in the chase for the Ferraris. On the restart, he made light work of Leclerc (with much faster tyres, to be fair) and then fought Hamilton hard for several laps until the lack of grip on his rubber forced him to concede.

Overall, Norris showed a wide array of his skills at Imola: blistering one-lap pace, attacking, defending, tyre management, determination to come back after the mistake on Saturday, even authority in the team when he asked to be let through his teammate. A complete performance that leaves no doubt about his talent: he has the skills to be a future champion, the only question remaining is whether he will have the consistency to deliver over a full season. Given his mental approach - he is very open to speak about mental health - it seems he is addressing that side of his driving as well.

Until now, Norris had been the fun kid with a turn of pace, the meme-generator and half of a McLaren bromance. The end of the partnership with Sainz might have been a liberating factor for him: in order to be taken more seriously, the banter has to take second place to his driving, and with Ricciardo also looking to leave his more goofy side in the background, this can be the perfect time for Lando to do the same and let his driving do the talking. He certainly did that this weekend.

Talking points

* My oh my, do we have a fight on our hands. Verstappen v. Hamilton is already becoming such a compelling story it is hard not to make it the subject of every race review and preview; the feeling is that this will be a fight for the ages, that we will have a season to be remembered for many years to come. This time around it was the Dutchman who had the upper hand, with a superb start to go from P3 to P1 into Tamburello. He gave no quarters to Hamilton on the outside and then managed the race beautifully, although he was left unchallenged in the second half after Hamilton’s crash. The game is most definitely on.

* The reigning champion may have given some small signs of the pressure getting to him. Mostly unchallenged in recent years, Lewis made an uncharacteristic mistake when lapping back markers and then seemed to have had a scrambled brain moment as he struggled to get out of the run-off area. He is human, after all, some might have thought. The red flag gave him the opportunity to reset and come back to re-claim P2 and a podium place he would have certainly lost otherwise. He showed his mental resilience then, but it will be interesting to see how he (and Verstappen as well) will manage the pressure of a title fight (hopefully) over 23 races.

* One of the big talking points post-race was the massive crash between Bottas and Russell. Approaching Tamburello, drivers hit speeds above 300 kph, so it’s no surprise it was a nasty one, and that both drivers felt the other should have done more to avoid it. Controversy aside, the big question has to be why was Bottas defending P9 from a Williams. Like Monza, Turkey and Sakhir last year, when the Finn gets caught up in the midfield he struggles to move forward, and even manages to fall further back. To make matters worse, in all these races his teammate was caught in similar situations and had no problem cutting through the field. When the dust settles, Bottas will certainly have some soul searching to do.

* How good is it to see McLaren and Ferrari fighting each other for top spots? The two historic teams collected all positions from P3 to P6 and seem to be a step above the rest of the midfield contenders. This is one of the biggest, if not the biggest, rivalry in F1’s history, and it’s great for the sport to see it reignited.

* The only midfield team that seems to have the pace to challenge them is AlphaTauri, but they are struggling to convert their pace into points. Tsunoda ruined his weekend with two (very rookie) mistakes, while Gasly’s race was ruined by the decision to start on full wets. He still made a great recovery drive to finish P7, but this felt like another missed opportunity for AlphaTauri, specially at a track they know so well. They have a genuine shot at finishing in the top half of the table, which is Franz Tost’s goal for the team, but in order to achieve that they have to start using their pace to score points.

* If AlphaTauri will be left ruing their weekend, Williams will be doubly so. With two drivers qualifying in the top 14, they had genuine hope to score points for the first time since the crazy rain-soaked German GP in 2019, but two crashes negated their shot. Latifi barely got going so we will never know what he could have achieved, but Russell was clearly in the mix and will be left pondering how high he could have finished if he had been a bit more cautious. With scoring opportunities so limited, that might have been the wiser approach.

* The second Red Bull continues the saga of the topsy-turvy weekends. One of the narratives for Albon in 2020 was that he was not able to have a clean, incident-free weekend, and that was limiting his results. Perez is going down the same path, and although he did manage to salvage a P5 in Bahrain, here he was left empty-handed. It’s still very early, and the signs from the first race were positive, but for Red Bull to challenge Mercedes he needs to be up there consistently.

* Ahead of the season, very few people would have betted for Stroll and Ocon to be beating their teammates, either in qualifying or in the race. The two youngsters are showing that world titles (a combined 6 after all) aren’t a guarantee of continued success.

* On that topic, it is worth noting that most drivers that are newcomers to their respective teams are struggling at the moment. Sainz at Ferrari is the exception; Perez, Ricciardo, Alonso and Vettel are all underperforming, some more than others. This quartet is uber-talented, though, so expect them to get closer to their teammates as the season progresses and they become more accustomed to their new cars.

* Curb your enthusiasm, Yuki. We love to see his on-track flamboyance: he is one of the most exciting drivers to hit F1 in the last few years, but it can work against him too. He needs to find a balance but two races in these growing pains were to be expected. Once he finds that balance, he will be one hell of a driver.

Driver of the day: Lando Norris

Moment of the day

The battle between Hamilton and Norris. The young Brit managed to hold off the 7-times champion for a handful of laps, with tyres well past their expiry date and no DRS; Leclerc, for comparison, was on mediums and was passed by Hamilton on the first lap he didn’t have DRS. Norris’ positioning was perfect and he was brave on the brakes. Eventually the lack of grip and Hamilton’s bravery led to the inevitable, but Norris put up an excellent fight.

#imola gp #lando norris #lewis hamilton #max verstappen #mclaren #ferrari #valtteri bottas #george russell #alpha tauri #williams f1 #sergio perez #yuki tsunoda #lance stroll #esteban ocon

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robinofinashiro · 4 years ago

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- request: this was written for a friend on twitter. don’t worry, I will get to everyones request as soon as possible! just wanted to get this out because she had asked a few days before most requests came in and I’ve made her wait long enough for it. sorry for the wait Kiaria and I hope you like it!

- pairing: kuroo testurou x fem! reader

- request status: closed

“If I fail science, just tell my mom that she has every right to bury me in the backyard,” Kuroo rolled his eyes before flashing that sly smirk of his, “you can’t tell me anything because you’re a fucking science whiz. you’re not the one failing chemistry with a 59%.”

you rolled your head back against the wooden chair, groaning as if you were in pain. Kuroo looked over the table to see the failed exam sitting on top of your Chemistry book.

“stop being dramatic, let me look at your exam,” before you could even protest, Kuroo reached over to snatch it. you sat in the chair, pouting as he scanned it, “well a lot of your mistakes came from the final step in most of the equations, that’s why your answer came out wrong.”

grabbing a red marker from the side of his backpack, Kuroo circled the mistakes, “you keep repeating the same step twice! now this is how you do it,” as Kuroo went into full detail, you tried to focus in on what he was telling you but most of the explanation went through one ear and out the other.

you sighed, not bothering to even pay attention anymore. you knew the more Kuroo explained it to you, the more you would become distracted. being that you and him were in the same class, the two of you became friends since the beginning of your first year.

on some occasions, Kuroo would ask you to come to one of his games, playfully begging you to wear his jersey. other times, he made you become the teams unofficial manager because no one ever took the position to become their permanent one.

you spent a lot of time with Kuroo which only intensified your crush on him. you had no idea if he even returned the feelings for you but considering he hardly let you out of his sight on his down time, you only hoped he did.

“you’re making it even harder to study, you ass!” you exclaimed, shoving him. well, you weren’t wrong. being with Kuroo made it hard to do anything, especially studying, “oh yeah, how?” he asked lowly.

you were stuck between words, not wanting to tell him the real reason.

Kuroo chuckled, “listen, we don’t have practice the next few weeks. the season came to an end and they’re giving us the next two weeks to relax before continuing. how about every Tuesday and Thursday until your next Chemistry exam, you can come over to study?” he asked, kicking his legs on top of his grandmas table.

you thought for a moment as you took a sip of your coffee, “and what do I get as compensation for being with you every Tuesday and Thursday for the next two weeks?” you replied with a cocky tone.

Kuroo thought for a moment before snapping his fingers in realization.

“I’ll take you out on a date for ice cream when the results of your exam come back,” your heart instantly dropped as you tried to cover your flustered expression, “come on, you know you’d die for a date with me!”

you chucked him a scrap piece of paper before agreeing, “and if I fail, just know you owe me two weeks compensation for having to be around you so much,” you said jokingly, “oh yeah, what is the compensation?” he asked.

you quickly thought.

“your friend Bokuto’s number,” you said slyly. Kuroo’s face dropped for half a second which he hoped you didn’t notice, “okay, deal. if you pass, I’ll take you out on the date and if you don’t, I’ll tell Bokuto that I gave you his number,” the two of you shook hands, Kuroo squeezing it a bit too hard for your liking.

“that hurt you ass!” you yelled, “hey, not my fault you’re a weakling.”

first day of studying:

“okay, lets get this cramming session started!” Kuroo exclaimed as he took out his various notes, “are you kidding me? it’s a chapter exam, not a fucking midterm!” you yelled, staring down at the highlighted notes.

Kuroo chuckled as he looked over your notes, wanting nothing more than to gag at the way you wrote them, “and you have the nerve to make fun of me when your notes look like Kindergarten scribbles?” he stated.

you gave him the finger, snatching your notes back from him, “we came here to STUDY! not make fun of my note writing,” you hit him in the arm with your notebook, “so, how do you plan on helping me study?” you asked.

Kuroo threw your notebook away and handing you a fresh one, “you’re going to highlight everything in bold and all of the example equations are going to be in pen. it’s always better to write important things down in different colors because it’s easier to understand,” Kuroo informed.

you nodded as you took out your red pen and wrote down the equations he had told you to write down. Kuroo was being abnormally quiet considering you expected the study session to be a complete mess.

“do you think you understand the first half of the equations?” he asked. you looked down to your notes before shrugging, “I mean I think? I can try to see if I understood,” you whispered, playing with your lip.

Kuroo chuckled before handing you a blank paper with equations written down, “here, I asked our teacher for practice worksheets. if you get at least 80% percent of them right, that means you’ve started to grasp the concepts.”

he placed the paper in front of you as you looked down at it. you immediately felt your heart race. it felt as though you were looking down at Kindergarten work and started to fill out the worksheet with ease.

Kuroo smiled as he watched you write down the correct answers. he knew you weren’t struggling as much as you said you were, you were just lazy and didn’t bother to study correctly.

“here professor,” you joked, handing him the worksheet back. Kuroo grabbed your red pen and scanned the worksheet for a few minutes. you picked at your nails nervously, hoping that you at least got a few of them right.

“see, I told you!” he exclaimed as he wrote down a 100%, “really?” you yelled happily as you took the worksheet back.

you jumped in your seat in excitement as you slammed your notebook shut, “so Thursday?” you asked. Kuroo nodded as he helped you pack your things into your bag.

“I’ll walk you home.”

last day of studying:

“well, tomorrow is the big day, if I fail, Bokuto’s number will be sitting promptly in my phone.”

you giggled as Kuroo rolled his eyes, a bit too seriously. he knew his hard work was going to pay off and if he got lucky, Bokuto would be no where near you or text messages.

“so what do you have planned for me?” you asked taking out your notebooks, “nothing,” your eyebrows fluttered in confusion at his answer.

“what do you mean nothing? I don’t think I’ll pass if we don’t study the day before the exam!” you yelled with nervousness hinting at your voice, “you worry too much. listen, we’re going to study but not like we have been.”

Kuroo stood up and went to his fridge, “we’re gonna have dinner and relax because you’ve been cramming way too much and overloading your brain with equations will have you blank minded once you take the exam. we’re going to eat, review for a bit, and then I’ll walk you home,” he stated taking out a few things to make dinner.

you nodded, not fully understanding what he was even implying. regardless, you sat on the counter as Kuroo mentioned he was cooking the two of you some soup his grandmother made him from time to time.

“so, have you actually even told Bokuto that you were planning on giving his number to me?” Bokuto couldn’t help laugh, “no because I know you won’t get it,” he joked.

you raised your eyebrow at him, “ah, so you’re just mister confident, aren’t you?” you asked as you ate a piece of cooked chicken he had left on the side.

“I am because I know I’m a great tutor and you’ll be passing that exam tomorrow,” he stated confidently. “oh yeah, what if I intentionally fail?” you mocked.

Kuroo gave your a smirk before grabbing your sides and tickling them playfully, “if you fail on purpose, you’re going to be Nekoma’s permanent manager until we graduate,” he said as you gasped for air.

“okay, okay! I won’t fail!” you yelled a bit loudly. you immediately covered your mouth, hoping you hadn’t woken up Kuroo’s grandmother with your screams, “oh my god, if I woke your grandmother, tell her I’m so sorry,” you murmured as he waved you off.

“she isn’t home. she goes out on Thursday’s nights with a few of our neighbors to watch people sing downtown,” he mentioned, taking two bowls out, “well, lets eat. I know you skip lunch all the time so you can take a nap!” he said as he swatted you with a hand towel.

you sat sat on your desk Monday morning, nervously chewing on your nails as you anxiously waited your Chemistry exam results. your teacher had a tendency to put the five highest grades on the board with the names underneath as way to congratulate the students.

you looked at Kuroo and gave him a nervous smile as your teacher took her sweet time writing everything down. you felt your phone buzz as you knew it must’ve been Kuroo telling you to relax.

finally the teacher wrote down the names underneath the scores and your name appeared right next to Kuroo’s. you immediately whipped your head to look over at him and gave him a soft but bright smile.

“everyone who failed, take notes, the next exam will be almost identical to this one and for those who passed, congratulations.”

you couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach as waited for the day to end. you knew that your informal date with Kuroo was now officially happening and a part of you was beyond happy but another part of you felt sad.

you still had no idea if he even seen you in the same light you saw him but if he was taking you out for ice cream, that means he must’ve, right?

the final bell rang as you packed your things into your bag. Kuroo had told you he was running to the bathroom before the two of you could get going. you had texted your mom that you were planning on going out for a few hours to celebrate your exam score but it wasn’t until you walked out of the classroom to overhear the conversation Kuroo and a few of his volleyball mates were having with him.

“so, are you finally asking her out?” Lev asked a bit excitedly. Kuroo tried to get him to quiet down but it was Kenma who spoke up this time, “just rip it off like a band-aid. you get nothing from hiding your feelings from her,” he said in that monotone voice of his.

your heart leaped as you felt your hands get clammy. you quickly fixed your hair before walking up behind Kuroo. his friends eyes widened as you waved at them nervously, “ready?” you asked.

Kuroo nodded as you told his friends a quick hello before heading out. the two of you walked to the nearest ice cream shop, the air a bit awkward as Kuroo hoped that you hadn’t overheard the conversation he was having with Lev and Kenma.

“so,” you said quietly as the two of you sat down on the bench, eating the ice cream quietly, “I guess our hangouts are going to cease to exist,” you playfully said.

Kuroo gave you a mocking gasp, “I’m offended, here I thought you enjoyed our study sessions,” you rolled your eyes, not bothering to take your eyes off the small pond in front of you.

Kuroo knew it was now or never. with graduation creeping up and the two of you going to separate universities, he knew today was his only chance to ask you out before it was too late.

after he finished his ice cream, he tossed it in the nearby trash bin and sat back down next to you. his hand sat on his side before creeping itself to hold yours. your face went warm instantly as you felt your heart stop for a few moments.

you gave Kuroo a look as his eyes said it all. you gave him a slight nod before taking a hold of his hand a little tighter. the two of you sat in comfortable silence as the birds chirped and the sun was beginning to set.

with Kuroo’s loud mouth, you knew him asking you out wouldn’t be the most ordinary thing in the world. Kuroo was someone who said things through his actions, not words and him asking you out didn’t need to be some grand gesture.

his confession fit the two of you perfectly.

#haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo testsuro x you #nekoma imagine #kyoutani kentarou x you #anime imagine #anime x reader #anime x you #sport anime

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scream-into-the-voiddd · 4 years ago

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Isabella Finch

Hi there,

I am putting to much thought into a show about a family of ducks again...but meh. I have return to you all with another point that has been bothering me since my latest watch of s3 ep 1.

Isabella finch.

In my last post (or lost?)

I pointed out that a finch hen (the type of bird Isabella is shown as, imo) is a type of FOWL. Now that was me reaching,

But!

I did make the point about FOWL being very aware about what was inside her journal (dispite the fact Scrooge did not)

Further more FOWL DO have at least one of the missing relics

The 3rd eye diamond,

That was turned into the intelli-ray by Black Heron. How did they find it without the journal?

Scrooge and Huey needed it to just find mervana and it didn’t even mention how to find the harp/ customs of the mer-people...or you know the monster king. (I will give Isabella the benefit of the doubt of that one tho as it took years for the king to turn into a monster, and the place was already in ruins before the king left.)

But anyway.

the thing that has been bothering me about s3 ep1 was the map she left (that scrooge found) imaged here.

now it shows some things from the ep, e.g. the lightening rain, the big ass bear and the flat volcano rock thing (where they end up).

here’s where things start to get to me...

the family goes “the wrong way” and Scrooge wants to follow finches path. But here’s the thing the path is ALREADY MARKED

In fact after my last re-watch I figured something out... the whole family didn’t follow finches path (on the map) BUT one of them did...

HUEY...

the family is heading down in this sence and in the VERY NEXT scene Huey is heading up...like the marker indicates

Huey goes through the lighting rain...

the rest of the family is lead around it.

Huey (at first) faces the bear

He then finds and climbs the large tree

The family just run from the bear and run into a cave (to get the plan back)

now here is the kicker, Huey and the family end up at the same place at the same time... despite having very different journeys

as shown here

youtube

So what i am getting at here is simple Huey followed the plan and the rest of the family didn’t.

Now what does that mean exactly?

Now we know the family was lead by a bird...but how did the bird know this alternative path?

I think that was finch’s true path as i think this bird is finch’s og pet and not a descendent. Now why do i bring any of this up?

this season is focusing on legacies

youtube

this is finch’s as a great fearless adventurer

i would like to point out that Scrooge go a pulp adventure book

pulp fiction is ...

“Term originated from the magazines of the first half of the 20th century which were printed on cheap "pulp" paper and published fantastic, escapist fiction for the general entertainment of the mass audiences. ... Pulps allowed its readers to experience people, places, and action they normally would not have access to.”

the real world equivalent looks something like this.

similar vibe, yes. and guess what these books are fake story’s like there is not really a recorded of pulp books (from that era) that were non-fiction as they were too cheaply made (underpaid writers, publishers) and fact checking was not really a thing for pulp books at the time.

So what am i getting at here..

I think Isabella Finch is/ was kind of a fraud or at least not like how she has been presented. Basically what I’m saying is either she or someone else re-wrote her history.

Do i think she was smart and capable? YES

Do i think she was a bad person? that remains to be seen, but i am leaning towards no, (as her pet was kind, friendly and helpful and in shows like this peoples pets reflect who they are)

Do i think she was brave? no, at least not like Scrooge thought her to be, as i think she was more like Huey, smart but unsure and sometimes out of her depth.

Do i think she worked for FOWL? maybe, I think she was either tricked by them or she did not ask questions until it was to late (like say they funded her research/ adventures and she didn’t question what they were doing with the notes/ artefacts she was giving them) but she hid them before it was to late.

and she left a false map, so that if FOWL did find it they would have a very hard time getting her hands on her journal.

Now the reason i even made this post was because i know Finch will come back in some way as she was a newly invented character for the show and you don;t do that for a throw away bit. Especially when there is already a Disney canon character established to have been a founded of the junior woodchucks, Clinton Coot.

my point is she was made for a reason and i think her being a fallen ideal might be a big blow to scrooge, and it fits with the legacy/ re-writing history theme this season.

but feel free to add

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #ducktales season 3 #ducktales theroies #ducktales theory #3 weeks left y'all #scrooge mcduck #huey duck #FOWL #isabella finch

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current-mcr-news · 4 years ago

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Behind the Scenes: The Umbrella Academy - Episode 1

BRANDON JENKINS: In 1953, a 25 year old director named Phil Tucker had $16,000 and just four days to make his first sci-fi film. The plot? A creature comes to Earth with a death ray and wipes out all of humanity, except for eight people who are immune to the creature’s weapons. He called the film Robot Monster.

Movie clip: With the swiftness of a deadly cosmic ray, the Earth is inundated by indestructible moon monsters. Their ghastly mission? Death for all humans.

B: The film was so low budget, Tucker couldn’t even afford to get alien costumes, so he had the monster in a gorilla suit with a TV for a head.

Movie clip: What astounding technical developments are being made to protect mankind?

B: The release was a disaster. It was widely panned. Its lasting legacy would’ve been that it was one of the worst movies of all time. But in the early 2000s, a kid from New Jersey with a knack for drawing comics saw a picture of the Robot Monster and it stuck with him.

Gerard Way: I’ve never even actually seen the film, but I saw pictures of this creature over the years, and they’ve got a TV set, kind of circular space looking head, and they have a gorilla body, and I was like, “I want a superhero that’s kind of inspired by this.”

B: The kid’s name was Gerard. He’d been writing comics since he was 15 and was on his way to making it as a professional comic book artist.

WAY: I went to art school and I was an illustration and cartooning major, so comics were kind of like my major, and I was like this perpetual intern. I interned at DC, I pitched a cartoon to Cartoon Network, and then I landed a job as a toy designer at this place called FunHaus in Hoboken. But that’s like right when the band took off.

B: That band, Gerard’s side hustle, would become massive alt-punk sensation, My Chemical Romance. Seemingly overnight, My Chemical Romance and Gerard were making some of the most popular music in the world, getting spins on terrestrial radio, dominating music video countdowns, they were even nominated for a Grammy. But while he traveled across the globe leading a rockstar life, Gerard kept up with his first love - drawing.

WAY: So I really missed comics and we were in Japan and we did a signing at a shop, and one of the fans gave me a little marker set and it was Copic markers. They were like the greatest markers that I’d ever used before, and so I started to create Luther.

B: Luther, a superhero with a gorilla body and space helmet who lives on the moon was the very first character Gerard drew in what would become his hit comic The Umbrella Academy. I’m Branden Jenkins and this is Behind the Scenes: The Umbrella Academy. This season, we’re going backstage and inside the making of season 2. The first season of the show, based on Gerard’s comic of the same name, launched in February of last year and quickly became one of the most beloved series on Netflix. Now it’s back for its second season with bigger effects, bigger characters, and bigger drama. We’re going to catch you up on everything that’s gone down in The Umbrella Academy universe so far, and we’ll spend the next five episodes breaking down how the team shot the multi-million dollar superhero production across two countries, and how in the midst of a global pandemic, they managed to finish it from inside their own homes. But first, we wanted to take a look back and dig into the roots of The Umbrella Academy. So today, I’m catching up with the creators of the comic and the guy tasked with making the TV series. We talk about how the graphic novel was adapted for your screens.

B: Alright, so if you haven’t watched season 1, go back and watch season 1 on Netflix. For those of you who just need a quick recap: At 12pm on October 1, 1989, a supernatural event occurred. Forty-three babies across the planet were born to mothers who were not pregnant just seconds before. The world was confused, intrigued, and one eccentric billionaire wanted to find the babies and adopt them. He ended up with seven. Each baby had a superpower, and what do you do when you’re a billionaire with a group of kids with superpowers? You train them to become a crime fighting family.

Reginald: I give you the inaugural class of The Umbrella Academy!

B: When Gerard Way started creating the members of the Academy, he started with the most fundamental material.

WAY: I created a list of all the things that interested me. It could be anything from ouija board, fortune teller, spaceman, gorilla body, just a list of stuff.

B: Then he drew from that list and started creating these characters. All in all, he would draw seven. The first, Luther, the half-man half-gorilla, was the team’s defective leader. He was also the child closest with their father.

Luther: Just at Dad’s favorite spot. Allison: Dad had a favorite spot? Luther: Yeah, you know, under the oak tree. We used to sit out there all the time, none of you ever did that?

B: Next, he created Klaus and Allison, the boy who talks to the dead and the girl who can make people bend to her will with just a few words.

WAY: Klaus, he has some pretty serious addiction and addiction is something that I dealt with in my life. He’s also a little bit spooky and supernatural, and my personality in My Chemical Romance was very similar to that.

Klaus: I can’t just call Dad in the afterlife and be like, “Dad, could you just stop playing tennis with Hitler for a moment and take a quick call?” Luther: Since when? That’s your thing. Klaus: I’m not in the right frame of mind! Allison: You’re high? Klaus: Yeah yeah! I mean, how are you not listening to this nonsense?

WAY: He was kind of my version of Doctor Strange. I find Allison to be the one that is easiest to write and I put the most of myself into Allison.

B: Her superpower is that she can make you do pretty much anything she tells you with a few magic words.

Allison: I heard a rumor you want to be my friend. I heard a rumor that you like Bradley. I heard a rumor that you left me alone. I heard a rumor that you stop crying.

WAY: There’s a bit of a tragic nature that comes with her power.

B: Allison, out of all of her super powered siblings, is the only one grasping for a normal life - career, husband, children. In a way, she’s the most human. The fourth character Gerard created is Diego, a guy with an uncanny ability to throw knives. He’s also stubborn as hell.

WAY: I knew early on he was gonna be the one that was gonna be really difficult with the leader. I figured that.

Diego: You know, you of all people should be on my side here, Number One. Luther: I am warning you. Diego: After everything he did to you, he had to ship you a million miles away. Luther: Diego, stop talking! Diego: That’s how much he couldn’t stand the sight of you!

B: The fifth character, a kid who can travel through time and space, who simply goes by Five. Despite the other character growing up into adults, he has remained a teenager, sort of.

WAY: He was a time traveler who then got stuck in his young body when he traveled back in time because time travel is complicated.

Klaus: Where are you going? Five: To get a decent cup of coffee. Allison: Do you even know how to drive? Five: I know how to do everything.

WAY: So then came The Horror.

B: The Horror, aka Ben, aka the dead sibling who only Klaus can see.

WAY: I imagined this character that had all these monsters living under his skin that came from another dimension. And he was very tortured to me. It actually kind of hurts him and it’s scary to him.

Ben: Do I really have to do this? Klaus: Come on, Ben. There’s more guys in the vault. Ben: I didn’t sign up for this.

B: And then finally, Number Seven, Vanya, who seemingly has no powers besides playing the violin.

WAY: I was at this cafe in Manhattan when I was living in Brooklyn, and it was called The Sidewalk Cafe I believe, and on the wall they had a white violin just as decoration. And I remember looking at that and thinking to myself, “That would be a cool superhero.” And Vanya was always kind of designed to be a character who wasn’t special, that was going to transform into that.

Vanya: Look, if I was special I would’ve been in The Umbrella Academy. I’m so sorry you got stuck with the ordinary one.

B: These seven adopted siblings forced together by supernatural events formed The Umbrella Academy. Both the original comic and season 1 of the show start at the funeral for the Academy’s patriarch, the eccentric Sir Reginald Hargreeves. We learn that while the siblings ventured away from home as teenagers, after years of fighting and a toxic upbringing, they’ve returned home, back together for the first time in years, and all their dysfunctions and old conflicts come bubbling to the surface.

Diego: He was a bad person and a worse father. The world’s better off without him. Allison: Diego! Diego: My name is Number Two.

B: When he started writing the comic, Gerard was focused on his own strained relationships. He saw his band as his own dysfunctional family at the time.

WAY: When you’re a baby band, you’re in this van and it’s like a submarine but it’s smaller. It’s like a closet that you're all living in and sometimes you’re going on seventeen hour drives, and you have very strong personalities. This dynamic starts to develop between all of the members and you really do kind of become a dysfunctional family. Like, there’s times where I felt like I was the mom.

GABRIEL BA: They know each other’s weaknesses.

B: Turns out, family dynamics was a theme with everyone who joined the Umbrella team, including the illustrator and Umbrella’s co-creator, a Brazilian artist named Gabriel Ba.

BA: And sometimes they say it to hurt the other intentionally and they do that a lot in Umbrella because they’re all angry at each other all the time. And even though I have a great relationship with my brother, I have that. We have a younger sister as well, so she’s very opinionated and she’s strong. I wouldn’t say we fight a lot, but sometimes we- I just know how to hurt her if I want to say something.

B: Family is present in Gabriel’s life more than for most people. He works every day with his twin brother, fellow comic book artist, Fabio Moon. But his work made him an unconventional choice for Umbrella.

BA: In the mid 90s, we moved away from superheroes. We, my brother and I, we figured the type of story that we liked to tell and wanted to tell was more real life, day by day life relationship, this kind of stuff.

B: Gabriel grew up in Brazil and now lives in Sao Paulo. His brother had been making experimental comics for well over a decade.

BA: But The Umbrella Academy was a superhero book with this day by day life relationship drama, and that was really interesting for me.

B: What excited Gerard about Gabriel was his style. His characters weren’t macho. They didn’t have big ripped muscles. They’re the kind of comics you could imagine being drawn in the margins of a notebook. There's nothing stereotypically super about them.

BA: It was not a straightforward American superhero artstyle. It was a mix of European and more fluid, but also could handle action and crazy stuff. And also, I can’t deny The Umbrella Academy was my first paid job in the U.S.

B: Wow.

BA: For the first ten years of our career, my brother and I were making comics for free. Just for ourselves, just getting [?], if there were any. So when I got the invitation to get involved with The Umbrella Academy it was this whole package of factors.

WAY: Gabriel climbing on board was a huge thing for us because he’s such a fantastic artist. He brought these characters to life. The interesting thing about Gabriel, he didn’t have to make Umbrella Academy. He was doing really well on his own and making really experimental artistic comics, but he liked the idea so much that he said, “I’m gonna do superheroes.”

BA: The superhero aspect of The Umbrella Academy is really just a layer in the story. I like the development of these characters, their struggles, their relationships, there’s romance, there’s deception.

Vanya: You are unbelievable, you’re trying to dig up dirt on a guy I like? Who does that? Allison: Look, I’ve had my fair share of stalkers and creeps, I don’t trust him! Vanya: You mean you don’t trust me.

BA: And it had the fun explosions and action scenes. So that’s the good mix.

B: The first book of the comic is called Apocalypse Suite. After their father’s death, The Umbrella Academy gets a warning from their time traveling brother that the world is going to end in 10 days. They don’t know how, they just know that it will. And now, back together for the first time, they’ve got to figure out how to save the planet and learn how to look past their differences. Which sounds dope, right? But when it first published back in 2007, it wasn’t immediately clear that people would dig it.

WAY: So one of the things I was dealing with when Umbrella Academy came out was a lot of people in the press before the comic came out saying things like, “Here’s a musician and he’s writing a comic.” They didn’t really know my background, they didn’t know that I’d written at 15, they didn’t know I went to art school. All they knew was that I was the singer in this rock band that a lot of teenagers liked. So, all I really wanted was a fair shake. I didn’t write The Umbrella Academy to become a TV show or a film. I wrote it to be an amazing comic. But we knew that first issue, and we knew it was good, and we knew that if you didn't get it by the first seven pages you just weren’t gonna like it, and I was totally fine with that. But then it came out and then the response started to happen and then reviewers loved it and people loved it.

B: The comic went on to win an Eisner award, which is like the Oscar of comics, and pretty quickly, Gerard gets an offer to turn the comic into a full length movie.

WAY: I got swept up in the Hollywood thing.

B: But it doesn’t pan out.

WAY: That’s actually one of the reasons why there was such a big gap between comics, is because I was really, you know, I was trying- at the end of the day, I was trying to be helpful. If this was gonna be a movie version of what Gabriel and I had made, I wanted it to be great so I put in a lot of time and it kept me away from the comics.

B: But then Netflix hits you up and is interested in making this into a series.

WAY: Right.

B: I guess I'm curious, as someone who just initially wanted to make just a really good comic, what about turning that project into a television show was interesting?

WAY: Straight up, I want to make a great comic and that’s all I’m really interested in. If I can write great comics, you’ll have great material to make TV shows. So let me focus on that.

B: In other words, Gerard wanted to focus on the comics and let someone else adapt it.

WAY: And that’s when Steve came in and he changed things and he ran with it.

STEVE BLACKMAN: I’m Steve Blackman, I’m the showrunner and I’m executive producer.

B: Steve is a master at adapting books, comics, and film into television. Before The Umbrella Academy, he’d worked on shows like Fargo, Legion, and Altered Carbon, all of which originated from other sources. So he knew coming in that adaptation can be tricky work.

BLACKMAN: At first, I think Gerard and Gabriel, who co-did this with him, were very protective of the work like parents of their baby. And I think I had to prove to them initially that I would love and protect this child that they had worked on for so many years, so here I am, an outsider coming in and they were very nice to me, but I could see there was like, “Is this guy gonna totally screw up our baby here?”

B: Is it something that you can come to the table with Gerard and be like, “Hey, here’s my arsenal of adaptations, this is why it will work.”

BLACKMAN: Yeah, I worked on the show Fargo for three years. Fargo was obviously based on the Joel and Ethan Coen movie from 1996. I don’t think Gerard had ever seen my shows, I don’t think he watches a lot of television, so for him, it didn’t matter what I’d done before. It’s just what I was gonna do in the here and now on this show. I wasn’t intimidated by the challenge but I really did sort of have a sense of I know which direction I’m going.

B: What was your first initial reaction? Were you sort of like, “Oh, maybe I’ve never done anything like this, or this does feel familiar to other work that I’ve done.” Or, “I can do this, this is right up my alley.”

BLACKMAN: Well, what I liked about it from the beginning was what I saw in the subject matter and I saw a dysfunctional family. But right away, I was very inspired by Wes Anderson’s work. The Royal Tenenbaums is one of those movies that really was always something I truly loved. So, I saw that in this show.

Five: An entire square block, 42 bedrooms, 19 bathrooms, but not a single drop of coffee. Vanya: Dad hated caffeine. Klaus: Well he hated children too and he had plenty of us.

BLACKMAN: It was a family show, it was a very relatable dysfunctional family show that I wanted to tell.

WAY: Steve’s a great collaborator. Steve Blackman, the showrunner, he had a vision. I respected him and his vision. I realized it was gonna be different from the comic, and I let him run with it because he cared deeply about it.

BLACKMAN: My first conversation with Gerard over the phone, I said to him, I told him one of the words was subversive, we wanted to subvert the expectation of what a superhero show could be because there were many other shows, either on the air or coming down the pipe to be next, and we wanted this to stand out. And that was sort of the first hurdle with me, was to say to Gerard that I could do that and I could definitely make this thing feel special. And right away he said, “Okay, yeah. You get it.”

B: You’ve adapted something like Fargo which is a unique adaptation, right? You’re adapting from a different medium, like a feature film. Does that change the way you understand adaptation?

BLACKMAN: At a story point of view, no, I don’t think they’re that different. I think adapting a story, whether it's a graphic novel or the source material comes from a movie, a book, there’s a lot of care into doing it that the tricky thing is, I need to put my creative spin on it. I had Gerard and Gabriel, who lived with this for ten years, and then I have to come in and say, “Look, I’m going to honor you. At the same time, what is the Steve Blackman part of the show? How can I add my spin to it?”

B: For fans of the comic who’ve seen season 1 of the show, you’ll recognize some of that Steve Blackman spin. For example, the group who governs the laws of time in the comics, the Temps Aeternalis, in the TV show they become the Commission, an entire bureaucratic system running and adjusting linear time. Steve made some other changes too.

WAY: One of the things that I thought was an ingenious idea was making Ben a ghost that Klaus could communicate with. I was most impressed by that change.

Ben: You know what the worst part of being dead is? You’re stuck. Nowhere to go, nowhere to change, that’s the real torture if you gotta know. Watching your brother take for granted everything you lost, and pissing it all away.

B: Perhaps the biggest change from the comic to the show is the diversity of the characters. Diverse in race, diverse in region, diverse in sexual orientation, these characters on screen look a lot more like what the world actually looks like.

WAY: It’s built into it. They’re all from different places, they’re all from different countries, so I think that’s really the biggest improvement on the source material, is how diverse it is.

B: Steve felt the pressure of both fan expectations, and Gerard and Gabriel’s trust in him.

BLACKMAN: There’s nothing worse than having pre-existing source material and having the fans dislike it. You want to make the fans feel honored and respected, at the same time I felt it was incredibly important that Gerard and Gabriel walked out of this thinking, “He did a good job.” If they hated it, I would’ve been crushed. If the fans hated it, I think I’d also be crushed. I knew I couldn’t make everybody happy, but I wasn’t doing a page for page translation. My adaptation wasn’t gonna be that.

B: The adaption worked. Season 1 was a massive success. In the finale of the first season, the Academy thinks they’ve managed to stop the end of the world from happening, but unintentionally, they’ve actually just initiated it. The moon has been destroyed and its remnants are now heading directly for Earth.

Five: We might as well accept our fate because in less than a minute we’re gonna be vaporized. Diego: What’s your idea then? Five: We use my ability to time travel, but this time I’ll take you with me. Luther: You can do that?

B: The family, latching onto their time traveling brother Five, manage to escape the chaos. But we’re left to wonder where and when they’ll turn up, and that’s where season 2 begins.

Five: We brought the end of the world back here with us. Klaus: Oh my god, again?

BLACKMAN: It’s a pretty crazy journey this year and I think people will be hooked. I hope they binge the hell out of it and love every second of it.

B: Coming up in this season of Behind the Scenes, we’ll be taking you on that crazy journey with the people who make it happen.

“We hired meteorologists, we knew that snow was gonna come, but we had planned it. We went away for a day, we came back, and there was four feet of snow on the ground.”

“It’s 60s Dallas. Okay, so that’s a very different story for Allison. We have to talk about this somehow. Her experience is just different from her siblings.”

EMMY LAMPMAN: And a lot of people would come up to me and apologize for doing their job and I was like, “Please stop apologizing.”

“That was a wishlist fight scene that Steve had always wanted to do.”

“So we actually had our guys throwing plates up in the air and taking photos of them to try to get these UFO imageries.”

“You know, we have a new point in our resume: Can produce and deliver a show during a pandemic.”

B: Behind the Scenes of The Umbrella Academy is a Netflix and Pineapple Street Studios Production. I’m your host, Brandon Jenkins. Make sure to subscribe, rate, and review this podcast. It really does help other people find it. Thank you all for listening.

#behind the scenes of the umbrella academy #episode 1 #gerard way #gabriel ba #steve blackman #full transcription

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sukirichi · 3 years ago

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suk *ehem saeren (new pseud is sexy btw and also your new theme vvv sexc bestie!!!😌😌) okay so when i read chp 7-8 i was like ‘y/n c’mon. give kita the chance he deserves i mean IT’S THE MR. KITA SHINSUKE WTF WHAT MORE CAN YOU ASK?!’ but then oh god, the museum scene holy fuck. no because the cherry blossom tree works so well as an analogy for the main couple’s love story. yeah, cherry blossoms signify new beginnings and are mostly adorned by many when they bloom. why? aside from the indication of renewal, it only stays for a certain period of the year which is always a sight to see and because of the limited time frame, everyone knows the beauty it exudes will be gone after the time passes (death). going back, suna and y/n’s routine of spending time together to being away from each other’s presence is the recurring theme for them to grow. seeing them say too many goodbyes brings that anxious feeling of ‘ahh. it we will be back to square one again' (also, not the fact that broken record connotes annoying repetition of something is aksjalks🤧)

also yeah, when you love a person, the one should make you feel calm and secure and only then you can distinguish whether you truly love them or just merely an infatuation. but in y/n’s case, whether she has that rose-tinted glasses on or not, identifying the blaring red flags is hard to accept notice if that same marker is the one that brings her comfort due to its familiarity. and idk where to put this in my last ask because i don’t have enough brain juice to make a theory, but the way suna is nervous for his first date with mari, he should have second guessed why he’s acting like that when the happiness he felt with y/n is way more different with mari (should have listened to osamu and aran and ooh im sorry i assumed they samu and suna were schoolmates in high school when they are not akhfak). sure, he’s nervous out of excitement but for what? it's like foreshadowing that he needs to put up a front with mari just to keep her (but we all know that is not the case) in those 3 years they spent together, did he feel more on the edge than relaxed tho? 🤨

and for someone who loathes her half-sister, nagisa sure is invested with the happenings in y/n. it’s like she’s always on the lookout for her mistakes and dote it on her until her last breath. the mari and nagisa connection is possible though and it is not like they live countries apart but their meeting, from the way i see it, is like a silver lining for nagisa to topple y/n lol🤪 and aah, now it get why nagisa called y/n whore at the restaurant. when i read that part, i thought that they have somewhat lived under the same roof for some time but the succeeding chps showed they did not and was still confused because she has never shown any interest about what is going on with her affiliated family except hatred and then that happened. i guess when she burst out at that moment, it was when the two had met?

it’s kinda disheartening to see how lucy subtly(??) controls y/n’s love life. maybe because she doesn’t want y/n to fall under the same category for marrying out of love when she is the one who refuses to divorce the dad (= she shouldn’t). should have filed that divorce, not doing so is a recipe for disaster itself. and mari 😤😤WHAT DID I SAY?? (well in this case, it is shunning others away from suna) i cannot, for my peace of mind, be able to be in the same vicinity as her. for all i know, i could be dragging her on the floor out of pure disgust. i can’t wait to find out who died and who is in critical condition. though, that critical scenario lead to afterlife too, so no wishful thinking here. but, ahh are we getting a background story for suna too?🥺 this is where i'm betting my wish at. while we’re at it, i wonder how atsumu will react to suna impregnating mari. i imagine he would say ‘dude wtf?! she chose you! how could you?!’ i know he is happy with his gf but can’t help to be caring as ever to y/n.

reading chps 7-9 in one go was a pleasant experience 1.because school😔🤢 2.angst is way more comforting than comedy 3.no more anxious thoughts of why and how this happened because at this point, i’m just playing hidden mickey here. but i truly love the story, can’t believe it’s already ending by the next update. saerennn i hope ur okay bub?🥺 and get that hashbrowns after finishing the series or while working for the last track. u deserve it!! luv u~💕💕

🍳

my egg anon, hello !! I’m so sorry for the late response, my asks were piled up and I got busy with school :<

AND AAAAAH THANK YOU I’M SO HAPPY YOU GOT THE MESSAGE OF THE CHERRY BLOSSOMS!! it was actually taken from the music video I linked back to the end of the chapter and my friend and I were discussing it because I think there were lots of symbolism on it. the one about new beginnings because the cherry blossoms only come for a certain time of the year before a new season comes also represents how YN and Suna keep going back and forth to loving, getting complicated, forgiving, getting complicated and so on and so forth. I love everything you said because it was exactly how I wanted the story to be like <33 the part about being anxious too !! that’s why YN keeps saying ‘this cycle never ends.’ and YESSSS THAT’S ALSO WHY I CHOSE BROKEN RECORDS AS THE TITLE. the ‘records’ refer to them playing love songs and then apology songs to each other over and over but then the song stops and they start to have new stories :<<

oooooh yes, totally. judging from my own experience, I can tell too whether it’s love or infatuation. when I’m with someone I love, I feel totally at peace and safe with them. it’s comfortable, it’s not supposed to be scary or nerve wracking. even if something wrong happened, you’re assured by the knowledge they’d be patient and listen to you. AND THIS PART WHERE YOU SAID THIS ABOUT SUNA ‘whether she has that rose-tinted glasses on or not, identifying the blaring red flags is hard to accept notice if that same marker is the one that brings her comfort due to its familiarity’ ITS 100% ACCURATE. same goes for suna tbh. YN was the one who broke his heart when they broke up but she was also the only able to comfort him. it’s hard for them to let each other go because they’re both a source of pain and familiarity that they struggle to find in this world. yes there’s some slight foreshadowing in how suna reacted with mari. he was on edge and he didn’t know what to do most of the time because he doesn’t understand mari the same way he understands YN. as for him being on edge, he most definitely was tiptoeing because mari placed a lot of boundaries such as keeping YN completely out of the picture and making her presence a bare minimum.

NOOOO BECAUSE THAT’S SO TRUE. Nagisa is always updated with YN. YN is the one who updates her about her life because she’s always trying to make conversation, but Nagisa pretends to be ‘uninterested’ although don’t let that fool you because she remembers every little detail just in case she can use it against her half sister. nagisa and mari met after mari broke up with suna in ch1 so yes, nagisa already knew the situation !! that’s why she called YN a ‘whore’ because if she ‘was with Suna’ then why is she also ‘dating’ Kita? so in nagisa’s eyes, YN is just the same as her mom.

lucy was half and half. sometimes she has good intentions but most of the time she’s also just messed in the head and she really fucked with YN’s trust issues. HMMM I WANTED A BACKGROUND STORY FOR SUNA TOO TBH but I didn’t know where to fit it and I didn’t want to add random, unnecessary details :<< AND FOR ATSUMUUUUU…. atsumu crushed on YN real hard… until now, even though he has a gf (now wife in the timeskip) you can tell he still cares about YN

NAUUUR angst is way more comforting than comedy sobs. and yes baby, I’m doing okay !! just a lil busy with uni work but nothing I can’t handle <33 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS EGG ANON, I REALLY LOVE HEARING YOUR THOUGHTS ON IT BECAUSE YOU HAVE SUCH A BIG BRAIN AHHH I love you, stay safe too bb <33

#asks with naoya's trophy wife #series ( broken records )#long ask #anon:🍳

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oikawa-tuwu · 4 years ago

Text

Sitting Room (gn!Reader x Tendou)

Rated T, 2.3k words

Not Home for the Holidays Masterlist

"We're snowed in."

Once upon a time, waking up to a winter wonderland of snow outside your window was something to be excited about. It was the first snow of winter, a sign that the holidays were soon to come! Time to make snowmen and drink hot chocolate and bring out the big old bin of decorations from the attic!

Now, some decade and a half later, all the sight of the snow does is fill you with an inescapable dread.

Someone has to scrape the snow off those sidewalks. Someone has to worry about the heavy snow bringing down a power line. Someone has to put salt on the pavement to prevent ice so someone doesn’t get sued.

And yes, that someone is you, so you roll out of bed, into your best winter clothes, and hurry downstairs. If you’re fast, maybe you can get most of it done before you need to make breakfast. It's not a huge rush; you only have one guest right now, a tall man with red hair, and from the last couple days, you already know likes to sleep in. This snow, however, needs to be gone before your new guest arrives today, so snow first, then breakfast.

You take a deep breath, embracing the warmth of the house for just one last measly second, and go to open the front door.

It doesn’t budge.

Frowning, you double-check the lock, making sure the deadbolt is in the correct position. It is, so you try the door again.

It doesn’t budge.

You push harder.

It. Doesn’t. Budge.

With a grunt, you shove your entire body, every ounce of force you can manage, half-asleep, at seven in the morning, against the door.

It budges. Just a little, just a tiny crack through which you can see the… four feet of snow.

You’re snowed in.

Wonderful .

Shedding your winter gear as you go, you make your way to the sitting room, trying to figure out the next step. Maybe you could call for help? Pay a couple local teenagers to shovel your door free? You have to let your guests in and out somehow , what the hell were you going to do about this new guest-

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. Your work phone, so you dig it out of your five million layers, answering the call without even reading the caller ID.

“I have to cancel my reservation,” says the voice. “My train got cancelled because of the snow.”

You hang up the call with mixed feelings. That solves some of the urgency, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed about the missing income. Still, it gives you time to breathe, and think, and you hold your head in your hands for comfort.

You’re sitting there for so long (maybe you accidentally fell back asleep?), that when you look up, you jump. Your guest is awake, leaning against the entryway into the sitting room, one confused eyebrow cocked as he looks you up and down.

“We’re snowed in,” you say.

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” he says, nonchalant. He shrugs, gestures to the television above the fireplace. “I can entertain myself.”

For a second, just a single second, you allow yourself to feel relieved. Maybe you’ll get through this after all.

And with that, the power goes out.

“ Fuck. ”

It’s a delicate dance, carefully avoiding being in the same room as your lone guest.

It’s nothing against the guy, Tendou, you believe his name is, but it's… awkward. You can’t leave, you have to use flashlights to get around due to the lack of electricity and lack of sun (thanks again, snow), and you’re lowkey convinced that you’re living in a horror movie, because sometimes you’ll turn around without realizing he followed you into the kitchen and all you see is tall and red and oh my god , oh! It's just Tendou. Again.

You do what chores you can. Changing bedsheets with a flashlight in your teeth, setting out a couple ingredients for dinner (thank god you have a gas stove and can cook dinner at all), vacuuming downstairs ( battery-powered vacuum, thank god), etc.

The lights still don’t turn on.

In all honesty, with the holidays and this storm and on a Saturday , who knows how quickly they’ll get them up and running again.

You check the time.

It’s only eleven.

“Fuck. ”

Lunch is sandwiches. Normally, you don’t serve lunch, as most of your guests choose to go out themselves to get it, but that’s, unfortunately, not possible on this fine day. So instead, you throw together a couple cold sandwiches and bring them out to the sitting room.

Tendou is in there already, lounging on one of the couches, scrolling through his phone. At this point, most of the clouds have receded, so, from the light filtering in through the windows, you can see him without need of a flashlight. It’s a welcome change from the narrow beam that only seemed to pick up his ginormous red hair. When he notices you approaching, he clicks off his phone, and doesn’t quite smile out of joy, but gives an awkward, thankful half-smile, as he accepts the plate of food.

Halfway through your sandwich, the silence starts to grate on you.

“Sorry,” you say, setting down your sandwich. “I guess this isn’t how you imagined your holiday going.”

Tendou shrugs. “You can’t control the weather. Besides, I’m not sure what else I would be doing. I booked this trip on a whim.”

“Really? You don’t have anything that you wanted to do while you were out here?”

Tendou ponders the question, chewing on it like he chewed on his sandwich. Finally, he says, “Maybe eat. Find a local sweets shop.”

“There’s one on main street in town,” you say, and your mouth waters remembering some of the treats you’ve bought there. “They’re very good.”

“Good to know.”

It falls silent again (god, were you tired of the silent ), without even the ever-present hum of electronics to distract. You’re debating between your lackluster prepared get-to-know-you questions (top contenders are What do you do for work? and What’s your favorite food? ), when suddenly and without precursor, Tendou throws down his sandwich.

“I’m bored,” he announces, with the disbelief of a man that had never been bored before in his life. “I lied, I can’t entertain myself. Let’s say the snow never melts, lights never come on, what’s our game plan?

You snort. “ Our game plan? Please, after day three it's every person for themselves.”

“I like the way you think, that fear of being murdered will keep things interesting.”

“Exactly.”

Tendou laughs, gleefully. He laughs, and you realize very quickly that you want to make him do that again.

“I’d bet,” Tendou says, leaning back in his loveseat, a challenge in the curl of his lip. “Thirty-six hours in, one of us is jumping off a balcony to take out chances in the snow.”

“What, you think we can’t handle being around each other alone for thirty-six hours?”

Tendou shrugs. “You did threaten to kill me, your perfectly innocent guest, not thirty seconds ago.”

“Please don’t put that in your review.”

There it is again. That laugh. You’ve only seen it twice now, but you’ve already decided you like the way he laughs, throwing his whole body into it, an already expressive face devoted to that pure joy of laughter and humor.

Just two minutes ago, it had been awkward, silent, cold, but that that ice hadn't so much as broken as completely obliterated, like dropping an ice cube on pavement on a blistering summer day.

It's not summer, it's winter, and yet the chill of the big old house sans the central heating slowly fades away at the sound of Tendou's gleeful laughter.

"Why don't you have any decorations?" Tendou asks, once his giggles have subsided, and he glances about the sitting room. His voice takes a melodic, teasing lilt. "It's the holiday season , isn't it?"

Now that was a question you had been asking yourself recently. Everytime you walk past the attic ladder, you have half a mind to just get it over with, pull out the box and go crazy with the lights and tinsel, but you always hesitate with your hand on the door. Something about this year just didn’t feel real. It felt like you were stagnant in November, a weird limbo where the holidays never come.

It never seemed to feel real until it snowed. The first real snow that sticks.

Well. Crossed that bridge.

“I haven’t put them out yet,” you say, finally. “They’re up in the attic, I just haven’t had time to bring them out.”

“Let’s go then,” Tendou announces, pushing aside his empty plate and standing from the couch. “Lead the way.”

You blink up at him, trying to catch up with his leaps and bounds and grins. “Right now?”

“Do you have something else you need to be doing right now?”

Fair point.

It takes a fair amount of maneuvering to get the both of you into the cramped and dark attic. Thankfully, Tendou was smart enough to bring his phone with him, so he turns on the flash and directs it towards a group of cardboard boxes. There, scribbled with marker, it says holiday decorations , so you make some noise of triumph, carefully sliding between Tendou and another pile of boxes to reach the decorations. Unfortunately (fortunately?), that means the two of you are incredibly close, close enough that your sides brush and you can smell his cologne, something just a touch sweet, like the first whiff after walking into a bakery.

One hand bracing the box, you take a second to relax. It’s too much, him, this, that laugh, too much.

“Need help?” Tendou asks, leaning over your shoulder to peek at what it is holding you up.

You clear your throat, carefully inching around the boxes so that he’s not so close that you can smell that cologne. You go to lift the box, but before you can, Tendou tosses his phone to you, and as you fumble to catch it, Tendou picks up the box instead.

“Could you shine that light on the steps so I don’t kill myself?” Tendou asks, still smiling despite the giant, heavy box of holiday decorations in his hands. Silently, you do, and all three of you: the box, Tendou, and you, make it down the attic ladder and back down to the sitting room in one piece.

Tendou flips open the lid, revealing the mess of blue, white, red, and green.

The both of you get to work.

The first thing to come out of the box is the garland, plastic greenery with little lights, so the first strand goes on top of the fireplace, and as you go to head back into the entryway to wrap the second strand around the stairwell as well, Tendou unearths… the snowman.

It’s an old thing. Small, a little more cream-colored in the places it should really be white colored, with a missing button on its jacket. Where the rest of the decorations are clean, new, commercial, like an artfully staged set for a Hallmark movie, this piece is a little more… homely.

“And who is this guy?” Tendou asks, lifting the plush.

How to explain the snowman? In all honesty, you can’t even remember where it came from. Maybe it was a garage sale, bought as a joke? Maybe one of your employee’s kids had made it, hence why it had never been thrown away. In the end, you suppose it doesn’t matter, because over the years, it became a staple of your holiday decorations.

"Its my snowman. His name is Jeffery."

"Jeffery," Tendou repeats. "Alright."

With a giggle, you take the garland and continue on your way back to the stairwell.

You hear Tendou talking to the snowman, something unintelligible, until you manage to make out the word, "Fireplace."

“If you kill my snowman, I’m killing you,” you shout back, and Tendou’s laugh echoes through the whole downstairs.

When you return to the sitting room, you see the snowman resting peaceful on top of the garland, the centerpiece of the fireplace mantle.

Slowly, the pile of decorations in the box dwindles, and the room looks more and more holiday-esque, fairy lights and snowflakes and candles and garland abound.

Finally, the last decoration, one last snowflake to hang from the wall, is hung up, and the box is empty.

The clock in the corner reads 4 pm, and you wonder where all the time went. Wasn't it just noon?

You glance around the room again. The two of you did a good job, and you’re sure once the lights are on again, the view will be beautiful.

“We did good,” you remark, and when Tendou’s hand slips into yours, much softer and gentler than you expected, you don’t complain about it.

And then, with impeccable timing as always, the power comes back, starting with the hum of the heat making its way through the vents, and then the lamp in the corner flicks on, and then all the fairy-lights, twinkling bright, and, sure enough, its breathtaking in its entirety, and you feel that little rush that comes with the holidays.

You look at Tendou and Tendou looks at you and you both grin.

“We did really good.”

It’s a couple weeks before you check your bed and breakfast’s review page. Probably longer than you should have waited, and immediately there's one review in particular sticks out, so you click the link to read it in its entirety.

Tendou Satori 5 out of 5 stars

owner of B & B threatened to kill me on multiple occasions. 10/10 would stay again.

Successfully resisted the urge to write about Candlenights, you are very welcome. I was also super tempted to roll out the mistletoe this chapter too (it was gonna be hella smooth too), but nah, saving that for another chapter. Maybe I'll write it anyways and post it as an extra or smth. I'll see you in five days for Kuroo's! (Which is actually the first one that I wrote, like two weeks ago! I really like it 😌)

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyu #hq #tendou x you #tendou x reader #hq tendou #haikyuu tendou #hq fanfic #hq x you

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syndianites · 4 years ago

Text

The After; The Athar: Chapter Four

Chapter 4/?

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 [Here] - Chapter 5

AO3: This Chapter - Full Fic

Summary: Post Season 2, non-Mianitian Compliant. Wag escorts Martha to Jordan’s house and decides to have a day out with Sonja.

Relationships: Sparklington (end-game), Marthlington (temporarily), Sparkanite (Spark x Ianite) (past, mentioned), Motanite

Content Warnings: Death Mentions, Implied Depression, Implied PTSD, Self-Deprecation, Breaking up a Relationship (Marthlington)

AN: It’s Wednesday, totallyyyyyy. Just a little late haha, but here it is! Chapters 1-4 already written out. That means I actually need to finish chapter 5 and continue onward. I mentioned this before, but I’d been sitting on this since September of last year, and had chapter 4 done in... December? Of last year.

——————————————————————————————

“So, did you actually come to talk, or did you need something from me?” Jordan was looking towards the town now, legs crossed. With his arms splayed across the back of the couch, chin up, he looked like the perfect picture of nonchalance.

Wag knew that that was far from correct.

However, he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, drawing Jordan’s eye. “Well, I did actually come to see if you knew where Martha was, and if not Martha, Spark.”

Jordan gave him a thoughtful frown.

“Not that I didn’t want to talk to you,” Wag added in, “It’s just that I really need to see Martha. Rip the bandage off as soon as possible. I’m, uh. Breaking up with her.”

Jordan’s face crumpled into a harsh discomfort, like someone had just doused his socks in water and told him all his other socks were missing.

“Ah. That’s. Unfortunate?” He winces. “I’m sorry about your loss. Eventual loss. Yeah.”

Wag shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. “She’s not dying, Jordan. I just realised that we- well, it didn’t matter what I realised. We’re better as just friends, if she’s okay with that.”

Jordan nodded, lips pinched together. “I’m afraid I don’t recall where she was going today. Spark, however, should be at Town Hall handling some paperwork. She might be with him, might not. I’d ask him.”

Getting up with a stretch, Wag replied, “Thanks. The faster I do this the better.”

Jordan stood as well, following Wag to the front door. They stood there. Wag shuffled his feet. “I, uh. I’m not sure where the Town Hall is. Could you show me?”

He had a fair idea, but not a sure one. The Town Hall was a building Wag often forgot about. But not because he didn't care to commit it to memory.

To start, it looked like all the other buildings around it. Acacia based, a foundation of sandstone that peaked up from below the ground, and an easy, sloped thatch roof. It gave the buildings a log cabin feel, while still fitting in with the landscape. The edges were built with acacia logs to bring in a nice neutral gray which held it all together.

Now, if it just looked like every other building that’d be fine. But it also had no marker to identify it as Town Hall. Or, rather, the marker it had was easily mistaken for something else- an open book with a quill. For example, it could be the symbol for a courthouse, or the symbol for a law firm. Or the Records Hall.

Wag didn’t know where the Records Hall was either.

Add in the fact that no one really went in there since the majority of citizens specialized in fishing and you have a place that is forgettable at best.

That being said, Wag would rather have some company on his death march to breaking up with Martha. Using his unsureness of where, exactly, the Town Hall was would be a good excuse to keep talking to Jordan. At the least, it would help with his nerves.

Jordan looked off to the side. “Isn’t it right next to-” He cut off. Thought for a second. “Yeah, it’d be better to just show you.”

Wag smiled. He swept his hand towards the path and gave Jordan a shallow bow. “After you, my dear.”

Shaking his head, Jordan began to lead the way, Wag trailing along just behind his shoulder.

They descended the hill in comfortable silence. Jordan was clearly thinking about something, looking for a good moment to bring it up. Wag welcomed the change from thinking about his future.

He side-eyed him. “Got something on your mind, my good fellow? Want to talk more about how the world has it out for us?”

Jordan rolled his eyes. “No, I think that’s enough of that depressing topic for now.” A beat of silence. “I was just thinking-”

“You’ve got to be careful with that.”

“-Thinking about Tom.”

Wag gasped. “Thinking about another man while we take such a romantic stroll together? How dare you.”

“Yes, walking over to the Town Hall so you can talk to the man who looks like an older version of me and has a superiority complex is so romantic” Jordan wrinkled his nose. It’s not like he’d know much about romantic. Between Jordan and anyone else that was ever interested in him, the other had done more work. Jordan’s idea of romance was probably ‘let’s build some complex contraption together’.

“We could always detour,” Wag suggested, lightly elbowing Jordan’s arm. “Take it across the beach, pick up shells that we’d think the other would like, hold hands and go barefoot to walk in the waves. Call it a date.”

“I beach you it’d be a good time, but I’ll have to wave the idea off. I do have things I want to get done today.” Jordan turned to him with a glimmer in his eyes and a bashful, yet impish smile.

“Wow.” Wag blinked a few times. “That was forced and you know it. ‘I beach you’?” He fake gagged. “So cheesy.”

Jordan turned away with a huff.

Wait.

“Oh, my gosh, wave was also a pun. That was a double pun. I don’t know whether to be impressed or appalled.”

“Thank you, I’ll be taking cash donations for my genius.”

“I’ll be taking cash compensation for having to hear that with my own two ears.”

Jordan laughed, a lovely, quiet sound. It was breathy, and just off of squeaky, but it made Wag’s ears burn.

Weird.

“I’m afraid,” Jordan followed up, “That we have a no refund policy. Once heard you can’t get your investment back. It was on page 8 of the contract you signed upon meeting me: ‘You accept any and all amazing, lovely puns that come out of Jordan’s mouth.’”

“Wow. 8 pages? I don’t remember 8 pages. What I remember was, ‘Hello, I am most likely going to be inside, at home, for most of our friendship. And this is to say I’m not avoiding you, I’m preparing the most intricate, strong things imaginable for when shit inevitably goes to hell.’ That’s not even a page, it was a sheet of paper torn in half.” Was that overly accurate about Jordan? No. But the dig was worth it.

Jordan shook his head, indignant, “I don’t stay inside that much! How dare you assume I’d be able to stay cooped up inside for so long. Clearly, if you wanted to be precise, I would have written ‘I’ll most likely be working on cool and awesome things that make me super prepared to help My Lady in any way possible.’ Inside versus outside means nothing in that regard.”

“Ah, my bad. Let me rephrase that, ‘I am so loyal to Ianite and her existence that I will breathe balance, eat balance, and become balance. People will look at me and think ‘Wow, that guy sure is the epitome of balance. Almost enough to rival Ianite herself.’, except I’ll just look cool and be a good champion.”

“Ok, ok, let’s back up here.” Jordan turned to look at Wag. To look up at Wag, more specifically. Shorty. “Going that far makes me sound like Spark, and I am nowhere near as bad as him. Like, c’mon, he was so dedicated to Ianite he married her.”

They were in front of the Town Hall now.

Jordan lowered his voice, like Spark could hear him. “He honestly needs a hobby.”

Wag shook his head, stifling a laugh.

“Well,” Jordan’s voice rose back to a regular volume. “Looks like we’re here.”

“Looks so.”

They stalled for a second.

“I better get going,” Jordan started. “If you ever need anything, you know where to find me. I’ll help you with anything.” He side-eyed Wag, a joking look in his eye. “As long as it’s reasonable.”

“That means a lot to me.” Wag smiled. “I promise that my next visit will actually be for you. It’s only fair, especially since you’re a dear friend of mine.”

With a huff and a returned smile, Jordan pushed him along. “You don’t have to promise that.”

“I want to. Since it’s you.”

Wag turned and began walking up the steps into the building.

Jordan felt his heart beat just a little faster. He tried to convince himself that that didn’t mean as much to him as his heart said.

It really wasn’t that deep.

---

The Town Hall was one of the first non-residential buildings placed in the town. In the time that they’d all been gone, there had been some remodelling to the valley.

The first, most prominent, in Wag’s opinion, change was the removal of the Dianite statue head thing. If it was still there, Wag would not have built his tower right next to that. No siree.

The rest of the changes were fairly mild: the paths around were fiddled with to give access to the beach and town buildings, the farms were cleaned up, and so on.

Now, the Town Hall was delicately placed between the farms and the Tea Pot. The Tea Pot which was left standing. In all the revisions that were made to the land, someone looked at the Tea Pot, looked at the space it took up, and decided it should remain.

There was a goddamn Tea Pot next to Town Hall.

And Wag still struggled to remember where the Town Hall was.

Needless to say, Wag head inside, giving a wave to the secretary. While there was no official “Mayor” of the town, there was a general administrative body made up of some of the townsfolk. It was a democratic setup, which leaned towards a more free-market, socialist style of living.

Quite the turn around from Ruxomar.

Spark, it seemed, had either learned from the eventual disaster that was Ruxomar- not that he was there to see its final collapse- or wanted a change of pace, seeing as he founded Dagrun under a monarchy. To be fair, there weren’t many people around to start a kingdom.

After Wag exchanged conversation with the secretary and was waved towards the back, he found Spark. His office was small with a full window alongside one wall and a desk with neatly organized papers set up in multiple stacks. He sat behind the desk, pondering over a sheet laid before him, reading it with careful eyes.

He looked up at Wag’s entrance, a polite smile forming on his face. “What brings my daughter’s favorite wizard around today?” Spark stood, moving around the desk to offer a handshake in greeting.

“Oh, only Martha’s? Not yours?” He took the hand, trying to give a firm shake despite his nerves. “I came here to see if you knew of Martha’s whereabouts. I have something I need to talk to her about.”

Spark took a step back. “Ah, she just stepped out to grab some records from the Record Hall. She’ll be a few minutes at least.” He moved back to his desk, motioning for Wag to sit in one of the guest chairs.

Wag sank into it quickly.

If Spark could see he was nervous, he said nothing. But Wag was sure it radiated off of him, from the way his fingers drummed against his legs, to how he would look at the door every so often, to how he kept shifting in his chair. He’d thought the walk and quiet pondering over the town’s brief history would help.

It didn’t.

Still, they sat in silence. Outward silence. His thoughts fought to be heard, to break out from the delicate prison he’d pushed them into when he steeled himself to potentially see Martha here, next to Spark.

“Can I ask you something?” Wag blurted out. Spark looked up. “If you’re- if you’re not busy, that is.”

He set aside his pen- something he’d carried from Ruxomar- and gave him an inviting wave.

“What’s the difference between loving someone and being devoted to them?”

Wag bit his lip as Spark mulled over an answer.

“That depends,” he said, after a moment. “What kind of love and what kind of devotion?”

Wag could see in his eyes that Spark knew what he meant, but was giving him space to elaborate on his issue.

He has to know, right? What I’m about to do.

“Devotion to,” Wag took a breath, “To your goddess versus the love you have for her.”

Spark stretched and sat back in his seat, relaxed. “It’s based in different things. Devotion is based on a shared belief, a shared idea. I followed,” Spark swallowed hard, “My goddess because I, too, believed in the balance she stood for, and the peace it upheld.”

He swiveled the chair half-way around to gaze out the window. “I loved her because of who she was. Her laugh, her smile, her energy and joy and spirit and how she’d get that sparkle in her eye when she’d see me, a mix between something soft and something loving and-”

He clears his throat, clearly holding back emotion. “I loved her because she was everything right in the world. In my world.”

Wag did not mean to open up something this heavy for Spark. But he wasn’t done with his questions.

“Did being in a relationship affect how you followed her?” He shoved his hands underneath his thighs to stop from fidgeting.

“Yes. And no.” Taking a moment to compose himself, Spark swept his eyes across the landscape, the solid silhouette of Jerry’s Tree in the background. “After getting together, I was devoted to her in the sense of any typical boyfriend; I doted on her, did romantic things with her, the whole shebang. In terms of being her follower and champion, I knew when to be professional and to act upon our shared belief system. It took practice to not let one bleed into the other, but I made it work.”

Though Spark wasn’t looking, Wag nodded.

“How.” He cleared his throat. “What would be the best way to... separate that? To pull apart your devotion and your relationship so they don’t affect each other?”

Spark turned back to him, his figure highlighted by the glow from outdoors, creating a regal picture of a tired, broken old man. “Separate them? You don’t. You can’t. It’s impossibly hard to have the maturity to stop your feelings from changing how one part of your relationship goes.”

“To be a lover means to be ready to defend your partner at all costs, just as you would a champion. To be a champion means to love your goddess to the ends of the world, just as you would a lover. Devotion and love are centered from different places, but once your feelings in them cross they cannot be unlinked.”

“But they’re not the same.” Now Spark was starting to get confusing and muddled to Wag. “

You just said so! Loving someone can come in different forms. You can love your goddess and not be in love with her.”

“But you still love her, regardless of which side you love through. Champion, partner, it's all love. If you let them slide together, they die together. What’s the difference? What creates that gap?” Spark had a glint in his eyes, now, something removed from the quiet, tender sadness from before.

“There’s a big difference!” Wag freed his hands to gesture wildly. “To love your partner is to cherish every moment with them, to be apart and still, somewhere in the back of your mind, be thinking of them. You see sweets, or goodies, or just nice things and think about if they’d like them, or you see the soft purple of lilac and think of their hair, or wander past a library and think of spells and sitting up late at night pouring through books. Or-”

He threw his arms up. “Loving your goddess is different, I think. I’ve never followed one before this. I followed a god without any care for that god. I didn’t even really follow him, we followed something adjacent to him.”

“And,” Wag breathed, “loving your goddess is like seeing the value in what they preach. Like.” He was frustrated now. Didn’t he just tell him that love and devotion came from different things? If that was the case, how did being a champion in a relationship with your goddess stop that from being different things? “Like how you devote yourself to an idea!”

Spark raised an eyebrow. “So? You devoted yourself to the idea of being in a relationship with her, you crossed that divide and filled it in.”

“But I didn’t! I just built a bridge over it and tried to figure out which side I was on.”

“Which side are you on?”

“I don’t know!” Wag was starting to breathe heavily. It was like every moment he had built up his confidence to cut it off with Martha was being uprooted like grass in a plowed field. “I just don’t want to be in the middle anymore.”

Spark watched him silently. He wasn’t going to give Wag a break this time.

“It’s terrible.” Wag continued, quieter. “Being stuck between the desire to stick by her side and protect her and the desire to be right beside her and love her, and hold her, and be the one person who can always make her laugh.”

He looked away, towards a wall with an older oil painting. “But that’s the thing. I don’t have to choose. We chose on our own without knowing. We drifted away, lost to our own problems and grief. The bridge back to her side is broken and torn and I don’t think I have the strength left in me to repair it.”

“Don’t have the strength, or are scared to?”

“Both! Neither? Fuck, I just.” Wag shook his head, trying to rattle his thoughts enough to make sense. “I can’t promise that if I do fix things they won't break again, weather down and fall away under my negligence. And I’m afraid of what would happen if I let things get that bad again.”

“Fear is natural.” Spark eyed him up and down. “But you can’t let it get in the way of your life.”

“It’s not. I swear it isn’t. But we feel fear for a reason and that’s to stop us from making poor decisions.”

“But sometimes fear is a knee-jerk reaction, what you feel when you’re uncertain or when things change around you and you’re not ready for it.”

“I’m not,” Wag whispered. He cleared his throat and tried again, louder. “I’m not ready for change. And that’s ok. It’d be better to take a step back and see what I need to do to be ready and to adapt, rather than to try and go arm deep into whatever mess comes my way because I’m afraid of losing everything I love.”

“Even if that means losing your relationship with Martha?”

“I’d rather be friends than nothing at all.” And that was the truth. For all he cared about her romantically, he also cared about her as a friend. As someone who’d been through hell and back with her. You don’t just leave people like that behind.

Spark nodded. “Then you know what you need to do.”

Now that wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. “Wait.” Did I just get lead on? “Was that whole conversation just a way to make me figure my shit out?”

“I wouldn’t say it like that,” Spark was smoothing out the papers on his desk. “But yes, I did pull the conversation in a way that made you think about your decision. I wouldn’t contradict my own words without purpose.”

“I doubt anyone does.” Wag rolled his eyes. “So you approve? Of me choosing to break up with Martha?”

Spark looked up at Wag, already having grabbed his pen. There was a beat of silence. Wag started to sweat.

After all of that, surely he does?

Silence.

Right?

He felt like a kid that got sent to the principal’s office. Getting stared down by the head honcho that doesn’t want to see you in front of them but also doesn’t want to let you off easy.

Still, he was scrutinized.

Holy shit man.

Finally- finally!- Spark looked back down.

“I’m impartial,” he said at last. “To be honest, it’s not my issue. While I do want the best for my daughter, she is a grown woman. You are a grown man. My approval shouldn’t matter here.”

Wag relaxed. He had a point.

Spark shook his head, signing off on a document and moving it aside. “I had the same doubts about my relationships when I was your age. That was before-” he coughed. “-you know, and when I still fancied this lovely lady from my hometown. We’d been going strong for a while, but I was dedicated to my faith and she was not interested in faith at all.”

He tsked. “We wouldn’t have worked out at all, no matter how much I cared for her. Still kept in touch until,” Spark gave a pointed look around, “This happened.”

“Okay, grandpa.” Ah, yes, he definitely wanted to hear about Spark’s love life.

A thought struck him.

“Now wait a second, when you were ‘my age’?” Wag glanced over Spark. “I’m older than you.”

Spark chuckled. “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m sure we can both see I’m older than you.” He tilted his head to the side. “See that gray? That’s age and stress. Enjoy your youth while you have it.

“I’m a wizard.”

A narrowing of the eyes.

“I’ve been a wizard.”

He sat back in his chair.

“I’ve been a wizard for a long time.”

Spark turned his gaze back to his documents. “You must be pulling my leg.”

“No, sir, I am not.” Wag was fidgeting again, this time bored. “I think I’m a little over a century old? Maybe more.”

“I can understand you being a wizard, but there’s no way minor magic- non-divine magic- could extend your life.”

“I killed a god to become a wizard.”

Wag stared Spark down with a straight deadpan. Spark’s mouth worked at a response.

He’d never get one.

“So I didn’t find any proof of purchase document for Lichens- ah, hello Wag.” Martha stopped dead in the doorway, face stuck between surprised, pleasant, and a flicker of discomfort. “To what do we owe the pleasure of a visit?”

Well. It seemed Martha found him.

Now that they were both staring at him, Wag felt far too exposed. He tugged at his hood. It was already as low as it could go on his head. That didn’t make him feel any better.

So he opted for a smile instead. “I needed to talk to you about something Martha.”

She exchanged a glance with Spark, who had a thoughtful look in his eyes. It was the kind of look that said they’d talked about him before. And, based on the look he gave Wag in turn, it was not a very positive kind of talking.

Oh dear fuck.

Martha gave him a shy smile. “Can it wait? I need to wrap this up real fast. Then, after that, I should be free for a bit.”

It couldn’t. If it did, it would never happen. Wag knew it wouldn’t. From the way his heart stuttered to the way his hands shook, he knew that if he gave himself the time to back out he’d take it. And as much as he didn’t want to make an ass out of himself by saying no, wouldn’t trapping them both in this be worse? Keeping the two of them together to pretend that things were going well?

No, it couldn’t wait.

The words, however, stuck in his throat. He shook his head. Took a breath. “I’m sorry, it really can’t.”

Martha took it in stride. “Alright. This must be important to you, let me set this down and I’ll be right out.” She motioned him to wait outside the door.

Wag took the opportunity. Once safely in the hallway, alone, he ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

Calm down.

It wasn’t like he was signing his life away. Or like he was telling Martha he killed her dad. They were just breaking up.

But it felt like it was more than that. It felt like he was betraying her, like all those promises he made were for nothing. Hadn’t he said he’d follow her to the end of the line? That he’d be her champion? What would become of that if he broke up with her?

Where did devotion and love meet and where did they separate?

Wag wasn’t sure anyone knew. It was a challenge to be in love with a goddess.

The sound of the door swinging open caught his attention. Martha stepped out, smoothing her shirt out. She caught his eye and sent him a smile. He gave a shaky one back.

“Gee, Waggles,” That nickname hit something soft in his chest, “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were going to break up with me.”

Fucking shit.

He sat silent as his mind fell down a flight of stairs.

Martha caught on. “You, you are, aren’t you?”

Her eyes were wide, now, and Wag wasn’t sure how to follow that up. This was not going as he’d planned. Except, he hadn’t really planned it so much as made a vague idea about how he was going to.

Get your shit together man, now's the time.

“Yes.” His voice strained and he cleared his throat. “I am.”

Before she could get in a word, he pushed onward. “And it’s not because I don’t love you. I do. I love you so, so much. I’d follow you to the ends of the world, spread your name as your champion until my voice ran out, I would-” He stopped himself. This was supposed to be a break up. “I would do a lot for you.”

He took a deep breath.

“But I’m not what you need.”

His heart was free falling, bouncing between his hard and fast love for Martha and his desire to be loved. Between knowing they weren’t good for each other- not anymore- and wishing that they could be.

“What are you talking about?” Martha’s voice, though she kept her volume level, was thick with emotion. “Of course you are. I love you so much Wag, what would I do without you?”

“I’m not!” He swallowed heavily. “You don’t love me the same. I don’t love you the same. Haven’t you seen it? How we never see each other? How we can’t be around each other without walking on eggshells? How it feels like there’s someone missing that I could never replace?”

Martha had loved Steve so much. And she’d loved Wag. But after everything, he’d realized that they’d grown apart. That for all they loved each other, they didn’t.

Wag took a brave moment to look Martha in the eyes. Her tears were held back by pure willpower and rapid blinking. Her mouth was set in a thin line. For all she was trying to keep her cool it was breaking at the seams.

She was quiet. Wag could practically feel the storm of thought and emotion rolling off of her. A whisper. “You’re right.”

He held his breath.

“You’re right. You can’t replace him. No one can. But you don’t have to. Why can’t I just love you and him both? What’s wrong about that?”

No, no, no. That wasn’t his point at all.

“You can.” His voice was just as low. “Of course you can, there’s nothing wrong with that. But you’re letting your love for him get in the way of us. Your grief, your longing, your bone deep aching for him is all you see when you’re with me, isn’t it?”

“No!” Martha looked away. “Yes. Kind of. No. I don’t look at you and see Steve. I look at you and see you and I think about how much it would hurt to lose you. Like I lost Steve. How much you mean to me, how much he meant to me.”

She had closed her eyes now, putting her hand over her mouth.

“I miss him so much. Sometimes it’s all I can think about. There are days were I long to go home and see him, to be able to hold him again. But I remember that he’s not there. The thought of going home without him feels awful.”

Wag was torn, again. He felt awful to make Martha talk about this, to make her relive every time she missed Steve, mourned Steve. But on the other, this was where they were falling apart.

“I’m not innocent in this, I must admit.” He started slowly. She looked back at him, tears on the verge of falling. “I feel like I’ve lost everything. My old life, my fellow wizards, the world I used to know.” Wag couldn’t meet her eyes on the next sentence. “My powers. They haven’t come back.”

“And I’ve drawn away from everyone and everything. Even you. And as easy as it would be to blame you for us falling apart, that’s not fair to you or to your grief. But we can’t keep killing ourselves like this.”

Martha had wrapped her arms around herself now. She pushed her chin up. “You’re right. Again. This dance we’ve been performing, it’s gone on long enough hasn’t it?” A wet laugh. “We can fix this now, fix,” she gestured between them, “Us. Now that we’ve pulled the facade away. That’s the first step, right? Taking down the act.”

Wag shook his head. He wanted to. So badly. To let this be the start of something better, to remake what they had. But the roots were rotten, not just the tree. Even if they cut off every dead branch, they’d only die out again.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m not ready to try again.” His voice wavered. If he could cry he would.

All he had were tears of blood, ever streaming.

She was quiet. Then she bowed her head. “I understand. And I’d need time, too, if we were to try again.”

The conversation fell off, but it didn’t feel resolved. Wag pushed up the energy to ask one last question.

“Will I- will I still be your champion?” It was a dangerous question. And yet, still not the one he needed to ask.

Martha appraised him. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how to deal with my champion being a recent ex.” Nonetheless, she gave him a watery smile. “I’ll let you know when I make a decision.”

Wag nodded. Already, she was piecing herself back together. Faster than he ever could.

She went to turn away, opening her mouth to say one last thing, but Wag interrupted her. “Will we still be friends after this?”

A laugh, real this time. “Of course.” She shook her head fondly. “Goodbye Wag. Until we meet again.”

“Until we meet again.”

Martha made her way back inside, most likely about to tell Spark the news.

He felt detached from the world, thoughts echoing farther and farther away with each step Martha took. His eyes tracked her, watching how her hair moved, the grace in her stride- even has her body shook with hurt. Her neatly pressed and clean clothes, changed up from what she had worn in Ruxomar. A breathable, white silk long-sleeved shirt and dark leggings.

From the way her fingers curved in an elegant arch against her thighs to how her shoulders had slumped ever so slightly before the door closed behind her. In his head he could see her eyes sparkling, a lovely lavender to match her hair. He could hear her laugh, her voice, see her radiant smile that he always sought to draw out.

Wag could feel the floor disappear out from under him, feel himself sinking into the void. Empty, empty, empty. A chapter of his life was over, now. And it was by his own hand. For all he had feared change, he had caused it.

Was this better or worse?

A quiet, muted drip caught his attention. The world blurred back in. Wag looked down. A tiny, pink-ish speck on the floor. Another joined it with a plop. A shaking hand rose to his cheeks. Still bloody, but when he pulled it away it was also pink-ish. Runnier.

Tears.

He wanted to laugh. Instead, he strode out of the Town Hall, finding the familiar path home in a daze. A pink trail of bloody tears followed him.

He was going to miss her.

#sparklington #mianite #mianitefa #james hayes #jordan maron #waglington #captain sparklez #martha the mystic #spark conway #martha conway #the after series #if you look at my tags here and look at the tags on the first chapter #you can see where i started to get lazy lol

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bippityboppitybibuck · 4 years ago

Text

Scarred Bark, Broken Heart

15x18 coda/alternate ending of sorts || WC 2580, also read on AO3 here

MCD, depressed Dean, (Tree!Cas ???), brief mention of suicidal tendencies, open but hopeful ending, part one of a two part series, Canon divergence

Dean doesn't know what made him decide on the tree. They didn’t have a body to burn, not this time. They didn’t have a six-foot hole to dig and he felt odd putting a marker over unmarred earth. So when he stumbled upon a tree in the woods surrounding the bunker, one with a beehive tucked nine feet up he didn’t even realize he had popped out his pocket knife and started carving until the first three letters were written in the wet bark.

His throat burned as he worked. The same knife sliced skin wide so that protection could be painted onto a door that was never going to hold. Cas was always ready to bleed for him, always ready to do whatever he needed to keep him safe.

Tears threatened to ruin his work by blocking his field of view but each time he tilted his head to the sky and tried to breathe through it.

The squared-off letters seem to mock him once he finishes, if Cas’d been here the letters would have been beautiful, a burst of power and it could have been script etched into the wood. Instead, it's his blocky ugly writing.

Something hideous rears its head in his chest, and staring at the letters, staring at the name. He always deserved more than Dean could give him, than this world could give him. He deserves more than a scar in some bark in a forest hardly anyone treks into. He deserves more than to die without knowing—to die thinking he wasn’t loved.

Dean doesn't look to the sky as his eyes fill again. Sam always said he needed to let himself feel. That ignoring your trauma isn't the same as dealing with it. But he worries that if he gives into it fully he’ll never resurface. Drowned in his own mind with the pain and regret, the fear and the sadness that washes in like the tide when his guard drops.

So he doesn’t let himself sink, he treads as best he can, hearing Bobby’s gruff voice in his head just like when he was a kid, ‘keep your ears above water son, that’s the only way to make sure you stay alive out there’, it’s like Bobby knew exactly why he needed that information. Like he knew it wasn't about swimming.

He’s not sure how long he spends looking at the carving, or when the wind picks up and shakes shivers through his body. He’s not sure when the tears dry and the wracking sobs take over.

Cas looked at peace when it came for him, and it ruins him to know that. To know that loving him brought him to the one moment of true happiness. Loving a worthless, broken, fucked up killer—no. No, Cas said he wasn’t a killer, he wasn’t a monster or a tool to be used and thrown aside, and yet he killed another hadn’t he? Killed him by doing nothing at all because that's what happens, that’s his legacy, people get close to him and they get killed. They always get killed.

Dean’s not sure when he heads inside again, or how he finds himself at the tree almost every day, week in and week out.

For the longest time he can do nothing but look, words that fight to break free, stay trapped behind the years of burying what he always felt, stay tapped behind the last dam he has standing in his soul the soul Cas saved—a good lot that did. He knows the dam won’t hold forever and all he can do is imagine the damage when it does finally break.

He doesn't always go alone either. Sam takes trips to the tree by himself sometimes but mostly he goes when Dean does. Jack trails after him every once in a while too but they usually let him go alone.

The first snow of the season begins to fall as he stands at the tree, the beehive long since gone dormant, its occupants burrowing in for their months-long sleep. And God how Dean envies their ability to escape reality for longer than it takes to sleep off a hangover.

It’s early for the first snow, weeks too soon but the world has been colder since—well since.

It’s been a while since he last talked while he visited, the dam broke finally or rather the levels grew too high on one side and it began to leak. Still, back then he hadn’t said much of anything.

He tries to talk now, he tries to do the same as what he did at his father's grave all those years ago trapped in a djinn dream, trapped in a world that seemed so perfect until he peeled back its layers. Kinda just like the one he actually lived in.

“Ca-s,” his voice breaks before he manages to speak the single syllable. No one is around to notice though, no matter how much he wishes he was speaking to a person instead of an unfeeling unrelenting piece of wood. Still though, it's easier to talk when no one is there to hear it, he doesn't have to hold as much back.

“Cas, I-,” Dean lets out a rough hum as he collects himself. This speech is going to be different. He can feel it, the emotions within him seem to grow choppy, spilling over the dam wall more and more and he just knows that whatever happens, he won’t be returning to the bunker whole.

“I keep thinking, y’know, back to that night you walked into that barn in Illinois, you told me that good things do happen, and I mean it’s not like I expected you to, but you didn’t believe me when I told you that nothing good happens to me. I don’t know if in the time from then to no—I don’t know if you ever figured out that I was right or not but I think that the one good thing that happened to me was the worst thing to happen to me too.” Dean stares at his name, willing it to actually be him. The cold bites at his fingers and his nose. His toes grow cold in his boots but he doesn’t move to leave he barely even feels it anyways.

“When Chuck told us that you were the one who never listened,” he chokes out a broken laugh, “it honestly made perfect sense, you did always say that it was our story, that we were the thing that was real in a world of manufactured realities. And when he said it I swear it was like I was standing in that ratty kitchen, minutes before Lucifer rose, minutes before you di—died for the first time. And I thought as Chuck went on and on how maybe I wasn’t dreaming it up, maybe it wasn't Chuck’s doing, and I was going to try to talk to you about it, after a shit ton of booze mind you.” He’s quiet for a long time, the snow begins to blanket the space around him and he thinks about how he’ll never get to brush snow off of the lapel of Cas’ stupid trench coat.

Just the thought starts a domino effect, his mind rushing through everything he wanted and everything he’ll never get now and it’s so overwhelming it sends him to his knees. Of course, because he clearly will never be able to catch a break all it does is remind him of the last time they were in purgatory together, the fear and heartbreak that shook him to his core, the devastation of Cas brushing off what he wanted to say because fuck it was so much more than his prayer.

“You beat me to it though, and then—well we both know what happened next.” His fingers are ice when they wipe the tears from his eyes. They jolt him, a shock to his system.

“You never gave me a chance to respond, didn’t even give me a damn moment to process any of it. And you’re a selfish son of a bitch for that because that wasn’t fair, that wasn’t—. I needed you to stay, I needed you to hear it too. I won’t ever be able to stay mad at you because I never have been, not for any of the shit you pulled in the past. But that? That was a new low.” He sniffles from the cold or from his tears he doesn't know but he does it all the same.

“Y’know if you were here right now you’d tell me to go inside because humans catch colds so easily and you don’t know how fucking much I need to hear that now Cas.” His heart plummets in his chest again. He feels sick all over again so he clenches his jaw to keep from heading too far down that road.

“I remember the first time you got sick, god you were a nightmare the entire time and I dealt with Sam getting sick every year since I was old enough to open kids cold medicine,” Dean laughs thickly, tears lodged in his throat. The strain of holding it all back shreds at the muscle and it screams with every breath he manages to shake into his lungs.

“I remember everything Cas, all of it, every fight, every drink, every goddamn time we looked at each other. And yet I can’t recall a fucking thing because I thought I had more time. After everything we’d gone through, I still thought we would have more time. It's all broken and jumbled and set to static and I can’t handle it because it's crystal clear and as muddy as anything because I thought I’d be able to make more, replace what got muddled. I thought you had more time.”

He shuffles around and presses his back against the trunk of the tree. His ass is uncomfortable as hell what with the roots and the wet cold earth below him but his knees appreciate the switch.

“I’m having a hard time this time because a part of me thinks just like it did after the whole leviathan fiasco. I swear you’re going to come back, that this is all a mix-up, that if I wait just a little longer, hold on a little longer, put my gun down just one more night that you’ll be back. But it’s been weeks Cas and nothing’s changed. I wake up and I go to sleep in a world that doesn’t have you in it and I was always okay before because you were just there even if I didn’t have you like I wanted I still got to see you, watch you, lo—be with you. But now it’s all empty, and no matter how ironically appropriate that is given the dumbass move you made a year and a half ago, I’m hanging on by a thread man. And Sam doesn't know how to help, even with all his dead girlfriends as experience to draw from.” He’s quiet for a long time, chewing on his lip, flexing his fingers together as he just sits.

“He says I need to stop making jokes to cover it all up but that's all I know how to do. I mean you can’t mourn your mom if you have a baby brother to take care of so you joke. You can’t talk about what the internet says is PTSD because there are monsters to hunt and people to save so you joke. You can’t let yourself be vulnerable because that means death so you joke. You can't tell your best friend what you need to so you joke. You hide behind something safe because no one wants you to show what's really there.” Dean's mind is a mess right now, jumping from one point to another, skipping ahead and falling behind. He has so much he wants to say and it’s like he’s trying to say it all at once.

He can almost hear Cas’ voice admonishing him for thinking that he didn't have a support system, that he didn't have people who loved him and wanted him to be okay and it strips him raw. Because it’s only been a few months, how could he already be forgetting his voice, or which way he tilted his head when he didn’t understand some random human action, which foot he started with when he stood up from a chair, if he liked smooth or crunchy peanut butter better even if it was all molecules to him, what his arms felt like wrapped around him, how he sighed when Dean was being an idiot, what his smiles looked like as he sat at their kitchen table talking with Jack.

How was he already forgetting all of the little things that made him fall for the fallen angel, heaven's most loved, heaven's most corrupted.

His chest is cracked so wide every part of him falls inside, his very soul falls into the pit, tumbles down and down and down because there are a million things that he and Cas will never get to do but there are a billion things Cas will never do again.

Sure Cas’ll never learn to dance but he’ll never smile again. He’ll never have the chance to memorize the words to the songs Dean showed him but he’ll never feel the sun on his skin again. Or laugh or cry or sleep in late. He’s never going to make another milk run, be it a monster hunt or an actual milk run. He’ll never watch another bee documentary or hug his son again.

Cas lived hundreds of millions of years and yet there was so much he left unfinished, he’s been around for eons and yet he still died too soon.

It takes him a moment to remember that even if Cas had been around since the Cambrian explosion in reality he’d only experienced humanity for eleven years. And all of it was spent fighting, shouldn't he get a fucking chance to just live for a fucking second. Let himself relax, shake the weight off his shoulders, just be finally?

Dean turns and looks from his position at Cas' name, the angle is atrocious so he can barely see the etchings.

There are a billion things he’ll never do again, a million things he’ll never get to experience. And for someone who's given all that Cas has given to this world, that just won’t do.

“You told me love drove me, you said that I fought for everything because of love, that I taught you how to and fuck Cas I don’t know how that's possible. But I’ve fought for nearly forty years because of love and there's no way in hell I am stopping that now. I’m going to fight for you, I’ll fight Chuck for you, I’ll fight against the anger that still lives inside me and dammit I’ll fight to get you back because no fucking way am I losing you forever after that speech. If love drives me Cas then you, you…” Dean takes a deep breath. “Happiness is in just saying it, but I can’t tell a piece of wood, so I’ll wait until you are back, because I will get you back. I don’t care what it takes. You need to hear it, you deserve to hear it. You deserve to know.”

I’m working on a rewritten ending for Supernatural that is set after this little alt ending to 15x18 because the actual ending... left a lot to be desired. Turns out spite was in fact enough to get me writing again! So that’s good right??

#supernatural #destiel #my writing #15x18 coda

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ccinagalaxyfaraway · 5 years ago

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Oh my gosh I can't stop thinking about that chapter in "i take from you everything you allow" where Wolffe asks Plo if he's got a light for his cigarette and Plo just lights it with freaking force lightning. Could you do write a sequel to that or an extension of that scene? It's one of my favorite chapters in that fic

So that took a little longer than expected, but at last:

cigarettes and cilantro

from [ lit ]

Jedi die as easily as anyone else.

The thought echoes in Wolffe’s mind. Jedi are not infallible. Shoot one, and he will fall over dead just like a trooper. There were so many bodies. He’d heard Generals Windu and Yoda speaking. One hundred eighty dead on the sands - and if they died like men, what else had he been taught that was a lie?

He throws his bucket onto his bunk. It rolls to a stop on top of his pillow, wobbling like a grave marker. He snarls and turns away from the macabre scene.

His hands won’t stop shaking. They’re going to give him a Jedi. The vode have been called to action, and they’re going to give him a fragile, mortal Jedi who is not at all an invincible god, and he is going to watch his Jedi die on some battlefield because they die, that’s what they do, and Wolffe is only a man. He’s only a man, and his shaking mortal hands won’t stop shaking, damn the little gods.

He paces laps around the room. He wants to run, but outside the rest of his brothers are celebrating their first action in ten long waterlogged years, and he doesn’t want to spoil their mood, even if they are all deluded and he’s the only one who sees things as they really are. The restless energy crawls under his skin. He needs something, anything to make it stop.

Bacara’s got that ARC vod who brings contraband in from off-world training exercises. The damn things smell like shit, but he swears they’re good for his nerves. It takes a few minutes to pick open Bacara’s footlocker and a few seconds to fish out the little paper box of cigarettes. The first breath burns, but he keeps at it and soon enough the tremors stop.

It’s not quite enough to get rid of his sense of impending doom, but he thinks that nothing can do that anymore. They’re all living on borrowed time. There’s a blaster shot out there with his name on it, and it’s just a matter of when it finds him.

There’s 576 troopers under his command, and 10 of them are still alive because their general is a reckless maniac. Plo Koon was supposed to be a nice, sensible High Councilor, not a walking mir’shupurla or’dinii like the 501st got, or a paklalatla diplomat like the 212th’s.

Plo Koon is somehow even worse, because he goes about with his bad ideas and his silver tongue cheerfully. As if life is a game of cards in which he is the dealer rigging the results, and he won’t stop smiling about it. All that osik about Jedi serenity and wisdom was exactly that; Wolffe has yet to talk to a single vod whose jetti is as advertised.

That alone would be enough to drive Wolffe to drink, except -

Well, the whole jetti thing aside, he’s practically the picture of mandokar. He’s stubborn and an unholy terror on the battlefield, and so very pleased to be alive. If Jango could see him - well, he’d probably try to kill him, but if Jango heard his description, he’d approve wholeheartedly. And to say nothing of his loyalty; if any CC had allowed such a maneuver and risked their priority asset for troopers who really should have known better, there would be hell to pay. But the man took one look at the situation and went off to save his men simply because they were alive and needed the help.

The part of Wolffe that is predisposed to falling for people with mandokar is already bracing for impact. The part of him responsible for protecting his charge is getting ready to pickle his own liver. Since there’s not a drop of alcohol in sight, both parts are going to have to settle for chain-smoking.

He’s got his own cigs now. Still crappy whatever’s-cheapest-and-available, but they get the job done. His standards, though low, do exist; he isn’t interested in cutting his already short lifespan materially shorter with death sticks. Bacara is a more understanding vod than, say, Fox, and didn’t kick up much of a fuss once his shit was replaced; now they swap complaints about their latest smokes. This one tastes even more like tar than usual and burns too quick.

He discards the remains of the cig and fishes out the next. A trooper - one of the lucky ones now singing the General’s praises - walks by.

“You okay, sir?” he asks.

“Just fine,” Wolffe grumbles, thumbing the wheel on his lighter for a spark. The shiny pauses.

“He’s really something, isn’t he?” he says. “The General. They said the Jedi were good, but I don’t think I really believed it. But he came back for us.”

“He did,” says Wolffe. “Don’t make him do it again,” he says, and takes a long drag.

His General uses Force lightning, and he uses it to light cigarettes. If that isn’t a frivolous use of the Force, Wolffe doesn’t know what is. He should probably be more concerned than he is, but the calming effect of the tobacco has already settled in.

He keeps going back to the moment Plo stepped in close, like a challenge, like an invitation, and the urge to get him up against the wall and make him show something other than his cool composure. There must be something under his facade of unshakable calm. He doesn’t have hair to pull, but his fussy, excessively draped robes would provide as good a handhold as anything. He’d resist, of course; the fight would be part of the fun, but they’ve already established that Wolffe is the better between them at hand-to-hand. Wolffe would win in the end.

They’d start with their usual exchange, short, sharp jabs to test one another’s guard, and then longer flurries as they warmed up. Wolffe would allow Plo to press forward, would draw him in slowly, gradually, until he was in throwing range. Plo would notice and fall back, and their dance would continue. And then Plo would tire, as he did without the Force, and he would slow, and maybe the first few times he lingered in range too long Wolffe would be lenient and allow him to escape, sliding just out of reach. But at the edge of his endurance, Wolffe would catch him and haul him down to the ground, hold him wrists to the dirt, pinned by Wolffe’s weight. And he’d lean in, their breaths mixing, and -

Ah, fuck. The cigarette has burned almost all the way down in the time that he’s been dreaming. He takes a last drag and shakes himself loose of the fantasy. It’s never going to happen anyway.

He’s sitting outside watching the stars and the arm of the galaxy in the night sky. There’s nothing left to do for the night. Everything’s tucked in and the captains can take care of whatever petty issues might arise. He’s got himself an honest-to-gods night off, and he knows exactly what he’s going to do with it.

Plo settles beside him, his robes brushing quietly against the grass, and obligingly provides a spark when Wolffe holds out a cig. The smoke curls unpleasantly in the air and Plo leans away, nose wrinkling behind his mask. It’s not especially poisonous to him; it just gets caught in the rebreather and takes forever to cycle out. Still he comes to join Wolffe when he has nothing to do except burn a pack.

“The benefits outweigh the drawbacks,” he says when Wolffe asks. “I’d accept your company however it is offered.” He lies stretched out on the ground, head so close to Wolffe’s hip, one clawed hand resting at the hollow where his ribs end, the other absently spinning a flower that smells like cold.

“You could ask me to stop,” says Wolffe. It’s just a pastime; he doesn’t get cravings. His hands don’t shake for lack of nicotine. But - why not indulge a little when tomorrow and its consequences may never come? Will likely never come, even, the way the war is going.

Plo hums instead of giving an answer. “I think, when we return to the ship, I should like to plant a garden.”

“Oh?” There’s not very much room that hasn’t already been claimed. A corner in the bay area that used to be for shuttles. Maybe he could clear out a spot by the engines. Plants liked heat, right?

Plo hums again. “I have not tasted kand in many years. It grows poorly away from Dorin.”

Wolffe resists the urge to comment. Dorin doesn’t share any of its creations well, present company included. In fact, Wolffe is convinced present company might have a few more working brain cells had he not convinced the Sages to convince General Windu to bring him to Coruscant. But Plo continues as though he can’t feel the sarcasm coming off Wolffe in waves.

“It’s a shrub, you see. Maintaining the necessary environment through the first nonproductive seasons makes it an unattractive option for commercial off-world growers. Only a few attempts have been made, even by the Agri-Corp.”

“Seems like you might be better off trying something else,” says Wolffe. “Seems like a lot of work for something that you might never see.”

“Perhaps,” says Plo, and then he takes off on another tangent.

He’s thinking about tomorrow and all the days that come after, and he’s thinking about what being happy feels like, and mostly he’s thinking about Plo, because he can have Plo if he wants and he knows it, and he’ll take Plo even if he might lose him later, and the losing will hurt more than anything else ever could, but the not having is even worse. And each moment of having makes the possible Plo-less future even more terrifying, but also moves the future where he gets to keep Plo closer into reach, and that’s worth it, isn’t it? To have and to hold, and to keep reaching for the future that he wants.

He’s thinking and Plo is coming to him, and he’s got a cigarette between his fingers, the last of the box. He bends it in half and bins it unlit.

“Not to your taste?” Plo asks, falling into step behind him.

“Nah,” says Wolffe. “Think I’ve found something better.”

#plo koon #commander wolffe #plowolffe #ploffe #promptfic #critroller #fic

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thecozywhaleshark · 5 years ago

Text

Pocket Monsta X - Back to School

A/n: A beautiful anon bean requested Pocket BTS back to school/or moms going back to school ~ so I combined them a bit and decided to do Monsta X too 😘 Enjoy, and have a good school year everyone!

Shownu:

the most well organized little bean

almost mathematical about it

counts all his pencils even if they came in a box labeled 12 or 24

gets so excited about the folders with the race cars on it

wants all his folders to be in black and red design

will understand if he can’t have that - but will be disappointed

likes the pencil bags with all the zippers and the googly eyes

will have a t-rex lunch box

helps you go grocery shopping for all the lunch foods and after school snacks

a good student, plays well with others

if you’re the one going back to school you better believe he’s going to be your #1 supporter hands down

will give you a little valentines day note every day, all year round

Wonho:

is so tearful on the first day of school

does not want to leave you

might get so nervous he throws up before you even leave the house

will be one of those students that spend the first half of every day for the first week really quiet and with red-rimmed eyes, tears silently tracking down their face and sniffing

once he makes friends though he will be okay

will try to hold the teacher’s hand

pack him special home-made snacks for lunch and give him a little hand-written note every day and he will feel better

might accidentally call the teacher ‘mom’

which only results in a fresh round of tears

has a comfort teddy bear/ bunny from home in his backpack

the most excited pocket to see mom after a long day

if you’re the one going to school he’s going to whine a lot a first

but be so proud of you for going back to school

will try to be helpful, sharpens your pencils for you if he thinks they’re too dull

Kihyun:

wants the sparkily folders

if he isn’t getting glitter on his hands when he pulls out his homework he’s not happy

wants the pencils labeled with the days of the week

also wants the clear/glittery pencil grips

so happy about pencil erasers

will spend hours when he gets home capping them onto his pencils and making the color combinations

has one of those large, plastic pencil cases

because he loves the clicking sounds it makes

dances when you write “Kihyun” on the top of it because it’s his

will happily write his own name on every single one of his pencils, crayons, markers, folders...

his name is the only thing he knows how to spell correctly and he loves it okay

but will be so excited to learn how to write and spell new words

will become the spelling bee champion at the end of the school year

blushes if he gets “have a good day! :)” notes written on his sandwich bags

has a special back to school bowtie - it has the alphabet and little pencils on it

loves The Magic School Bus more than anything

if it’s you going back to school he’s going to be the most organized little pocket

more organized than he is for himself

makes sure you do your homework and will nag you about it

Minhyuk:

Lisa Frank EVERYTHING pls

also anything that lights up (like those pens) or has a toy on top he wants wants wants

also wants a slap ruler (like one of the ones that’s like a slap bracelet)

wants all the gel pens

throws things in the cart when you’re not looking

just wants everything that has color and/or is shiny... which is a lot in back to school season

lays out all his things on the floor when you get home and tells you all about each item over and over again even though you were with him when you got them 15 minutes ago

the most talkative child in class

always raises his hand, knows the answers

even if he doesn’t he’ll raise his hand anyways

immediately friends with everyone in the classroom

helps the crying students (like Wonho) feel better by making them laugh and giving them big awkward hugs

gets invited to all the birthday parties

gets in trouble for learning the teachers first name and yelling “KAREN I HAVE A QUESTION”

if you’re the one going to school he’s going to ask you all the questions about why you’re going and what you’d learn

you can’t take him to class with you because he’ll just yell at the professor

“HEY MISTER SIR TEACHER SIR BEARDED DUDE MAN - WHAT IS MACHIAVELLI”

you’d have to put him in a daycare

Hyungwon:

will try to get everything in black

you will have to show him the back to school sheet and force him to put the 7/8 black folders and notebooks back

or else he’ll mess up his class subjects

wants to go overboard on the art supplies

will try to convince you that charcoal sketching pencils would be fine for note-taking

the quiet kid whom everyone likes

switches seats a lot because the teacher likes to put him by the loud annoying kids to try to teach them a lesson

just rarely rarely speaks up

gets nervous if called on to answer a question

gets comments on his report cards that say “very smart but doesn’t participate enough in class”

if you’re the one going back to school he’ll just kinda wave you away like

“bye have a good day as long as you come back i don’t care that much”

but will be so so glad when you come home because he actually did miss you

so proud of your every accomplishment

will let you know through extra cuddles

Jooheon:

you know those lava-lamp rulers? yeah. he wants one of those.

also wants the car folders like Shownu

but also wants every Spiderman folder you can find

has a lot of energy

but is a real sweetie

Loves the “School House Rock” songs, knows them all by heart

will sing “Conjunction junction, what’s your function” all around the house, dramatically

needs extra help with math

really likes when teachers play music and make the room smell like peppermint for tests

goes all out at gym class

particularly loves four-square

aims for the head during dodgeball - will claim ‘accidentally’ but you just know

gets in fights about once a week, usually gets a bloody nose

usually was defending a friend so he had good intentions but you’ll have to tell him over and over again his fists are not the answer

get used to getting phone calls

looses his first tooth (one of the front ones) during recess one day and can’t stop smiling and showing it to everyone

if you’re going back to school he’ll be super pouty at first

but then be really excited when you explain why you’re doing it

will miss you when you’re gone but wants to hear about your day when you come back - while cuddling, of course

I.M:

Bill Nye the Science Guy is his hero

the most enthusiastic one chanting “BILL BILL BILL BILL BILL!” in the classroom

will get up and dance/bounce around fist-pumping the air while he does it

sasses the teacher

but very clever

gives the teacher a poem and like a vegetable as a gift on the first day of school because he found it rhymed with their last name

likes fake stabbing people with mechanical pencils

doodles on his jeans and his arms with markers

is the one who helped Jooheon lose his tooth using the door and string method

is super shy for the first day of school but gradually warms up as the week goes on

wants to wear the same t-shirt every day

tells you excitedly about his first day and who he thinks is going to be his friends and who he already hates

will be the person with the handmade spitball gun

if you’re going back to school he’s super encouraging, helps you get ready

asks you questions about your homework and wants you to be happy

gives you lots of hugs, bc when you hug him he feels better so it’s only logical that you would feel better if he hugs you

Tag List: @zerotexas1975 @restfromthestreets @tangledsparkles @purpletigertaetae @ruinedbyjin

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itsstickball · 6 years ago

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Can you please write more of the rivalry thing? It’s soooo good. I would love to see Neil’s teams reaction

I didn’t forget you, I promise!! Here is Rivalry pt. 3: All Star Week

(pt.1 pt. 2)

Three days before the start of All Star week, Neil makes the mistake of posting the kitten video he meant to send as a private message directly to his twitter feed. In the clip, a kitten bats away a ball a few times before missing three in a row. The final attempt, the ball goes directly over its head and the kitten topples backwards trying to stop it. By the time he figured out that it hadn’t gone directly to Andrew, there were several hundred likes already. Rather than try to find the tutorial again on how to delete a twitter post, he tags Andrew in a comment instead and adds #shootout.

He doesn’t realize the magnitude of his mistake until he’s sitting in front of a camera, geared up for the shoot-out event, with a microphone two inches from his face and an excited looking reporter.

They’ve made it through the general questions. How does it feel to be called an All Star after only three years in the professional league? (Satisfying, but not as good as being signed to Court last spring). Which event is he looking forward to the most? (The final game, obviously) Does he have any tricks up his sleeve for the shootout? (We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?) The sudden gleam in the reporter’s eyes should have tipped Neil off that things were about to go a bit sideways, but he was running on an Exy high and so dismissed it as fervor for the sport he loved.

Looking back, he can practically hear Andrew’s voice in his head: “Junkie.”

“Speaking of the shootout, we can’t help but wonder; most guys -”

“- And girls.”

“Right, most guys and gals treat this week as a celebration of talent, putting aside rivalries and bad blood to just enjoy the sport, but it fans seem to think from your recent social media postings that this might not be the case for you.”

Neil tried to think about which post, in particular, the reporter is referring to. The only person he can remember roasting recently is Nicky, and he’s in Germany doing – well, Neil doesn’t actually know what he’s doing (Erik aside). Thankfully, the reporter had taken his blank look in stride and then exposed more on the situation. Truthfully though, Neil didn’t hear much more than “Minyard” and “kitten.” His expression flattened further as the lightbulb in his head went off. He still didn’t get the merit of his so called rivalry with Andrew, but apparently it made for good media coverage and the blonde hadn’t mentioned anything about stopping it or setting the record straight, so Neil didn’t fight it either.

He shrugged at the reporter.

“Someone told me once that life imitated art. So I guess we’ll just have to see if that’s true or not. With no plays to analyze, Andrew will have to actually put some effort in to protect his goal today.”

Unfortunately – or fortunately, really, for the media. Andrew did not imitate the cat video and stopped roughly 80% of the shots. Of Neil’s, he missed one and blocked the other.

After that, the goalie sat and watched as the rest of the players took part in passing, aim, trick shots, speed, and one-on-one competitions – most of which kept Neil busy.

When it came time for the one-on-one, Neil grinned when he saw who his first opposing backliner would be. Jean seemed less than enthused, but Neil was more than used to that by now. Just because Jean wasn’t smiling didn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying himself. If anything, his resting bitch face was just as famous as Andrew’s – maybe more.

The backliner turned his head when Neil called out his name and a greeting in French, his expression flattening when he realized who was talking to him. Annoyance was easily Jean’s most common reaction to Neil’s presence, but he put up with him nonetheless.

“Ah, so you’ve come to antagonize someone other than the midget for once.”

He answered in French. Neil faked shock with a hand to his chest as he jogged over to where Jean stood, but let out a laugh.

“I’m wounded that you think so little of me, Jean, really.”

“Yes, little.” Jean replied, icily looking down at Neil. Their height difference was supremely pronounced now that they stood next to each other. Neil gave him a wry look for that one, but Jean had a point. Instead he tugged on the corner of Jean’s sleeve.

“How about instead of insulting my mother’s genes, we talk about your new team. Please tell me you switched for the captain, not for the color scheme.”

The Sacramento Sentinels were a relatively new team, with only one full season under their belt. They also chose the colors gold and black to represent them – both of which Jean wore at some point during his college career. Neil was far more interested in Jean’s reunion with exy’s golden boy Jeremy Knox than any homage to the backliner’s former teams. He watched with a grin as Jean’s eyes involuntarily sought Jeremy out among the players. He scowled when he looked back down and saw Neil’s amused expression.

“Just for that, I’m not letting you get twenty feet from the goal, ma puce!”

Neil laughed as Jean pushed him to the bench with a large hand on his face and then stalked away. His grin only grew when he saw that Jean was, in fact, heading over to where Jeremy was talking with their coach for the game at the end of the week.

True to his word, Jean kept Neil well away from any easy close shots on goal, forcing the striker to resort to a strange trick-shot hail-mary that made it in more on luck than skill. Jean snorted and shook his head when Neil cheered at the goal, but he accepted Neil’s handshake-turned-hug nonetheless.

The rest of the week was a blur of exy and stolen moments with Andrew in the locker room or hotel. Andrew’s transfer to Denver at the end of last season put him in the same division as Neil, meaning they’d have to play and practice on the same team for the All Star game. The increased proximity brought great joy to the striker, even if Andrew continued to glare as he batted Neil’s shots away or look bored as they sailed past him.

Neil could feel the measured looks and camera focus whenever the team practiced for the game at the end of the week.

On Wednesday, after the sixth shot that Andrew had rebounded with just enough force that the strikers had to sprint to rebound it, their All Star coach called for a break. Neil removed his helmet and turned to face Andrew from half court.

“Are you going to shut Kevin out like that on Saturday?” He called out in Russian, not bothering to keep his voice down. From what he knew, none of the others on their team spoke the language. Andrew followed suit, taking his gear off and letting everything but his helmet and stick fall carelessly to the floor.

“What will you give me in return?”

Andrew tossed back. He sounded bored, but just the fact that he was replying at all told Neil he was interested in the deal.

“What, the sheer satisfaction of denying Kevin doesn’t do it for you anymore?”

He shot back, earning one of Andrew’s arm guards thrown at his face. Aware of the eyes watching them from the outer court and the open door, Neil grinned and put as many expletives in his answer as possible.

Andrew rolled his eyes, finally coming up to where Neil stood waiting. He grabbed his glove from the red-head’s grip and pointed it menacingly at him. In English, he said.

“Someone ought to wash that mouth of yours out before it gets you in trouble.”

Only when Andrew stomped past them did Neil take note of the reporters who had paused in their interview of a Dallas backliner to watch their little interaction. His smile turned a little less genuine and slightly sharper until they went back to what they were doing. He didn’t bother to collect any of Andrew’s gear, but hummed to himself as he fetched his water-bottle and then sat down to chat with his fellow strikers.

Andrew hadn’t said no.

He did, however, put fuck all effort into guarding his goal in the preliminary game against the Pacific division on Friday though. Neil flicked him off when he realized what Andrew was doing, grateful that he would only be playing one half. Because the goalie was putting zero effort in, it meant that Neil and the other strikers who played first half had to double theirs in order to keep the goal differential down.

“I fucking hate you.”

Neil wheezed, gasping for breath as they headed back to the locker room afterward. He’d never cared much for the shows that supposedly big stars put on during the halftime breaks at professional games, and he especially didn’t care about whatever spectacle they had planned between the preliminary games and the final All-Star match. No, after clinching a 10-9 win, all he wanted to do was rest until he had to get up and do it all again against the Eastern teams.

Andrew, lumbering ahead of him and quite unaffected by it all, didn’t even have the good graces to wait for him.

“No, Junkie, that’s my line. Or did all that running finally scramble your brain?”

“Ugh. Always.”

Neil groaned and though the look Andrew shot him for it was lethal, he was willing to bit it tugged into a smile as he shouldered through the doorway into the locker rooms. A few of his teammates tried to talk to him about the game, how it went well, all things considered and such things, but he mostly tuned them out as he grabbed his water bottle and joined the string of people disbanding into the locker room.

They played first, so the Central team had over an hour to sit and mingle. Neil smiled when he saw a couple of his teammates and members of the Pacific team walking around with their jersey and a marker. When the first one got to him, he asked what it was for. Laila Dermott grinned down at him, making sure that he took the items and started signing as she spoke.

“Some of the players just keep them as souvenirs – a cool way to remember all of the people they played with that year. A couple of us auction them off for charity. This year the proceeds are going to Stand Up For Kids. It’s an organization working to help homeless kids and those out on the streets.”

“Oh, cool.”

Neil said, a bit stunned by the generosity. He knew from Nicky’s ranting how much a normal jersey worn by a professional athlete could go for, let alone one signed by this many of them.

“Ah yes, gotta keep them off the streets,” Andrew piped up. Somehow, Neil had missed him coming up beside them. “Wouldn’t want them to get into anything dangerous.”

Laila frowned, but Neil didn’t think trying to engage Andrew on some social justice issue was worth the risk. He cut her off by handing her the jersey and marker back and replying himself.

“Don’t be a dick, Andrew.”

The blonde made a show of plucking the Jersey out of his fellow goalie’s hands and signing his name in the largest space available. He flicked his gaze back up to Neil even as he held the shirt and marker back out to Dermott.

“Who said I was?”

Neil let out a huff and stood, grateful that he’d brought slides to wear between games rather than his usual running shoes.

“I’m not doing this here.”

He said. He gave Laila a brief smile and then headed for the hallway. Hopefully most of the reporters would have returned to the outer court to watch the Eastern and Southern division teams play. At the very least, he could find an open office somewhere. Behind him, he heard the noise from the locker room crescendo as someone opened the door behind him. As it swung shut, he faintly heard someone asking if they should stop Minyard from following him. Neil sincerely hoped they didn’t – for everyone’s sake.

When Andrew closed the office door behind them, effectively cutting them off from the rest of the world, Neil felt something settle. Of course, just because he was more comfortable this way didn’t mean he wasn’t cross with Andrew still. The blonde seemed unimpressed as he turned to see how Neil was leaning up against the desk, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Are you going to spit it out, or waste my time staring?”

“I’m not mad about the comments to Dermott.” He clarified, mostly because he knew Andrew would be entirely uninterested if he thought that was what had Neil bothered. Then again, he probably wouldn’t like the actual topic of his ire either. Neil sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a habit of frustration he’d picked up from Matt.

“You couldn’t have blocked…I don’t know, half of the shots?”

He asked exasperatedly. True to form, Andrew’s expression flattened.

“That,” He enunciated with great boredom and disdain. “Wasn’t our deal.”

Four words. All it took was four words for Neil to be simultaneously filled with petty ire and a huge sense of relief and satisfaction. Because when Andrew implied that something wasn’t a part of a deal, it meant that there was something else that was.

“Oh.”

Neil breathed, letting all of his anxiety wash out with it.

Andrew looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. He stepped into Neil’s space.

“Yes, or no?”

Neil’s eyes were drawn to the curve of Andrew’s neck, the golden sheen of his eyes in the dimly lit room, the way his lips were slightly damp from licking them. Compulsively, he licked his own lips, but his eyes strayed to the clock on the far wall.

“We don’t have a lot of time before we have to get back, someone’s bound to notice us missing for too long.”

The dead look Andrew gave him said he’d wait for an actual answer. Neil heeded his own observation, however, and didn’t waste time talking. Instead, he leaned forward the last few inches and aligned his lips with Andrew’s.

Later, the final buzzer sounded and Neil whirled to face the scoreboard with a grin. He always had the goals running in his head, but it was indescribably satisfying to have the numbers glowing down at him from the jumbotron. Central 6, Eastern 5. They’d won. Even if it was only by the one point, Neil felt the victory singing in his veins. His teammates yelled and jumped off of each other like they hadn’t just run their legs out for the past twenty minutes. Neil joined them briefly before turning his attention to the goal.

Andrew never joined his teams in celebrations - not once he was sober, and no one ever tried to include him. It was a bit of a shock then to see him leaning casually on his stick talking to another player. The surprise mitigated significantly, however, when he realized that the other player was Kevin. Judging by his stance, he didn’t seem to be picking a fight, but with Kevin and Andrew that was always just a breath away from changing.

Neil excused himself with a slap on the back from the huddle of players to jog over to them. As he joined them, he caught the tail end of Kevin’s sentence.

“…tell me it wasn’t worth it.”

“Mmm,” Andrew mused, taking a moment like he actually had to think about his answer. Neil almost felt bad for how Kevin fell for it every damn time.

“Not quite.” He said, to Kevin’s vocal dismay. Then his eyes slid over to where Neil stood just behind Kevin’s shoulder. “Not yet.”

Kevin made another half-squawk as he turned around to follow Andrew’s gaze, but his expression narrowed when he saw it was just Neil.

“Of course.” He muttered, running a gloved hand down his face. He gave Neil a disapproving look.

“If I were to take his neck guard off, how many hickies would I see?”

Neil grinned wolfishly, but it was Andrew who replied.

“Why don’t you come try to find out for yourself, Kev?”

The taller striker shot a fearful glance behind him and then physically shook it off.

“God you two were meant for each other. How anybody thinks you’re rivals is blind to the most blatant sexual tension I’ve ever seen.”

He grumbled, removing his gloves and clearly getting ready to leave the court. Neil didn’t mind dragging their conversation out, but Kevin seemed to have a sixth sense for how long a private conversation could be before it drew unwanted media attention.

“It was a good game!” Neil called out after him, earning a sharp grin and a wave from Kevin, even if he didn’t stop walking away.

Andrew caught his attention again my poking him in the chest with his racquet. Neil lifted his eyebrows in question.

“Go shower before the exy stench sinks even further into you.” He said in Russian. Neil mirrored the grin he’d given Kevin.

“And here I thought it was too late for that.”

Andrew didn’t respond to that, just pushed Neil towards the locker room again with the giant head of his racquet.

When he was ten steps away, Andrew called out again from behind him.

“And don’t antagonize any fucking reporters. You have a deal to uphold!”

At this, Neil just laughed and flicked Andrew off behind his back.

Unsurprisingly, someone got a great picture of it to plaster across exy news and fan sites alike in the morning. Neil saved it to his phone and then rolled back over into the warm spot Andrew left when he got up to pee.

#aftg #tfc #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #minyard-josten rivalry #the rivalry #all for the game #Jean moreau #Kevin day #blink and you miss it jerejean #can you tell I follow hockey?#this was way longer than I thought when I was writing it #mkkd2611 #you are my first ask and I will cherish you forever

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