i know nobody but me is even going to pay attention to this but here are my headcanon ages and birthdates for various characters in my big bob and lily fanfic

lily - born in 1941

ernest - born in 1946

big bob - born 1940

frank belcher - born 1941

they met in 1959 when lily was 18 and big bob was 19 :)

Dragon ~ B. Bradshaw

pairing: B.Bradshaw x F!Reader (Trace sister)

word count: 3.1k

warnings: mentions of smut, cursing, dangerous flight situations, g-loc

synopsis: Being the younger sister to one of the top female fighter pilots has you on your toes and struggling to get an ounce of power.

“God for fucking once I don’t need you to bail me out!” Y/N yelled at her sister, as she threw her helmet across the locker room. 

“Well maybe, if you didn’t need bailing out, I wouldn’t have to bail you out!” Phoenix yelled. 

“You got in my fucking way! I fucking had him, Nix!” 

“I wasn’t even in your way and you were losing!” Y/N groaned and slammed a locker shut, walking away from her sister, “Yeah! Real mature! Throwing and slamming shit!” 

“I learned it from you!” 

Y/N couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as her, opting to grab her shower stuff and storm her way down to the other latrines. Y/N pushed the door open, not bothering to stop at the ‘male latrine’ sign on the door. Finding an open bench, she set her stuff down and plopped down with a heavy sigh. 

It was hard being the younger sister to Lieutenant Natasha Trace aka ‘Phoenix’. Y/N had been exactly a year younger than her, most people compared the two as twins, which they both quickly grew to hate. There was always a natural competitiveness to the two, always having to outdo the other, no matter what. Natasha turned 18 and joined the navy, a year later Y/N did too. Natasha got selected for Top Gun, and a year later Y/N did too. Now the both of them found themselves back at Flightown, on a mission where the outcome was still yet to be determined, but one thing was for sure, they both desperately wanted in on it. 

Y/N reached to the back of her head, pulling out the pins that held her hair in a nice and tight bun. She hated having to have her hair done, especially when it came to flying. She felt odd walking around with a braid in, seeing how perfect Phoenix’s hair was every day. So Y/N reverted back to her old lower enlisted ways, waking up almost two hours before first formation, going through almost a whole can of hairspray to make sure not a single flyaway was out of place. It felt like heaven at the end of the day, being able to take her hair down and take her fingers through the crunchy locks. 

Standing up, she took her boots off and then the flight suit that had become her main source of clothing these past two weeks. She stood in her black spandex and white tank top, digging around her hygiene bag for her shower stuff. 

“Did you hit your head or something, Dragon?” She lifted her head up to see the one and only Bradley Bradshaw standing in front of her. 

“No, I know exactly where I am.” 

“Ah, so you know that you are in the men’s latrine, half naked,” 

“Can I help you, Chicken?” 

Bradley chuckled at his nickname. Y/N and Bradley had gotten to know each other on a current duty assignment, and she couldn’t stand him. There was something about the way he walked, the way he talked that had her wanting to punch him. Then, of course, the icing on the cake was his friendship with her sister. All of them, actually. They all seemed to know each other, except for her. Y/N felt like the odd man out, watching them drink and have a good time at the Hard Deck. She would usually buy herself a drink, talk with them about how the day went, but when the music and the pool started, she would slip out the door, undetected and go back to her barracks room. 

“Wondering why you look so sad, really bringing down the vibe,” 

“Of the old, black mold covered, latrine?” 

“Yes. It has a lot of character.” 

She chuckled, shaking her head, “Just a little tiff with the older sister.” 

“Lemme guess, Maverick shot you with a ‘missile’” 

She nodded, slipping her dog tags over her neck. She could feel Bradley’s eyes on her as she bent down to take her knee high green socks off. Bradley’s honey brown eyes traced her long tan legs, seeing the dragon tattoo that resided on her thigh. That's how she got her callsign anyway. A certain young lower enlisted hookup and the reveal of the ink that she hid from her  parents and older sister. Y/N pride herself in knowing she had the first mythical creature callsign in the family, and her's came later. 

“Can I help you, lieutenant?” She asked, noticing his stare on her legs. 

“Did it hurt? The tattoo?” He asked, pointing at the ink. 

Y/N smirked, grabbing the waistband of her spandex and dropping them down her legs, revealing the intricate pattern of scales and flowers that seemed to stop just shy of her ribcage and the navy blue lace thong that was underneath her shorts. 

“No, it felt quite nice. I’ve always had a thing for pain,” Y/N said. 

Rooster was speechless, taking in the sight of her tan skin, her body almost on full display being covered by some flimsy undergarments that he could rip away in seconds. The sly smirk on Y/N’s face, as she turned around, letting him have a full look at her ass. Bradley felt all the blood go rushing straight to his lower region, as she grabbed a towel from on top of the lockers. 

“Any other questions, sir?” Y/N asked, turning back around. Bradley shook his head, watching as she grabbed the bottom of her tank top, shedding it off her body, “That’s enough of a show for you, sir.” 

All Bradley could do was nod, and watch Y/N walk away towards the showers. Once he heard the shower curtain slide shut he had to take a deep breath, trying to get his body to remember what breathing was. He adjusted himself in his flight suit, choosing to grab his shower stuff and shower in the privacy of his home. 

Where his thoughts were anything but pure as he leaned against his shower wall, fist wrapped around his aching cock, as he jerked himself off to the image of her. He could only imagine the way your skin felt under his hands, him tracing the intricate patterns of the tattoo on her hip. The sounds that would leave her lips, even hearing the small grunts and whines while doing 200 push-ups on the tarmac were enough to drive him crazy sometimes. Or the way his name would fall from her lips, or better yet, the way she addressed him properly. 

“Sir. . . is this good?” 

“Oh fuck yeah, that’s good, Y/N,” Bradley cursed, moving his hand up and down faster along his cock. Feeling the pleasure grow hotter and hotter in his body, until he was shooting white hot ropes of cum onto his stomach. 

— — — 

The next day everyone gathered in the classroom, Y/N and Phoenix taking opposite corners of the room, her in front left corner, next to Bob, her WSO, and Y/N in the back right, in a row by herself. Y/N liked sitting in the back, being able to watch everyone else. She watched as everyone filtered in, watching as Rooster swaggered in last, the certain way he walked with such confidence. When Maverick came in, everyone rose to attention until he called you at ease. 

“We’re switching things up a bit,” Maverick said looking at the class. Everyone seemed to shift in their seats, feeling the nerves. Maverick always kept them on their toes, in the air and on the ground, “Rooster, Payback, Fanboy, Coyote, Fritz. . . and Dragon, you’ll be flying as a team.” 

Y/N’s eyes widened as Phoenix turned around and looked directly at her younger sister, her face unreadable. Maverick dismissed everyone, and Y/N was one of the first people out of the room, trying to avoid her older sister, but that didn’t stop her from yelling Y/N’s  name. 

“Y/N!” Phoenix yelled, not even bothering to use her callsign, “What the hell was that!” 

“I didn’t know! I had no idea he was going to-” Y/N’s speech was cut off by Natasha’s harsh slap to her face. Y/N stumbled a bit, and then found her footing, quickly lunging towards her sister, “You bitch!” 

“Whoa!” Payback said, getting in between the two females. He grabbed Y/N’s waist, as Bob grabbed Phoenix, “Hey don’t kill each other before the mission.” 

“You throw one fucking fit about me saving your ass and you got me benched!” Phoenix yelled. 

“Maybe Mav finally saw that you’re a shitty pilot and knows you can’t complete this mission!” 

“Says the one who I had to bail out!” 

“Ugh, I hope you go into g-lock!” 

“Yeah, well I hope your eject-” 

As soon as the words left her mouth, Phoenix regretted it. There were some things that they would never say to each other, especially doing some of the most dangerous missions in US military history. No matter how mad they got at each other, they never wished something ill like death or a failed ejection. Payback released Y/N’s body, and she pushed his arms away, going straight for the tarmac. 

“Dragon! Wait!” Phoenix yelled, but Payback stepped in the way, stopping her, “Move!” 

“No, she’s about to go up in the air, she needs a clear head.” Payback said. Phoenix nodded and prayed to whatever God was listening to that her little sister would be okay. 

Y/N knew where Rooster was, knowing that he liked to sit in the silence of the locker room before getting suited up and heading to the tarmac. It once again didn’t phase her as she walked right into the men’s latrine, finding Rooster where she expected him to be. 

“Is it your fault that I’m not flying with Phoenix? Did you do this shit?!” Y/N yelled at him. 

Rooster stood up from his spot on the bench and looked at her, “I said something to Mav about possibly split-” 

“God can’t you men leave anything alone! I don’t need you or her or Mav or anyone to come to my rescue! There’s a reason i’m a solo pilot and that’s because I can handle my own shit without a fucking man sitting behind my shoulder telling me what to do!” 

Rooster opened his mouth to say something, but Y/N left the latrine before he could. He groaned, running a hand through his hair. That’s not what he was expecting when he talked to Maverick about possibly splitting Dragon and Phoenix up for a flight exercise. He was hoping she would be thankful for the opportunity to do a training exercise without having to share the sky with her sister. Instead, she seemed more angry at the fact that Phoenix wasn’t going to be in the air with her. 

The next time Rooster saw Dragon was during the pre-flight check. Bradley was going to walk over and say something, but Hangman beat him to it. Bradley stopped in his tracks, watching as Hangman gave her that panty-dropping smile he gives to every female he sees. Bradley knew that she saw right through Hangman's antics, usually not giving him the time of day, but she laughed. And not one of those awkward chuckles, a hearty laugh, tilting her head back and squinting her eyes. Bradley moved from his spot over to his plane, trying to fill his mind with the thoughts of the flight exercise and not the way she put her hand on Hangman’s forearm. 

Y/N climbed in her plane, getting comfortable in her seat before slipping on the harness. She let out a shaky breath as she looked around her cockpit, checking the gauges and reporting back her pre-flight numbers to her flight crew. 

“You feel good about this, Dragon?” Her flight chief, Grizzly asked. 

“I’m good,” Y/N said, and grabbed her mask, strapping it down, before flipping the switch to close the top. She waited for the flight crew to taxi her out into the runway, looking to her right to see her WSO team ready for flight as well, “Alright, let’s rock this shit.” 

Y/N waited in line for her turn to take off. She gripped the joystick in her hand, watching as Rooster, Payback and Fanboy took off before her. When it was her turn, she closed her eyes and said a small prayer, before pushing the joystick forward, letting the plane move and catch speed. She felt the nose catch air, and pulled back the joystick quickly, letting the plane get completely off the ground and sail through the air. In the hangar, Phoenix took a deep breath watching her sister take off in her F/A-18. 

There was something about cruising through the sky, seeing the sereness of the earth from a high altitude was peaceful. There had been times where Dragon would take an old fighter jet up, and just cruise around Flightown at sunset, trying to “chase the sun” before it went down. She loved flying, it was one of the things no one could take away from her. 

“You good there, Dragon?” She heard Rooster call to her via headset. 

“Let’s just get this shit done,” Y/N said, watching the Roosters move. 

“Fine, drop into the canyon,” Rooster answered. 

Y/N watched as Bradley dropped into the pretend canyon, following the flight pattern on his screen, Fanboy and Payback following in suit. Once it was her turn, Y/N dropped into the canyon, following the sharp turns that were presented on her screen. She had memorized this map in her sleep, knowing exactly how tight and how fast to take the turns. She also knew that time was important, keeping her eye on the ticking clock in the corner. 

“Come on Rooster, speed it up,” Y/N whispered. 

“Line it up, Fanboy,” Payback called to his WSO. 

“Lined up, drop it, Rooster!” Fanboy called for Bradley to drop the “missile” on the target. 

“Fuck!” Bradley cursed, missing his target, “It’s on you, Dragon.” 

Y/N inhaled as she flew closer to the drop zone, calling to her WSO team to line up the target. She watched as Fritz lined the laser, giving her a clear shot. She closed her eyes, counting the seconds until she was directly over it, hitting the button to drop the missile. Y/N opened her eyes, seeing that she hit the target. The next part was the worst, as she began the sharp incline out of the deep canyon. She pulled the joystick back as far as it would go, feeling her jet almost go completely vertical. 

“Keep breathing. . . keep. . . breathing,” She chanted to herself as she was fighting consciousness, “Keep. . .” She felt her head getting heavier, her eyes struggling to keep open and the blood leaving her brain. Y/N maintained to stop her jet from climbing any higher, but now she was starting to fall out of the sky. 

“Dragon!” Rooster yelled. 

“Fuck! She’s in g-loc!” Payback yelled. 

“Come on, Dragon!” Rooster called out, “Wake up!” Rooster directed his jet to go after her, hoping that him getting on her sensor would be loud enough to wake her up, “Dragon! Y/N!” 

It was like being in a dream, the constant beeping and hearing her name being called in her subconscious mind. She felt her head rock back in her helmet and her eyes flutter open. It took her a second to get her barings of where she was, but thankfully she realized what was going on. 

“Holy shit!” Y/N cursed, jerking the joystick up and pulling her out of a nose dive, “Oh my god, oh my god.” 

“Dragon, you good?” Rooster called, flying next to her. She looked over and nodded, feeling tears in her eyes. 

She had never been so thankful for getting her feet back on the ground. She didn’t even spend long doing post flight, and no one kept her longer than she needed to be there. Maverick didn’t say much to her either, telling her she did a good job and that he was glad that she landed safely. Phoenix was too scared to talk to her, opting not to say anything as Y/N grabbed her stuff from her locker room and went back to her barracks room. 

She was pretty sure she drained the whole floor out of hot water. Her shoulders and back were red when she stepped out of the shower, wiping the steam off of the mirror. She sighed, grabbing her hair brush and brushing out the tangles and clumps of hairspray she hadn’t totally gotten out of her hair. She did her best to push the emotions of the day away. She was still mad at Phoenix and Rooster, but she was also terrified of what had happened. Y/N had never hit g-loc, she knew what it was and how terrifying it could be, but the fact that there were seconds that she was in the air and not in control of anything was absolutely terrifying. 

Y/N got dressed in a pair of Navy issued sweatpants and a unit t-shirt. She grabbed one of the beers she had snuggled back into her dorm room, and cracked it open, sitting down on her couch in total silence. She sipped her beer, letting her mind go completely blank of the day's events, taking in a deep breath. It felt good, peaceful to be by herself and being able to decompress, until there was a knock on the door. 

Y/N groaned, getting up from the couch and going to her door, looking in the peephole and let out another frustrated groan seeing who it was. She opened the door and Bradley smiled at her shyly. 

“The hell do you want?” Y/N groaned. 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay, since you almost died.” 

“I did not almost die.” 

“Almost.” 

“God, you’re annoying! This is what I meant! I don’t need bailing out!” 

“You went into g-loc,” Bradley said, stepping into her dorm, and shutting the door behind him, “Your brain lost blood and you passed out.. . In a flying death machine.” 

“I know! Okay. . . I know. . .” Y/N said softly, “I-I-” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bradley said, walking over to her and pulling her into his arms. She gripped him tightly, afraid he would disappear or this was still a side effect of being in g-loc. Bradley kissed the top of her forehead as she sniffled. 

“Wanna get drunk with me?” Y/N asked, pulling away from her. 

Bradley chuckled and looked at the six pack sitting on her counter, “I mean. . . you only live once.” 

Bradley watched as she smiled, and walked over to her counter, grabbing a beer and digging for her bottle opener. Bradley smiled shyly to himself, trying to suppress his feelings that he felt. It took everything in him to not grab her and kiss her but he refrained giving her a small thanks, as she handed him a beer and then dragged him over to the couch.

Where Else Would I Be? | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Summary | He's been gone for so long.

Pairing | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc (no use of y/n)

Warnings | swearing, mild angst, mostly fluff

Words | 1.5k

Note | This is just a small, indulgent one-shot idea I've been toying with. Could be read as part of One For The History Books, but also works as a standalone.

Library

 ***

It's so hot, you can feel a bead of sweat trickle down your spine. Your sundress is sticking to you uncomfortably as you try to look over the crowd gathered on the pier in Norfolk. Friends and family carrying signs and banners have gathered to welcome the sailors of the Gerald R. Ford back from seven months out on sea.

That also marks seven months since you've last seen Bradley Bradshaw.

Standing in the crowd of people waiting for their loved ones, you wonder if you should have made a sign too. You feel a bit awkward standing there empty-handed. To make it even more awkward, Bradley doesn't even know you came here.

Shit. Maybe this wasn't a such great idea.

You fell into a fast and heavy romance with Bradley after meeting him almost 18 months ago. Out of those 18 months, he had spent about 12 on various detachments. He never invited you to welcome him back ashore—as in, he never brought it up as an option—but would rather make his way to your place to spend his free days with you. Preferably in your bed.

Aside from the day, he would never really share any details about his arrival, actually. You have a nagging feeling he might not actually want you here. Bradley guards some aspects of himself and his life very closely, and you have not been able to crack why. You guess it's because you have spent relatively little time together, but you selfishly want more.

So you did a little digging. You promised yourself that if it would be too complicated to pull off, you would leave it. You know which ship he was on, and the day of his return. From there, it was a phone call here, asking a favor there. So it was a bit more than a little digging, and you feel a bit like an imposter standing between all these people. Like an uninvited guest, you hang back in the crowd a bit. You're not even sure how long this whole thing is going to take—aircraft carriers have a lot of people on them.

Seeing the happiness and anticipation of the people around you, cheering and waving flags, you start to feel a little giddy too. The massive aircraft carrier is preparing for mooring, the deck lined with sailors standing to attention in their resplendent Navy whites. Despite how far away it is, and you couldn't possibly tell from where you're standing, you strain to see if Bradley is on deck too, just hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

You've been standing in the burning sun for over an hour now. The August heat is stifling; the asphalt under your sandals almost burning through your soles. The ship has finally moored and is being prepared for disembarking now. On deck, sailors are shouting and waving to the people on the pier. The anticipation is rising: kids calling for their mom or dad, parents searching the crowd on deck for their son or daughter.

Finally, the stairs are connected and disembarking starts. The first sailors are starting to file out of the middle of the ship. You balance on your tiptoes to see if officers are coming out of the quarter deck. The surrounding crowd starts to move, children slipping past barriers to run up to their parents coming up the pier.

You stand rooted to the ground, unsure what to do now you see the sailors actually coming ashore. You haven't really thought this through. Mostly enlisted pass, only a few officers mixed in. But no Bradley.

After what feels like an eternity and wave after wave of white uniforms filing past you, you suddenly feel a jolt in your stomach. It's the glint from those all too familiar aviator sunglasses that catches your eye, after which the realization dawns on you.

It's him.

It's really him.

You almost didn't recognize him—you've seen him in uniform before, but never to the nines like this without a single wrinkle or crease on the fabric of his summer whites and with a cap on. He looks like you've dreamed him into existence, and it knocks the breath out of you.

Bradley hasn't noticed you. He has a smile on his face as he claps a fellow officer on the back. The moment he turns away, his mouth sets in a hard line.

“Brad- Bradley!” You call out to him over the crowd excitedly, waving. He doesn't hear you over the voices and commotion. He walks faster than the people around him, determined to get off the pier as fast as possible. Separated by rows of people waiting and a barrier, you call out again to no avail.

Ok, this was not how you imagined this was going to go as you watch Bradley leg it past your position with what you can only describe as an annoyed look on his face.

You start moving too, half jogging to keep up with his pace, weaving through the mass of people.

“Bradley!” You call out again. “Over here!” 

For a second you think he might have finally heard you as he stops. Your heart is beating in your throat. Did he hear you?

Unfortunately, he turns to another sailor, and they shake hands quickly before he starts moving again, slinging his seabag over his shoulder. It has given you the chance to actually almost catch up with him from your side. The end of the barrier is almost in sight—unfortunately, that's also where the crowd is the thickest.

You start moving past the waiting families to the end of the barrier, hoping to get there before Bradley completely misses you. You are so close now—there's maybe one row of people between you and him.

“Bradley!” He cannot not hear you now. No reaction. For fuck's sake, that man needs his hearing checked.

“Rooster!” You blurt out his call sign in a desperate attempt to get his attention. You've never called him that before, but it feels like it's the right thing to say at this moment.

Bradley stops dead in his tracks. He turns around so suddenly he almost smacks a passing sailor in the head with his seabag. The moment he locks eyes with you, it's like time slows to a crawl.

You smile and wave. His expression is unreadable. You falter. The family that had been standing in front of you suddenly moved away. You feel strangely exposed, and you can see him look at you from head to toe with that same unreadable expression. Is he shocked? Mad maybe?

You suddenly feel embarrassed —you picked this sundress because it's what you wore when you kissed Bradley for the first time, pressed up against his car at sunset. He also once drunkenly confessed that when he dreamt of you, you were always wearing that dress.

You thought he'd appreciate it, but now you're not so sure. Time is going so slowly, but it feels like lead is pouring into the pit of your stomach. Did you overstep? Around you, people are still moving around having their own reunions, although you feel like you're at the center of a black hole in all this happiness—everything sounds muted, everything looks blurred. Only Bradley is in sharp, crisp contrast for you.

He takes off his sunglasses and stuffs them into his pocket. He looks weary.

“Bradley...” You start, uncertain, reaching out to him. Why isn't he saying anything? Instead, he pushes the seabag off his shoulder, and you watch it fall to the ground almost in slow motion.

It hits the ground with a dull crashing sound, shattering the tension.

Time speeds up again as Bradley grabs your outstretched hand into his and effortlessly pulls you to him. Still without uttering a single word, he crashes his lips into yours with such desperation it almost hurts. The moment his skin touches yours, it washes away all insecurities and ignites every ember of passion in you. You've missed him so much, you need him even more. You eagerly wrap your arms around his neck, knocking his cap askew on his head.

His hand is splayed on the small of your back, pressing you into him. The mission ribbons on his chest poke into the exposed skin of your collarbone. You lightly run your nails through the soft short hair on the back of his head, nibbling at his bottom lip. Bradley lets out a deep sigh against your mouth before he captures your lips again in a searing kiss. How could you have ever doubted he hadn't missed you as much as you have missed him? Bradley finally breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours for a moment.

“I - I thought I was dreaming when I saw you.” He sounds breathless, but his eyes shine with happiness. “I still cannot believe you are here.”

You smile up at him, gently resting your palm on his cheek. Bradley presses a kiss at your pulse point.

“Where else would I be?”

   ***

note | Yeah, ok, so halfway through writing this I found out that the aircraft leave the carrier a few days before return to shore, but today I'm taking fluff over facts.

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lets talk about military rank + hal jordan

spawned by my inability to let sleeping dogs lie, and in response to the ask @wajjs​ got, with them egging me on, i think it's time to explain military ranks and how they apply to the various iterations of hal jordan.

first things first, each branch has their own way of breaking down ranks. a captain in the air force ≠ a captain in the navy. more on that later. the second thing you need to know is that an officer (designations O-1 to O-10) outranks enlisted personnel (E-1 to E-9). A person can move from enlisted to officer ranks, but it requires a lot of time in service or generally speaking, a college degree. the third thing that you must know is that all pilots are officers. this means that they have some sort of college degree (a 4-year bachelor’s), from a normal university, or a service academy, and they have gone through OTS as well as flight school. 

hal jordan usually appears to be assigned the rank of lieutenant:

(as seen in superman: space age.)

OR, and i believe this is the last time his rank was addressed in the main continuity, they say that he is a captain in the air force:

(this is from a Geoff Johns run, GL Vol. 4).

now, in the air force, there are two ranks of lieutenant, and they are the lowest of the officer ranks. those would be the second lieutenant (O-1) and first lieutenant (O-2), and you are commissioned as a second lieutenant upon graduation from OTS—Officer Training School, which can also be referred to as OCS (Officer Candidate School). the shortest amount of time that anyone can spend as a second lieutenant before a promotion is 18 months. then, they are required to spend two years as a first lieutenant (O-2). the next promotion in the air force is to O-3, captain. for the next few promotions, from O-3 to O-5, it's a minimum of three years in each rank. so that’s three years as a captain, three years as a major (O-4), and three years as a lieutenant colonel (O-5). the final rank I am going to talk about here is a colonel, O-6, and that’s because colonel is the highest rank that one can hold in the air force and still actively fly as a pilot. there is only a one-year minimum of service prior to promotion beyond colonel, which means at that point, the service member has at least 12.5 years in. factor in four years for college/the academy, and they would be 34-35, assuming they started at the age of 18. 

why did i just spend all this time explaining that? well, what we know of hal’s rank can be used to get a better estimate as to what his age is supposed to be in canon. 

as far as the alternate universe of superman: space age, i believe it's reasonable to figure that hal would be between 23 and 25 years old. we don’t have any specification as to what rank of lieutenant he would be, but if you figure he graduated with a degree around the age of 22 and then factor in time for flight school, I would say 23 is the minimum. and if he hadn’t been promoted to first lieutenant yet, he would have been well on his way. 

then, with main continuity, it gets a bit harder, because there are less markers for the real passage of time, and they don’t say how many years have passed since hal’s discharge. however, the same reasoning applies, and hal would have been between 25 and 28 years old when he was discharged from the military. i don’t know if i would say it has been fifteen years since hal popped his commanding officer in the jaw, because the reality of the military letting someone in their 40′s back in just doesn’t fit much with the culture that i know. but, DC doesn’t always do their research on the reality of some subjects, i know, because im still mad about the whole dishonorable discharge concept. but that’s a story for another day.

the last thing that i want to do is double back to what i said about ranking in the different branches. this is largely because i know everyone likes to say that hal loves top gun and sometimes i think it would make more sense for him to be a naval aviator than an air force pilot. as I mentioned, a captain in the air force is an O-3. well, captain in the navy is an O-6 designation, so a naval captain is equal rank with an air force colonel. in the navy, O-1 is an ensign (ENS), O-2 is a lieutenant junior grade (LTJG—sometimes people just say lieutenant JG), O-3 is a lieutenant (LT), O-4 is a lieutenant commander (LCDR), and O-5 is a commander (CDR). another key difference is that the air force has generals, while the navy has admirals.

i’m not going to go into detail on how the air force handles educating its pilots, or the road to becoming one, but i did find a good article explaining the steps here.

if you have any questions or more references to hal’s career, I would be happy to talk about them, just head over to my ask box.

Warren Hart

"I don't believe people should be celebrated for doing the bare minimum. I saw a way to make myself useful, so I did it. There's a reason they don't make plaques for people like me, and it's because we have no use for them."

Three words: devoted, cautious, determined.

Name: Warren Michael Hart

Age as of Chapter I: 44

Date of birth: July 24, 1926

Height: 5'8"

Gender: fella.

Orientation: straight but loves Myra in a bisexual way if that makes sense.

Occupation: librarian.

Veteran?: yes.

Which war?: World War II.

What did he do?: he was an 18 year old cook on a Navy ship in the pacific. It was boring as shit.

Did he enlist or was he drafted?: he enlisted. You know. Like a dumbass.

Favorite book: The Death of Music Darby by Myra Mooney, and Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs.

Favorite movie: Easy Rider.

Favorite treat?: he's an apple pie and black coffee guy.

Who are his friends?: he has a lot of acquaintances. Associates. Comrades. Myra is his best friend. He gets along well with Dr. Breyer, Homer Smoot, and Dahlia Tiller. There will be more.

Anybody he doesn't get along with?: he can think of nothing good to say about Forrest and Cynthia Kline.

Background: Born in Baltimore, Maryland. Raised catholic. Only child of older parents. Mother died in a mental hospital. Ran off to New York with his friend, Rowan, a folk singer who hit it big. Wanted to become a detective so he could help people. Realized too late that you have to spend several years as a cop and lose whatever goodness you had inside you. Tried unsuccessfully to swim against the grain. Spent a long time thinking he was the 'one good one' and realized he was selling his soul. Quit the force. Tried the Private Investigator thing for a while. Didn't work out.

What brought him to Decaelo?: Rowan disappeared. He went to find her. Police wouldn't waste resources on a junkie, even a famous one. Her car was found near the town. Warren went after her.

Why did he stay?: vacancy at the library. Figured he would make himself useful. Eventually became the librarian. Also, he met Myra. That, and he can't shake the feeling there's something here he's missing. He has been here since 1963.

Is he religious?: he is an avowed atheist. He used to be kind of a dick about it until he realized he was behaving like a religious nutjob.

What is he... politically?: why do you ask?

It's almost like he runs the town: he considers himself a socialist. And he doesn't run the town. He's just the guy everybody goes to when they have a problem.

So... not the mayor or the sheriff, but-: yes. The librarian.

Does he like books?: he likes free knowledge, but his taste runs very postmodern. He's a big Burroughs fan. If it's weird as shit, he's into it.

Anything surprising about him?: the librarian is actually a huge film buff. Before you ask, his favorite movie is Easy Rider.

What is he afraid of?: a lot of things. Growing close to people, losing them... Also fatherhood.

What does he look like?: average height if not a little short. Slender but scrappy white guy with brown hair and a hangdog face. He's like if a bog mummy or a chainsaw sculpture was a noir detective. Truthfully, I sort of based him on Harry Dean Stanton and the sort of role I wish he could have played at some point.

Anything else?: he's sort of the audience surrogate. He's arguably the most normal person in Decaelo.

This is a scene from Chapter 18 of The Protégé that got chopped down because, oops, I realised Luke and Biggs had already had a conversation about Luke being called Naberrie now, way back in Act II. But I liked the prose so didn’t want to delete it outright, and most of the scene exists still in the fic itself.

When they took off, Luke had to admit: Biggs was an excellent pilot. He’d always been good, but now the confidence he flew with was palpable. Luke had to ask:

“Did you ever end up going to a formal flight school?”

“I did! Didn’t go to the Imperial Academy in the end. That would have forced me to enlist in the Imperial Navy, unless I snuck out and defected. But Alderaan has a flight school training its pilots and traders, so I got a scholarship to go there instead. I was reliable enough to be recommended for diplomatic service.”

“Reliable?” Luke teased.

Biggs rolled his eyes at him. “I’m not gonna ever be as fast or instinctual as you. But I can give a consistently smooth and safe ride. Get you out of danger if things go wrong. You, on the other hand… didn’t Beru once refuse to climb into a speeder with you?”

“I used to spook her a bit,” Luke admitted.

“Luke, I’ve never seen anything rattle your aunt. Except for your flying. She looked green after you took her for a joyride.”

“She drank some blue milk that was a bit off!”

Biggs’s laughter was good to hear. Their camaraderie was comfortable in a way Luke couldn’t remember having in a while.

“It’s nice being able to talk about Tatooine,” he admitted. “I’m usually not encouraged to. I don’t know how long it’s been since I thought about the Skyhopper.” He grimaced. “Uncle Owen must’ve sold it for spare parts.” The thought left him hollow, even if it made perfect sense. Luke wasn’t there to fly it.

“That’d make sense. But he’s a resourceful guy, and he loved you a lot. Maybe he kept it for the memories. When you go back, he’ll be better at handling it than you are.”

Luke’s chuckle was painful—not just because of the nostalgia and fierce mourning for the years he’d lost there. Biggs knew that his uncle was missing and still joked like that, on the assumption that he was alive. It was comforting.

He changed that, though, with, “I did get the impression that you weren’t meant to talk about Tatooine, though. People always clock my accent, but you sound like you blend right in. Was that for politics?”

“No. I mean, I made it stronger when I started running for politics. But I picked it up from my very well-spoken grandma to try and fend off any more questions. I already stuck out in my family.”

“And you changed your name to Luke Naberrie?”

Luke didn’t need the Force to sense how loaded that question was. “My father was not a navigator on a spice freighter, apparently,” he said quietly. “I can’t tell you the full truth—I wasn’t told it until recently. But the name Skywalker is apparently dangerous, on Tatooine and off of it.”

“That’s why you don’t want me using it.”

“No.”

Biggs mimed sealing his lips. “Your secret is safe with me.” He made a flourish with his cape, streaming behind them in the wind, and Luke laughed.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m glad I met you again.”

“Likewise, Luke. I always wondered what happened to my best friend.” Biggs’s smile was almost shy, which surprised Luke. He’d always been suave and unflappable in Luke’s eyes.

“We’re nearly here.” Biggs glanced up, and sure enough, a moment later they were swooping onto a landing platform made of smooth, dark wood. It was polished to a sheen by the constant wear of repulsorlifts. “I’m flying both you and Princess Leia to the Senate building later. I’ll see you then, alright?”

Before he climbed out, Luke leaned over to hug him.

Biggs was surprised, but he returned it heartily—even slapped Luke’s back. It would crinkle the treated blasterproof fabric of Luke’s maroon blazer, but his skirt was already creased from the speeder ride. He didn’t mind.

“Good to see you, Biggs,” he said earnestly.

“Good to see you too, Luke.” He glanced up. “There’s the Princess now.”

"How the hell old are these people?"

(Another riff off that one post, but this time it's about a tangent in replies and hopefully contains less of my unserious ass trying to articulate serious concepts.)

I won't be commenting on every character, just the ones where I've been given reason to think about it in any sort of depth. (Lucas, Vishnal, Livia, Russell, Terry, Cecil) My opinions are my own, and are barely even opinions, because I'm not actually super invested. I just thought thinking back on a few of the assumptions I've made was interesting, and could be interesting as an example of one person interpreting this stuff.

Okay! Let's get into it.

Lucas: So, @darkacey mentioned that it's weird that people keep calling him "old" because he has facial hair, and yeah, he's not old. Just going by appearance, I'd guess anywhere between late 20s and early 40s. Which is weirdly realistic, because people in that range tend to all look the same to me even now that I'm in it. But also wrong, because of course he's unknowably ancient. BUT his current form might not even be as old as he looks. AND we know his life basically restarted yesterday. idk. He's Lucas.

Vishnal: I mentioned him in the replies, because I am absolutely haunted by that "he's 6' tall and a lot younger than he looks" comment from his VA. It makes no sense! How old does he look? 17? 23? 31? The artstyle isn't detailed enough to tell. And what would that make him? 12? 18? 25? For my own peace of mind, I've just decided that he can make an uptight first impression that gives him kind of a "22 going on 40" vibe until the illusion almost immediately shatters. Also, maybe this was more of a problem in his former life? Like maybe he got a lot of "excuse me, are you their father?" because he's on the tall side, perhaps hit his adult height early, and was often shepherding all his younger siblings around.

Livia: It's bizarre that she has cut romance dialogue, because the age difference feels sooooo awkward... But not in the direction you might think. See, even though I know the whole joke is that she's an ancient powerful dragon who can't even go to a bar because she looks like a kid, my brain refuses to parse her as anything but a tiny middle-aged woman. I feel like I have encountered many, many Livias, a surprisingly large number of which were running some event or operation like it's the Navy. It's a whole type of person!

Russell: I've said this before, but I refuse to believe that guy is under 30. He has a whole implied tragic backstory, which had to take place after he was old enough to be drafted (or enlist, I guess, but he Would Not Fucking Do That), and before he took in Cecilia, who is whatever age she is now. Even wiggling the numbers a little (how old is Cecilia, how old do you have to be to be in the military in this world), I don't think he could be as young as even the game itself seems to want you to believe. Fun fact! He's one of the few characters on this list that I have a specific number for! In AtNG, he is roughly 32.5. Sabrina is about the same age, and Edward is about a decade his senior (I tacked them on because I had estimates for them but nothing else really to say).

Terry: At first, back when the world made sense, I had him estimated at "about Russell's age idk." But Word of God is that he's 25?? And apparently even at least one person working on the game was kinda stunned by this, if I recall correctly? I dunno, that's just not very many years, and it's implied he's been through so much shit! How I ended up making this work for FSCB was a) giving him a really rough upbringing and very early adulthood, and b) working from the assumption that he's 25 at the start of the game and quickly turns 26. And you know what? Now that I have all that worked out, I like that he's in his mid 20s. I feel like that's just one more burden he has to bear. :P And some of the things in FSCB I had most fun writing are the moments where he's interacting with Cecil and it becomes really obvious that they're not that far apart in age. (Also, if anyone ever points out that he and Lucas seem to have a slight age difference... I don't think either of them would ever stop laughing.)

Cecil: ...Look. We've been over this. That boy is 18. Anyone who says otherwise either forgets what being 18 was like, or is so close to being 18 themselves that they have no perspective. But I remember. I remember wearing some really goofy hats, and wanting so badly to be included in all forms of adult business, but ending up getting railroaded into running around with the kids and actually really enjoying myself. (Okay, so that last thing still applies, and might just be personality-mediated.)

All Grown Up

We all raise out kids the very best we can. We love them unconditionally from the very beginning,when we deliver them and hold them to our chest,thanking god every second. We journey through ages  and stages loving every step of the way. Teething, potty training, schools, puberty all the harder to love but the best memories moments. We go through all these years trying to mold them into the men the need to be when they graduate. Then, the graduation date actually is here and how do you let go? 

        As I sit here at this very moment, this is the question I'm faced with. We read books and talk about parenting but its seldom for a parent to talk about this part. The part where you ask yourself why did I raise him for this. For him to up and go. Your sending out invitations and making parties and it hits you like a ton of bricks. At least i know it did to me. A sadness comes over you. Should be the happiest, most proudest moment and yet its devastating you in a way. How exactly am i supposed to do this? 

         My son is graduating with honors. I'm proud I really am. He's also turning 18 next month, received his drivers license a few months before graduation. If that's not enough, he enlisted in the United States Navy and will be shipping out the next month. I didn't even know how to process all these things at once in the time frame of 3 months. I couldn't breathe. I have been through alot in my years, things that no one should ever have to endure but none of it prepared me for this feeling. Keep in mind that he didn't want to tell me about the Navy, he most likely would have not at all except that to get his contract in on time for the bonuses offered her had to get me to sign the papers because he wasn't 18. If you don't know what I mean, when you enlist they have sign up bonus and all that but it constantly changes so they have so long then the have to redo the contract. I begged and pleased with him and told him I didn't think it was his best choice . He never batted an eye, he said''Mom I have made up my mind and there's absolutely nothing you can say you change it.'' I had 2 days to complete the paperwork and on the 3rd weeks would be with recruiter completing it. He had definitely made a decision like i have never seen him do in my life. All I could do was pray , but he didn't change his mind. Now I have to explain why I feel my son didn't make his best decision even though his college would be fully paid for which after checking colleges for your masters which is 4years plus 2 years would be between 150,000 to 200,000 or a little more depending on the college just for his schooling, which was great just not for him. I'm going to point out that your supposed to do anything you want in life and if you put your mind to it you can become anything. I know that and I will probably receive backlash but let me explain. 

          My son has never played any sports, except for a half of year of school basketball. He hardly rode bikes didn't really go outside even. He barely can cut grass and that he didn't start learning till 15. He always has a handful of friends but that was as much as he could stand. He was in Ag the last few years of school. Well for sure 2 years. He's never been in a group or apart of a team. Now I tried to make sure that my kids know,stand up for family. Don't turn on friends when you apart of something you give your all to it. I just don't know. He can't handle confrontation either he will shut completely down. Now back in a corner I know he had would fight if he had to but this generation is nothing I have ever seen before. He just gained a little common sense this past year and a half cause he had none at  all. Very intelligent, book smart and that. My son is a gamer, a loner, a very spoiled one. Not really me as much as a few of my older family members, one is 92. He does nothing for himself except bath and go to bed. I wanted him to start cooking some of the meals cause he can barely cook noodles in microwave. Nope that didn't happen. He does do laundry but mostly you have to remind him. After graduation I told him start walking, jogging, exercising outside you don't know what's coming, he believes I'm joking. My heart aches. He didn't leave when he was supposed to because he found a big cyst on his lower back and when they did surgery and removed it the hole was the size of a fist.  After months on waiting for a doctors release and not being able to do anything a relative came back from vacation with mirsa which is way worse than staph and my son caught it because his wound was still open a little. He ended up getting cut open again in a new area and having his healing time prolonged for almost another month. In a way I thought god answered my prayers that he new I was right and they would probably break him in the Navy surely he would have a mental breakdown. He did give us more time but when my son got cleared he didn't miss a beat the Navy came get him and he signed his new contract. The past couple of weeks he has been doing some form of exercises each day. He still doesn't last long and gives up and doesn't try to do more things. My family tells him that okay. Try again tomorrow. I'm still in the blind about when he ships out. I never get a straight answer but I had a feeling it was soon and a friend of mine has been helping him workout for a little over a week told me I need to sit him down and have  a one on one family night or two because he suspects he may have a week or two at most but he believes its more like one. I still don't know how to let go and I feel bad that I'm literally scared to death that he  will get there and the first call he has tell me he can't. Can he surprise me and maybe not trying to be embarrassed man up and pull through, I certainly hope so. 

       Looking back I think I should of did it all totally different. Would it have made a difference I have no idea. He had ADHD they said playing games was good for him. His dad past away when he was almost 5 years old and my dad tried to fill that place. They are nothing like our generation where I was grown at 14. We shall see if it will make the man or break him. Y'all keep my family in y'all prayers. If this story makes a splash I will update y'all with what happens with our family time and if he makes it through boot camp. Hold on son you have to keep going 5 years!

                                 Love you no matter what! MOM

Eliot Spencer

"Overconfidence will kill you faster than a bullet any day. Fear is good."

Name: Eliot Spencer Age: Unknown Canon: Leverage + Leverage: Redemption Sexuality: Bisexual, Polyam in a canon OT3 Key Skills: Multiple fighting styles, hand to hand and with weaponry. Highly skilled marksman though no longer uses guns. Impressive memory and observation skills i.e can recognise a former navy seal from their shoes, an SAS paratrooper from the haircut and the precise military grade helicopter simply from what kind of 'whoompha whoompha' is heard over the mics. Excellent chef, great with horses, can sing and play guitar. Multiple languages, excellent strategist. Backstory: (TW murder, wetwork, military) Eliot is incredibly private about his past. What is for certain is he comes from Oklahoma and his father ran a mom and pop type DIY store that he expected Eliot to help at after graduation. Eliot wanted more and when he turned 18 he enlisted instead. The night before he left, he and his father fought leaving them estranged. His time in the military is highly classified. Eliot's skill level, the ability to take down an elite navy seal in 20 seconds flat, all suggests he was in a similiar highly skill unit. He was black ops and most of it he can barely acknowledge happened though occasionally he'll let details slip. For instance, when pressed on what he was doing when high school sweetheart Aimee gave up on his return and married another man, he responded "What did I do? I liberated Croatia." Outlandish claims perhaps but he has the skills and knowledge to back it up. Several from his past refer to him as 'Commander' which suggests we wasn't just part of a covert black ops unit but that he headed it. After leaving the military, Eliot did not struggle to find work. A man with his talents soon has employees and he took on retrieval, protecting, assassination jobs and more. Eliot works so well because he is able to sell himself as assuming and not a threat, this is often the reason why he comes out on top. He found himself working for one of the worst criminal, Damian Moreau. He was into everything. Arms deals, financing multiple mafias world wide (he was often referred to as the 'Central Bank of International Crime') , meddling in elections, smuggling, and more. Eliot lost himself completely in the service of Damian. It's heavily implied that there was far more than an employer/employee relationship between them, Eliot has since admitted the worst thing he had ever done was in the service of Damian Moreau, a crime which he will never be clean of. He has never revealed what this was but it seems to have been a breaking point after which he broke from Moreau's crime family and has not used guns or taken. This giving up guns may have happened later however, with Eliot it's almost impossible to pin down a time frame. At some point, he fell into a culinary apprenticeship and for a time became a chef. It helped him find a way to use weapons, and his hands, to create and provide and not just for destruction and death. Eliot credit's this period to saving him from the darkness. He continued to take hitter and retrieval jobs and then he agree on a job with a team that was only meant to last for a night. Instead they become Leverage Inc. using their con artist skills to help those in need and only screwing over the greedy and immoral rich. Robin Hooding doesn't trick Eliot into thinking he is absolved of his past, however. He wakes each day with the attitude that he has not done enough, he needs to do and help more. There is never going to be a deed that cleans the blood from his past but he can resolve to do better in the future. Leverage also brought him Parker and Alec Hardison. His true family. They swore that if they were going to change, they'd change together and they have. They now run an international network of vigilante con artists, operating all over the globe.

Eliot swore that he would protect them 'til my dying day'. He would kill to protect them, he would die to protect them. Whilst Parker and Hardison are the obvious couple to a casual observer there is no question to them that Eliot's place is ultimately with them even when he dates others. No one will ever understand them as well as the other two do. The trio are a confirmed OT3 from the showrunners.

Open for: Pretty much anything goes. He can fit in many situations and aus, he's got a ladies man rep and enjoys projecting that image. He's far more discreet about any men he's seeing after growing up and then working in multiple environments where same sex attraction could be seen as a weakness or worse. He's a fighter, a lover, a thief, a con man, a wandering soul. Open to doing plots from all points of his life too. His darker days would be trigger warning heavy, no doubt.

*** Medal of Honor Monday! 🇺🇸🇺🇸 ***

On this day in 1918, a hero engages in an action that would earn him the Medal of Honor. Then-Gunnery Sergeant Louis Cukela was a Marine who was awarded the Medal by both the United States Army and the United States Navy.

“Much of what has been written about [Cukela] fails to survive the close scrutiny of official records,” USMC Lt. Col. Merrill L. Bartlett concludes, “but enough remains to support the contention that he was one of the most unusual characters to wear forest green during [the World War I era]."

Cukela was an immigrant who came to the States in 1913. Legend has it that he once served in the Serbian Army but was forced to flee after a duel with a fellow officer. The tale is in keeping with Cukela’s colorful personality, but there is no documentation to support the story.

Either way, Cukela enlisted in the Army shortly after he arrived in the States, and he served in the Army from 1914-1916. He was honorably discharged from the Army and soon signed up for the Marines instead.

Cukela’s broken English would prompt many funny moments during his service, as when he accidentally reprimanded a subordinate sharply: “Next time I send damn fool, I go myself.”

Needless to say, the phrase became a bit of a punchline afterwards.

Yet Cukela’s intense dedication was his most notable characteristic. On one occasion towards the end of his career, he was working on a problem in infantry tactics with an Army instructor.

Cukela thought an attack was warranted. The Army instructor though withdrawing and establishing a defense was better. “I am Cukela. I attack,” the feisty Marine responded. He tapped his Medal. “How you think I get this?”

Likewise, legendary Marine Chesty Puller remembered serving with Cukela in Haiti. At the time, Cukela scoffed at the notion of night marches and daytime sleeping. “No real man can sleep in the day,” he declared. “I will hunt the enemy.”

No one could figure out how he managed to keep up with both his own daylight searches and the official nighttime actions that week.

Cukela’s Medal of Honor action came much earlier, of course, as he served in France during World War I. On July 18, 1918, his company was advancing through the Forest de Retz near Viller-Cottertes, France. They were suddenly faced with strong resistance from an enemy strong point.

Cukela leapt into action. He was being pelted with heavy fire and his fellow Marines were yelling warnings at him. He ignored both, naturally, and advanced toward the enemy alone.

“He succeeded in getting behind the enemy position,” his Army Medal citation describes, “and rushed a machine-gun emplacement, killing or driving off the crew with his bayonet. With German hand grenades he then bombed out the remaining portion of the strong point, capturing four men and two damaged machine guns.”

His bravery made him one of the few to receive two Medals for the same action.

Cukela went on to serve as a Marine in Haiti, the Dominican Republic, and at Quantico, Virginia, among other assignments. He retired in 1940 but was called back to active duty just before the United States entered World War II. By the time he was placed on the inactive retired list in 1946, he had attained the rank of Major.

A journalist interviewed Cukela a few months after World War I had come to an end. How did he feel about serving his adopted country?

“Of course I am glad to see Serbia restored,” Cukela said, “just as I am glad to see Belgium and Northern France restored. But as for me, I have only one country and I love only one country, and that is the country whose uniform I wear today and which I want to wear whenever she needs me again.”

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

If you enjoy these history posts, please see my note below. :)

Gentle reminder: History posts are copyright © 2013-2022 by Tara Ross. I appreciate it when you use the shar e feature instead of cutting/pasting.

#TDIH #OTD #history #liberty #freedom #ShareTheHistory

Look at the mesmerizing artwork by @teamhook. Can you spot the villain of this little story?

In the Offing

Chapter 18 — The Stable Boy

Summary: In which our heroine misplaces something

Chapter 18 on AO3

“A guilty conscience means at least you’ve got one

Who will forgive you when I’m gone?”

-Here He Comes, The Wallflowers

“That went further than I intended,” Killian whispered against her throat. She could feel his smile against the sensitive skin and knew that while his words sounded like the beginning of an apology, it was really more of an observation on their current status. Their completely unclothed, totally sated status.

“Hmm, there is something about the motion of the water,” Emma said by way of agreement. She was lazily running her fingers through his mussed hair, appreciating the way the thick, short locks felt silky in her hands. His laughter rumbled through his chest and she gave in to the temptation to run her fingers through the hair there as well.

“I’ll make a pirate out of you yet, Swan.”

“Well, I need to do something special for a man who would trade a secluded afternoon with the most famous actress in the world to spend time with his unknown, magnet-for-trouble house guest.”

She should get up. Lord only knew if there were locks on the door or if they could be interrupted. However, she wasn’t lying about the sensation of being lulled to sleep by the waves. Although sleep was the furthest thing from her mind a few minutes ago.

“House guest? Is that the label we’re going with? How about girlfriend? Lover? Angel? Magnificent creature?” He punctuated each question with a nuzzle against a different section of exposed flesh. “Besides, I am a seafaring man and all sailors know that it’s bad luck to have a redhead on board. Thank goodness I didn’t have to take her out on the open seas. You may never have seen me again.”

“That would have been a shame. I do enjoy seeing you. The more of you, the better.” She allowed her hands to wander over the expanse of skin on display, thankful that the afternoon was warm since there was only one sheet and their picnic blanket from the other day to cover up with. Her eyes had drifted closed during their idle exchange but she cracked open her left to look at him as she felt the bed shift under his movements. He had propped himself up on his elbow and was resting on his side. She was surprised to see his expression had turned serious. “What’s on your mind?”

“I think it’s time we talk. I like the odds of you staying put since you’re naked,” he added with some of his usual swagger.

“If you’re ready,” she told him. Reaching up to cradle his face in her hands, she knew that nothing he said would make any difference to her. She was too far gone already. The only possible outcome was she would fall deeper under his spell. “No matter what, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know what those words mean to me, love.” He pressed a forceful kiss to her lips and returned to his earlier position. His eyes focused out the window and glazed over as he became lost in his memories. When he spoke, his voice had deepened with emotion. “Liam and I moved here a decade ago with one purpose and one purpose only: To find Frederick’s bloody treasure trove. There was nothing for us in England, hadn’t been in years really. I was graduating and Liam was finishing up his enlistment with the Navy. To my surprise, he didn’t doubt for a moment my claims that I could find our fortune on the rocky beaches of Maine. So off we went without a backward glance at the shores of our ancestors.”

She could imagine a younger Killian, full of life and confidence, pulling along his older, more seasoned brother. After all, no one was more jaded than her and she was already prepared to follow him to the ends of the earth.

“It took us more time to find the pub in Storybrooke than it did to find the first treasure hoard. Oh, Emma, I wish you could have been there.” His grin was something that belonged on a schoolboy’s face, not a man in his mid-thirties. Unable to help herself, she reached up and traced it with her fingertips. He captured her wayward digits and pressed a heartfelt kiss to the tips. “Most pirate treasure was in the form of goods like timber, cotton, sugar, or tobacco. But good old Frederick didn’t disappoint. There was enough silver to make us wealthy even by today’s standards. There were some interesting historical bits as well that will one day find their way into a museum but I won’t bore you with those details.”

“Such a gentleman,” she murmured with a chuckle. “What did you do with it? Aren’t you supposed to alert the authorities when you find stuff like that?”

“I want to be a better man for you, Swan, but I will never be a saint. We haven’t disclosed any of our findings. We simply dip in when we need something extra. Some day we’ll let it see the light of day but for now it rests in Davy Jones’ locker.”

“Wait, I know that one. You mean it’s hidden under the sea?”

“No, we put it in my grandfather’s old locker and buried it under the cottage. It’s the only thing my father left behind when he abandoned us all those years ago.” When she rolled her eyes at him, he simply chuckled. “But to answer your question, the laws vary by state and country. Maine is actually quite lenient with their buried treasure as long as it isn’t found on state property. Luckily, two of the piles we found were on my land at the cottage. Technically, I didn’t own the land when I found the first one but it was under contract. I quickly remedied that and it was all above board when I found the second stash a few days later. That one had more coins and a few loose gemstones.”

“Gemstones?” Visions of The Goonies filled Emma’s mind and she had to stop herself from asking about One-Eyed Willy. Because, as fantastical as it seemed, the man who held her heart in his hands also had a knack for finding buried treasure. A gift she hoped he would survive considering someone out there desperately wanted to get their hands on it.

“Yes, darling,” he answered. “I think several have your name on them.”

“No way,” she argued. “I don’t want any of it. What if it’s cursed?”

“Cursed, you say?” He looked thoughtful as the sunlight was momentarily blocked by an errant storm cloud outside. “Yes, I suppose that may be true. Shortly after I uncovered the third pile, I went to the Rabbit Hole to celebrate my victory. Liam had just met Elsa so I was on my own for the most part those days. Not that it mattered, you know how this town takes to new people so I never lacked companionship for a drink or...whatever.”

“Whatever, indeed,” Emma teased in her best impression of his accent. She sensed he was coming to the part of his story that was the most difficult to relay and tried to infuse some humor into the conversation.

With a rueful grin that acknowledged her effort, both with the accent and the humor, he continued. “I met Milah that night. She was a sight to behold in the dim light of the bar, vibrant in a way that seemed too much for this little town.” He narrowed his eyes as they made contact with hers. “I didn’t know at first that she was married. Lads of twenty-four aren’t known for pumping the brakes when a beautiful woman gives them nothing but green lights and I was no different. Honestly, I was probably worse. I was a rash young man far from home and high on my own cleverness. It never occurred to me to question my good fortune or wonder why no one else was vying for her attention.”

“How far gone were you when you found out the truth?”

“Completely,” he confessed with a shaky breath. “The fight we had when I found out, well, it would have melted paint off the walls. I was a dirty little secret, the younger man who captured her attention but not her affections. It was always like that with her. She was so restless. Always moving, always searching. Nothing was ever enough. It took me a long time to realize that I wasn’t enough either. She wanted someone to rescue her from a life of boredom, someone who would carry her away and show her the world and fill her days with adventures. I couldn’t be that for her but I nearly destroyed myself trying to be.”

He was lost in the past, his eyes distant and filled with pain. Reliving the end of the most meaningful relationship of your life wasn’t easy, Emma definitely understood that. Especially when you gave all you had to it and it still collapsed in pieces around you.

“Her husband came to visit me one night toward the end. Offered me money to break it off,” he scoffed as if the idea still insulted him. “I refused of course, convinced he was the villain in our little drama and that I would win the heart of the fair maiden in the end. At it turned out, I was wrong on both counts. The villain was the fair maiden. Mr. Gold and I were both pawns in her scheme to escape a life she hated. When she had the opportunity, she took the money and ran. In my kinder moments, I feel sorry for her knowing she must have felt trapped. But then I remember the way the whole town thought I killed her and any kindness I’m able to scare up disappears. Just like she did.”

“You’ve never heard from her? You have no idea what happened to her?”

“No. When it ended, it ended badly. She wanted me to take her husband’s money so we could leave town together, was angry when I refused to be chased off into the night. It was then that I realized she didn’t care who she was with, as long as she wasn’t in Storybrooke. It was a tough blow to stomach. I only saw her one time after that, a couple of nights before she disappeared. She showed up at the cottage to apologize. Told me she would never regret our relationship but it was time to move on. She left the map as a parting gift. I knew then that she meant to leave. Make no mistake, Emma, Milah is alive and well somewhere on this globe, living her life to the fullest and not sparing a thought for anyone in this town.”

“Then her absence is no great loss,” she observed.

He shook his head slowly as if he wasn’t sure he agreed with her assessment. “The day after she stopped by for the last time was when I pulled my idiotic stunt. I got drunk and tried to sail directly into a Nor’easter. Liam caught me at the docks and insisted on coming with me when he couldn’t talk me out of leaving. Our boat capsized about a mile up the coast. I’m only glad I was able to pull him to shore.”

“You saved his life? One-handed in a gale?”

With a bitter twist of his lips, he bit out, “Not sure you’ll allowed to claim such a thing when the only reason a person was in danger in the first place is because of you. He was trapped under the broken mast. I’m still not sure how I got him out but I crushed my hand in the process. Got a pretty nasty infection and the doctors told me the hand couldn’t be saved and if I wasn’t lucky, I’d lose the arm too. Seemed like a no-brainer.”

She felt the tension gripping him and trailed her hands down his left arm, running her fingers over the smooth scars she felt there. He didn’t pull away but he didn’t relax either. “We’re all scarred in one way or another, Killian. Yours are a bit more on display than the average person but this shows that you are a survivor. I’m beginning to think it might be a bad idea for me to find Milah. She has a lot to answer for.”

“You know, I’ve tried to track her down but I’m afraid I don’t have your abilities at finding those who don’t wish to be found. I thought I had tracked her to Paris a few years ago, there was a new artist there that had her style of sketching but I could never be sure and they disappeared before I could make contact. I still have a file on my desktop with the various artwork I found in the gallery catalogues. I always thought I’d pick up the search again later.”

A little afraid to hear his answer, she nevertheless asked, “Why do you want to find her?”

“At first, I missed her. I wanted to hear her voice. Pathetic, right?” When Emma simply gave him a look that clearly disagreed, he smiled at her. “Hmm, my secretly romantic Swan. You have a tender heart that I adore but don’t worry, I won’t let anyone know.” He looked at her with such fondness that she was tempted to go for round two right then. However, on some level, she knew this conversation was more important than their physical connection.

Unaware of her thoughts, he admitted, “Lately I’ve wanted closure. Not for the relationship. It’s been dead and gone for years. For the case, in order to clear my name. I’ve done a lot of things that I’m not particularly proud of since I arrived here but I would like any doubt removed about this crime.”

“If you don’t mind sharing, perhaps we can find her together,” she offered shyly.

“Emma, everything I have is yours,” Killian told her. With a laugh he added, “Including the gold bars I found in the third treasure hoard I uncovered.” Taking her in his arms, he held her as they laid in the Captain’s Quarters in peaceful silence.

—

The rain that had threatened in the afternoon made good on its promise by the time they arrived back at the cottage with carryout from the pizza place. Fortunately, it was the kind of summer rain that moved through quickly and left the air feeling crisp and clean.

After her third slice of pepperoni, Emma leaned back in the patio chair and sighed. “I’m supposed to meet Graham tonight to search the woods. I guess I should head back to Mary Margaret’s place eventually anyway.”

With a quizzical look, Killian took a sip of his iced tea. “A date with another man and moving out? Have I done something to offend you?”

“Very funny,” she retorted. “I think we’ve gotten things a little out of order but there’s no reason to rush into this.”

“Darling, we have already fallen headfirst into the fast lane. There’s no reason to get scared now. Besides, I happen to know that David and Mary Margaret have reached the toothbrush phase of their relationship. You will be taking your sanity into your own hands if you head back there tonight. David is a loud...sleeper.”

“I don’t even want to know how you know that,” Emma said with a shiver of disgust. “Fine, I guess I’ll have to stay with you for the foreseeable future. If you don’t have any other plans, you can also join me on my date. We’re looking for bodies in the woods.”

With a grimace, Killian studied her profile. “Okay but only if I get to plan our next outing. A man likes some mystery in a relationship but dead bodies are a little overboard.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Dr. Jones.”

Forewarned about the activities for the evening consisting mainly of traversing hilly, overgrown terrain, Emma did a better job of dressing the part. Outfitted with flashlights from Killian’s emergency kit, she knew if the search lasted beyond the light of the midsummer sun they wouldn’t injure themselves in the dark at least.

Arriving at the Sheriff’s station shortly thereafter, Emma was surprised to find it empty and unlocked. Since another brief summer rain was moving through town, she texted Graham and they decided to wait it out at the station. Twenty minutes later, the rain was over but she still hadn’t heard from the sheriff. “That’s weird. He’s usually better about replying.”

“Text him a lot, do you?”

With a amused shake of her head, she admonished him. “Now is not the time to be jealous, Killian. He’s a friend and, unless I’m mistaken, he’s your friend too.”

“He’s not an enemy,” Killian conceded grudgingly. With a hint of teasing, he said, “But perhaps he is competition.” He moved around the station nonchalantly as if he might find the sheriff under a pile of papers or resting in one of the cells at the back of the open room.

With a deep breath, she walked over to him and linked her arms around his neck. “Not in my eyes. I’m not sure how to convince you that you’ve ruined me for other men.”

“I can think of some persuasive methods that will get your point across.” His roguish eyebrow was cocked in a way that she always found so endearing and sexy. “Why don’t we postpone this search party and you can give it your best shot? I promise to keep an open mind.”

“Keeping an open mind has never been your problem,” she laughed, playfully punching him in the arm. “I have a job to do so stop trying to distract me. We’ll have to go without Graham. We’re losing daylight and I’m running out of time before Henry comes home.”

What she didn’t add was the crossroads his arrival would bring. As much as she had fought against this thing with Killian, now that she was in, she was all in. While the four hour drive to Boston was not an insurmountable distance, she found the idea of being separated distasteful. She knew it was a conversation they needed to have and she wasn’t avoiding it exactly. Her rational mind kept reminding her that they had only met a month ago and people didn’t fall in love and move to different states after a few weeks of knowing someone. Especially single mothers who had children to think about.

Having officially given up on the sheriff, they headed toward the town line. Minutes later, they arrived to find the cruiser already parked on the narrow shoulder, driver side door open and cabin lights on. Jumping out of the truck, Emma exchanged a worried look with Killian and observed, “This looks like trouble.”

He followed her to the cruiser and placed his hand on the front seat. “It’s dry so he probably didn’t get here until after the rain moved through.”

“Graham!” Shouting his name repeatedly probably wasn’t an effective strategy but damn if she could think of anything else to do. Settling in the driver’s seat she found the keys still in the ignition and his walkie on the dashboard. Picking it up, she paged David. Within a minute, he answered, confusion evident in his tone.

“Emma? Why do you have Graham’s walkie?”

“We found his cruiser at the town line. No sign of him. We’re going out to the woods to search but you probably want to get here as quickly as possible. I’ve got a bad feeling about this whole scene.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Wait for me.”

True to his word, David’s battered old Ford pick-up pulled behind their truck in record time. Mary Margaret had made the journey with him and as soon as the car was in park, she rushed to Emma’s side. “Still no sign of him?”

“No,” Killian answered with his eyes scanning the thick woods.

“He headed this direction and he was in a hurry,” the brunette observed, her finger pointing toward an invisible trail as if it were obvious. At Emma’s silent question, she explained, “All-State Orienteering champion and the best tracker in town besides Ruby. Knowing your way around the forest is still a skill set that’s valued in Maine.”

“Sure. I mean, why not?” Emma said sarcastically. “Why don’t you lead the way then? We’ve already wasted time waiting around the station.”

Grabbing the flashlight that David handed her, Mary Margaret stepped off the shoulder and moved noiselessly into the woods. She would occasionally murmur an observation regarding a broken twig or boot print in the soft ground. Emma made a point to try to locate whatever signs the other woman noted on their pursuit but was only able to see the tracks occasionally. In no time at all, they had circled back up the hill to come out at the road not even a quarter of a mile from the cruiser. “Great. Back were we started.”

“No,” Mary Margaret disagreed. “Look here.” She squatted down and shined a beam of light on the asphalt.

Sure enough, Emma saw some kind of liquid that had dripped on the road. “What is that? Motor oil?” Reaching down, she lightly pressed her finger in one of the droplets and smeared it against her thumb. Looking at the bright red color, a chill ran through her. “Blood.”

“And tire tracks from an SUV if I had to guess,” David added, his light illuminating the wide tracks partially visible on the wet dirt of the shoulder. “Someone took him.” He immediately started back toward his truck, getting on his radio and calling the other deputy to round up some volunteers and meet them out at the woods.

—

Entering the cottage at four the following morning, Emma dropped on the couch in exhaustion. They hadn’t found any other clues as to the whereabouts of the sheriff or who grabbed him off the deserted road. Had he been followed out to the town line? Is that why he hadn’t responded to her text? Why would he have not reached out to her or David if he thought he was in trouble?

Settling next to her, Killian pushed her hair back behind her ear. “We won’t find him by staying up and worrying. You need to rest.”

“I can’t shake the feeling that this has to do with me.”

“With you? Why do you think so? Didn’t you say he found something in the woods? Something related to a disappearance that happened when you were a baby.”

“I know it’s crazy...”

“I didn’t say that, love. If you think this has something to do with you, I wouldn’t bet against your instincts.” Smiling at her with an expression of full support, he added, “You’ll figure it out. But it doesn’t have to be tonight.”

“He could be out there hurt, Killian, or worse. I think we need to regroup. Go through everything again. I must have missed something. And we’re going to need all hands on deck. The situation is escalating. When are Liam and Elsa supposed to come back?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“Perhaps you should convince him to come back sooner.”

“That will be a pleasant conversation,” Killian muttered with a roll of his eyes. “Perhaps I’ll call Elsa instead. She’s the more reasonable one.”

“Coward,” she whispered against his lips as she kissed him softly. She would never get tired of this, having him within arm’s reach. His very presence made all her worries melt into the background.

“You have more than enough bravery for the both of us,” he complimented her. “But I’ll do as you ask. After all, he’s the one who brought you into this mess. Not that I’m complaining.”

“See that you don’t. I have ways of dealing with complainers,” she ordered tartly, forcing herself to get lost in this moment with him. As she got up to walk away, his fingers hooked into the pocket of her jeans and tugged her back into his lap.

“Saucy. I like that.”

“Behave, Dr. Jones.”

There weren’t any coherent words spoken as the early morning light started to break over the horizon. He had decided to disobey, misbehaving in the most delightful ways.

time to learn about Actual American Hero Robert Smalls!!!! split into two sections: before and during the civil war, and after the civil war

before and during the civil war:

born into slavery in Beaufort, South Carolina in 1839 (his owner was most likely his father). he grew up as part of the Lowcountry Gullah community.

his mother had grown up in the fields but worked in the main house when he was born. Robert was a favorite of their owner but she wanted to make sure he understood what it was like for field slaves so she requested that he work in the fields and witness a whipping

he was sent to Charleston to work when he was 12 and earned $1 a week, with the rest of his money going to his owner. he started as a laborer and eventually started working on boats, working his way up to become what was essentially a pilot (even though he was a slave and couldn’t be given the proper job title). due to his work on ships, he knew Charleston Harbor really well

the civil war started in spring of 1861 (the Battle of Fort Sumter, which started the war and took place at the mouth of Charleston Harbor, was in April 1861) and in the fall he was assigned to steer the CSS Planter (CSS stands for Confederate States Ship). the ship’s jobs included surveying waterways and laying mines. he earned the trust of the crew and owners by pretending to be happy working on the ship while secretly planning an escape with the other slaves on board

on May 12, the Planter picked up four big guns from a Confederate post that was being dismantled south of Charleston, then returned to CHS and loaded 200 pounds of artillery and a bunch of firewood. that night the three white officers left the ship to sleep on shore and left the enslaved crew aboard as usual.

early in the morning on May 13, Robert Smalls put on the captain’s uniform and a straw hat similar to the one the captain usually wore and left the wharf. they stopped at another wharf to pick up his family as well as family members of some of the other enslaved crew, all of whom had hidden out on another ship earlier on May 12. Robert Smalls and his straw hat copied the captain’s mannerisms and sailed past FIVE confederate forts using the correct hand signals; the alarm was raised at Fort Sumter only after they had passed out of the fort’s gun range. Robert Smalls drove that confederate ship directly to the Union blockade at the mouth of Charleston Harbor and raised the white sheet his wife Hannah had brought to surrender the ship to the union

not only did the ship have four guns and 200 lbs of artillery - Robert Smalls also had the captain’s code book of confederate signals and a map of all of the mines in charleston harbor, as well as a ton of knowledge about the waterways around charleston and the confederate military instillations and movements. he was viewed as extremely intelligent and hailed as a hero in the north (obviously)

he was given what we all can agree was a criminally small amount of “prize money” for the transfer of the Planter to the union - his share was $1500 (he was one of eight slaves aboard) based on the appraisal. in the 1880s, the appraisal was disputed and it was said the value of the ship should have been close to $60,000. even still he didn’t get any more money until 1900, when he was given an additional $3500 (bringing the total to $5000, which a lot of people still felt was too little and they were definitely right)

RS served as a civilian in the union navy and army and was instrumental in convincing Lincoln and Edwin Stanton to allow black men to enlist in the union army at Port Royal, SC (google the Port Royal Experiment for more information!! I could do another entire post about Mitchelville tbh). he was supposedly given a commission in the navy so he could be properly paid as a pilot. when he tried to collect his pension after the war, he was told he hadn’t received an official commission. it took TWO acts of congress (1883, which failed probably because he was black, and 1897) for him to be put on the Navy retired list and allow him to collect a pension of $30 per month, that of a Navy captain

you thought that shit was amazing? after the war:

he moved back to Beaufort and bought a house. which house you ask??? that’s right, he bought his FORMER OWNER’S house (511 Prince Street) which had been seized in 1863 because the dude refused to pay taxes (and then won the court case when his former owner tried to sue him to get it back, which became a very important precedent case). his mom lived with him for the rest of her life, and he even let his former owner’s wife live in the house at the end of her life

he taught himself to read and write in less than a year(!!) and bought another building to serve as a school for african-american children

he had several successful businesses: a store specifically to serve the needs of freedmen, a horse-drawn railway line that went from the wharves in charleston to the depots 18 miles inland, and he owned and published the Beaufort Southern Standard newspaper

his fame during the war and the fact that he was fluent in the Gullah dialect spoken in the Lowcountry helped him in his very, very successful political career - he was a delegate at the SC constitutional conventions in 1868 and 1895 as well as at several Republican National Conventions (back when the republicans were the good guys); he was elected to the SC House of Representatives in 1868 and then selected to complete the unexpired time in Jonathan Jasper Wright’s SC Senate seat; and he was elected to the US House of Representatives five times (until the mid-1900s, he was the second-longest serving african-american member of congress)

while in the HoR, he introduced an amendment to a bill that would desegregate the army, which wasn’t considered by congress. he was a supporter of racial integration legislation while serving in the senate.

the 1895 SC constitutional convention he and five other african-american delegates tried to stop the disenfranchisement of black voters, and worked to publicize the issue, but weren’t successful in stopping the ratification of the new constitution

he died in 1915 (aged 75!) and was buried at the Tabernacle Baptist Church in Beaufort - a monument to him was installed in the churchyard in 1976 and is inscribed with the following quote of his: “My race needs no special defense, for the past history of them in this country proves them to be the equal of any people anywhere. All they need is an equal chance in the battle of life.”

xu my beloved

I BEEN THINKING

I would once again like to convert the fandom’s spelling through use of this compelling presentation:

Tumblr stop blurring the truth

Anyways, a swan dive into the Four Classic Novels, which are among the world’s oldest and longest fictional works and a staple of Chinese literature ~ as I elegantly draw connections circling back to one of AtLA’s many, many background characters.

No, more likely you’re about to belly flop into incoherent jibber-jabber.

General Xu is said to have been Zhao’s superior at the time he discovered Wan Shi Tong’s library and stole the moon/ocean scroll. That’s it. That’s all we know 😔

But no fear! For I have stumbled across the famous character Xú Níng from the third of Four Classic Novels, Water Margin (translated from Shui Hu Zhuan), written by Shi Naian or his pupil Luo Guanzhong. And man, he’s a piece of work.

An upstanding, military-orientated fellow (which is good for purposes of sketching out General Xu’s persona in his image), Níng is an expert of the unique Chinese spear, attributed to his entire character and role in the story, as his nickname is literally the “Gold Lancer”... which slaps.

Qiang’d to make your acquaintance

He’s the 18th of the 108 Stars of Destiny, brutally simplified as a Taoist myth separating the first 36 stars into the Heavenly Spirits (honor roll), found within the Big Dipper and centered in the sky, while the other 72 are Earthly Fiends (getting coal for Christmas), scattered around true north. Níng at lucky number 18 is the Guardian Star. (This concept in Taoism leads us to believe our destinies correspond with the stars - which is, just, super cool to me. Are you a Libra? No, plebeian, I’m Huyan “Double Clubs” Zhuo. Seriously, Bing him.)

These 108 are the main focus of Water Margin: the tale of every last star released from prison, reborn as 108 heroes. They join together at what’s known as the “Grand Assembly” and continue to fight injustice, beating the Avengers over 500 years to the punch. (Go, kings, go!)

Sounds suspiciously White Lotus-y to me... but hold your komodo rhinos! Xú Níng is a trickier case. His “honorable” roots began before amnesty from the Song emperor, when he banded with outlaws. And before the 108 Stars of Destiny resurfaced as noble heroes, they were imprisoned by Shangdi for a reason: being, uh, demonic overlords.

And this is why I gravitated towards this famous fictional Xú: Shi Naian’s use of messy heroes with messy pasts, parts heavenly warriors and parts Team Jacob (eugh), as the synthesis of the anti-hero, and the embodiment of the Yin Yang.

Zhao’s history with poking at the dual spirits? Oh yeah. It’s all coming together.

So, similar to the other 107, Níng is complex. Song Jiang, leader of the 108 Stars of Destiny himself, kills his concubine in anger and escapes any consequence, a bullheaded mentality that the rest of the stars are said to echo. Etcetera.

So, Avatar the Last Airbender’s once-mentioned General Xu?

If we lean on parallels, like real men do, there’s a lot of material to work with here. It’s unclear how the backwards ranking system of the Fire Army pans out, but seeing as Zhao pursues a naval career, serving under a general (the naval equivalent being an admiral, I’m sure) seems to precede serving under Admiral Jeong Jeong. This would mean Xu was first to leave a significant impression on the bastard boy, emphasis on enlisting as boy, switching to the navy as bastard.

*Does a gay little dance that pisses you off*

General Xu could have been the ambitious type, obsessed with leaving a mark of historical value. Clean-cut conclusion, circles back nicely, pat on the back... but VANILLA.

Why not go all the way and theorize he’s somewhat non-human, desperate to translate mortality into immortality by means of securing a legacy as he wanders in search of the 107 stars, his home in the heavens? Obsession with fame, underpinned by the ever-so-subtle paranoia of being forgotten, slaved away like the 41st Division, seems to be Zhao’s thing. Did he pick it up from a celestial Xu without knowing? Does this inextricably relate to Xu’s name having to do with the “brilliant sun”, the closest star in our sky - and/or its symbolism with the moon? Is it three in the morning right now and I shouldn’t be doing this? It’s up in the air!

Also consider: if Xú Níng’s title is the Guardian Star, had the general passed away in the heat of battle, would he watch over Zhao in the remaining phases of his life... disappearing in the few minutes when the moon is struck out, too late to save him by the time the stars slowly flicker back after Yue ascends?

Did Xu use lances a lot (now read that five times fast); was he a damn pro at spear-wielding? Was he fun to prank, easy to trick? Does he have a questionable history in the underground before duty called? According to sources, Xú Níng is around six and half feet, sporting a dark beard and “ample waistline”. Shall this apply to our Xu as well?!

Yes, to all of the above. Tune in as this custom character development progresses - I specialize in parallels. AtLA could use more plus-size representation while we’re at it! I want more of my friend-maybe-spirit-shaped, lance-sporting, inclined-to-fathering-Zhao general who always has an eye on the stars. Someone who intends to reach their height again, and sends his trusted second in command to retrieve the moon scroll in hopes of establishing some connection. The golden lancer... the enigmatic Xu.

Food for thought owed to @crookedmouth-mountainbones for sharing her thoughts on Xu and Zhao’s relationship right here.

Sources: X X X X X X <3

Crash and Burn!

Marinette was over it. In the 3 months that had passed since HawkMoth's defeat. Lila's lies had grown from name dropping lies to ones that would destroy reputations in seconds if they ever came out. Adrien had seen the light when she had lied about his mother but the rest of the class still fell for everything that tumbled out of her mouth.

Due to being Ladybug, Marinette was one of the few that knew HawkMoths identity and it had unfortunately soured her dream of becoming a fashion designer. Not that that had been a bad thing as far as Marinette was concerned. Going into fashion design full time was something that Mlle Bustier had pretty much pushed her into when Marinette had made the mistake of doodling in class. Marinette's original dream had been to be able to fly F-14 Tomcat's just like her birth father. Everybody thought that Tom Dupain was her birth father but that wasn't true. Her mother had met Tom when Marinette had been four and the two had hit it off immediately. Harm had been please for Sabine, even letting her change Marinette's surname in the school records to make things easier for Sabine on parent-teacher evenings. His only condition had been that Sabine let Marinette visit him every other Christmas and on some school holidays. It was because of these visits that Marinette had started to dream of following her father into the air as soon as she was old enough. On the visit, shortly before her eleventh birthday, she had been visiting him and he'd had to go to one of the aircraft carriers for work. She couldn't remember all the hoops that had had to be jumped through to allow her to go with him but she did remember how it had ended. It had been her first time on an F-14 after all. It was a night flight and her father had insisted that the easiest way to prove that the pilots were innocent was to fly with them. He was so sure that there was nothing to worry about that he had put her into the second seat in the cockpit of the second jet. He had told her how they were flown and how to land them and she was eager to see everything from the back seat. Nobody had counted on the fact that someone had tampered with the front piolets air hoses, adding a knock out gas to them on a time-release that had only been found after they had landed. Or more accurately, after she and her father had had to take control and land the jets. It had been as scary as it was thrilling for the ten-year-old and she had vowed that she wanted to do it again. But only when she was older. It was due to this dream that Marinette had put so much effort into all her studies. Everyone thought it was just so that nobody could criticise her grades when she made it big but it was so that when she eventually graduated she could enlist in the US airforce and study law as well as how to be a piolet so that she could be just like her father. When Mlle Bustier had pushed and pushed and pushed her into fashion Marinette had let it happen and even believed that it was the right thing to do. However, she hadn't stopped the way she studied and now that her real dream was back at the forefront of her mind, she was glad that she hadn't let her study habits drop. It was as Marinette was reminiscing about all of this that Lila had started a new story. One about what it was like on an aircraft carrier, which Lila had only been on because she had been kidnapped and the captain of the carrier had saved her. She was so into her story and Marinette was so lost in her daydream that neither girl noticed the very handsome man dressed in Navy Dress Uniform standing in the doorway with a woman standing in a US Marine Dress uniform. It was only when he spoke that Marinette snapped back to the present. “There is no Navy in the world that would let a civilian walk around one of its aircraft carriers the way you are describing. It would be a serious breach of security and the captain could be court marshalled for letting it happen.” “Not to mention the only civilian to step on an aircraft carrier was a ten-year-old and her father had to jump through several bureaucratic hoops in order to let her go on board with him for the week that he was on board.” The woman added. Everyone in the class spun round to face the two of them, tensing up, except Marinette who had relaxed for the first time in ages. Her father and his wife were here and as today was the last day of school, that meant that she would be flying out to the US soon to take the first step towards her dream. Unfortunately, it seemed there would be drama from Lila first though. “Show how much you know. I'm the daughter of an Italian diplomat-” “Layla Nekane Rossi, age eighteen, born in Basque and daughter to the private secretary to the current Italian Diplomate. Father is a known con man and womaniser. You speak Italian and French although you have lived in three countries. Expelled from school in both Basque and Italy for bullying, both emotional and cyber, accused but never charged on three occasions of bullying to the point of suicide and one case of assault. Do I need to carry on?” Mac's voice was cold and hard as she spoke giving a condensed version of Lila's file. Mlle Bustier had blanched as Mac spoke and had had to sit down by the end of it. Lila was about to say something to defend herself but Harm spoke up first. “Unfortunately you finally chose the wrong person to bully. They might not have been making a fuss recently as they have finally realised that the ones she was trying to protect don't deserve it but that doesn't mean she didn't go looking for justice for your previous victims. To add to the charges from the other countries, you will be facing charges of terrorism along with one Chloé Bourgeois. As you are old enough to be tried in court as an adult, that is exactly what will be happening.” “What! That is ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! Why am I getting charged with anything?” Chloé screeched. “You'll find out when you get to court. In the meantime, I suggest you both find a decent lawyer.” Mac said dryly. “Who are you two anyway?” Alya demanded even though she was still reeling from everything that had come out about Lila. “Lieutenant Colonel Sarah "Mac" MacKenzie, USMC and Captain Harmon ''Harm'' Rabb Jr Executive officer (XO), USS Allegiance.” The class spun round to face Marinette as she spoke. “Marinette, you know them?” Adrien asked his face a mask of confusion. “Why wouldn't I know my birth father and someone he is in an on-again-off-again relationship with? By the way, it's great to see you both again but I thought you were only meant to be coming to France in three weeks time?” Marinette's voice was just as dry as Mac's had been and the class realised that Marinette had spent a lot of time around them in order to have picked up that sort of habit. “Marinette why would they need to fetch you. You're 18, surely you are capable of travelling by yourself. Besides didn't you get invited to study at ESMOD? Or are you just travelling for a month before your new classes start?” Mlle Bustier's voice was calm but Marinette could hear the manipulative quality in it. She sighed and turned to face her old teacher. “One, I never applied to ESMOD, so I have no idea why you think they would have invited me to study there. I let you think that I wanted to be a fashion designer because that is what you were constantly telling me I should be. Yes, I like fashion but that's not what I want to do with my life, it never has been. Two, Yes I am capable of travelling by myself but why would I turn down the chance to spend time with my family. Hawkmoth and Dad's duty has kept him away for the last four years and I have missed him terribly! Skype and phone calls just aren't the same as being able to cuddle into him while watching movies. And three, if you truly want to know what I will be doing with the rest of my life I'll tell you. I plan to follow in Dad's footsteps in be a naval aviator for the US Marines and study to be a JAG. I want to fly for as long as I can though!” Harm smiled proudly as his daughter spoke then exchanged a look with Mac when their influence on her personality shone through. “Where's my hug, munchkin?” Harm said with a smirk. Marinette walked over to him and gave him a big hug her eyes squeezed closed as she soaked in her dad's reassuring presence. To Marinette, this was the best medicine she could ever have asked for. Not only was her dad here but he had exposed Lila or Layla as was her real name, in a way that couldn't be fought. He had provided hard evidence for every fact he had provided. Mlle Bustier, however, didn't seem to get the memo that Marinette was done with being manipulated by her. “Marinette are you sure about that? I mean don't you have commissions from several big-name celebrities that you get regularly?” Marinette forced herself not to growl at Mlle Bustier, not knowing that Adrien's father had walked up and was waiting at the door, listening to the answer too as Mr Agreste was still wanting to offer her an internship. “Designing was never my end-game career choice. If I wash out of basics or am injured in a way that the navy or JAG is not an option, then I will think about doing design full time. Those that have commissioned me for things know that it will never be my full-time job and that I want to serve like my dad does. They support that decision and encourage me to do my best!” Adrien walked over to her and gave her a hug, as she had stepped out of her father's arms as she spoke to Mlle Bustier. Like everyone else, he hadn't seen his father arrive but he decided to give one last parting shot to the class before he left too. “Only one person has ever asked me what I want to do with my life. When I said I didn't know she encouraged me to follow my heart. Unfortunately for almost everyone here, she has my heart. The conversation

took place three years ago so this is not a rash decision despite what most of you think. I'm leaving to follow Mari into the Navy. I have my green card etc and everything has already been legally approved, so you can't use that against me. Also, yes I do know that we probably won't be in the same unit but this is something I want to do for myself.” As soon as Adrien had finished talking the group of four walked away with the teens between the two adults, the four of them chatting away happily in English which left most of the class confused. Neither of the teens noticed Mr Agreste standing in the corridor, leaning against the wall clutching his heart as though in pain. They didn't notice the ambulance as it pulled up to fetch Mr Agreste, nor did they notice as police cars arrived to fetch Chloe and Layla. They didn't see the class trying to make sense of the mess that had been left behind them and to be honest, they didn't care. As far as Adrien and Marinette were concerned, they were free to live their lives. They had been friends for years and they became better ones when they had revealed their identities to each other after Miracle Queen. They were partners and they would face the future the way they had faced everything else: together.

@ash-amg-blog

GETTING OLD

May 20, 1949

“Getting Old” (aka “Liz Is Feeling Her Age”) is episode #44 of the radio series MY FAVORITE HUSBAND broadcast on May 20, 1949 on the CBS radio network.

Synopsis ~ Scanning her old high school yearbook, Liz decides she's old, and everything George does to try to snap her out of it just makes things worse. George tries to convince Liz that she's as glamourous as ever. His tactics misfire so George is forced to hire a psychiatrist.

Note: This episode partly inspired the “I Love Lucy” episode “The Inferiority Complex” (ILL S2;E18) aired on February 2, 1953, which also starred Gerard Mohr as a psychiatrist.  In this case, however, the complex is replaced by fear of aging. There is another “My Favorite Husband” episode titled “Liz’s Inferiority Complex” (aka “Liz Develops an Inferiority Complex”) broadcast on February 3, 1951 which uses the notion of inferiority rather than aging. In that episode, the psychiatrist is played by Alan Reed.  

“My Favorite Husband” was based on the novels Mr. and Mrs. Cugat, the Record of a Happy Marriage (1940) and Outside Eden (1945) by Isabel Scott Rorick, which had previously been adapted into the film Are Husbands Necessary? (1942). “My Favorite Husband” was first broadcast as a one-time special on July 5, 1948. Lucille Ball and Lee Bowman played the characters of Liz and George Cugat, and a positive response to this broadcast convinced CBS to launch “My Favorite Husband” as a series. Bowman was not available Richard Denning was cast as George. On January 7, 1949, confusion with bandleader Xavier Cugat prompted a name change to Cooper. On this same episode Jell-O became its sponsor. A total of 124 episodes of the program aired from July 23, 1948 through March 31, 1951. After about ten episodes had been written, writers Fox and Davenport departed and three new writers took over – Bob Carroll, Jr., Madelyn Pugh, and head writer/producer Jess Oppenheimer. In March 1949 Gale Gordon took over the existing role of George’s boss, Rudolph Atterbury, and Bea Benaderet was added as his wife, Iris. CBS brought “My Favorite Husband” to television in 1953, starring Joan Caulfield and Barry Nelson as Liz and George Cooper. The television version ran two-and-a-half seasons, from September 1953 through December 1955, running concurrently with “I Love Lucy.” It was produced live at CBS Television City for most of its run, until switching to film for a truncated third season filmed (ironically) at Desilu and recasting Liz Cooper with Vanessa Brown.

MAIN CAST

Lucille Ball (Liz Cooper) was born on August 6, 1911 in Jamestown, New York. She began her screen career in 1933 and was known in Hollywood as ‘Queen of the B’s’ due to her many appearances in ‘B’ movies. With Richard Denning, she starred in a radio program titled “My Favorite Husband” which eventually led to the creation of “I Love Lucy,” a television situation comedy in which she co-starred with her real-life husband, Latin bandleader Desi Arnaz. The program was phenomenally successful, allowing the couple to purchase what was once RKO Studios, re-naming it Desilu. When the show ended in 1960 (in an hour-long format known as “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour”) so did Lucy and Desi’s marriage. In 1962, hoping to keep Desilu financially solvent, Lucy returned to the sitcom format with “The Lucy Show,” which lasted six seasons. She followed that with a similar sitcom “Here’s Lucy” co-starring with her real-life children, Lucie and Desi Jr., as well as Gale Gordon, who had joined the cast of “The Lucy Show” during season two. Before her death in 1989, Lucy made one more attempt at a sitcom with “Life With Lucy,” also with Gordon.

Richard Denning (George Cooper) was born Louis Albert Heindrich Denninger Jr., in Poughkeepsie, New York. When he was 18 months old, his family moved to Los Angeles. Plans called for him to take over his father’s garment manufacturing business, but he developed an interest in acting. Denning enlisted in the US Navy during World War II. He is best known for his  roles in various science fiction and horror films of the 1950s. Although he teamed with Lucille Ball on radio in “My Favorite Husband,” the two never acted together on screen. While “I Love Lucy” was on the air, he was seen on another CBS TV series, “Mr. & Mrs. North.” From 1968 to 1980 he played the Governor on “Hawaii 5-0″, his final role. He died in 1998 at age 84.

Gale Gordon (Rudolph Atterbury) does not appear in this episode. 

Ruth Perrott (Katie, the Maid) was also later seen on “I Love Lucy.” She first played Mrs. Pomerantz (above right), a member of the surprise investigating committee for the Society Matrons League in “Pioneer Women” (ILL S1;E25), as one of the member of the Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League in “Lucy and Ethel Buy the Same Dress” (ILL S3;E3), and also played a nurse when “Lucy Goes to the Hospital” (ILL S2;E16). She died in 1996 at the age of 96.

Bob LeMond (Announcer) also served as the announcer for the pilot episode of “I Love Lucy”. When the long-lost pilot was finally discovered in 1990, a few moments of the opening narration were damaged and lost, so LeMond – fifty years later – recreated the narration for the CBS special and subsequent DVD release.

GUEST CAST

Gerald Mohr Psychiatrist aka Charley ‘Chuck’ Stewart) also played psychiatrist Henry Molin, who masquerades as Ricky’s old friend Chuck Stewart in “The Inferiority Complex” (ILL S2;E18 ~ February 2, 1953), his only appearance on “I Love Lucy”. In return, Lucy and Desi appeared on his show “Sunday Showcase” that same year. He also made an appearance on “The Lucy Show” in “Lucy and Phil Harris” (TLS S6;E20 ~ February 5, 1968).

One of the few times an actor recreates his role in a television version of a radio script using the same name. 

Bea Benadaret (Mrs. Annie Green) was considered the front-runner to be cast as Ethel Mertz but when “I Love Lucy” was ready to start production she was already playing a similar role on TV’s “The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show” so Vivian Vance was cast instead. On “I Love Lucy” she was cast as Lucy Ricardo’s spinster neighbor, Miss Lewis, in “Lucy Plays Cupid” (ILL S1;E15) in early 1952. Later, she was a success in her own show, “Petticoat Junction” as Shady Rest Hotel proprietress Kate Bradley. She starred in the series until her death in 1968.

This turn as an old lady may have given Lucille Ball the idea to cast her as elderly Miss Lewis on “I Love Lucy”. 

EPISODE

ANNOUNCER: “As we look in on the Coopers, Liz is over by the bookcase, with books spread out all around her.” 

Liz tells George her club is having an old book sale. George warns her not to sell any of his book, especially ones he hasn’t finished yet.  She finds one with a bookmark and he tells her to put it back on the shelf: some books are too heavy to finish in one sitting.

GEORGE: “What’s the name of it?” LIZ: “’The Bobbsey Twins at the Seashore’”

“The Bobbsey Twins at the Seashore” was originally published in 1907, the third in a series of children’s books. There were 72 books in all, the first appearing in 1904 and the last in 1979. In 1953’s “The Camping Trip” (ILL S2;E29) Ethel referred to Lucy and Ricky as the Bobbsey Twins. In “No More Double Dates” (TLS S1;E21) they are mentioned again. They were authored by Laura Lee Hope, which was a pseudonym for a series of writers employed by the publisher.  

Liz finds a book about how to play mahjong that George forgot to return to the library. 

GEORGE: “When was it due?” LIZ: “May 13th. 1936!” 

George wants to donate it to the sale, but Liz refuses to handle ‘hot’ merchandise. George sarcastically calls her Pear-Shape. 

George is not referring to Liz’s figure, but to the character in the Dick Tracy comic strip named Pear-Shape Tone, who was part of the storyline from April to July 1949. He was a racketeer who would steal jewelry from his wealthier clients, then fence it to make a profit. One of his famous heists was referred to on “My Favorite Husband”  in “Anniversary Presents” aired on May 13, 1949.

LIZ: “George, look! On the second shelf!  ‘Little Men’ is leaning against ‘Little Women’!  Oh, look, George!  They’ve had a little pamphlet!” 

“Little Women” (1868) and its sequel “Little Men” (1871) are books by Louisa May Alcott.  A sequel was titled “Good Wives” (1869) but in America was combined with “Little Women” for publication. A third book (not a pamphlet) arrived in 1886 titled “Jo’s Boys.”

Liz finds the Arbutus, George’s old high school year book from 1929. George was a senior, Liz was a freshman. He reads some of the inscriptions from his friends.  The book has a photo of Liz as a Freshman Princess - dimples in her knees. 

LIZ: “I used to spend every evening kneeling on two collar buttons!” 

Liz suddenly feels very old.  She has turned from ‘a flower in the bloom of youth’ to ‘an old stink weed’.  She starts to cry and decides to go to bed because old people need their rest. 

In the morning Katie the Maid finds Liz gazing at herself in the mirror.  

LIZ: “I haven’t felt so old since the day Shirley Temple got married.” 

Former child star Shirley Temple married actor (and then Army Air Force Sergeant) John Agar on September 19, 1945, when she was just 17 years-old.  At one time, Temple was one of Hollywood’s biggest box office stars.  The marriage became troubled, and Temple divorced Agar on December 5, 1949. On December 16, 1950, Temple re-married to Charles Alden Black, a Navy intelligence officer and assistant to the President of the Hawaiian Pineapple Company.

George is concerned about Liz, so he visits a psychiatrist (Gerard Mohr). He tells her to flatter her and make her feel young again.  

PSYCHIATRIST: “A few days of attention and you won’t be able to leave her alone without a sitter!” 

George comes home and finds Liz in a rocking chair.  He has brought her roses and candy.  She begins to cry and is immediately suspicious of his motivations for bringing her gifts.  She decides to go to her room - alone.  George immediately starts to dial Dr. Stewart, humming while he does: 

GEORGE: “Little Old Lady young and fair, you’re in everyone’s hair...”

The song “Little Old Lady” was a 1937 hit written by Hoagy Carmichael and Stanley Adams.  It was also heard on stage and screen. 

Dr. Stewart tells George that it is natural for a wife not to believe her husband.  He suggests an outsider flattering her would be more convincing and he has just the person - himself!  George reluctantly agrees and decides to say that Dr. Stewart is an old college friend.  He will drop by at eight o’clock that evening. 

When the doorbell rings, George announces him as Charley Stewart, who immediately takes Liz for George’s daughter.  After some flattery, they decide to listen to the radio.  Liz says her favorite she is “Life Begins at 80″.  

“Life Begins at 80″ was a panel quiz show that aired on radio from 1948 to 1949, before making the shift to television in 1950. In it, octogenarians answered questions sent in by listeners. Jack Barry hosted. 

Chuck insists that they play music and invites Liz to dance the Samba. After three hours, Chuck compliments her dancing, but George is getting impatient.  

LIZ: “Treatment, George. Treatment!”  GEORGE: “It looks more like a treat than a treatment.” 

Chuck starts whispering amorous compliments into Liz’s ear just out of ear shot of George.  He demands to know what’s going on. 

LIZ: “Treatment, George!  Treatment!”  GEORGE: “What do you know about treatment?” LIZ: “Nothing. But whenever he says it you leave us alone.” 

George finally can’t take anymore and tells Liz the truth about Chuck being a psychiatrist, telling him to leave at once.  After Chuck leaves, George finds Liz back in her rocking chair lamenting her old age. 

Next day the phone rings and Katie answers it.  It is George, checking up on Liz, who Katie reports is making out her will. 

KATIE: “She’s leaving you to me!”

George has a plan. He’s going to bring home a real old lady - seventy year-old Mrs. Green - to show Liz how young she really is.  Katie finds Liz happily singing. 

KATIE: “What’s happened to ya? Last night you were Grandma Moses and now you’re Junior Miss!”

Grandma Moses (1860-1961) was an American folk artist who began painting at the age of 78 and is often cited as an example of a person who successfully began a career at an advanced age. In “Nursery School” (ILL S5;E9) Lucy Ricardo is so proud of Little Ricky’s first drawing, she dubs him the next “Grandpa Moses.” The Ricardos had two framed prints by Grandma Moses next to their front door: “So Long” and “The Old Snow Roller.”  

Junior Miss is a collection of semi-autobiographical stories by Sally Benson first published in The New Yorker. Between 1929 and the end of 1941, the prolific Benson published 99 stories. She had a bestseller when Doubleday published her Junior Miss collection in 1941. The stories inspired a Broadway play (1941), film (1945), radio series starring the aforementioned Shirley Temple (1942), and television show (1957). 

Liz tells Katie that she got a call from the Psychiatrist asking her out on a date.  Katie says that since she’s now in a more upbeat mood, she’d better call George and tell him not to go through with his plan.  But Liz has other ideas.  Since he tricked her by brining home a psychiatrist, Liz will trick him by pretending to be an old lady when she brings Mrs. Green home!  

Liz dons a shawl, eyeglasses, a gray wig, and talks with a creaky voice. Mrs. Annie Green (Bea Benadaret) and ‘Lizzie’ sit down for a chat.  Whatever question Mrs. Green asks, Liz answers “Penicillin”!  Lizzie tells Annie that she can’t dance because she’s got the gout. 

LIZZIE: “I can’t dance any unless I get oiled.  In my joints, I mean.” ANNIE: “I’ve been oiled in few joints myself!”   LIZZIE: “Oh, Annie!  You’re a caution! Just cuz ya got snow on the roof don’t mean there’s no fire in the furnace.” 

Annie tells Lizzie about a hot Bingo game in back of the Blue Bird Tea Shop (which just a front). 

ANNIE: “Get your green eye shade and let’s go!”  LIZZIE: “I’ll get my wheelchair! We can ride down.” ANNIE: “What model you got?”  LIZZIE: “A real hopped-up job; I hooked it to a Mixmaster. I had some speed trials yesterday.” ANNIE: “What did ya make?” LIZZIE: “Fourteen miles an hour and a bunt cake!” 

In 1930, the Sunbeam Company introduced the Mixmaster mixer, the first mechanical mixer with two detachable beaters whose blades interlocked. Several attachments were available for the Mixmaster, including a juice extractor, drink mixer, meat grinder–food chopper, and slicer–shredder. The Mixmaster became the company's flagship product for the next forty years.

George has had enough and tells Liz to stop, so she gives up the old lady act.  She tells him she’s feeling better, but George lets it slip that he told Chuck to call and ask her out on a date.  She’s distraught again and Annie and Lizzie toddle off to Bingo!  

Alright, everyone. A note before this:

You may have seen this before. That’s okay! It was likely on my old blog, the one that got deleted when I decided to redo everything. So this is 100% a repost on this new blog!

Put the Gun Down and Step Away

Summary: Jack wasn't supposed to make it home from the war. He didn't deserve to, not more than Crutchie.

TW: TW: Suicidal thoughts/almost an attempt, PTSD, gun use, war violence, MIA/missing person

Characters: Jack Kelly, Davey Jacobs, Crutchie Morris

Ships: Jackcrutchie

A/N: This takes place mid and post-WWII

AO3

Jack wasn’t supposed to make it home alone.

His best friend he’d made was from New York, too. They were going to get back and share an apartment.

It had been five months since he’d made it back from the war and his best friend didn’t. Five months exactly.

Fighting was hell. Crutchie was the only thing that made it genuinely bearable.

The first time they’d met, Jack made a joke about the 18-year-old needing crutches permanently after the war, since the kid refused to recognize any injury he got unless it was major. Jack and the few buddies he’d gotten slightly close with remember being like that when they first enlisted (literally one year earlier), eager to die doing their duty or something like that. They wouldn’t let a stupid sprained ankle take them out or having them rest for a few hours.

The group just laughed it off with the kid, watching him limp along and constantly re-injuring himself.

Jack cared about everyone he was around, obviously. Some didn’t get along with him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care. They could bump heads all day, he’d still push them out of the way of a bullet in a heartbeat.

C was different, though. He was nicknamed before Jack even knew the guy’s real name (which was Charlie, by the way. Jack found that out a few weeks later). He couldn’t explain why or how… he just was.

The first few weeks of Crutchie being there was relaxed. He was obviously willing to do whatever, whenever, as long as it benefited everyone. He always seemed to be injured, Jack even wrapped up a pair of crutches in some newspapers as a gift for the younger’s nineteenth birthday. Crutchie pretended to be annoyed, but those crutches laid near his bed until he was gone.

It was then that there was an unspoken rule that, no matter what, they’d stay best friends. Even if they ended up living their own lives on separate sides of the city after the war, they’d keep in touch. They had to.

The two had gone through however many change of locations, battles, arguments, covering up the other’s dumb mistakes…

Among other things they’d managed to sneak in the few moments of privacy they got.

Comforting touches, talking through nightmares, shedding a few tears, small kisses, and...other things they’d managed to do in their precious alone time.

Jack informed Crutchie early on that they didn’t have the worst spot. Sure, there were better, calmer places to be, but there sure as hell were a lot worse, too.

Well, until they get sent in as reinforcements somewhere else in the Pacific. That also guaranteed that they were likely going to be plopped down in the middle of some shit.

Everyone who had been through this before was uneasy. People like Crutchie who still had a somewhat romanticised view of war were almost excited. They had this idea that they’d become a hero after their first big battle rather than a statistical probability that they’d die or get seriously injured.

C didn’t even make it to the end of whatever battle they were dropped into. It ended up lasting ten days or so before they could ease up.

Everyone had been split into different groups so they could try to corner everyone and it would be an easy victory. Obviously, like usual, their plans fell apart.

The constantly humid June heat was exhausting, everyone was beyond exhausted, and those who were supposed to be the reinforcements were being spread thin. This meant they fell into traps far more than at the start, no one had any extra water on them, and sleep was usually out of the question.

Crutchie and Jack were in different groups, which stressed them out, but there wasn’t time to try and switch things up (plus, the consequences for that weren’t quite worth it). Jack wouldn’t have been as worried if the stupid boy he’d developed feelings for wasn’t going into this with some injured muscle in his arm that no one but Jack knew about.

God knows what else he’d hurt in this.

Regrouping and figuring out casualties after battles was always hard. Confirming deaths, having to declare someone missing even though you knew they were gone, and not knowing whether someone was actually missing or if they were dead was hard.

When someone confirmed that Charlie Morris was definitely missing, likely alive…

Jack spent the rest of that night as alone as he could possibly be.

Maybe he’d be able to get back within the next week.

When a week went by, Jack changed that goal post to be a month.

By the time Jack got home, he knew that there was almost no chance he would ever see C again. All he wanted changed from knowing Crutchie was coming home to just hoping he wasn’t fucked up too bad before…

God, he hoped C wasn’t waiting, thinking they’d forgotten about him. He’d rather have Crutchie dead and not hurting over thinking he got abandoned.

Upon arriving home, he met up with an old friend that had joined the Navy anda had just gotten home. Davey understood Jack and Jack understood Davey. They got an apartment together in the city and things were… okay. Sure, neither of them slept through the night and it was difficult to adjust to being home, but they made it work. Jack sure as hell was glad he wasn’t alone.

One of the things he and Davey agreed on was that they’d both feel better with a gun in the apartment. Nothing huge, just a pistol. It was like a safety blanket that they kept hidden in case of an emergency.

Jack guessed this wasn’t an emergency, but then he found himself sitting at the kitchen counter with the pistol in front of him.

It was loaded, he knew that. He’d been the one to load it once he got it out tonight. That was about an hour ago, he thought.

The clock that said it was 2:30 AM implied he’d been there much longer than that.

He just wanted to have let C come back and not himself. If he could’ve gone missing and never been found…

Crutchie had deserved to come back more, in Jack’s opinion. Crutchie hadn’t even gotten to really experience what he enlisted to do before he was just gone. Not even dead, but probably captured and--Jack didn’t even want to think about what his last memories would have been. How long was he even being held by whoever had him? Days? Weeks? Months?

The idea of it being a year or more made Jack want to vomit.

The idea of going to a place where Jack would be with Crutchie and not be here at all was uncomfortably tempting.

“Jack?”

Jack hadn’t realized he’d picked up the gun and that Davey had heard a sob come out of his mouth.

That wasn’t how this was supposed to be. He wasn’t supposed to worry his friend like that.

If he was going to do it, he’d at least have the decency to not do it with his roommate home.

“Go back to bed. I’m fine,” Jack whispered and dragged the back of one of his hands across his eyes.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” Davey sighed and took a few steps closer. He put his hands up in surrender when he noticed Jack’s knuckles turn white around the gun. “I’m not coming any closer, I promise.”

“I just…” Jack trailed off and refused to raise his  voice any higher than the whisper. “It shouldn’t’ve been me. I don’t deserve…”

Davey understood, and he listened. But he also tracked every movement that his friend made with the gun.

“I know it feels that way,” he agreed gently, taking a step closer while Jack looked away to wipe his eyes again. “I understand, I do. But from what you’ve told me, it sounds like he’d be saying the exact same thing if he was here and you weren’t. So can you just… put the gun down and step away? Talk to me?”

It was a long few moments before Jack shakily set it down so the barrel wasn’t facing either of them. It was only another moment before Davey was behind him, wrapping him in a hug with one arm and pushing the firearm out of Jack’s reach with the other.

Jack didn’t care. The second he’d made physical contact with Davey, he broke down. He let everything out into his friend’s tight embrace.