#I mean they’ve already ruined everything that fans were looking forward to

[geeky92]

What this show needs is a fresh reboot, preferably in a 2D anime style.

S5 Adrienette has this unhealthy air of inevitability to it. Prople have been waiting 7 years, half their functional lives for it. They just want what they've been promised. If they open the box and it's a dead rat inside they'll pretend it's a kitten because *they were promised a kitten 7years ago, damnit!*

It's literally the fuel S5 ran on.

'hey it's the stuff we promised you. Nevermind we bought it on Wish.'

They (adri//nette) have such a poor foundation for their relationship I don’t see how they’re (the crew) gonna keep pretending they’re (adri//nette) actually an ideal couple that was made for each other when they run out of drama to distract the characters.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Same universe as the one where LXC kills JGY on a boat to not-Japan. JRS-centric as he grows up in the Nie clan and deals with his reputation as an inbred son of a traitorous bastard.

so I don't think I've ever written a fic in which LXC kills JGY on a boat, and definitely not one where JRS is a character? I mean, I've written a lot of fics, so possibly I did and I forgot, but I'm pretty sure about this one.

That being said, I don't think I've gotten any Jin Rusong prompts before so I'm reinterpreting this to be a prompt for a fic about JRS growing up in the Nie clan. Fic below!

ao3

-

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Nie Huaisang reminded himself. Risk is proportionate with reward. Your spine should be made of steel, just as your saber is.

He licked his lips, thought of his brother who had loved him, and threw himself forward with tears in his eyes.

“Oh, gongzi!” he blubbered. “Can you help me? I’ve gotten completelylost, I don’t even know where to begin –”

Xue Yang blinked at him, the lids of his eyes moving slowly like a reptile.

“Maybe you know where my san-ge is? Lianfeng-zun?”

The feeling of immediate threat lessened. It seemed he’d gambled right, and the rabid dog that was Xue Yang could still be controlled by reference to Jin Guangyao.

“I’d really appreciate it if you could just give me some guidance on where to find him,” Nie Huaisang said, lowering his voice confidentially. “I’d be sure to pay you back! If there’s anything you want –”

“Do you have any snacks?” Xue Yang asked.

Nie Huaisang, who had come prepared based on the rumors he’d painstakingly collected, produced some dragons’ beard candy.

“Not bad,” Xue Yang said. “Okay, sure.”

Nie Huaisang smiled, and even meant it.

-

“Hey, good-for-nothing,” Xue Yang said, and Nie Huaisang turned to look at his least favorite but nevertheless highly useful source of information in Lanling Jin. The fact that Xue Yang had no idea that he was functioning as such just made it more satisfactory. “You like kids, right?”

Nie Huaisang blinked. “Yes?” he hazarded, not so much because he actually did – he’d never had strong feelings about children one way or the other, though perhaps he was being presumptuous in thinking that the reference did not involve goats – but because that seemed to be the answer Xue Yang was looking for.

Xue Yang wrinkled his nose in distaste, though not, Nie Huaisang thought, at him.

“Theoretically,” he said, and he wouldn’t know ‘theoretical’ if it hit him in the face, “if there were, I don’t know, a whole bunch of them hanging around somewhere without parents, you’d be able to do something about that, right? Especially if they had a talent for cultivation?”

It took only a moment to piece together what must have happened to lead to such a question, given the ruthlessness of the cultivation world and of Jin Guangyao in particular, and Nie Huaisang marveled briefly at the idea that Xue Yang might draw a moral line in the sand over something. Presumably he felt some kinship to the children, being similarly utterly infantile, amoral, and fond of sweet things.

“Oh sure!” he said, playing up the brainless idiot who didn’t know to ask questions. “My sect is always recruiting, you know. We took some losses in the war and, well, I feel like adult cultivators aren’t really all that interestedin joining ever since I took over…”

“Because you’re a waste of space,” Xue Yang said, and Nie Huaisang pouted at him. “Whatever, the important thing is that you have space for kids. Orphans. Think, like, a whole orphanage getting shut down or whatever – anyway, not important. You’d take them back to Qinghe, right?”

“Oh, that would be so wonderful!” Nie Huaisang clapped. “That would suit everyone, wouldn’t it? They don’t have to worry about the children, and we get new disciples. I should tell san-ge – no, on second thought, he might be too busy –”

“Definitely too busy,” Xue Yang said quickly. “Wouldn’t it be nice to accomplish something yourself? You could casually show him that your numbers went up at the end of the month instead so he gives you the credit, without explaining that it’s kids making up the increase.”

“That’s a great idea! He’ll be much more impressed by that, I should definitely do that. Where is the orphanage?”

“…uh, in the forest. The back forest.”

You couldn’t come up with a better lie?

“You already brought them here?” Nie Huaisang asked, batting his eyelashes. “You’re so nice, Xue-xiong! I’ll go tell my second in command to go deal with it right away!”

-

It was in the fifth round of kids getting picked up – small cultivation clans being massacred and there was nothing Nie Huaisang could do about it, because there was either no evidence or else Jin Guangyao had come up with some motive to justify his actions and, inevitably, Lan Xichen would be there behind him, soothing over tempers and providing explanations because he believed him, every time – that something unusual happened.

“Sect Leader Nie,” one of his most trusted subordinates murmured into his ear. “There’s a problem.”

Nie Huaisang found a reason to leave the party early, a reason to go to the rendezvous point, and, once there, found the reason for the problem.

“Oh, hey there,” he said with a smile fixed onto his face by sheer force of willpower, crouching down to make himself seem less intimidating. Not that he was ever particularly intimidating, though given the rage coursing through his veins right now, he thought he might be able to pull it off if he tried. “What a lucky chance! It’s so funny, finding you here, Songsong. How are you?”

Jin Rusong wiped his eyes and looked tearily at him, recognized that the person asking was his Little Uncle Nie, and threw himself into Nie Huaisang’s arms with a howl.

This was pretty typical – Jin Rusong wasn’t much of a crier, but when he did he definitely took Nie Huaisang as his model, something all the other adults in the cultivation world had a tendency to give Nie Huaisang dirty looks over.

The only problem here, of course, was that Jin Rusong was dead.

Or, rather…he was supposed to be dead.

And if Jin Rusong was here – here, in the rendezvous point where Xue Yang put those of his prospective victims that happened to be a little too young for even him to stomach killing, at least without the personal grudge that had driven him to slaughter the Chang clan in its entirety – that meant only one thing.

Jin Guangyao had ordered his own son to be murdered.

Through demonic cultivation, no less, which was a pretty nasty way to go. There was a reason everyone implicitly countenanced Jiang Cheng’s vendetta against demonic cultivators no matter where they were, even when he ignored all territory lines and forgot to not ask for permission – the things a demonic cultivator gone bad could do were just so much worse than what anyone else could that they couldn’t risk any delay in dealing with the problem.

Well, shit, Nie Huaisang thought, even as he comforted Jin Rusong, petting the toddler’s back to try to get him to calm down. What do I do now?

-

“There has to be a reason,” Nie Huaisang insisted. “He’s not rabid. Songsong was his son!”

“Sect Leader Nie, we can’t find anything that might explain it.”

“Look harder. I don’t care how minor it is, I want to know everythingto do with Songsong. Every little detail – every person who saw him – every medical report, every compliment, every good grade –”

“He placed last in one of his classes,” one of his spies volunteered.

“What?”

“He placed last in one of his classes. About two months before his ‘assassination’, and shortly before his father started collecting evidence against the other sects that were in his way, which he later used to ‘prove’ that they had been involved in the alleged murder.”

“He wouldn’t kill his son for failing a class,” one of the others objected. “The kid’s barely more than a baby. What’s he expecting, genius from birth?”

“He’s a genius himself. Why not?”

“If everyone inherited everything directly from their parents, he’d be a whore.”

“He’d be a Jin. They’ve all got that nose, every one of them…”

“I heard he’s having the other Jin bastards killed. All of them, even the women…”

Something snapped in Nie Huaisang’s hands.

They all turned to look at him.

“Investigate Qin Su,” he said, looking down at the mess of wood and paper that had once been a fan. “Come to think of it, she has a Jin nose, too.”

-

“I don’t want to go!”

“I don’t want you to go, either,” Nie Huaisang said, feeling tired and also much more in sympathy with his poor older brother than he’d ever been while Nie Mingjue had been alive. “But you disobeyed me, and that means we don’t have a choice. You have to go.”

Nie Songsong looked down at the ground, his lip quivering. “I didn’t mean to…”

“You did,” Nie Huaisang said. “You have to own your decisions, Songsong. You can’t take them back once they’re done, no matter what the consequences. Not even if you feel bad, but definitely not because you feel bad for having to pay for what you did.”

“But…”

“No, Songsong. You cannot be in the Unclean Realm when – when he’s here.”

Nie Songsong hung his head.

“He’s not your father anymore,” Nie Huaisang said. “You know that, right?”

Nie Songsong nodded.

Nie Huaisang sighed and held out his hands, and his arms were full of a teary-eyed child a moment later.

“He loved you once,” Nie Huaisang murmured into his child’s hair. “I love you now. I wish I could give you more than that – I wish I could give you an answer, tell you why he didn’t love you enough to keep from doing what he did. But I can’t. All I can do…”

Is what I’m already doing.

“You’re enough, er-ge,” Nie Songsong whispered back. “You’re enough. I promise.”

-

“When will I get to go night-hunting?”

“You go night-hunting all the time,” Nie Huaisang grumbled. “You’re a fraction my age, and already my height, my weight, yet you wield a saber like my brother was around to raise you properly. You’re ruining my reputation, you know; now no one will believe that my incompetence comes from how short I am…”

“Not night-hunting with the rest of the sect, er-ge,” Nie Songsong said, rolling his eyes. “With other juniors!”

“Not long now,” Nie Huaisang said, looking down at the paper beneath his hands. It was all finally coming together. “Not long now. Just give er-ge a little more time to finish taking care of matters for da-ge, and you’ll be able to go night-hunting with anyone you like.”

-

“Er-ge! Are you all right? You look so pale…”

“I’m sorry,” Nie Huaisang whispered. “Songsong – I’m sorry. I’m so sorry –”

“What happened? Are you injured?” Nie Songsong demanded, already starting to pat him over, looking for wounds. “Er-ge, what’s wrong –”

“Your mother’s dead.”

Nie Songsong’s hands stilled.

“I told her about your heritage,” Nie Huaisang said, his lips numb. He’d never tried to hide it from Nie Songsong, although he’d introduced the subject very gradually and only once he thought that he’d be able to handle the revelation. “About your father – your grandfather. What they did. I wanted her to be angry at him, to turn against him, to distract him…instead, she killed herself.”

“Er-ge…”

“I shouldn’t have told her. If I knew –”

“Er-ge.”

“I should have brought her in earlier – told her about you surviving – I kept her from you for years –”

“Er-ge!”

Nie Huaisang looked at the child he had raised as a little brother the way his older brother had raised him, a father in everything but name, and who he had the constant feeling of having failed.

He wondered, as he always did, whether his brother had felt the same about him.

“Er-ge, it’s all right,” his little brother, his adopted son, said, and took his hands in his. “It’s all right. You tried, remember? Time after time, you tried to talk to her, but every single time you concluded that she would’ve told her husband instead of trusting you. She would’ve ruined everything. If she did that, I’d be dead all over again, and you with me.”

That had been what Nie Huaisang had concluded. That was why he’d never told her.

But…

“She’s your mother.”

“And you’re my er-ge. As long as you don’t die on me, too, it’ll be all right. Okay? It’ll be all right. It’ll be worth it in the end.”

Nie Huaisang shook his head. He’d already done so much, caused so much chaos and strife, and yet this moment – this was the step too far.

This was the first time he realized that he wasn’t sure he believed that it would be worth it anymore.

But by now…what else was left to do? There were no ways out of the plan he’d made himself; he’d designed it that way on purpose, because he’d known that if there was a way out, that snake would find a way to slither through it. He just hadn’t thought that he would be the one looking for it.

It didn’t matter.

He had to keep going.

His older brother deserved it, even if the younger one didn’t.

-

“I represent the Nie sect,” the young man – just about their age, though shorter than either of them – said with a smile. He seemed kind, gentle and polite, easy-going, but Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui looked at each other, and then at Jin Ling, who just scowled. “Can I come in?”

“Were you even invited?” Jin Ling asked in bitten off words. He was still bitter about some of the things that had happened in the Guayin Temple a month before, and of all them the one he was most bitter about was his second uncle’s retreat into seclusion – they were all upset about that.

“But it’s a discussion conference,” the young man said, blinking in confusion. “We’re a Great Sect. Why wouldn’t we be invited?”

In the face of such profound ignorance, there really wasn’t very much they could say, and eventually Lan Sizhui stepped forward with a smile, welcoming the young man – Nie Songsong, he introduced himself – into the Cloud Recesses.

Everything seemed fine for a little while. Lan Sizhui was able to talk to the people in charge of arranging juniors into finding another place for Nie Songsong to stay, although it would be a little delayed – Nie Songsong assured them that there was no issue – and as recompense they even showed him, at his request, a few of the main landmarks.

And then they turned around and their guest had disappeared.

“I knew he was up to no good!” Jin Ling exclaimed.

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Lan Sizhui told him.

“I’m with Jin Ling,” Lan Jingyi said. “He seemed so nice and understated – just like you know –”

“Don’t talk about my little uncle,” Jin Ling hissed at him. “I know it’s true, but just – don’t, okay?”

“We should find where he went,” Lan Sizhui decided.

It took them a while, but in the end they found him in the most unexpected place: in the rooms their sect leader had chosen for his seclusion, sitting on the bed with Lan Xichen’s head on his shoulder, sobbing as if his heart had been broken.

“What are you doing?” Lan Sizhui exclaimed, unnerved even out of his own habitual politeness.

“I came to greet my uncle,” Nie Songsong said, his manner just as gentle and polite as it had been from the beginning, although it was now evident that he was as stubborn as a rock and not easy-going at all.

“Your uncle?” Lan Jingyi gaped. “How can he be your uncle?”

“You’re Sect Leader Nie’s son!” Jin Ling accused.

“I’m Sect Leader Nie’s little brother by adoption,” Nie Songsong corrected. “It’s through my father that he’s my uncle – and you my cousin, I suppose.”

“Your – father?”

“Oh, yes. My birth name, you see,” Nie Songsong said, “was Jin Rusong.”

-

“Why did you choose to reveal yourself?” Lan Sizhui asked. “Given that everyone knows – well –”

Nie Songsong finished the character he was writing and put down his brush. “Wondering if you should let it be known that you were born with the surname Wen?”

Lan Sizhui jerked in surprise, then flushed. “How did you – that didn’t come out in Guanyin Temple.”

“No, I knew it before,” Nie Songsong said. “My er-ge is very clever, you know.”

“Yes, I suppose I do...why do you call him brother? Shouldn’t he be uncle, or – or –”

“Uncle is probably right,” Nie Songsong said. “But he raised me like a son, just as his brother did for him.”

Lan Sizhui looked down at his hands.

“Why did he publicly reveal your background, knowing that you were still around?” he asked again. “Everyone will know. Who your father was, all those terrible things he did, his relationship with your mother –”

“Why shouldn’t he? He did do all those things, and he did have that relationship with my mother.”

“But what about you? What about your reputation –”

“Are you planning on sweeping Wen Ruohan’s grave?”

Lan Sizhui stared at him.

“He’s your grandfather, isn’t he?” Nie Songsong looked calmly back at him. “Who he was, all those terrible things he did –”

“That’s nothing to do with me!”

“And the crimes of my father are nothing to do with me. My er-ge gave me his surname, just as Hanguang-jun gave you his, and for the same reason – to cut us off from the sins of our original family.”

“I suppose that’s true. But – no one knew about you, just as no one knew about me until I told them, and I only told them because they were my friends. Why’d you tell us? Aren’t you worried we’d tell more people?”

“Of course I am,” Nie Songsong said. “I hope you don’t, of course, but you would’ve found out regardless – second uncle wasn’t exactly subtle in his grief. And I had to tell him.”

“Why? To bring him out of seclusion?” Lan Sizhui hesitated. “Do you care so much for him?”

“Of course not. The last time I met him, I was a small child, and my father was just about to order me murdered; that’s not much of a basis to build a relationship. But having him lock himself away like that, as if he were in mourning…it hurt er-ge. And I won’t let anything hurt my er-ge. Anything, or anyone.”

They looked at each other for a long moment.

“I understand,” Lan Sizhui said.

“I’m glad you do,” Nie Songsong said, and then smiled. “I would’ve had to escalate to threats next, and I’m given to understand that I’m too short to really pull them off properly.”

Lan Sizhui snorted. “I think we’ve all learned that that’snot true.”

-

“Should we talk about this?” Jin Ling asked, arms crossed over his chest and glaring.

“What do you want to talk about?” Nie Songsong replied.

“How about the fact that your father tried to kill me?”

“Sure. Can we talk about the fact that you got all of his affection for years and years after he tried to kill me?”

Jin Ling blanched.

“I wonder if he would’ve gotten me a dog, too,” Nie Songsong mused. “I was too young for that when he ordered his demonic cultivator to feed me to fierce corpses and have my body ravaged until it was barely recognizable…but sure, let’s talk about how he tried to kill you.”

“I was talking about Sect Leader Nie!”

“Well, then, you should have been more specific. Sect Leader Nie’s my brother, not my father.”

“He’s a whole generation older than you!”

“My little uncle, then.”

Jin Ling flinched. “That’s worse. Go back to calling him your brother.”

Nie Songsong shrugged. “Would it help if we fought?”

“…what?”

“It makes me feel better, sometimes. Besides, I may be short, but I’m pretty good with the saber. I bet I could match your sword…maybe not your arrows. But I’ve always wanted to try.”

Jin Ling looked at him suspiciously for a long moment.

“Okay,” he finally said. “Sure. Why not?”

-

“I really hate that you’re kind of cool,” Lan Jingyi told him.

“I am so cool,” Nie Songsong said, and passed him another jar of wine. “Want to see my spring book collection?”

“…yes please.”

-

“Thank you for taking care of him,” Lan Xichen said to Nie Huaisang, who shrugged. “I’m sorry that you couldn’t trust me to help.”

“It’s only what I should have done,” Nie Huaisang said, not for the first time. He’d said it so often these past few days that it felt like a new refrain, an alternative to the old I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. He preferred the original. “I was his little uncle, remember? I held him on his first month party. How could I do any less?”

He did not say that Lan Xichen, who could be classified as Jin Rusong’s older uncle, had done much less, but from Lan Xichen’s expression, he’d taken it that way anyway.

“You never…” Lan Xichen hesitated. “Did you ever have any – concerns?”

“That he’d turn out an idiot? No. I figured he’d be in good company, with me.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Oh, you meant whether I was worried that he’d grow up longing for his blood family over his adopted family and turn against me in favor of his real father?” Nie Huaisang asked mildly. “No, not really. The memory of your father ordering you to be mauled by fierce corpses and to make sure your face is destroyed so that there’s a reason to refuse to let your mother see the body, as it would only upset her, is a fairly effective panacea against things like that.”

“No,” Lan Xichen said, though he looked sick all over again at the reminder of how considerate Jin Guangyao could be when it came to those he thought of as people, and how monstrous he was towards those he didn’t. “No, just – your brother always took such a hard line against the Wen sect…”

“Because they were raised with the philosophy that they were superior to the rest of us and my brother purposefully made himself into the symbol of their fallibility, thereby making himself and all the rest of us the primary target for their traumatic realization that they’re just as weak and vulnerable as everyone else,” Nie Huaisang said, rolling his eyes. “Our Nie sect cultivators were always especially targeted whenever we were captured – our survival rate as prisoners of war was less than half all the other sects, and it wasn’t just because we were usually more injured when we got caught. Even the civilians surnamed Wen would pull out knives and try to stab us in the back if they had half a chance! We were in a blood feud with them, er-ge. You don’t put down blood feuds just like that, not even if you want to. That’s not how it works.”

Lan Xichen nodded slowly, thoughtful.

“Anyway, Songsong is mine now,” Nie Huaisang said. “Just as Lan Sizhui is your brother’s, and Jin Ling Jiang Cheng’s. Can’t we all just agree to not care about the rest?”

“I suppose we have to,” Lan Xichen said, bowing his head. “Huaisang…did you ever think about what happens now? I mean – what should we do next?”

“I don’t know,” Nie Huaisang said, and smiled humorlessly when Lan Xichen looked at him. “I’m not joking. I didn’t know what to do when I got Songsong for the first time, er-ge, and I don’t know what to do now, either. I just wanted to see justice done for my da-ge, and I did, and for the rest – I don’t know.”

“That’s fine,” Lan Xichen said. “I don’t know, either.”

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Nie Huaisang thought. Spine as steel as your saber.

“Would you like to come visit the Unclean Realm sometime?” he asked, pretending to be casual. “Perhaps we can figure out what we don’t know together. If you like.”

“…perhaps I will,” Lan Xichen said.

[tennessoui]

hello 👋 I was catching up on your tumblr like it's my weekly newspaper of choice and, um, if you ever fancied writing a snippet of obi wan getting the call after a concert about fire fighter anakin getting hurt it would be much appreciated 🥺

alright yes of course!!! i always try to give my asks whatever they want ����🥺🥺 here's a snippet of singer!obi-wan getting an 'anakin is hurt' call

(1.8k)

When Obi-Wan gets offstage, the first thing he does is check his phone. That’s what he’s been doing for months now, ever since he and Anakin started dating. It’s not like he can look at his phone onstage in front of all the people who paid to see Obi-Wan Kenobi, rock star. He has to wait, to not carry his phone with him at all up to the stage in order to triumph over the temptation of seeing what Anakin is doing right now, what silly thing he wants Obi-Wan to see.

It’s almost better like this. He gets offstage and he gets little presents from his boyfriend: horrifically cooked meals at the station, complaints about one of his coworkers’ new taste in music, awful jokes his sister has told him.

Tonight, there’s nothing.

He doesn’t think much about it though, not when he doesn’t have his boyfriend’s work schedule memorized. Sometimes the firefighters’ schedules shift on random days; someone calling out sick, someone available to cover a shift they weren’t assigned….It’s a big city, but a small firehouse. Obi-Wan isn’t worried.

Disappointed, maybe, that he doesn’t get to see Anakin’s twisted, disgusted face at Jesse’s attempt at dinner. Or his string of laughing text emojis to accompany a joke from Ahsoka. Disappointed, but not worried.

He chats with Kit and Quinlan the entire time back to his dressing room. The drummer thinks the opening song could use a little more rehearsal. The guitarist thinks it’s fine. Obi-Wan hadn’t heard anything definitively out of place, but he’s always alright with more rehearsal. He wants to give the best performance he can to the fans. It’s that simple.

He’s alone for a few minutes when he changes from his performance outfit into his normal clothes. It’s just after ten p.m.

He thinks about calling Anakin, as it’s only 8 in the evening in his city. Surely that’s too early to go to bed, even for a night off-shit. He thinks about it the entire time he’s changing into jeans and a t-shirt, the entire time he’s wiping off his stage make-up--nothing drastic of course, but just enough to be visible in the stage lights, just enough to look a little ghoulish in the warmer lights of the dressing room.

It doesn’t take much to break him, he’ll admit. He really, really likes Anakin. They’ve been dating for eight months now. He’s almost completely comfortable saying that he loves Anakin, but he doesn’t want to scare the other man off. Sometimes he thinks that everything he feels is too big and too dramatic for everyday life, that being in the spotlight from such a young age ruined him for anything private and selfish ever again.

But loving Anakin feels private, feels selfish. It feels right, amazing, like he’s a bandit robbing a small bank and just hopping on the train leaving town. It feels like he’s getting away with something he never should have even expected to have.

Anakin doesn’t pick up.

This too is excusable, as Obi-Wan hardly expects his boyfriend to wait by the phone, anticipating his call. Anakin’s messages during his concerts are gifts for a reason. They’re not mandatory, they’re unexpected.

Going into a serious relationship like this, they’d both understood the importance of their already established lives. Obi-Wan could no more give up a concert in favor of a call with Anakin as Anakin could go off shift and call Obi-Wan.

He packs the necessities he’d carried with him into the dressing room and looks around, if only to make sure he has everything and he’s not leaving too big of a mess.

Ahsoka calls him on his cell, when he’s halfway between his dressing room and the bus. He almost doesn’t pick up because he doesn’t have Ahsoka’s number saved into his contacts. But her city area code is the same as Anakin’s, and he picks up the call.

“Obi-Wan?” Ahsoka sounds like she’s half on the call and half not. “I couldn’t unlock Anakin’s phone, but I saw you were trying to call him.”

Obi-Wan pauses and leans against the wall. “Yes, I was,” he says slowly, his gut trembling with a bad feeling. “Why are you calling me, Ahsoka?” He hates sounding so abrupt, but he can’t help it. He needs to know. Perhaps Anakin is asleep, and Ahsoka is trying to ward off any further calls in order to let her brother sleep.

“Anakin’s in the hospital,” she says grimly and straightforwardly. Faintly, Obi-Wan thinks he can appreciate her no-nonsense attitude. She gets directly to the point, even though the point iis dangerously sharp.

“No,” Obi-Wan shakes his head, even as he slowly slides down the wall he’s against until he’s sitting on the floor. “No, he can’t be. I talked to him a few hours ago.”

“There was a call,” Ahsoka sounds so close to crying. No, Obi-Wan thinks. Impossible.

“But I just talked to him,” he says, clearing his throat. “I just….”

“There was a fire out on Temple Street,” she says thickly. “He’s in the hospital because a pillar fell on him. Trapped him in...in a burning house.”

Obi-Wan inhales sharply. If he hadn’t been sitting down already, he would have fallen to the ground. “But I--” I just talked to him, he thinks. As if it matters.

“He’s not critical anymore,” Ahsoka tells him. “But he’s still in surgery. Invasive, but. Not overly risky is what they told me.” She sniffles.

“I’m twenty hours away,” he says faintly.

“I know,” Ahsoka says into the phone. “I know. You’re almost on the other side of the country. But...they didn’t know to call you and I thought you needed to know.”

“I’ll be there as soon as possible,” Obi-Wan hears himself say. He needs to move. He needs to catch a plane. No matter expensive. He needs to get to the airport, get to Anakin.

Anakin’s hurt. Anakin needs surgery.

It’s Quinlan that finds him in the hallway, guitar slung over his back.

“Obi-Wan?” he asks, offering a hand out without explanation.

“Anakin’s in the hospital,” he says blankly, staring straight forward at the other wall. “He got hurt in a fire.”

“Then let’s get you there,” Quinlan replies instantly, pulling Obi-Wan up. “Come on. We’ll get you straight to the airport. I’ll tell the fans of the next concert.”

“We need to give them a refund,” Obi-Wan says distantly as he lets himself be led out to the tour bus. There are screams of fans, but it’s like he can’t even hear them. He’s underwater. Nothing matters as much. Nothing matters at all. Anakin needs surgery. Anakin’s in the hospital. Anakin’s hurt. He’s in the hospital. He needs surgery.

“We will,” Quinlan reassures him, leading him onto the bus. He tells the driver something harshly, quickly, and then not even a minute later, the wheels are in motion.

Anakin is in the hospital. Anakin had been hurt. He’d been in a building when it’d collapsed. How had Obi-Wan never even thought to worry about this? He worries about everything, but he’d never even thought of Anakin, of what Anakin’s career means. Sometimes he doesn’t get out. Sometimes Anakin doesn’t save the day. Who saves him?

Obi-Wan only realizes he’s making a weird noise with his throat when Quinlan clasps his hand. “We’re going to the airport,” he says with absolute surety. “We’ll get you to him, alright?”

Obi-Wan nods. What else is he supposed to do? He just talked to Anakin. He was fine then. How can someone go from fine to needing surgery in less than three hours?

He calls Ahsoka within the next fifteen minutes, as soon as it sinks in that this is happening. It doesn’t make sense, he can’t wrap his head around it, but it’s happening anyway. He’s ten minutes from the closest airport. Quinlan’s already got him a ticket. He’s coming. He’s almost there. He just...he needs to know Anakin is….that Anakin is……

“He’s still in surgery,” Ahsoka tells him softly. She sounds so small, so unsure. He’s only met her a handful of times, but he knows this tone does not belong anywhere close to her. “I don’t know, Obi-Wan. Please get here.”

Around the sixth hour after his concert ends, Obi-Wan cries. He leaves the official announcement to Quinlan, because he’s a coward. But he loves Anakin enough to type out a tweet anyway. It’s nothing too dramatic, nothing too honest either. There’s been an emergency. He’s sorry. He’s not sorry enough to not go, but he’s sorry enough to talk to fans. There’ll be a refund, maybe a rescheduling.

His entire life feels up in ends, but he talks about rescheduling. He doesn’t know what else to do. When the flight attendant tells him to turn his phone off, he puts it down until she’s passed by.

He looks out the window of the airplane and he can feel his tears soaking into his beard. Anakin is alright, he keeps telling himself. Anakin has to be okay. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Anakin isn’t okay.

It’s suddenly so amazingly clear to him that if Anakin were to--to not be alright--Obi-Wan’s life would never, ever be the same. Never. They’re intrinsically linked together. Why wasn’t he contacted when Anakin was first brought to the hospital? He needs to know this. He needs to know as soon as Anakin is hurt. He can’t stand the idea that Anakin had been injured halfway through his set, maybe at the end, maybe before it even started.

He needs to know as soon as it happens, if it ever happens again.

He never wants it to happen again. He never wants Anakin to be hurt, to be unresponsive, to be so far from him that Anakin’s sister has to let him know what’s going on.

He needs to be something different, something more. Something that makes everyone understand that he needs to be informed immediately when anything happens to Anakin, his Anakin. His….

Husband. Husband would work. If Anakin were to marry him, Obi-Wan would get preference to every medical incident experienced. Obi-Wan could be there. Yes. Husband

Husband.

Obi-Wan wipes the tears from his eyes slowly as he stares at the backside of the seat in front of him. Husband. If he were to be Anakin’s husband, he’d never be third in the information chain. He’d know immediately when something happens to his...to his husband.

Anakin could be his husband. Obi-Wan would ask him. It would make everything easier. It would mean Obi-Wan would know anything wrong as soon as it happened. He’d be the first in the chain of information.

He wants that, he decides as he cries into his airplane food napkin somewhere over the Great Plains. He wants to be the first. He wants to know. He wants to be there everytime Anakin wakes up from an injury. He wants to hold his hand.

Nothing else will ever make him feel any better. He needs it.

[fruitcoops]

Guess the Two of Us

Hey folks! I’ve been watching Cut videos recently to get inspiration for more Lions social media fics and have found several wonderful ideas. This is based on the video where someone has to match up couples from a group people they’ve never met--I love O’Knutzy, but seeing as they’re not out yet, I did not include them in this.

Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Grace is mine! Let me know if you’re still enjoying the social media fics :)

“Do I just talk to the camera?” a young woman in a yellow dress asked. Someone offscreen nodded and she smiled. “Hello, hockey fans! I’m Grace and I’ll be doing a video for the Lion Pride channel today.”

“Grace, do you keep up with the hockey world?” Marlene’s voice was a bit muffled behind the camera.

“Not at all, I’m more into softball, baseball, that kind of thing.”

“Do you live in Gryffindor?”

“Nope! I’m visiting family and I was in the coffee shop across the street when someone offered to have me film a video for the network.”

“We’re going to bring ten people out and you’re going to match the couples. Sound good?”

“Oh, god, this is going to be hard,” Grace laughed. “Sure, I’ll give it a tryrst.”

“Alright, the rest of you can line up behind her. Grace, I’ll tell you when you can turn around and start guessing. You can ask them to hold hands, kiss, dance, whatever will give you a better idea of their relationship.” Ten people walked out from behind the camera into a loose semi-circle. “Ready? Go!”

“Whew, okay, no pressure.” Grace turned to face them. “Okay, first one.” She bit her lip and scanned the group, then pointed to Lily and Natalie hesitantly. “You both look very nice and very intimidating. Could you come here for a second and hold hands?”

“Are you using new moisturizer?” Lily asked as she twined their fingers together; Kasey covered his mouth in the background. “Your hands are so soft.”

Grace looked between them for a moment, narrowing her eyes. “As much as you two would make an absolute power couple, I think you’re just really good friends. Who’s the guy that’s laughing over there?”

“I’m Kasey,” he said around his laughter.

“You’re her boyfriend, aren’t you?” She gestured to Natalie; he didn’t answer the question, but she nodded anyway. “Yeah, I’m calling it.”

“Nat, Kasey, you guys can stand over to the left,” Marlene said.

“I’m feeling a little better now, this is good!” Grace said as she faced the others again, bouncing on her toes a bit. “Tall guy and slightly shorter guy, can you come up?”

“Since when am I ‘slightly shorter guy’?” James grumbled as he walked over with Sirius.

“Since we met! I’ve always been taller than you.”

“The banter is a good sign,” Grace mused. “Hmmm. If you’re comfortable, could you give him a kiss on the cheek?” Sirius leaned down and planted one on James, who grinned. “This is tough. You’re either dating or just, like, peak best friends.”

“You can ask them to say, ‘I love you’,” Marlene suggested out of frame.

Grace turned back to them. “Could you?”

They faced each other and James took Sirius’ hands, looking deep into his eyes. “I love you.”

“Love you, too—” Sirius caught himself at the last second and Grace sighed.

“You were going to finish that with ‘dude’ or something, weren’t you?” she asked; his poker face broke immediately. “Damn it. I thought I had that one.”

“She’s good at this,” Lily commented from the line.

“Can you come to the front for a second? Sirius, you can head back.”

Lily stuck her hands in her pockets as she stood next to James. “I get the slightly shorter guy. Nice.”

Grace paused. “At first I was almost positive you were together, but now I feel like you would step on him. Is that rude?” Everyone else started cheering and she smiled as James flushed. “Sorry, you just have a presence!”

“Thank you!”

“Alright, I can’t decide. You can both go back,” she finally said. Remus gave Lily a nudge as she returned to her place and Grace’s eyebrows rose. “Sweater guy, can you step up to the plate?” Remus obliged and she tilted her head to the side. “So, I was going to say you were Lily’s boyfriend because of the little moment back there, but there is no way you’re heterosexual.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose as the rest of the group burst out laughing. “I mean, you’re right, but holy shit that was fast. Twenty-five years of pretending to be straight, wasted.”

“Hey, same!” They high-fived and she surveyed the other seven people. “Hmmm. Can the guy in the red shirt come over for a minute?” Talker walked over with a wide grin on his face. “Oh, the vibe is definitely there. I feel like he steals your sweaters.” Out of Grace’s sightline, dawning horror overtook Sirius’ face. “Can you hug?”

“Yeah, sure.” Talker held his arms out and Remus settled into them, giving him a tight squeeze around the chest.

“I can see it, I can see it,” Grace said, nodding. “Yeah, I think you two are a couple.”

“Three pairs left,” Marlene said.

“How are all of you so pretty?” Grace sighed as she turned back to the group. “Can the lady in the purple shirt and the one who looks like she could bench-press me come forward? What do you two do for a living?”

“Professional hockey,” Noelle said.

June grinned. “I’m a mechanic.”

“That’s so cool. Hmm. Could you slow dance for a second?” June wrapped her arms around Noelle’s waist, leaving a decent amount of room between them as they swayed. “You’re so cute together, oh my god.”

“Is that a yes?” June asked as they separated.

“Absolutely.” Grace blew out a long breath. Only James, Sirius, Heather, and Lily were left. “This is so difficult. How did it get harder with fewer people? Well, the lovely lady in the jacket has a rainbow pin, so I’m going to say you two are together. I am a hundred percent sure those two guys aren’t dating because of the ‘bro’ thing, but there’s nobody else left.”

“Do you want to do a rematch before your final decision?” Marlene offered.

Grace looked over at the group of already-paired couples on the left. She hesitated, then shook her head. “I know I got at least two wrong, but I don’t want to mess everything else up.”

“In that case, you’re going to face the camera and close your eyes. Everyone, get together with your real partners and put rings on if you have them.”

“Rings?” Her jaw dropped. “Some of them are married?”

“There’s one married couple and two are engaged.”

“If I accidentally ruined someone’s future, please know that I am so sorry.”

“There’s a very low chance of that,” Sirius said as he slid his ring on.

“Okay, Grace, turn around.”

Grace turned and covered her mouth with both hands. “Awww! How many did I get right?”

“One.”

“One?” Kasey and Natalie waved, and she sighed. “Please tell me you’re at least engaged.”

“Nope, sorry.”

“Shit.”

“Let’s start with this end,” Marlene laughed. “Pots, Lils, go ahead.”

“For the record, she could definitely step on me.” James grinned and kissed Lily’s temple. “We’re the married ones.”

“Wait, that’s so cute,” Grace said softly. “I totally see it.”

“So, why didn’t you pair them up?” Marlene asked.

“I don’t know! It seems so obvious now. How long have you been together?”

Lily leaned her head on James’ shoulder. “We met about eight years ago, had a baby last winter, and got married this past summer.”

“Congratulations!” June and Heather walked up next, hand-in-hand. “Well, at least I didn’t put either of you with one of the guys.”

June shrugged. “Noelle’s a cutie. If I wasn’t already engaged to the love of my life, I’d go there.”

“I put you two together because you had the jock-for-jock thing going, but this right here is couple goals.” Grace sniffled slightly. “Is it normal to get emotional about other people’s love?”

“You have three other couples to get through, you can’t cry yet!” Heather teased playfully as they moved to the end of the line.

Natalie winked. “You had us figured out right away.”

“Your boyfriend couldn’t stop laughing!”

Kasey snorted. “Sorry, it’s just that there’s a running joke among our friends that Lily and Nat are the true power couple. Even I didn’t notice the hand lotion, and we live together.”

She gasped as Talker and Noelle took their place. “Wait, what?”

“Surprise, I’m not a lesbian!” Noelle said, doing jazz hands. “Very flattered, though.”

“How do all these make so much sense?” Grace shook her head in disbelief. “At least I wasn’t wrong about the jock-for-jock vibe for one of the couples.”

Marlene stepped slightly into view. “Why didn’t you put Thomas and Noelle with each other?”

Grace shrugged. “They both had such good chemistry with the other people in the group. I’m sure I would’ve paired them up if I had seen them together, though.”

“Alright, final couple.” Talker and Noelle joined the back of the line; Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus’ waist as they stepped forward.

“You were right about the jock thing for two of the couples, actually,” Remus said with a grin. “Very impressive.”

“How did I miss this?” Grace looked at the camera crew, then back at them. “How the hell did I miss this?”

“Don’t worry, we were all oblivious for about three and a half months,” James said ruefully.

“Are you all friends?”

“All the guys play for the Lions, Gryffindor’s hockey team,” Marlene explained.

“The hockey questions make a lot more sense now. Does that mean you two play for the same team?”

“Literally or figuratively?” The corners of Sirius’ mouth twitched up as James rolled his eyes. “Yes, and yes. I’m the team captain.”

“I play wing,” Remus said.

“Did you two meet through hockey?”

Remus made a ‘so-so’ motion. “Sort of. I was the Lions’ physical therapist for two years before I was a player. We started spending more time together after Sirius broke his ankle.”

“Are you the other engaged couple?” Sirius beamed and held up his left hand. “Yeah, I thought so. Congrats, you’re both adorable!”

“Merci.”

“Do you want to sign us off, Grace?” Marlene asked as Sirius and Remus rejoined the rest of the group.

She turned to the camera and waved. “Thanks for watching, everyone!”

[houseofglass]

Hmmm, this spn prequel seems to have ruffled a lot of different feathers. My dash has provided me with Jared hate, Jensen hate, confused tinhats, and even a splash of Cockles/Destiel opinions.

Here’s my take. Spoiler alert: unpopular opinions ahead. I’m not linking anything because I’m in the middle of an unprecedented heatwave and I don’t feel like finding all the sources. Do your own research. Or not. Whatever. I just want to get this all out as coherently as possible. Here we go:

From the beginning, Jensen has been a professional. He didn’t let the drama on Dark Angel get to him and he’s said that he actively avoided having that same drama on the set of spn. He’s known as One-Take-Ackles because he brings his A-game every time.

Jared liked to mess around on set. Take after take after take after take. There was reddit post about how the crew would be working 13 (?) hours to get everything set up and still had six hours of teardown to do and then bam! actors messing about and making the day longer. Like, just say your lines dude. Anyway. Jared liked wresting, getting others to break, and pranking. I think he even pranked Misha by ruining his car more than once. Not cool, IMO.

J2 had a massive fight on set in season two. I recall it being about Jared egging Jensen on to fight but Jensen just stared him down until Jared left the set. They made up and agreed to never do that again as it promotes a bad workplace. Keep your shit contained, kind of thing.

But Jared didn’t, not really. One incident in particular is the wrestling with Osric Chau. Osric is a trained fighter and Jared was apparently going to slam him into the concrete. I repeat, into concrete. Osric dislocated Jared’s shoulder as a result. Jared still didn’t back off and Osric dislocated it again, this time Jared needed surgery and rehab. The wrestling finally stopped.

In all of this, J2 became good friends. I, personally, believe they started messing around sexually right after they auditioned for the parts and then got serious early on. They lived together, and Jared had his first breakdown immediately before announcing his engagement to Gen.

J2 are a good match. Jensen grounds Jared and Jared helps Jensen to be more outgoing while ‘on’ outside the set. Jensen seemed reserved and shy before Jared and was more confident and comfortable with Jared by his side. Jared can spin almost out of control and Jensen helps keep his feet on the ground. They also have an energy that’s been described as lightning in a bottle.

Fast forward a whole bunch of years. They’re still on the same show but have other interests. Each of them ensures that the other has the spotlight in turn. When one has a project, the other is quiet on social media so the focus won’t be taken away. They tell each other everything, as evidenced early on when PR and managers tried to play one off the other. They simply didn’t allow that to happen. Nope. Instead, they stepped back so one could shine. Jared opens a bar and Jensen is supportive. Jensen opens a brewery and Jared is supportive.

During all of this, they still perform at cons for fans. For a while, near the end of spn, I noticed Jensen seemed to be drunk/drinking often. He had a flask while getting a tattoo, he was spotted with fans while drunk and kissed one, the Bad Idea Instagram post. This isn’t unusual. He’s an adult. He can drink. I just thought it odd that I was noticing it more and asked myself, was he always a frequent drinker and he just stopped hiding it or is it a result of the rise of cell phones and constant casual photos?

But then Jared was arrested. He was drunk. Not tipsy or having a good time. Drunk. He assaulted an employee. A lot of people said he was just a big puppy and he didn’t mean anything by it, but that didn’t sit well with me. By this point I’d heard too many stories about Jared being a bit of an asshole. Also, I don’t think Jared has depression. I think he has bipolar disorder. He’s had too many incidences of mania for me to believe it’s just depression. He feels emotions deeply, that’s obvious to me, but he also has emotional swings that remind me of my own bipolar disorder. Am I self-inserting? Maybe. But I know the signs and I see them in Jared. BTW, depression meds can bring on mania if you have bd. You need a different cocktail for bd, and you shouldn’t drink while on them.

By the time J2 announced the end of spn, Walker was already in the works. I knew something was up when I saw Jensen advertising himself at every opportunity. The whole King Bacchus thing and him showing up at after parties/events that are designed for networking kinda cemented this for me. I figured he was parading around looking for work and wondered why Jared wasn’t doing the same. Then Walker was announced.

Now, I admit, my timeline there might be a bit off. Maybe Walker was announced before Jensen was King, but my brain is melting and I can’t remember. Either way, I did note that Jared had plans for post-spn when Jensen didn’t.

The wives started getting involved. Gen is on Walker and Danneel is part of Chaos Productions. Me, being the tinhat that I am, thought this was to ensure the wives have an income and are tied to their husbands. From a non-tinhat pov, I can see their involvement as a natural, nepotism thing that happens.

Jared is doing well on Walker, or so I’ve heard. I haven’t watched the show. Jensen got a role on The Boys and is filming now. Cool. Cool cool cool. Both have acting gigs.

Then Jensen announced, on social media, right before the Walker finale, that there’ll be a spn prequel that’ll be narrated by Dean.

Right. Before. Walker. Let that sink in. All these years, J2 have always stepped aside for one another to ensure they have the spotlight in turn. But now Jensen is hogging it? Jensen is taking the focus off Walker and putting it on himself? Not cool man, not cool.

Also, there was no mention of Sam in the prequel. No mention of the other half of spn. Jared has said, publicly, that he’d drop anything to work on spn stuff, so he’s available. So why wasn’t he ‘in the know’ about this? How could Jensen have slipped this past him?

Jared was seen in Colorado during Jensen’s birthday, just before Jensen went to Toronto. So they’ve seen each other. Even if, in the minuscule possibility, that Jared didn’t see Jensen that weekend, they’ve admitted to talking to each other a lot. So why didn’t Jensen, at any point, tell Jared about this prequel?

Then Robbie Thompson tweeted. Jared was hurt even more. Apparently, I heard through this blue hellsite, that Jared wanted RT to write for Walker, but RT refused. Why? Who knows.

Let’s go back in time, shall we?

Jared messed around on set. Jensen didn’t. I can believe that some crew members/writers/producers/directors would have hated working with Jared. Yes, I said that. Not everyone likes a goofball or prankster. Some people think those people are bullies in disguise.

Maybe, just maybe, the lines were drawn when spn ended. Some people supported Jared, others Jensen.

Before anyone yells at me too loudly, answer me this: how did Jensen - and everyone involved in the prequel including Kripke - keep this from Jared? Didn’t anyone at any point ask how Jared felt about it? Or if Jared was available? Or if Jared would have input? “He’s too busy on Walker” doesn’t cut it as an answer to me. Spn was about two brothers, always two brothers, and now a prequel will only feature one brother?

So I came to the conclusion that the industry deliberately took sides in this whole thing. Nobody told Jared because they didn’t want to work with him again. He has his own show, he’s busy, - these are easy ways of handwaving him out of the equation.

Bottom line, finally, is that Jensen stepped in some shit when he didn’t tell his co-star, his partner, his friend, about a prequel to the show they worked on for fifteen years.

Will I ever know all the details of why Jensen would do this? Nope. I’m not in the industry.

I still believe J2 were/are in a relationship and their wives are beards. I believe they have a wonderful friendship and were as close as two people can be. I don’t want to think that relationship is over. I don’t want to believe they’ve gone separate ways. But man oh man, Jensen fucked up big time here.

I can’t wait for a tell-all book thirty years from now.

[pockyxx]

“ how the haikyuu captains confess ”

daichi x fem! reader, kuroo x fem! reader, ushijima x fem! reader, bokuto x fem reader and oikawa x fem! reader

genre: fluff.

daichi 

people already though the two of you were dating

he always does typical boyfriend things i.e holds bags, compliments, the only thing that was missing was  physical intimacy 

he’d be on the fine line of romantic and straight forward 

he kinda already knew that you knew he liked you 

he got the team’s advice on what to do but it was useless bc they’ve never been with a girl RIP 

“Y/n, I’m glad I caught up to you!” He seemed a little more nervous than normal but you brushed it off as just nervous for his up coming practice match. 

“Hey Daichi-san, what’s up?” You closed your locker, finishing up with your own club activities. The two of you continued to walk while also keeping up the conversation, Daichi holding the door open for you. 

Your heart slightly fluttered as you walked so close with them, wondering if today was the day that Daichi was finally going to confess. One of the first years had accidentally let it slip one day when you stopped by his practice. 

“Well, actually, there’s been something on my mind. It’s been on my mind for a while, honestly.” He stopped walking, nervously opening his backpack to grab something. 

You gave him an innocent look even though it’s been a moment you’ve been waiting for for a long time. 

“I like you, y/n. Like a lot.” He extended his hand and offered you your favorite candy bar, something that he always carried around with him. “I like when I get to see your bright smile, and your laugh makes me feel so warm inside. I just like the person I am around you and how you make me want to be a better person all together.” 

It had been clear that he hadn’t exactly planned what he was going to say but it was still meaningful nonetheless. 

“It took you long enough.” You flashed a cheeky grin, “Hinata told me by accident, I’ve just been waiting for you to finally spill the beans.” You laughed, filling his heart with joy. 

“So this means you’ll let me take you on a date?” He wondered, blushing and making a mental note to make the younger boy run extra laps. You nodded rapidly, taking his hands in yours, proceeding with your walk. 

kuroo 

have you seen how he talks to his team 

he would have his confession planned for a week 

He’d be rehearsing that shit in the mirror every morning

he’d probably get really freaked out the day of though 

when you say you like him back and confess in a similar manner he’s as red as a tomato 

he practiced on kenma and get his advice

“Are you a carbon sample? Because I want to date you-” Kuroo was instantly cut off by his younger friend who was still glued to his game. 

“You’re really going to finish off such a sentimental confession with a stupid chemistry pick up line. That’s gross.” He commented as Kuroo was left scratching his head. He’d been planning on confessing to you for a while now but was still stuck on what to say. 

“But she loves when I made chemistry jokes.” His face dropped, conflicted with what to do. Was his friend right? Do girls not like that sort of thing? 

“Well you better decide quick because her she comes.” You had turned the corner with all their refilled water bottles and his heart began to race up. What would happen if you said you didn’t like him back? It would create such an awkward relationship between you two; which wouldn’t be good between a captain and a team manager. 

“Here are your waters.” You passed both volleyball players their drinks as you rested your hands on your hips, “what were you guys talking about?” 

Kenma kept a straight face while Kuroo flushed slightly. Pressing a finger to your lips, you thought of a way to lighten the clearly tense mood. 

“You’ve defiantly being improving your serves, Kuroo-san. I’ve been keeping ion you!” You covered your mouth, not wanted to let out a laugh at such a cheesy joke. That was Kenma’s cue to walk off, giving Kuroo the thumbs up to proceed-- it was now or never. 

“Well, there’s something you should know too, chibi-can.” He swallowed any anxious nerves he had, “You make my heart flutter every moment I see you; you just take me breath away and not just because of you looks. I like how funny you are, and you always seem to put a smile on my face. I know this is very random but I’ve been holding in my feelings for a very long time and I thought I was going to explode not being able to tell you.” 

You smiled, bashing your eyelashes, you never knew your captain had feelings for you. Heck, your crush had feelings for you. 

“So basically, what I’ve been meaning to ask is; are you a carbon sample? Because I want to date you?” He held his breath, wondering if Kenma was going to be right. His heart pounded even faster at the sight of your lips twisting to an even bigger smile (if that was even possible). 

ushijima 

it could go one of two ways 

either he could be super blunt and hit you with the ‘I like you y/n.’

OR it would be over the top and only because he consulted tendou

tendou’s probably watched a handful of romance animes and has ushijima prepares chocolates, flowers, the whole 9 yards 

ushi is just nodded and taking notes like... 

just confess to her at the summer festival, girls love that, bonus points if you do it under the fire works.

tendou’s words rang through ushijimas head as he walked side by side with you at the summer festival. he’d done everything tendou had instructed him to up until that point. he’s bought you the best taiyaki, he’d let you hold his hand as to not get lost in the crowd and he’d even won you a small stuffed animal that now rested under your arm pit.

“I think the fireworks are about to start.” you hummed as wakatoshi realized he needed to get into the right position.

“then why don’t we go someone more private.” he offered you a rare smile as your cheeks started to burn up with fluster.

it wasn’t like ushijima was a cold heart person but seeing him suggest something so thoughtful, your heart fluttered with the idea that someone greater was about to happen.

nodding, you let ushijima pull you off as the two of you got a better of the sky that was soon to be filled with a display of lights. he’d taken you away from the crowd, up on a small empty lot of gross that was elevated compared to the rest of the festival.

“y/n, I enjoyed tonight.” he cleared his throat, catching your attention. you nodded in agreement,

“hopefully we can go to more festivals today, of course if your not busy with volleyball!” you smiled happily. ushijima was quick to respond.

“I’d like that very much.” he paused, “y/n, i’m often told that i don’t show emotions well or that i’m very blunt.”

you watched him with curious eyes, stating that that wasn’t all ways a bad thing.

“that’s right. this is a time where i think it’s good to be blunt. you see, y/n, i enjoy spending time with you and that i like you, very much.”

bokuto 

it accidentally slipped out 

he always gets a little shy when he think about it so he simply doesn’t 

you’ll be something fairly mundane and he’ll just pause and go 

“you do that so well, that’s why I think I’m in love with you.” 

you’d get flustered because it was so out of the blue 

he’d fill akaashi in the next day and akaashi would make him re-do the confession

“You’re so good at cleaning the white board, y/n, but I guess everything you do is good because that’s why I like you.” You and Bokuto had class room chores together after school and he was watching you, in a hazy spell, resting his hand on his head. 

You blushed, not knowing if Bokuto was actually being serious or if he was just being overly kind. You just pretended like you didn’t hear him, continuing with what you were doing. If you can confessed your feelings back and he wasn’t serious, you would’ve died of embarrassment. 

“Bokuto-san are you going to help or not?” You turned around seeing Bokuto covering his face as he rested his head on the desk. “Uh, Bokuto-san are you alright?” 

He looked up at you only for you to see what you recognized as his emo mode. You frowned your eyebrows as he jumped up, bursting out with emotion. 

“No! I just confessed to the girl that I like and, and, and I wasn’t ready!” He grabbed his bag and ran for the door, “please forgive me for not doing my share of the work, y/n.” 

You were left speechless, watching as the gray haired boy ran away. You laughed realizing what he meant and put you into such a happy mood you didn’t even care that you had to finish all the chores. 

The next morning, you were greeted at the gates of Fukuordani by Bokuto who held a box of you favorite snack and a small teddy bear. Shyly extending the gifts out to you. 

“I bet you know what I’m going to say, so just, uh, please take these.” It had been what Akaashi had instructed and you took them with pleasure. 

“These will make up for all my hard work yesterday keeping out classroom spic-and-span.” You giggle, Bokuto looked at you with pouty eyes as you continued, “and if you didn’t run out so quickly you would’ve know what I like you too.” 

His eyes gleamed as you covered your slightly blushing face with your hand. Bokuto engulfed you in a hug and the two of you becoming boyfriend and girlfriend. 

oikawa 

he’s been confessed to so much that confessions make him nauseous tbh 

he’d make it very personal and romantic, though 

if not romantic he’d want it to be just the two of you 

he knew if he told any of the third years about if his plans, they’d ruin the moment; showing up to film the whole experience (mattsun and makki) 

he would secretly be the most nervous out of all of them 

You were helping Iwaizumi and taking over his cleaning shift with Oikawa. Oikawa was kinda glad the ace had a dentist appointment, so he could finally get you alone with out his team mates or fan girls there to ruin the moment. 

“Say, y/n-chan, I’m pretty lucky to have such a pretty girl helping me clean up.” His eyes were on the ball he was rubbing the marks off of, not really seeing your expression, defended by the sound of his heart thumping rapidly. 

You frowned, liking Oikawa was no easy task because everyone seemed to like him. Sure, he complimented you now, but he always compliments girls. It hurt your heart not knowing how sincere he was. 

“Don’t worry about it Oikawa-san, I’m always happy to help.” You sighed, finishing pumping a deflated volleyball. The Oikawa you had grown to love wasn’t the pretty, flashy volleyball player but the determined captain who always brought out the best in his teammates. It was the hard working, smart and passionate Toru that made your heart do flips. 

“Y/n...” His voiced trailed off, you noticed there wasn’t a cute little ‘chan’ following it. You turned to face him, not realizing your vision had gone blurry from tears pooling in them. 

“Are you alright?” Out of concern he placed his hands in your shoulders and that seemed to snapped you out of the spell you’d fallen under.

Rubbing your eyes, you nodded, looking down at your feet to avoid Oikawa’s gaze. You wished he’d let go of you, so you heart could just go back to its normal pace.

“Y/n did I say something to upset you—Im sorry.” He seemed to be holding his breath until he saw you shake your heard, reassuring him he’d done nothing wrong. Toru sighed.

“I hate seeing you upset, do you know that?” Surpised, you looked up at him, almost beckoning him to eleborate. Oikawas mind was racing— he wasn’t planning on confessing right there and then but he decided to sieze the moment.

“Out of all the girls I talk to, you’re the only one that makes me feel like this...” With your mouth gapping he took your hand and directed it to his chest where you could feel his rapid heartbeat.

“Oikawa-san...” You trailed off, at a loss of words. Between the hand touching his toned chest and the honey-like words coming out of his mouth, it sent you into over drive.

“Everything about you makes me crazy and-and well y/n... i like you!”

Nodding off, your brain couldn’t fully comprehend what your body was doing. leaning forward, reaching up to his lips you. kiss. him.

“Woah.” Oikawa breathed out, shocked at how you reciprocated his feeling until he was brought back to his usual behaviour, “so... you wanna go out with me?”

[peniswrightjusticeforballs]

The Victim Behind the #Girlboss: Analysing the Tragedy of Dahlia Hawthorne

   **WARNING: this essay will contain mentions of pedophilia, grooming, and neglect, as well as (obviously) spoilers for Trials and Tribulations**

   Dahlia Hawthorne, as the major antagonist in Ace Attorney Trials and Tribulations, is often seen as one of the most evil villains in the series due to her multiple attempted and successful murders, as well as her targeting of Phoenix Wright and Mia and Maya Fey. She is often portrayed through fan content (as well as even in the games writing) as a cruel, heartless, and evil bitch. However, the story of Dahlia Hawthorne is one of the most tragic in the series, and I would even be so bold as to claim the reason it’s not recognized as such is due to flagrant misogyny. While perhaps not moral or excusable, her actions certainly are not without reason; and are unquestionably owed some sympathy.

EARLY LIFE

Dahlia's childhood is one of pain and neglect. Her parents certainly don't care for her. Her father saw her and Iris as a means of power and left Kurain with them when it became clear they were not of use for power. Even Iris points out that Dahlia had a neglectful childhood and never had an actual parental figure. Furthermore, Iris theorizes that it’s likely she would never committed murder had she had that support and guidance in her life.

One point brought up against Dahlia showing her “evil” in childhood is that she convinces her parents to send Iris away to Hazakura at a young age; this blatantly ignores both the reality of sibling relationships and their neglectful parents. Fighting with and getting angry at your siblings is a common experience as is wishing for them to go away. Considering her father and stepmothers' uncaring attitudes toward their children, it certainly must not have been hard to convince them to send Dahlia's twin away. Rather than being a sign of manipulation and heartlessness of a child, this event is a sign of the inability to care for their children that her parents had. This is amplified by the implication in the game that her father thought “two girls is enough”, so he would have been already biased towards sending one away as he had an older stepdaughter.

This point brought up also brings to light part of why Dahlia ends up like she is, alongside what Iris says. When a child is constantly told, whether explicitly or implied, that they are evil or cruel and value-less, it is reasonable for them to step into this role and boldly claim it. While not impossible, it shouldn't be expected of a kid to avoid evil and to be good when they've never been given the opportunity or resources to be anything BUT evil.

In addition to the neglect, it is implied that Dahlia’s father cares more for his job and the illusion of power and a perfect family than the wellbeing of his family and children. That implication is also supported by his belief that two children is enough-three would be outside what he thinks fits the perfect family. It is stated that Dahlia’s plot on Dusky Bridge is intended to “exact revenge on her father”. It is clear how a neglected and mistreated 14 year old could think it necessary to resort to such drastic measures as theft for attention and revenge.

TERRY FAWLES

   Dusky Falls, of course, is where it starts to go steeply south. Terry Fawles is 20 when he enters into a relationship with 14 year old tutoring student Dahlia. Dahlia is a victim of pedophilia and grooming un-debatably. There is no defense for Terry’s actions toward Dahlia, regardless of whether Dahlia considered the relationship mutual or not. Faking her death and consequently getting Fawles jailed may not have been a necessarily good decision when considered on its own, but is not morally wrong-for starters, it very well could have seemed a great or perhaps the only option to a traumatized 14 year old. Also, Fawles being incarcerated was a good toward society.

   Terry Fawles being manipulated into drinking poison was a good thing. That isn't necessarily proof of tragedy on Dahlia’s part, but rather an assertion I have decided to include here.

   Valerie Hawthorne’s murder should also be considered when looking at Dahlia and her actions. At first glance, her death appears to be an act motivated by selfishness and self interest-but upon deeper look, has two major motivations that make perfect sense. The first is that Valerie Hawthorne was directly complicit in Dahlia's grooming by Terry Fawles. She was part of the plan to steal the diamond that involved seducing Fawles. The second, of course, is panic. Valerie telling the truth about the events of Dusky Bridge could not only reveal Dahlia and her part in attempted theft, but also get Fawles a lighter sentence or even free once it is exposed that he didn't push Dahlia.

TRIAL(GODOT&MIA)

   Flash forward to when Dahlia is on trial. Diego Armando and Mia Fey take the defense of Terry Fawles in the murder of Valerie Hawthorne. While they are defending him on the charge of the murder of Valerie, they are still defending Dahlia’s groomer. Dahlia has every reason to hate them for this.

   Diego specifically has a way of speaking condescendingly to those around him. Most women are familiar with the humiliating and belittling experience of being talked down to by an older man. While as players it's visible that this is how Godot often speaks to other people regardless of gender(Phoenix and Ron Delite for example), a young woman on the stand would have no way of knowing this. In addition, he calls Dahlia words such as “Kitten”. Again, Dahlia is a victim of grooming and pedophilia. Like previously stated, Diego calls multiple people this; however, without this context his words come off as misogynistic and belittling at best and hostile and taunting at worst. Being talked down to and treated like this is such a viscerally humiliating and angering experience even without the life experience Dahlia has and it’s completely reasonable for her to react with vitriol. (Although likely less of a factor and of lesser relevance to the case, the judge’s treatment of her certainly couldn't have helped, despite working to her advantage at the beginning of her first trials.)

   Mia, on the other hand, does not call her these terms, but still does defend Terry Fawles. While avoiding the hostility Diego shows in his condescending nature, she presents her own hostility through viewing Dahlia as a threat from the beginning and treating her accordingly. Mia only ever truly views her through the eyes of a lawyer defending her client against a criminal, despite the twisted nature of her client and the reasoning of the perpetrator. Mia is a stubborn and vicious lawyer, and while those are not necessarily bad, they place her as Dahlias biggest threat. In addition to being a threat, Mia's open hostility inspires further anger because she treats her as suspicious and villainous from the start, just as she was as a child, as well as coming off as extremely confrontational.

   It is often less energy to pretend you were always evil from the start instead of looking back and acknowledging issues with your past and how they affect you. Pretending to be purely cruel and heartless and never anything more allows Dahlia to put up protective barriers. Her trial with Mia and Diego forces at least some of her painful past to come to light, knocking down some of her walls. It's only reasonable that Dahlia would become upset at this.

DOUG AND PHOENIX

Dahlia's treatment of Phoenix correlates to the threat he presents to her. Everything she's been building up can be ruined if he is too careless with that necklace. Similarly, Doug Swallow presented a threat when he tried to warn Phoenix. Dahlia has never had the chance to handle things in a “reasonable” way so as far as she was concerned, his murder was the only option.  

Her  murder of Doug Swallow and attempted murder of Phoenix Wright can certainly be attributed to girlboss behavior, but are also tied with everything else in her life-both in that her problems with them stem from everything thats been stacking itself since she was a child, and in that her methods of dealing with them stem from the trauma shes experienced.

IN SUM

   Dahlia's characterization as a pure villain with sole motivation of evil is one void of critical thought and sopping with misogyny. While the way Capcom sometimes writes their female characters and their villains means that it would make sense for Dahlia to be a one sided character motivated by pure cruelty and evil, the dismissal of her character cannot be fully chalked up to that. Taking into consideration the way she was raised and treated in life, growing to be manipulative with a twisted view of the world and morals is completely logical. While Dahlia Hawthorne WAS unequivocally a Girlboss, she was also a victim and her story is ultimately one of tragedy rather than depravity.

[writtenonreceipts]

ACOTAR, Feysand ~1.7 words, just a little thing for the holidays.

Home for the Holiday

A fire cackled happily in the hearth as Feyre moved around the living room of the house.  She strung garland from the fireplace, keeping the ends from the sparks that fluttered out on occasion.  Lining the mantle were stocking hooks and ceramic snowmen.  

Leaning over one of the half empty plastic bins, Feyre pulled out a few cheap decorative pillows declaring Let it Snow! and Ho! Ho! Ho!

They were the same pillows from years past.  Ones that should most certainly be tossed out and exchanged for new ones, but these were the first decorations her sisters and her had purchased after their parents died.  And Feyre couldn’t bring herself to toss them out just yet.  Besides, Nesta might kill her if she tried.

“Okay, the hot cocoa is ready!” Elain called out from the kitchen.  

Feyre glanced over to see Elain poke her head around the corner.  She wore a terrible disarray of mismatched pajamas combined with an apron that had reindeer prancing around on it.

“Thanks, Elain,” Feyre said, she smiled and turned back to the oil painting she had made last year of an angel.

“You want your usual peppermint?” Elain asked, her painfully kind smile alluding to something akin to pity.

“Sure,” Feyre said, if only to get Elain to stop making that face at her.

Elain disappeared and Feyre sighed heavily.

No matter what Feyre had tried the past few weeks, nothing seemed to put her in the mood for the holidays.  No amount of baking, shopping, decorating, family time had made a difference.

All because her boyfriend couldn’t be there for the holiday.  He’d recently accepted a job promotion, which was wonderful, but it required him to move out of Veleris and to Hybern.  Once, Rhysand had sworn he would never leave Veleris, the city he loved so much, but Amarantha had made a far too appealing offer apparently.

Feyre took a deep breath.  At least they’d managed to skype yesterday.  It wasn’t the same of course.  Christmas Eve without him was turning to be unbearable and Elain’s doe-eyed stare was not helping.

Maybe she should just go to bed.

“Merry Christmas!” Nesta called out.  She entered the house with a loud bang, followed by a curse. “Hell.  I might have broken Lucien’s present.  Oh well.”

“Be nice!” Elain yelled.  She rounded the corner with a giant mug that she handed to Feyre before going to help relieve Nesta of some of her many bags. “Geez, Nes.  How much crap do you have.”

“Some of it’s Cassian and Azriel’s,” Nesta grumbled.  She flipped her braid over one shoulder as she hurried the rest of the way into the house and dumped the bags on the couch. “They had something to take care of.  Probably a prank.  I wouldn’t be surprised if Cassian tried to stuff himself down the chimney.”

“Maybe he should,” Elain mused, “it might actually cheer Feyre up.”

“I’m fine,” Feyre insisted.  She punctuated her words by taking a long sip of cocoa, whipping cream staining her upper lip. “We’ll skype all day tomorrow...when he’s not in a meeting.”

“Who does that woman think she is, not letting her employees have time off?” Nesta said.  She pulled presents from the bags and began arranging them beneath the tree. “I mean I know we don’t really celebrate Christmas, but it’s a holiday.  It’s family time.”

“He’s the project leader for this really important account,” Feyre sighed. “He loves his job.”

“He loves you more,” Nesta said.

The words were so sudden and unexpected that it took Feyre a moment to register them.

“What do you mean?” she asked her older sister.  

Neta shrugged as she finished placing presents under the tree.

There was nothing else to say on the topic as Elain demanded a sister picture, followed by a heated discussion of which Christmas movies they watch first.  It was barely eight o’clock, but they all seemed ready to delve into whatever tradition they could get their hands on.  Or maybe it was just Elain and Nesta trying to distract Feyre from Rhysands absence.

While they were in the middle of one movie, Lucien arrived.  He’d finished up his shift as a nurse in the ER earlier than expected.

“We’re just getting to the good part!” Elain told him as he came over to sit on the floor just in front of her.  Despite there being plenty of space on the couch, he still was in the habit of avoiding being closer to Nesta then necessary.

“Where are the others?” Lucien asked. “There’s a storm coming in.  It started snowing while I was on my way into the city.”

“What?” Nesta demanded sitting up straighter.  She paused the movie and looked at Lucien. “It’s snowing?”

Feyre looked to the front window, where indeed, snow could be seen in the distant street lights.  A white Christmas for certain.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Lucien was saying.

Nesta was having no part of that, however.  She had her phone out in an instant and was calling Cassian.

“He knows how to drive in the snow, Nes,” Feyre said.  Her sister held up a hand to silence her.

Rolling her eyes, Feyre stood and gathered empty mugs of hot chocolate to take to the kitchen.  Apart from the tree and the small tea lights dangling over the kitchen counter, the house was dark.  But not in the miserable sort of way.  This was the kind of dark that exuded warmth and hope.  

The fire had died down hours ago and was not smoldering, keeping the house toasty.

As she set the empty mugs in the sink, Feyre looked out the window just above and watched the snow falling in thick folds through the night.  It made her all the more grateful for being inside right now, but she just couldn’t get over the seed of loneliness in her heart.  

She couldn’t cry about it now or else Elain and Nesta would try and cheer her up and it would ruin their Christmas Eve.  Rubbing a hand over her face, Feyre filled the empty mugs with water so they would be easier to clean.

Just then the front door burst open and Cassian’s booming laugh broke the silence.

“Merry Christmas!” He shouted.

In the living room, Feyre could hear feet pounding and knew Nesta was jumping up to engulf her boyfriend in a hug.  She listened as boots were kicked off and Cassian made a loud noise of pain, likely in response to a punch from Nesta.

“Where have you guys been?” Elain asked.

Cassian didn’t respond.  She heard when Azriel entered and took his sweet time to close the door behind him.  She would need to put on a thicker pair of socks.

Making sure her eyes were clear, Feyre rounded the corner from the kitchen. 

“Do you guys want some hot chocolate?” She asked and then stopped in her tracks.

Because not only were Cassian and Azriel there grinning like five-year-olds but a third person was there too.

Feyre slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, because there disheveled and jetlagged and still breathtakingly handsome was Rhysand.

“Merry Christmas,” he said.

Unable to hold herself back, Feyre ran to him, flinging herself in his arms.  He caught her easily and held her tightly against him.  Tears leaked from Feyre’s eyes as she buried her nose in his neck.  Despite the long three months apart--his touch, his scent, everything was so, so familiar.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered, tears unabashedly slipping down her cheeks. “I thought you said you’d get fired if you came back.”

Rhysand cupped her face in his hands beaming down at her with his brilliant violet eyes.

“It’s hard to fire someone when they’ve already quit,” Rhysand said.  He gave her a lopsided grin and shrugged.

“You what?” Feyre gaped at him. “This is your dream job, Rhys.”

“Nah,” he said with a shake of his head.  “Not really.”

Around them, their friends and family got distracted by other things to allow the couple time alone.  Someone started the movie back up and a Christmas song was playing in the background.  

Feyre fisted her hands in Rhysands jacket, unwilling to release him yet.  She still couldn’t believe that he was here before her.  Nor could she fully grasp what he was telling her.

“I couldn’t keep working there,” Rhysand said.  “Not for her.  Not in that place.  Not so far from you.”

Feyre bit her bottom lip, shaking her head. “You love your job.”

Rhys’ response was automatic. “I love you more.”

No matter how often she heard them, the words still sent a thrill through her.  She laughed lightly and looked away from him to where Azriel was stoking the fire and Cassian drew Nesta in his arms as they sat on the couch.  Elain leaned her head on Lucien’s shoulder as she mouthed the words along to the movie that played in the background.

The house was full of love and family for the first time in a long time.  Feyre had spent so long searching for these feelings of peace and comfort and now she had them.  She didn’t want to do anything to alter them--to diminish them.

But she also couldn’t let Rhys walk away from his work.

“Rhys,” she began.

His warm hand slid to cup her chin, gently tugging it up.  It took her a moment to meet his gaze.  Mostly because she was, again, tearing up.

“Everything about that job was tearing us apart,” he said as he leaned his forehead against hers, “and I refuse to let that happen any more.”

Feyre surged forward and kissed him.  There was so much they needed to figure out now.  So much to talk about and plan.  But for now, she was content to kiss him.  Content to be with him, with her family.

“I love you,” she murmured against his lips.

“Merry Christmas, Feyre darling,” he said.

And it was.  It was a glorious night together with snow falling down outside, the fire roaring in the hearth, and they were all together.

.end.

#

thanks for reading!

tags: using my general tags

@tottenhamboys20  @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @bamchickawowow @ladywitchling @ireallyshouldsleeprn @courtofjurdan @sassys-world @sleeping-and-books @superspiritfestival 

@my-fan-side  @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Plain Sight: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

"Don't forget that I cannot see myself -- that my role is limited to being the one who looks in the mirror." - Jacques Rigaut

Being the youngest one on the team not only made you feel like you needed to work extra hard to prove you were worthy of your place on the team, but it made you feel like an outcast because everyone was so close and tight-knit. The only person you really knew was Gideon, but he was more closer to Hotch than anyone else since they were closer in age than the rest. The person closest to your age is Spencer which is why you feel like you connect more with him than anyone else.

It’s his birthday today, and everyone is celebrating at his desk with cake and trick candles. They seemed to be having a good time, and you didn’t want to join them and ruin their fun. It didn’t feel like you were part of this family just yet since you were fairly new with abilities they’ve never seen before. However, even if you weren’t celebrating with them, you still got Spencer a present. It’s special since you knew he would hold it dear to his heart. You were pretty proud of yourself for finding the exact item you wanted even though you were at the point of ripping your own hair out.

Hotch and Gideon were off to the side to watch the rest of the team celebrate, and you stood by them with your arms crossed shyly.

“Make a wish!” Elle grinned.

“Come on man! Blow, baby blow!” Derek teased when Spencer kept blowing at his candles despite them not going out.

“I thought you are full of hot air, Reid,” Elle joked.

“Come on, Reid.”

“They're trick candles, Spence, okay? They gonna come back on every time,” JJ caved in after seeing him try so hard to blow them out.

Derek grabbed the ends of Spencer’s big blue birthday hat and shoved it further down on his head with a huge smile.

“Oh, mommy to rescue you!”

“Mommy?” Spencer scoffed, shaking off his friend.

“Is it amazing he knows what he knows and he's only 24?” Hotch asked his friend with a shocked smile.

“Imagine what he’ll know by fifty.”

“I’m twenty-two,” you spoke up, causing both heads to turn to you.

“Why aren’t you over there with them?” Gideon asked.

“I don’t feel like I’m part of the family just yet. I mean, I’m the youngest, so I feel like they think I’m a kid or something. I don’t know. I’m weird,” you chuckled nervously.

“Hey, lil’ mama,” Derek called out for you when he noticed you off to the side. “Come on.”

“Yeah, come over here,” Spencer smiled.

Once he chimed in, the rest of the team wanted you to join them. Blushing, you hesitantly walked over to the group, and Derek wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“You’re part of this team now. You’ve proven yourself,” he grinned.

“Thanks, Derek,” you smiled right back.

“You blew wax on the cake, man,” Derek scoffed playfully, taking his arm away to help cut the cake.

Spencer got up to replace your spot next to Gideon since Hotch needed to take a call.

“Is this homemade or store bought?” you asked.

“I made it,” JJ smiled widely.

“Wow, this looks amazing and I bet it tastes amazing too,” you chuckled.

She put the first piece of cake on the plate, turned to Spencer, and called out to him.

“Hey Spence, first piece for the birthday boy,” she smiled.

Spencer looked from her to you, and you gave him a shy smile with a wave. He said something to Gideon before heading over, and he took the plate.

“Thank you.”

“Birthday boy,” you sang, taking a piece of cake that JJ handed you.

“When’s your birthday?”

“Not long after yours. Mine’s in February. I’ll be twenty-three. Sometimes I feel like I’m too young to be here.”

“I know that feeling,” he chuckled.

“Sorry, guys,” Hotch interrupted as he set the phone down with a sigh, “the party's over.”

The team knew what that meant, so they packed everything they could as fast as they could so they could discuss the case you knew was waiting for you in the briefing room. Each team member started for the stairs, but you grabbed Spencer’s arm to hold him back for a second.

“Sorry, I just, um… I know I haven’t known you for very long, but I got you something. A birthday present.”

“You did? You didn’t have to.”

“I know, but, um, you’ll have to wait until the end of the case to get it.”

“Why?”

“It gives you something to look forward to, yeah? Plus, we usually end cases at night, and I know you were born at night so why not make it memorable.”

“You remembered what time I was born?” he asked, shocked you took the time to do so.

“Reid, Y/N, let’s go,” Hotch announced from the conference room.

“Why wouldn’t I remember that?” you asked, brushing past him to rush to the conference room.

Spencer looked at you as you left, and he couldn’t help but give a hint of a smile at that piece of information. The files were already passed out, and you and Spencer took your seats so that everyone else could begin. There was no need to apologize since Hotch just jumped right into this one.

“We're going to San Diego.”

“Not for the surfing, huh?” Derek commented.

“They're calling him the Tommy killer. Six women raped and murdered in their homes in the last three weeks,” JJ shared.

“Six in three weeks? That's a short fuse,” you whistled.

“And getting shorter. The first two were eight days apart then the next four in two weeks.”

“Rapid escalation. Do you think he's regressing to a psychopathic frenzy?” Spencer asked.

“No, he's too controlled for that. See you on the plane,” Hotch answered, getting up to leave the room. However, before he could, Derek stopped him with a question.

“Why the Tommy killer?”

“You know the rock opera? This unsub glues the victims' eyes wide open.”

“He wants them to see him,” Spencer noted.

“And feel him,” you added.

“Brenda Samms was found yesterday by her children when they got home from school. She had been strangled with a thin ligature, possibly a wire. No weapon was left at the scene,” Hotch ran over the details of the case once everyone was on the plane.

Since it was one of the smaller jets, everyone was in close proximity of each other with you and Spencer seated next to each other, JJ, Gideon, and Elle in the middle, Hotch across from you and Spencer, and Derek all by his lonesome towards the front.

“The residue on the wrist and mouth indicate that duct tape was used and then removed. Also not found at the scene,” Spencer remarked. “Brought it with him, took it with him.”

“He also started leaving messages at the fourth scene,” Hotch explained, reading from one of the quotes left on the mirror at the latest victim’s house. “This was on the mirrors. ‘Fair lady, throw those costly robes aside. No longer may you glory in your pride. Take leave of all your carnal, vain delight’.”

“I’ve come to summon you away this night,” Spencer finished. “It's a ballad from the late 1600s. A dialogue betwixt death and a lady.”

“A 17th century ballad?” you thought.

“Essentially, a woman begging death to live.”

“What kind of person knows this ballad? Are we looking for a literature professor?” Elle wondered.

“Anyone with an internet connection, actually. You should see what comes up when you type the word ‘death’ into a search engine,” Spencer chuckled.

“Reid, no wonder you can't get a date,” Derek teased, but it wiped the smile off the young doctor’s face. 

Leaning over the small space, you got close enough to his ear so that only he could hear you.

“Don’t listen to him, Spencer. You’re a catch,” you patted him on the shoulder before sliding back into your normal position.

“Reid, you stay on the messages. See if there's a deeper meaning,” Hotch ordered.

“It definitely looks like he ransacked the crime scene pretty well. A lot of damage, but nothing seems to be taken,” you observed.

“The eyes are the thing, the signature. The behavior that isn't necessary for the murder, but necessary for the emotional release. That's what he's there for,” Gideon stated.

“There used to be a widely held belief that the eyes record a snapshot of the last thing a person sees before they die.”

“Yeah, that's right. People used to write poems about talking to death,” Derek commented.

“Ballads,” Spencer corrected him.

“Whatever.”

“You think they'll ever run out of new things to do with their victims?” Elle asked.

“Well, finding new ways to hurt each other is what we're good at,” Gideon sighed.

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[lady-star-strings]

About Dream’s Tweets...

To begin with, I’m demisexual and have been part of the community for years - I think I have pretty good credence to speak on this matter. I try not to throw my two cents into situations like this because I can’t stand the ignorant responses of the internet anymore at my age - DeviantArt Dark Ages vet right here - but sometimes I just have to. Whether you agree or not, I could honestly care less, but I would appreciate it if you read everything and gave it some thought before responding, be it positive or negative. With that said, let’s dive in...

At this point, if people are taking the shipping/fanservice jokes and banter between the Dream Team and other creators surrounding them seriously, I don't know what to tell them or really even say, honestly. They've all stated they're not looking to start relationships with each other - multiple times and on-stream/Twitter, might I add, because people keep donating and asking/demanding an answer to both that and about their sexualities - and that it's just messing around with friends. (If we want to talk about making people uncomfortable and being offensive in that regard, don’t you worry because I've got opinions on that too.) Bottom line is, you can't get mad at them for the fan-service now when you supported it before, especially when nothing has changed and they’ve been transparent about how everything actually is.

I understand that some may feel it’s an insensitive and inappropriate thing to do in some regards, and that's perfectly valid, but please don't go mobbing through the town with pitchforks over literal jokes between friends. Keep in mind, they’ve made it clear that’s all it was before people starting jumping down their throats, and still there are groups using their sexuality to attack them over it because "YoU'rE nOt MlM sO yOu CaN't MaKe ThOsE jOkEs, YoU'rE hOmOpHoBiC!!!!!" They're even openly attacking lesbians and bisexuals - whether they agree with them or not - because they're not gay and that somehow renders their words “invalid.” You can't accuse them of being ignorant for messing around as friends because it entertains the fans, and then turn around to attack literally the entire rest of the community for offering their opinions because they aren't valid enough for you in the argument to count - that makes you ignorant. You also can’t claim to be of the opinion that everyone’s sexuality is their own business, but then demand for them not to be ambiguous about it when it pleases you. Honestly, even thinking about people doing that is so incredibly hypocritical that it gives me whiplash.

I completely understand not everyone is a fan of this behavior, but to accuse them of queerbaiting, being homophobic and faking allyship over it all right now is just ridiculous and borderline disgusting to me. They've made it clear they're not romantically interested in one another countless times and that it's just fun between friends because they're super close - they aren't playing the "Am I, or am I not?" game with anyone for gain so no, they're not queerbaiting. Queerbaiting is when it’s not explicitly said at any point whether someone is or isn’t LGBTQIA+ so they can play both the community and conservative side by putting them in ambiguous situations that can lean one way or the other for gain, whether it be monetary or otherwise. Not to mention, if they were really as “homophobic” and “falsely allied” as everyone thinks, why would other LGBTQIA+ creators such as Antfrost, Eret, Scott Major, etc. not only support them, but also consider them friends? Again, I get the offense and hurt people might have taken from this behavior, but your opinions and feelings are ultimately not universal so while they are all valid, that doesn't make them right and the final say on the matter. I don’t mean this to say you’re wrong or inferior in the argument, just that you can’t demand others to see your point of view and abide by it without granting them the same respect. The road goes both ways kiddos, I’m sorry. 

Side note, there's no one to blame but the fans themselves for the jokes and whatnot to have continued on this long because they not only supported it, but also actively encouraged it. It’s been taken so seriously that Dream has outright stated on a stream - and now on Twitter - that he and George aren't together and more than likely never will be because they're honest to goodness just really good friends screwing around. Now if you think you're uncomfortable as part of the community, how do you think they feel being accused every five minutes of being against it because they won’t openly state their sexuality? Not to mention, they can't ever talk about actual relationships or joke about other ships because people will literally send death threats to whoever the other party is because they're "rUiNiNg ThE sHiP" at this point - need I remind you of the Septiplier fiasco? It’s alright if it’s a persona or a personality, but for the love of all things holy, please stop treating people like Barbie dolls that you’re trying to make kiss. They gave us the go-ahead to ship them because it makes us happy and allows us to be creative with the concept - don’t ruin it by trying to force them to play the parts you’ve constructed in your head and then get pissy because they won’t.

Also, it is unbelievably messed up for you to donate money to ask their sexuality and/or for them to tell each other that they love them - which then basically makes it a demand because if they ignore it they get blasted for not responding and “taking their money.” For example, Dream will say he loves any of his friends without issue because he does - just not in the way everyone is assuming or wants - and that's just the type of person he is, but George doesn't like to express it that way and that's okay. He shows his love in other ways that we don't always need to know about or see to make it real, just as it is with anyone else in the world. I don’t know how so many people miss it, but when he gets a donation to tell Dream - or anyone for that matter - he loves him on stream, you can easily tell how uncomfortable it makes him - and yes Dream presses/teases him about it sometimes, but he still drops it and doesn't flame him for it for eternity. Those that donate and chat, on the other hand, will not let it go when he doesn’t say it and continue to pour donations in begging him to say it when he’s already made it clear he won’t. You honestly shouldn't be bribing them to say or do anything through donation because that's beyond messed up and manipulative, especially where these matters are concerned.

And even if they weren't straight - which used to be the case and may have changed by this time, we can’t determine such things nor should we try to - or were in a relationship with each other, it isn't any of your goddamn business to know - no way, no how. What they do offline and out of the public eye isn't anyone's business but their own and people need to respect that, not try to force it out of them or play detective to dox that information for the attention. I mean, if you want a good reason as to why Dream hasn't done a face reveal yet, this is absolutely number one on the list because there will be little to no form of privacy for him after he does and he isn't ready to lose that just yet. I certainly can’t blame him for that considering all that’s been happening to him and his friends as of late, and neither can multiple other creators who hold the same beliefs and fears - ie. CorpseHusband, H20Delirious, Ohmwrecker. No one should have to tip-toe on eggshells in their personal life because fans online don't understand boundaries, that's just cruel and unfair after providing the content and comfort that they do without asking anything but support in return.

At the end of the day, I truly just don't understand how people can join in and support the jokes that they've made clear are purely just messing around, but then turn around and crucify them for the exact same thing later down the road. How can you practically harass them about their sexuality and relationship status through providing monetary means, then go on a witch hunt because they’ve decided to be more private with that information in the present? You can't play both sides and then expect to somehow be right or justified in the situation whichever way the tide turns because, at that point, the only wrong one is you. I completely agree that they need to watch their step with what they say and do sometimes - just as everyone with a strong platform does - but only more so now because people will create a problem the second they do anything that could spin into them being horrible people with too much power.

They’re all still incredibly fresh and new to the realm of social media popularity all things considered, and they reached said popularity startlingly fast so it can’t be easy to adjust to all the attention on everything you say and do. With that said, they’re doing remarkably well so far and I have faith that they’re going to continue to learn and grow in this arena given the time. They might mess up and make mistakes - already have, in fact - but that’s part of the gig and you can’t always please or satisfy everyone, so the best you can do is acknowledge your faults and move forward. You can’t demand someone’s head on a pike when they’ve made an effort to right things and it wasn’t good enough for everyone, it’s just not a fair standard to hold anyone to. In that same vein, you also can’t demand whatever you want out of them with the excuse that they owe it to you as a fan - you’re not a fan in any way, shape or form when you play that card, and you need to either shape up or ship out if you're doing that.

If you don't support it and/or don't like it, just don't follow or watch them anymore, it’s truly as simple as that. You can't continue to watch and support them as a “fan” while also touting how ignorant and horrible they are as detractors, that's just not how it works - pick one or the other and stop attacking them and those that don’t agree with you. They’re only on year one of their careers and the amount of people trying to “cancel” and tear them down over things that really aren't issues already is ridiculous, you aren't the righteous keyboard warriors you think you are and it's things like this that are ruining the internet for everyone, not just you.

That’s all I have to say on the matter and will continue to say going forward - sorry if you came here looking for my usual nonsense, but I really felt this needed to be said and addressed. I usually try not to do these sort of rants, however, this is a serious matter and a discussion that we as a community have been needing to have for a while, so now’s as good a time as any.

So, with my peace being given and my two cents thoroughly tossed, why don’t we focus on the bigger issues with YouTube such as their blatant ignorance of pedophilia and copyright abuse? Those seem like a much bigger problems to address at this point in time since that effects creators and fans as a whole - both in the present and the future - don’t you think?

[scope-dogg]

Long post about Mass Effect below

I noticed that there’s a big mass effect trilogy remaster coming out and it just made me think back on how badly the ball was dropped with that series. When the first game came out it immediately became perhaps my favourite game of all time, it was the kind of game where I was tearing up at the ending and then immediately started up a new playthrough the instant the credits got done rolling. The game was extremely jank and rough around the edges and it ran like total shit on the 360, but I loved it anyway because I fell in love with the lore of the universe, the characters and the story. It was one of those games where I’d play it in the most obsessively completionist manner possible, doing every singe sidequest possible, talking to every character on the ship after every mission, browsing the ingame codex for hours on end and dosing up on lore. When it was confirmed that Mass Effect 2 was in development I had such high hopes, of course I wanted to see the gameplay tightened up and the technical side of things improved, but more than that I just wanted to see more of the universe, get more of the universe to explore and learn more about it, and I was especially excited at the possibility that the choices I’d made, especially the massive ones in regards to the council at the end of ME1, would carry forward and really shake up the way the fate of the universe would pan out in the long term.

When the game finally came out, I enjoyed it, but it wasn’t really what I was hoping for. While the combat was much improved over ME1, I couldn’t help but feel like everything else was pared back too much - like, levelling and loot in ME1 weren’t all that well done but I was still really disappointed to see how they were all but stripped out in the sequel. I especially hated how crap sidequests on uncharted worlds were, they were basically just short combat sections with almost nothing in the way of meaningful dialogue or choices to make. Like, don’t get me wrong, uncharted worlds in ME1 felt like the maps were procedurally generated and the Mako had wacky controls, but they still managed to pull off the right atmosphere of going to these dangerous and remote places on alien worlds, and there was some legitimately intriguing stuff going on in some of those sidequests, and it was honestly a little infuriating to see all that basically get the axe entirely instead of getting some polish. I also just felt like the additions to the lore and story were disappointing. I was excited to find out about how society in the Terminus systems was different from Citadel space and meet some new alien races, but that didn’t really happen - I guess they tried with Omega, but that just felt like a mildly edgier version of the Citadel. The only new alien race aside from the Collectors they introduced were the Vorcha and I guess the Batarians if you didn’t play the DLC for ME1, but neither ended up being all that interesting. People remember ME2′s story fondly because of the characters, and I agree that the characters are great, Legion and Mordin especially stand out though all of your squadmates and major supporting characters on the ship are great (except maybe Jacob I guess) as are each of their accompanying stories that get resolved through their loyalty missions, but I think that the actual core plot of ME2 isn’t good at all. The whole thing about you dying and coming back to life seems like it was done just to have the excuse of having a timeskip happen, and I never felt particularly compelled by the Illusive Man or Cerberus as a faction - they were in a sidequest chain in ME1 technically but I still felt like they kind of came out of nowhere and never really fit into the grand scheme of things properly - there’s nothing that they really enable Shepard to do differently that wouldn’t have already been justified by you being a Spectre. The revelations about the Collectors and ultimately what they were doing with the colonists they were kidnapping felt really stupid and pointless apart from giving you an excuse to have a really cheesy and out-of-place final boss. The final mission was only exciting because of the tension of potentially losing one or more of your squadmates than because of what the actual consquences of failure for the galaxy were if you failed. There was no compelling antagonist to square off against like Saren in ME1, and ultimately the whole thing felt kind of pointless - it wasn’t until later after the trilogy was done that I realised that you could take ME2 out of the equation entirely and it wouldn’t make that much difference, but even in those moments as the credits were rolling after I beat the game for the first time, I was struggling to make up my mind about whether I’d actually enjoyed the game or not. I mean, it wasn’t like the game was bad or anything but I was thinking more about the opportunities that they missed rather than the good things they added. I was really missing that sense of discovery and exploring an alien galaxy that the first game had and got left by the wayside for the second. I did start up a new playthrough after that like I did with ME1 but IIRC I didn’t bother finishing that playthrough.

Then along came ME3. Everything about that game is depressing. The whole path of the plot and just the unrelenting apocalyptic tone of the game in general feels like it’s actively punishing you if you actually like the setting, characters, lore and so on and so forth. I know a lot of people like the Citadel DLC that they released because it lightened the tone a bit, but even with that I find it hard to set aside the fact that the universe is literally ending while you’re trying to take a break from it all with how hard the rest of the game beats you over the head with it. How bad the endings were even with the “fix” DLC that got added is a horse that’s been thoroughly beaten to death by now, but it’s not just the endings either. I already didn’t like the Illusive Man or Cerberus and had a hard time buying them as an organisation with the kind of reach and pull they had as portrayed in ME2, but seeing them turn into the Hellghast in ME3 not only betrays that portrayal of them as an org that works through subterfuge but also stretches my disbelief beyond breaking point, plus it brings you into contact with Kai Leng who has to be up there as one of the most obnoxious rival characters in any videogame ever. Otherwise, it did a few things that ME2 did slightly better and some things slightly worse, and didn’t really do anything to recapture the stuff that made ME1 so memorable to me that ME2 skipped out on. And then there was the way that Javik, the game’s most interesting new squadmate by far, was preorder DLC, and then there was the multiplayer that you were kinda forced into playing if you wanted the best ending in the singleplayer (for all the difference that made) and was riddled with lootbox microtransactions (the first major implementation of that in a AAA game IIRC.) The coup de grace for me was when dipshit vidya journalists circled the wagons around Bioware and were taking a dump on angry and disappointed fans who were demanding a change to the ending. Like, looking back I think there was a lot of histrionics involved with that from the fanbase, and let’s just say that the Bioware fanbase has earned a reputation for being particularly turbulent, but even so I really couldn’t stand the attitude that they were taking and it made me hate the game itself by proxy that much more. (I honestly think that entire saga set the stage for Gamergate two years later.)

Eventually when ME Andromeda ended up being a stillborn flop, it didn’t even really move the needle for me that much because ME3 had already set the bar so low. Worse though is that the first game was retrospectively ruined for me. Like I said earlier, I was a hyperfan for that game when it came out, but now I can’t go back to it without thinking about the disappointments that followed it, and its flaws stand out extra hard now. After I beat it for the first time it was my number 1, now I’m not sure it’s in the top 10. There’s probably the added factor that I played it to death and know it almost off by heart which takes the shine away, but that’s also the case for some of my other all-time favourites like Metroid Prime 1 and 2, Ace Combat 2, or Command and Conquer Red Alert 2, but those never really dropped in my estimation the way Mass Effect did. Honestly to this day I’m still waiting for someone to do another star-hopping sci-fi RPG in the same vein as Mass Effect and to pull it off well, because at this point I’m all but certain that it’s not going to be Bioware that does it, not with the new one they’ve got coming in the works or the trilogy remaster.

[deans-haunted-baby]

Curious. What do you mean by Dust till Dawn going against it's Characters? I know I have my own feelings, or confusion, with how they left Kate's story.

From Dusk Till Dawn effectively character assassinated every single character in the very last episode including Kate Fuller. No one is acting like themselves in that series finale it's like some deranged fanfic writer came aboard and hijacked the show while no one was looking. If you thought 15x18 & 15x19 of Supernatural were bad and believe me they really are; those episodes are minorly salvageable against the slaughterhouse that Dusk 3x10 was. It utterly contradicts and ignores everything the show put forward in all 3 seasons. I will never watch that episode again.

I'll first explain what that piece of shit did to the show's lead protagonists, the Gecko brothers. Regardless of how you or anyone else feels about Supernatural's series finale; that show was a saint to Sam and Dean's storyline beginning to end compared to how From Dusk Till Dawn definitively butchered Richie and Seth. I'm sad saying this because Zane Holtz and DJ Controna are outstanding as these characters. I freaking love their chemistry man, it's a great rival to J2! They're the badass dark clones of the Winchesters.  Their arc starts out fascinatingly complex because they went from cold-blooded criminals/bad guys and meanwhile during their escape over the Mexican border with this hostage family the audience is told pretty quick by Professor Aiden Tanner that the Geckos are destined to become these foresworn warriors The Mayan Hero Twins in an ancient prophecy (based on real Mesoamerican lore) who battle the Underworld. So right away the show is telling us ahead where Seth and Richie are suppose to end up in their journey and when you introduce a storyline this big I expect a satisfying payoff.

At the end of season 1, Richie Gecko is *SPOILER ALERT* transformed into a culebra (snake-vampire) while Seth Gecko remains human symbolizing their night and day Hero Twin counterparts from the legend. And they're separated in the first half of season 2 where both try to navigate this new supernatural world they've stumbled on individually. What they find, no different than the Winchesters, is that neither can function properly without the other making their destiny all the more valid. That season is practically constructed like their swan song to the criminal lifestyle since the brothers are meant to become more than crooks; and since Richie's a vampire they can't ever go back to basics. Their adopted father aka uncle Eddie actually says the line "this is my swan song" in 2x07 to Seth and Richie in reference to their final heist together which is not a coincidence. That's the writers telling us that the Gecko Brothers' role in the show is going to shift from anti-heroes to heroes very soon. Eddie and Kate Fuller's fates in S2 act as the primary catalysts for this transition taking shape in the finale.

Going into season 3 it's business as usual for the boys until the prophecy of the twins officially rips a hole in the damn universe via demon queen Amaru. Who's now possessing Kate. Throughout that season Seth and Richie embark on a journey of heroism; find themselves battling monsters, actually saving civilians and dealing with their own personal demons (guilt and remorse over past sins). That year is presented as their redemption arc and final phase into their new role. No one ever tells them about their destiny (despite most of the other characters knowing) but we as the audience are already aware as we watch the brothers in action. The best episode is without a doubt 3x06 the crown jewel of From Dusk Till Dawn because it's about overcoming the darkness inside. And who best represents that than Richie; the show's most important central character whom began the series as a deadly clairvoyant criminal into the tortured vampire hero struggling with his own humanity. Now I won't spoil the whole episode for anyone who hasn't seen it or the show in general but it's an incredible moment of character development for both the Gecko brothers. Not only does it cement their powerful bond it's the episode that defines who these two are once and for all. The ones who lead the battle between good and evil; keep the balance of light and darkness. One day I plan to do an entire analysis of that episode because it's so fucking brilliant and shot so incredibly eerie at the same time 😁

You want to know what 3x10 does to these characters? It shits all over their entire storyline and pisses away THREE FUCKING SEASONS of character development. Just flushes it all down the toilet rendering everything they've ever done up to that point completely pointless! Their destiny which is the WHOLE POINT OF THE SHOW is suddenly dropped last minute and the Geckos hit reset on their former criminal escapades; dragging Kate along with them. I hate that finale with the fire of a thousand suns for what it does to Richie and Seth 😡

Moving on to Carlos Madrigal. He is the best villain character in the history of show villains hands down. I can actually say that without blinking. Wilmer Valderama is phenomenal, he steals the show as Carlos. He's is so freaking awesome, evil and badass! I just want to keep seeing this man tear things apart while being the sexy asshole he is 😈For all intents and purposes I don't want to spoil his whole storyline on the show for those following me in case they're interested. But what I will say is 3x10 destroys this character; so don't watch it if you want to keep the memory of who he was alive. I'm actually depressed over what was done to him as much as I feel sorry for Wilmer having to perform that shitty script. It's laughable in a very bad way. Gotta hand it to the writers and showrunners of FDTD they certainly knew how to humiliate their best characters in this series. Carlos basically goes from charismatic yet lethal Hannibal Lecter to a very captain obvious Gandolf caricature. Yah you heard that right, it's really fucking sad.

Next we have Freddie Gonzalez; the audience's avatar into the series. This character is connected to everyone on the show for a reason because of the crucial part he plays in this universe. The "Peacekeeper" destined to police the line between the supernatural world from the human world. In the beginning he's a Texas deputy on a quest to avenge the murder of his father figure/partner Earl McGraw via the Gecko Brothers. But once he steps in that territory of monsters there's no going back. And FDTD repeatedly tells him and the audience this in the first 2 seasons. But then 3x10 pulls the ultimate fuckery by giving him the most cliched, nonsensical hallmark ending effectively cancelling out his entire purpose in the series. He instantly forgets that he ever cared about Kate, watching her bleed out on the ground, then leaves the Geckos high and dry rushing his family (who isn't injured) to the hospital. And he stays there while the battle continues 😣

Kate and Scott Fuller OMG words cannot describe my anger over what was done to them so I'll make it fast. I'll begin with Kate the bright light and heart of the series. Her arc in the first two seasons is excellent. It's emotionally driven because she begins as an ordinary girl in broken yet seemingly-happy family to a young woman finding her way around the supernatural world maintaining her faith and moral compos while trying to help her brother after he's *SPOILER ALERT* been turned into a vampire; paralleling the Geckos's situation. Scott being only a 16 year old kid, like Richie, struggles immensely after his transformation; searching for meaning as a cursed individual and coping with his duality. He was already different to begin with so being a vampire adds some interesting layers to his character.

Btw Kate plays a vital role in Richie and Seth's lives, though in my opinion is more strongly connected to Richie. The show even goes as far as developing the early glimpses of a romantic arc between Kate and Richie (seeing as they kiss twice) with angst at the end of season 2 that is never resolved. You want to know why it wasn't? Not only does season 3 mute Kate's voice and agency but 3x10 ruins her character and demolishes her whole arc with Richie (who spent all of season 3 trying to save her) at the last second due to fan pressure of those who shipped her with Seth. They don't exchange one word nor barely look at one another it's like seasons 1&2 never happened. This is the biggest fuck you to fans of these characters I've ever witnessed in a series and they did my boys Adam and Michael so dirty in Supernatural. Poor Scott whom the show enjoyed kicking around all season barely gets a thing to do in that series finale either than listening to his sister and Seth gab about prom lol. Yah you heard me I'm not making this shit up I swear. Then he gets abandoned by Kate while she goes off to be a bank robber with the character assassinated versions of Seth and Richie. How extraordinary 😖

Santanico Pandemonium is really the only character in the series who manages to get out unscathed. HOWEVER her arc is handled very poorly beginning to end. They set up an arc between her and Seth that also goes absolutely nowhere. Give her zero closure with Richie whom she sired, dated and used in S2. And randomly throw her in a scene with Kate that makes no fucking sense after these two had nothing to do with one another all series. On top of that Santanico is barely in season 3 so by the time the show wraps her arc feels incomplete.

Other characters go missing that no one notices, the new bad guy whom they've set up at the end is just left hanging. And Richie Gecko, you know the show’s other lead, is horribly sidelined after 3x06 to make way for the Seth Gecko solo show. When I say FDTD series finale is bad I mean it's really fucking terrible and blasphemous.

[andawaywego]

👋 Your fic is soooo good!!! I’d love to see one where Jamie acts a little jealous of Dani’s past relationship with Eddie which leads to a big conversation about how Dani was never into him ‘like that’ but she tried because heteronormativity.

you are so sweet! here you go! i hope it lives up to what you wanted. thanks for the prompt! i love writing for these two.

...

It doesn’t seem right, how heavy the frame is in her hand. It should be lighter, somehow. But instead, it weighs heavily on her wrist, makes the muscles ache from the strain of it. Jamie wonders if it has nothing to do with the picture’s physical state at all, and all to do with how absolutely fucking devastating and important it is.

And it’s early, still. Not even 8 o’clock, really, and Dani is in the kitchen ruining two mugs of tea for them both while Jamie starts on some of the boxes that make up the maze they’ve been stumbling through for the last week—since they signed the year-long lease on the studio apartment above the shop.

There hadn’t been any rhyme or reason to picking this box. It was just the nearest one, on the top of the pile by their new mattress. And now she’s sort of wishing she’d picked another.

It’s one of the ones Dani’s mother sent from home—full of things from Dani’s old apartment that she’d left behind when she moved to England—and, really, it’s Dani’s job to be going through this.

Jamie really should have saved herself the effort.

The frame is covered in dust. Jamie runs her thumb along the glass and reveals Dani’s smiling face first, and then Edmund’s. He looks different than how Jamie has been picturing him since she first learned of his existence.

Dani was so torn up, so ashamed about the whole thing—with the added bonus of seeing him around every goddamn corner—that Jamie hadn’t been expecting him to have such kind eyes. Happy and bright behind his glasses. Messy hair and a turtleneck as he and Dani sit on the grass of what looks like a university quad. One of his arms is slung around Dani’s shoulders, pulling her close, and she clutches him just as tightly, that same brilliant gladness reflected in her own expression as in his.

“Okay, I only did two minutes this time, so maybe it won’t taste as burnt,” Dani says as she weaves her way over, two steaming mugs held in her hands. She offers one to Jamie, who finally looks up from the photo to take it.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she teases, speaking past that sharp wedge of something that’s in her lungs. When she blinks, the happy white of Edmund’s smile flashes in the darkness behind her eyelids.

Dani glances down at the photograph and they’re so close—their arms brushing—that Jamie can feel it when everything inside of Dani stops. Her breathing changes.

Jamie winces and sets the photo back in the box with Dani’s old yearbooks and records. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “Your mom sent it.”

She can see the way Dani’s throat bobs as she swallows, then shakes her head. “No, it’s okay,” she says. “You’d think I’d be better at this by now.”

Jamie shakes her head. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to be. Things like these don’t get a quick fix, no matter how much we want one.”

Dani nods, breathing in shakily, and sets her mug down on the nearest tower of boxes so she can rub her face with her hands. Jamie sets her own mug down and wraps her hands around Dani’s upper arms, rubbing the smooth skin revealed by the tank top she’s wearing.

“You look happy in it,” Jamie says, and she hopes like hell that whatever bitter twinge might be in her voice goes unnoticed.

She knows what that emotion is, digging its claws into her veins, and she tries to blink it away. Even though she’s solved the mystery of Dani’s difficult romantic history, it takes a lot of willpower to look emotionless and steady. The last thing she wants is to take over Dani’s necessary grief and turn it sour by her own unmitigated envy.

Because there’s nothing to be jealous of. Not really. Edmund was someone Dani grew up with, was friends with, and loved in her own right. And now he’s gone and it isn’t as if it’s not possible to love again after something like that.

She spent the night before with Dani’s mouth against her neck, hand between her legs, and she has for the past three weeks—since they left Bly—and so there’s nothing to envy or long for. She has it already.

But, as she has every time he’s come up in the conversation, the reminder that Dani was once engaged to someone else—something that Jamie can never really give her—has left her feeling unbalanced and more than a little unsure.

“We were,” Dani whispers, leaning her forehead against Jamie’s, her eyes closed.

“I’m so sorry, Dani,” Jamie says, just as softly. “I didn’t mean to...I know you loved him. Love him, maybe. I didn’t want to upset you.”

With her arms wrapped tightly around the other woman, Jamie looks out at the window behind her, out to the bright-sky morning, and the clouds scattered across it. The studio is bathed in clear, white light, plants Jamie’s collected on their slow journey to America displayed on the counter by the stove, hung from a hook in the ceiling, gathering light and shifting and swaying as the oscillating fan in the kitchen clicks back and forth, waving cool air over Jamie’s suddenly-fevered skin.

Dani pulls away, reaches out for the picture and pulls it back out of the box. Looks down at it. Wistfully. Guiltily. She runs her finger—the pale tip of her forefinger, her rounded and trimmed nail—across where Jamie knows is Edmund’s face. They’re still pressed together, and Jamie can feel the warm and soft heat of Dani against her; can smell the floral shampoo she bought at that supermarket in Maine two weeks back on her hair. It’s in Jamie’s hair, too, she knows, but there is something to the clean scent of Dani’s skin. Jamie remembers the taste of it on her tongue and, for a moment, entertains the idea of leaning forward and kissing Dani right there, in the curve of her neck.

“I did love him,” says Dani. Jamie tilts her head, trying to get a look at the picture again. Her eyes trace the handsome lines of Edmund’s face with a guilty twist in her stomach. “Not the way he wanted me too. But...love all the same.”

Jamie isn’t sure what she’s supposed to say to that. She settles on, “Oh.”

Dani looks up at her, eyes filled with tears that Jamie knows won’t fall. Not right now. “But he was my best friend and I thought—” She swallows, shakes her head, and fixes her eyes on a point over Jamie’s shoulder. “I thought that there was something wrong with me. That I would...grow into feeling…that way about him. Loving him the right way.”

Jamie frowns, taking in Dani’s expression. Reaching up, she cups Dani’s jaw and Dani leans into the touch. And Dani meets her eyes—oh, there it is, there’s her girl—and her expression is so much softer than it was just seconds before.

“But...I didn’t,” she admits. “As happy as I was when we were around each other, when were...being best friends...it doesn’t even begin to compare to how I feel when I’m with you.”

She says this and Jamie’s eyes feel hot and itchy, so she blinks. Swallows. Tries to think of a good response to that but—Dani pulls back a little and kisses her forehead. She can hear the frame drop back into the box, but she can’t see it because she’s too busy fisting the material of Dani’s tank top in her hands and pulling her closer.

“And maybe I should feel...guilty about that,” Dani says next, her lips moving against Jamie’s skin where they’re still pressed. “But it’s hard to feel anything but crazy about you these days.”

She shifts a little and Jamie pulls back just long enough to lean in and press a hard kiss to Dani’s surprised, pursed lips.

And, the thing is—

There’s no hesitation. Dani’s hands grip at Jamie’s hips, pulling her in and making Jamie’s heart feel like it’s been turned inside out—like there is nothing beyond the two of them—right now, right here, for as long as they can be which is—

“I’m pretty crazy about you too, Poppins,” Jamie whispers against the line of Dani’s laugh. And then she kisses her again and Dani kisses her back and—

They lose a good portion of the morning after that, tangled up on their mattress together, reassuring one another with each touch, each kiss, each sigh, that they’re both here. All in.

In the end, the photograph goes in a different box—a shoe box, at the back of the closet in their bedroom. Not forgotten, no, but secured and remembered.

Jamie can live with that. As it turns out—with Dani around—she can live with a lot of things.

[what-the--curtains]

Alliance

Chapter 9 – The Hunt

(Mando x f!reader)

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Summary: After recovering you set off to find the man who tried to kill you. Killing him proves to be more difficult than expected when the ones you love are threatened, and on the other side of the choice, your own future.

Authors note: One more chapter to go!! Some angst at the end here! Hope y’all enjoy ❤️❤️❤️! (I also did some very average fan art if y’all haven’t seen it yet!)

Tw: sex is alluded to (not depicted), decapitation, force choke

Word count: 4.9k

Tagged list: @crazycookiecrumbles, @seninjakitey

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The planet proved harder to find than expected, despite Anya's best efforts, something was fogging up her tracking causing your coordinates to be constantly in flux. She’d easily lead you past the outer rim, but since then it had been akin to a wild goose chase.

“Any idea who tried to kill you.” Din asks, he'd been exceptionally patient throughout the journey thus far. Never questioning your methods just typing in the new location coordinates calmly and re aligning the ship on its new course.

“Did kill me” you correct, as your hand moves absentmindedly over the healed wound. “but no, I dont. They had a lightsaber though”

“Was it a Jedi?” he asks earnestly.

“Well based on the context clues, I'd definitely say at least Jedi adjacent” you laugh, for a savvy strategist who knew multiple languages you sometimes found yourself questioning if his brain was in fact functioning.

“Why would a Jedi try and kill you?”

“Your guess is as good as mine”

“How do they decide on colors?” He asks after a somewhat awkward silence

“Hmmm” you hum out in confusion, only half paying attention to what he had said.

“The light swords? Ashoka's are blue, yours is purple and the figures, well there's was red” your heart stops.

“It was red?” you ask, sitting up in your seat giving him your undivided attention.

“Ya does that mean something?” He watches your eyes slowly piecing together what he'd just told you.

“That’s impossible, the Sith were defeated. They died with the emperor.” you affirm, your sure red was a common colour used by Jedi nowadays, sure no one had ever seen one before, but there was a first time for everything right?

“So were the Jedi.” he points out.

“Do you always have to be right?” you ask slightly irritated for a reason you couldn’t quite explain. He doesn't respond; he knows a rhetorical question when he hears one but unsure what he had done to upset you. An uncomfortable silence lingers in the air, a sensation you'd never experienced with the Mandalorian before. Not wanting to stew in the quiet you head down to the lower levels and try and calm your frazzled mind. Sitting down you cross your legs, one over the other, as you close your eyes.

On the best of days meditating was a chore, but under the current situation it had become an impossible task. It wasn’t the threat of being ambushed that had you distracted, no something else was playing heavily on your mind. It was what was causing the punctuated silences, forced conversation and overall awkwardness in the atmosphere. It was your own doing. Seriously, who kisses a man whose face they've never seen! Idiots that's who and now it was stuck on your mind. In your defense you thought you wouldn't have to deal with the fallout so quickly. You should have known he’d have insisted on going with you, but you hadn't thought that far ahead, or at all and now you had to sit with the fact that you’d possibly ruined your comfortable friendship by planting one on him. Technically it wasn’t a real kiss,or maybe it was, how did Mandalorians kiss anyways? There you were down the rabbit hole again, this is why you couldn't focus, you curse yourself. Shaking your head you remind yourself it was only done in an attempt to get around him, a strategic move to protect the group, nothing more, nothing less. Keeping that in mind you manage to focus and you feel the galaxy's pulse emitting throughout the ship, inhaling and exhaling with the undulations around you.

Din, bored and missing the usually witty banter you offered him, decided it was time for him to clear the air in regards to the kiss. He hopes by telling you that he knew it was only done to get around him, you’d become more relaxed. The last thing he wanted was for you to be uncomfortable around him. He knew you'd never want to be with someone like him, at least in that way. As he turns around he sees you cross legged floating in the air, not wanting to interrupt he heads back up. Anya lifts her head as he re-enters, looking at him as if she knew what he was thinking. He’ll clear the air with you later, the two of you had plenty of time to talk.

You curse as your journey gets rerouted for what had to be the twelfth time in the past two days. Whoever was hunting you did not want to be found and no amount of swearing or whacking the console would change that. The closer you got to your destination the more you felt the malevolent presence grow. You found yourself wondering if it had always been with you, finding it hard to remember a time when it wasn't gnawing at your conscience. Each time you feel it scratching at your doors you remember Ashoka's words “be careful who you let into your head.” You'd made that mistake once with devastating consequences. You would not be making it again. Your energy was now primarily being spent keeping the presence at bay, not allowing it to penetrate any deeper than it already had. Sleeping only acted as an open invitation for the figure to torture you so you opted to forgo it altogether. Perhaps not the wisest decision, but what other choice did you have.

“The planet’s still a few days away.” Din says, noting the unraveled look in your eyes as you take your place next to him.

“Anything to do on this ship.” You ask, fidgeting in your seat. “like games or something” he doesn't respond “Hey beskar head! You awake under that helmet?”. You ask partially joking, partially annoyed that he wasn't talking to you.

“Yes.”

“Yes to games or yes to being awake?”

“To games” you smile, you never knew if he was actually making jokes or if you were just reading into it. The finer details of his personality artfully hidden beneath the metal exterior.

“Got Dejarik, you know how to play?” he asks, glad that you were back to yourself for the time being.

“I'm alright” you say smiling, you were better than alright, at least you think. To be fair you'd only ever played against one person and she was family and probably inclined to letting you win.

“You're cheating!” he exclaims, his annoyance apparent even through the modulator. Your skills were better than you expected especially after all those years, well either that or the Mandalorian was just that bad.

“How?” you ask, laughing at how frustrated he was getting. It was funny when you beat him the second time, but by gods it was even funnier when you beat him the seventh time.

“The force!” He says clenching his hand as he stares down at the board.

“I don't think the force bothers itself with helping me beat you at Dejarik.” you point out, as he grumbles something indistinguishable.

“Maybe you're just not as good as you think you are.” You tease pointing your finger at him eyebrows raised and a smirk plastered on your face.

“That’s not what I’ve been told,” he responds.

“About Dejarik or?” he laughs it off, but you seriously wanted to know the answer. After Cara told you he was allowed to have sex it was a question that you’d thought about a lot, more than you probably should have, but hey you were curious. Realizing the Mandalorian was now turning the game board over to see if it was rigged, you decide to change games.

“You still got that indestructible spear. The beskar one?” you ask nonchalantly.

“Yes, not something i'm planning on losing” he nods

“Fancy a match?” you offer you needed to work on your fighting skills, practicing on the air only went so far.

“Only if you promise not to slice through my ship.” He says, standing up.

“Only if you promise not to cry when I beat you.” you return causing him to scoff

“Oh im not going to be the one crying” he assures.

You stand in the ship's far corner across from Din who haphazardly twirls the spear in his hand as you open up your saber, raising it waiting for him to make the first move. He stays his ground, you and him were both defensive fighters and you knew he was far too stubborn to change his routine. Leaping forward you land in front of him, your saber making contact with the spear. After a few seconds spent testing his strength you know there's no feasible way for you to out muscle him. You'd have to out maneuver him. He’d seen you fight stronger opponents before so you’d have to think outside the box on this one. You move out from under the spear the release of your counter force causing Din to stumble forward. You turn aiming for his shin, but his arm reaches back the spear stopping your hit from connecting with his armour. You circle round him so you're once again face to face giving him enough time to stand back up. He turns quickly, swinging the spear as he does, aiming for your waist. You jump over the swipe landing behind him, hitting him in the back.

“Point to me.” you say

“No using the force” he says, turning to look down at you, his presence suddenly looming.

“I wasn't, I can just jump really high!” You lie.

“Likely story” he says brushing past you as he moves back to his starting spot

“What was that I said about crying earlier?” you question.

He's got you talking too long and he sweeps your feet out from under you knocking you on your ass and gently tapping you on the head with the spear.

“Point me” he says, offering you his hand.

“That was dirty” you say as he hoists you up.

“Who says we're playing clean sweetheart?” The term catches both of you off guard, but he's flustered himself more than you, allowing you to land the next two points.

“Hope your ego isn't too hurt darling.” you mock back at him as metal and light collide once again.

“It’s not over yet” he says, using all his strength to march you back towards the wall pinning you against it with his spear.

“You need to work on your attack, you leave a lot open” he says, breathing heavily.

“You need to work on a codpiece, it leaves a lot open” you retort, kneeing him in the groin, hard enough for him to drop you, but not so hard that it kept him down for long.

“Not enough beskar” he murmurs, hoping to get the last word in.

“Oh big brag for a man who just lost several games of Dejarik in a row and” your sentence is cut short as the spear taps the small of your back giving him the winning point

“And what?”

“Oh real classy Din, can’t win a fair fight” you say hand on your hip.

“It was fair considering I wasn't going 100%”

‘Oh you weren't” you mock, the smile telling him you were amused and not upset by his antics, the gentle slap on his arm further verifying this. The moments like this were nice, but as you continue to gain on your target they became fleeting. The Mandalorian watches as your ability to focus waivers, your frustration becoming increasingly evident in your training. Miraculously, you hadn't sliced through anything important, but the ship’s interior was constantly needing to be patched up. At least it kept him occupied and out of your hair. You looked like you were fighting a hidden battle, one he would gladly fight with you, if you'd let him. He didn’t know the full extent of your struggle, but he knew the anger he felt simmering inside you wasn't being aided by your refusal to sleep.

Your irritability, although caused by exerting tremendous energy keeping the figure at bay, was no excuse for the times you had lashed out at the Mandalorian. The most recent outburst occurred when he'd stepped on your foot after you had explicitly told him to watch out. In hindsight, threatening to melt his beskar down and turn it into a hearing aid for him so he could stop being such a nerf herder was a touch harsh. Alright, incredibly harsh especially considering he'd attempted to apologize before you went off on him.

“Sorry I threatened the beskar” you murmur sitting down next to him

“Are you going to tell me what's going on?” he asks

“Going on where” you ask

“Well it can't just be air in your head” he jokes, causing you to laugh for the first time in a few days.

“Seriously though , I'm sorry Ive been out of line, and it's not fair on you, you’ve been so understanding.”

“You know what might help with the outbursts?”

“A lecture?” you remark, your tone harsher than intended

“No, sleep, you should try it sometime”

“I'm fine without it” you say, the yawn escaping your lips contradicting your words.

“You should sleep.”

“ You don’t.” you remark hoping to catch him off guard, but he's obviously rehearsed this conversation a few times.

“ I don’t need to.”

“Neither do I.” You lie, almost a year later and you still had no idea how he slept so little, though your current working theory was that he would just take naps under the helmet when he thought he could get away with it.

“No, you can't sleep, there's a distinct difference.”

Not wanting to lash out at him for the third time that day and knowing he was right, you make a swift exit. You push the button that opens up to the tight sleeping quarters where you'd spent many hours lying awake. You were hoping that you'd reached an exhaustion point where your body would just shut down. You lay back on the bed not bothering with the covers, you weren't expecting to get comfortable. Anya had stopped trying to sleep in the same bed as you, usually getting inadvertently kicked or shoved out the bed by your constant movements. Your eyes can’t have been closed for more than a minute when they snap open. Despite their alertness your body's gone limp. What fresh hell was this? As your eyes adjust to the darkness you can only just make out the hauntingly familiar shape sitting at the edge of your bed. You go to call out for the Mandalorian, but no sound is emitted, nothing comes out at all not even air. You watch helplessly as the figure's arm extends ensnaring you in a choke hold, the yellow iris shining out beneath the hood, confirming your worst fear. A Sith. You scream yourself awake, the force causing items to fly to the ground, no doubt alerting the Mandalorian. You bring your knees to your chest grabbing at your scalp telling yourself it wasn’t real, but it didn't matter what you said. The truth was you couldn’t tell anymore all lines had blurred together. You get up off the bed looking around the room already exhausted at having to clean up yet another mess you had made. You lean over picking up the weapons that had fallen off the armoury hanging them back up when you hear the Mandalorian drop down the sound startling you.

“I'm sorry” you mutter embarrassed, not looking up as you move to grab the few dishes currently lying on the floor.

“What did I say about breaking the ship?” he says, chuckling slightly in an attempt to lighten the mood. He bends down to help you but you grab his arm stopping him.

“I made the mess. I'll clean it up.” You say gathering up the utensil and placing them back on the table absentmindedly stroking your throat as you turn to pick up the rest. As you reach for the chess board he grabs your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours, leading you back over to the bed.

“Get some rest, I'll clean up,” he says softly, sitting you down on the bed.

“Stop telling me what to do Din, besides it's not working.”

“You need to sleep.”

“I can’t and unless you can think up a way to make me then were shit out of luck.”

“I can think of a few ways.” he mumbles hoping it was loud enough for you to hear.

“Like what? Knocking me out with a blaster?” you scoff

“ A less violent way,” The words leave his mouth before he can fully assess the pros and cons of what he was offering to do.

“Reciting the entire code of conduct of the mandalore race to me?” Gods, how were you still not getting this.

“A less boring way.” He prays that you either catch on or he passes away suddenly so as to save him from any further embarrassment.

“Oh” you punctuate, lips parted slightly suddenly realizing exactly what was being offered to you “you think you can tire me out?”

“Only if you want.” he says, more confident now you hadn't outright rejected him

“Well I have been dying to see what’s under that armour”

“ You’ve seen it before”, and you couldn't wait to see it again.

“Not all of it”

“The helmet stays on,” he asserts.

“Not what I was referring to.” He stands there for a moment unsure how to proceed, not wanting to have misread the situation. “Well are you just going to stand there or are you not a man of your word?” That’s all the encouragement he needs.

“You want me to stop at any time, you just say so cyar’ika”

Once again the Mandalorian was right ; he was able to tire you out. Neither of you say anything after both at a loss for words, and not wanting to ruin the moment by saying the wrong thing. You fall asleep with his arm wrapped securely around your waist, as the other runs up and down your back. His heartbeat lulling you into a deep sleep, his presence managing to stay off any nightmares, at least for now.

He stays with you long after you’ve dozed off watching your back rise and fall in time with your breathing, he thanks the gods you were finally resting. He intently studies the faint purple markings covering your body, wondering how long they'd been there. His hand then tracing over the scars on your back, he wants to know how you got them. He wanted to know everything. Once this was all a distant memory he’d ask, if you chose to stick around that is. Knowing you won't want to find him in your bed when you wake up, he slides his arm from your waist and quietly, so as not to wake you, he puts his clothes back on. Re-donning his armour he heads back upstairs to check on the ship.

Your body shivers inadvertently at the loss of heat and your eyes slowly open. The room’s still dark, but the Mandalorian had gone. He must have left sometime in the night presumably his way of telling you it was a one off. Knowing Din to be a man of few words you knew talking about what had just happened was fully off the table. You sit up and stretch out, allowing your elbows to pop and your shoulders to crack as you roll them out, feeling a way that you hadn't felt in months. Well rested. Making your way over to the fresher you allow the water to wash over you removing any remaining scent attributed to the Mandalorian. After dressing you head up to the cockpit, slightly bow legged from the night before. You’d had your fair share of lovers and for a human, he was very well endowed and very eager to please.

“How far” you ask brushing any thoughts about last night from your head as you shoo Anya off your seat.

“You’re up sooner than I thought.” He says looking at you. He’d noticed the slight stagger in your walk causing him to smirk under the helmet, but the smile fades when you don’t look down.

“How far are we?” you ask again, picking up Anya who’s refused to move of her own volition.

“Close. About last night” he starts, wanting to make sure everything was okay, and that you weren’t regretting what had happened.

“ Look, we don’t have to talk about it. I know it wasn’t a big deal.” You say.

“It may not be a big deal for you.” you don't know why, but you take that tone as being pointed, referring specifically to your time spent in the rings.

“Why? because I've slept with half the galaxy? Something I did in order to survive an environment let’s not forget you put me in?” you spit out

“ No, I-I didn’t mean,” he starts. It's the first time you've ever heard him stumble over his words.

“ You never do.” You say, shutting him up for the remainder of the trip.

“Dropping out now.’ He says, 5 days, that's how long it had taken to get to where you were going, whoever was on the planet was committed to not being found, or at least committed to having you as sleep deprived as possible.

You step out with the Mandalorian close behind you, the planet's surface reflecting the ship's underlights back into its metal exterior. The mirrored rock had sprouted out into various forms and sharp geometric shapes, resulting in a beautiful, but sinister skyline.

“You sure this is the place? Doesn't look like any living thing could survive here.”

“Yes, I can sense a disturbance. You stay here with Anya.” you say placing a hand on his chest plate.

“No way.” Din responds

“I have to do this alone. It's too dangerous for you.”

“For me?” he says in disbelief.

“Wait here if i'm not back within the hour, leave.” You state ignoring his last question.

“ I'll give you two for good measure” he offers, holding out a blaster for you to take.

“It won't help.” You say pushing it back towards him before pulling up your hood and setting off into the unknown. Once he's sure you're out of sight, he follows you.

You close your eyes, letting your senses lead you through the sharpened planet careful not to cut yourself on the dark obsidian refelcting blurred images of the stars. A rock snaps under your foot and your eyes open. A voice calls out to you, uttering your name.

“Who are you.” you ask aloud, turning to face the cloaked figure who stands before you.

“ That is not important” he answers, lips not moving. Telepathy. So that’s how he'd gotten into your head.

“You tried to kill me I think it's at least relevant.” You return in thought.

“You came alone.” he asks, yellow eyes darting from side to side, despite the power this figure held you send a nervousness harboured deep within him, perhaps you should have brought the Mandalorian along with you.

“ Yes” you lie, hoping your force was strong enough to shield the bounty hunter.

“Good.” he snarled.

“Why did you kill me.” you ask not wanting to beat around the bush

“To see if I could. I needed to see your abilities, you’re stronger than I thought if you brought yourself back to life. The empire is rebuilding”, he offers not clearing the situation up in the least

“The empire died with Palpatine, they’re nothing but warmongering desolates now” you say shaking your head, not believing you had flown halfway across the galaxy for this.

“That’s what they have told you. We have been growing an army, led by the spirit of the emperor. We are seeking those with your abilities to help us rebuild.”

“You’ve lost your mind. The Sith were defeated long ago, the Jedi with them.” You turn to leave, no longer fearing this man, he holds no power over you.

“No” he shrieks, the sound drawing your gaze back to him, the noise frightening you slightly “You cannot leave. You cannot go. You will join us and rebuild a stronger galaxy.”

“I have no interest in joing a cult of fear and genocide.” you state calmly.

“It is more than a cult I offer you, something much better, power.” he was getting desperate, a few more days without sleep and you may have fallen for it.

“Power to what? Give you all the blood in my body so you can commit futile experiments on innocent people. You cannot create force sensitivity nor can you push it on someone who it has not chosen. Join you? No, I'll have to pass. Death and destruction will not be my path.”

“Not yet, but it will be. I see it in you, the pain, the sadness, the loneliness, that will all disappear once you join us.”

“Over my dead body” You say drawing your sabre. A violent clash of red and purple ricochet off the mirrored rock, lighting up the shadowed planets.

“Your grandmother trained you well.” He exclaims.

“ If you knew her then you should know that i'd never turn” You continue the fight. Managing to back him into a rock wall. Holding saber at his throat the light purple hue gleaning in the yellow irises beneath his hood.

“I understand why you ambushed me, not much of a fighter are you.” you snarl, pushing the saber into the robe, the scent of burning fabric filling the air. Then you feel it, the pulse of the fibers interwoven throughout the galaxy, something’s amiss. Something else appears under the glow of you saber, yellowed teeth, smiling under the light. You release him pushing yourself back, he wants you to kill him.

“ Do not fear it, I have seen this moment. It is what begins your reign”

“No” you say aloud to yourself, “No” you repeat turning off the saber and turning to leave.

“If you let me live, I kill the man with you.”

The Mandalorian whose been watching from afar hasn’t heard a word spoken in a while, watching you move towards him he thinks it must be over, whoever this person was, Sith or not, you must have come to an agreement. He almost walks out from his hiding spot when you stop dead in your tracks. He sees you look up, your eyes meeting his but only for a moment, before you pivot back to face the man.

“There’s…” you start.

“Don’t play me for a fool child, I have been playing this game long before you were even a thought in your mothers pretty little head. I know he is here. I know what you feel for him. You kill me and in time you will betray him, but you’d rather that, than lose him altogether.”

There's no thought process, no decision to make. With a flick of your wrist you throw the saber. You watch as it slices through the Siths neck before returning to your hand. You close it as his head tumbles to the ground. If Ashoka's words were a warning this, this was an omen. You had made a choice and now a path of irredeemably evil was laid before you. A path you were not prepared to drag anyone else down.

“I know you're there” you say after composing yourself. “I told you not to follow me.” You say making your way to the Mandalorians hiding spot.

“Are you alright? What did he say to you?” he asks, reaching a hand out for your arm.

“Nothing.” You say dodging him. The less he knew the safer he'd be. You weighed your options in your head on the walk back, but you knew there was only one way to avoid harming anyone. You had to hide away, become anonymous. Fall back into legend, never to be seen again. It was the only way Grogu would be safe, it was the only way Cara would be safe, it was the only way Din would be safe. As the ship takes off you say three words that would change everything.

“Take me home.”

“We're on route to Hoth now,” he says reassuringly.

“No, take me to my home. Grogu is back and safe. Our deal is done. Our alliance is over” You say, eyes plastered to the windshield.

“What did he say to you?” Din stresses, but you don’t answer. Silence was the only way to stop him from convincing you to stay.

“Don’t shut me out” he says slamming his hand on the panel. You don’t flinch, you don’t even look up. “We can figure this out together.” He says softly, if you hadn’t known any better you would have thought he was pleading with you.

“You’ve done enough. Take me home. If you don’t the force will.” He resets the GPS coordinates before standing up and dropping downstairs. Anya muzzles into you as you let out a sigh blinking back the tears you felt forming.

[thefactsofthematter]

we’ve all lost our way before

a bittersweet, jack-and-medda-centred prequel to this fic i wrote last year. no one requested this, i just felt like pouring out some emotions, so if you’d like to Feel Things with me, be my guest! this can be read as a standalone fic as well, if you haven’t read the original.

read this on ao3 if you want!

javid (sort of); 2.3k; modern au; warning for drug abuse, addiction, and overdose. 

- 

Jack is nineteen when he overdoses for the first time.

The saddest part is that he sees it as a strange sort of victory. He's been playing with fire for four or five years now, but only just OD'd. No one— at least not anyone important to him— will know that he was hooked on drugs as a literal child... they'll think of this as a recent problem, that art school was the catalyst in turning him into a junkie. He thinks it might be less shameful this way.

Medda is there when he wakes up in the hospital. He knows exactly what's going on as soon as he comes to consciousness— the familiar ache in his joints tells him that a withdrawal is starting to hit, and the rhythmic beeping, in sync with his heartbeat, is enough to fill in the story of just what happened. He overdid it.

"Mama..." he groans, hardly able to open his eyes. He reaches weakly towards where he can see her sitting in a chair and typing on her phone, with a nervous scrunch to her eyebrows.

She looks up, and then she's there in an instant, right beside him to take his hand.

"Oh Jack..." she whispers, wrapping both her hands around one of his and squeezing. Her voice is wet, like she's been crying. "What've you done to yourself, baby?"

There's a lot he wants to say— that he's ruined his own life, and he's sorry, and he can't believe he's done this to her, and he probably should've just died from the overdose so she wouldn't have to deal with him anymore, and he's so so so sorry for everything. None of those words leave his mouth, though.

"I did something bad, didn't I?" he mumbles, feeling his fingers twitch between her hands, but not quite in control of the movement. The doctors must be medicating him somehow, because this isn't a normal comedown. Why is he so tired?

"You sure did," she sighs. She pauses and swallows, as if she's trying to figure out what to say. She finally shakes her head and continues. "You overdosed on heroin, Jack— I found you on the bathroom floor, and your lips and fingers were blue. I thought you were dead."

Jack feels a horrible, horrible little ball of shame start to twist in his gut. It's not regret, necessarily, but he feels bad that she had to see that. He feels bad that he scared her, and that he's making her deal with all this now. He's a horrible son.

"I'm sorry," he says, and his words shake and his fingers twitch again, the nervous jitter that comes with the drugs leaving his system. "I didn't mean to."

She closes her eyes for a second and then nods. He can tell she's trying to be empathetic, and that she's angry with him but she doesn't want to show him that.

"I know you didn't," she says. "I know, darling." She rubs her thumb in little circles on the back of his hand. "But did you even think for a second, when you decided to shoot up in there, that one of the boys could've found you?"

This is a point that she likes to drive home whenever he's in trouble. Jack is the oldest of four, and he needs to be responsible because his brothers look up to him. He was a teenager when she adopted him, and he knew that by joining the family, he was stepping up to be a role model for Crutchie, Race, and Albert. He'd been so honoured, and he really thought he could do it, at the time.

"No," he finally croaks, because of course he didn't consider it— he wasn't planning on overdosing. "I'm sorry."

The youngest, Albert, is only twelve— and even at that, he's awfully naive for his age. He probably doesn't even know what heroin is or what it can do, and now Medda's going to have to tell him that his brother almost died from it. Of course the boys are going to ask questions, and Jack knows Medda will answer them honestly. She's not a fan of keeping secrets.

"How long have you been doing this?" she asks, after a moment. She sounds so hurt, like the thought of Jack's addiction physically pains her. It makes him want to vomit. "The doctor said some of the needle marks on your arms look like they've been there for years. When did it start?"

Jack can't bring himself to answer. It's too embarrassing.

He was such a stupid, gullible fourteen year-old that he let the older boys in his last foster home before Medda's place do this to him— it was a group home where they were horribly abused in every way you can possibly think of, and everyone was searching for a way to cope. They told him drugs would make everything better, and they held his arm still while they injected him with the tiniest amount of heroin, and suddenly he wasn't scared or in pain anymore. He couldn't feel anything. It was the best he's ever felt, and he knew right then that this was going to become a problem. His parents had been addicts, he knew it ran in his blood, but he let himself fall into the trap anyways. It's horrible.

"I want to go to sleep now," is all he says, purposefully avoiding the question. His eyes feel droopy and heavy, and the ache of the withdrawal is growing stronger, and he knows that if he doesn't sleep now it'll only get worse.

"Please, Jack," Medda whispers, not giving it up. She's squeezing his hand almost desperately. "How long?"

He lets his eyes fall shut and weakly attempts to wrench his hand away from hers.

"I'm tired, Mama."

A heavy sigh.

"Okay."

She lets go of his hand and moves instead to pet his hair, even as he turns his face away from her and tries to roll onto his side in a pitiful attempt to show that he wants to be left alone. She hums softly as she does so, and it makes Jack's chest feel tight like he's going to cry. He finally has a mother who loves him, after all these years of wishing for one, and all he can do is disappoint her.

-

Medda is on the phone the next time he's awake.

"Did you know he was abusing drugs, David?" she asks, and her tone is almost accusatory, like she thinks Davey had something to do with this. "He overdosed on heroin last night."

Davey must panic on the other end of the call, because her tone suddenly goes much softer.

"No, no, he's okay. He's in the hospital, but he'll be alright." She pauses and sighs. "The doctor said it looks like he's been using for a couple years, at least. You didn't know?"

Jack decides not to open his eyes just yet— he's nauseous and his stomach aches. He's sure that if he were to force himself to vomit it might alleviate it somewhat, but he wants to hear what Medda and Davey might talk about, so he just doesn't move.

"Okay," Medda sighs. "I understand. I had no idea either— it's scary how well he hid it. He overdosed in the bathroom at home; he must've been using drugs in the house this whole time, and I never caught on."

Jack's awfully ashamed of that bit. He didn't used to do it at home— he only did it on occasion when he was younger, and he'd save it for when he was with friends, or if he had a really bad day. It's just the past few months that have gotten so bad... he can't go a day without it anymore. He gets dope sick, craves his next dose until he can finally shoot up, and it doesn't even really get him high. He needs heroin to feel normal these days. He's been at home, around his little brothers, with that god-awful drug coursing through his body. He hates himself so, so deeply for that.

He needs help. He knows he needs help. But he somehow doesn't want it— he knows it won't work. He'll end up checking himself out of rehab, or wherever Medda tries to send him, and he'll go right back to the drugs. Being sober is hard, and being high is easy. He likes that easy, relaxed feeling, and he knows that any amount of time he spends sober will just make the next high feel even better.

"I'm going to try to get him straight from the hospital into rehab," Medda says on the phone, which makes Jack feel horrible that he's already planning on refusing that idea. "You've got school, sweetheart, this isn't your responsibility. Come by for a visit if you'd like, but don't get to thinking you have to look after him or anything... oh, I know you love him. I know, dear. But you have to put yourself first, alright?"

Jack doesn't like listening to this anymore. Medda's going to convince Davey to break up with him, isn't she? She doesn't think Jack deserves to have a boyfriend as lovely as Davey, since he's such a disappointment— she's right, but it makes his chest ache anyways.

"Mama," he groans, finally letting her know he's awake. He feels like a helpless little kid as he reaches out for her yet again. "I feel sick. I'm gonna puke."

The light hurts his eyes as he opens them, and he barely registers Medda pressing a little paper bowl into his hands for him to vomit into. He leans forward and gags into it, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the sunlight while she rubs a hand gently up and down his back.

"I'll let you go, Davey," she sighs into the phone. "Text me when you get here, alright?"

Jack tries to ask if that means Davey is coming to see him, but it comes out a little garbled when he realizes he's not done throwing up. He interrupts himself to shove his face back in the little bowl and heave yet again. It takes until he's finished puking to realize that he began to cry somewhere in the middle of it, hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Mama, I'm so sorry," he finally says, once he's sure it's over. He leans his head back against the pillows and finally says the words he's been dreading. "I... If you don't want me anymore, I understand. It's okay."

This must catch Medda off-guard, because it takes her a second to process it. She's perfectly calm as she takes the little bowl from him and sets it somewhere for a nurse to take away, but then she turns back around to him with a confused frown.

"Hang on, what?" she asks. "Jack, baby, what are you talking about? Where did you get that idea from?"

Truthfully, the thought hasn't fully left his mind since the day they signed the adoption papers, a little over two years ago. He's always figured that she'd get sick of him at some point— he's even looked into how an adoption can be annulled, so that he's prepared for when the day eventually comes. She'll realize he's not worth all the trouble he causes, she'll see how messed up he is, and she'll get rid of him for good.

"I ruined everything," he mumbles, not quite able to look her in the eyes. He wipes pitifully at the tears on his cheeks and forces himself to keep talking. "If you want to, like, cancel out the adoption... that's alright. It's not fair that you have to deal with me when I'm so awful."

She's silent for a second, and Jack is sure that this is it. She'll undo the adoption, kick him out of the family, and he'll be all on his own again. He doesn't want that, of course, but he understands why she would do it.

"John Francis Kelly," she finally says, and she comes over to the bed to cup his cheeks and hold onto his face. "Look at me. Nothing you could ever say or do could make me even consider that. Not in a million years. Do you hear me? Nothing could ever, ever make me stop loving you."

This is where Jack finally breaks. She's too good to him— he can't understand what he's done in his fucked-up life to deserve to meet someone like her. He's done nothing to earn her love, but she gives it to him unconditionally anyways, and he simply can't comprehend it. He sobs, leaning forward into her arms; she hugs him tight and just holds him there.

"You're my son, Jack," she whispers, as his head rests in the crook of her neck and she rocks him back and forth. "Okay? It doesn't matter that I've only had you for a few years... that doesn't make it any less real. No matter how many mistakes you make— no matter what you do or where you are, I'll always be your mother. You're not getting rid of me." She gently combs her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. "You got yourself into a tough spot, but we'll get you out, baby. You're gonna be okay."

"I'm sorry," Jack sobs, as if he hasn't said it enough today. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

"I know," Medda replies. "I know, baby. You made some mistakes, but it's not the end of the world. We're gonna fix it together, alright?"

Jack can do nothing more than cry at this point, so Medda just rubs his back and pets his hair. She shushes him softly, as if she's soothing an infant, and he simply clings onto her for dear life. He doesn't deserve how wonderful she is.

[gayenerd]

This interview was the cover story for the 17th issue of Jaded In Chicago. It was conducted in September of 2004, several weeks prior to the release of American Idiot. It was a fitting end to the fanzine that was named after the band, as “Jaded In Chicago” references Green Day’s 1994 MTV concert special. To come full circle by interviewing the band that inspired the zine’s moniker was somewhat surreal.

With the release of American Idiot, Green Day has transcended punk rock. By crafting the first punk rock opera and fashioning what is likely the first tasteful concept album of the new millennium, they’ve provided pop punk bands everywhere with a blueprint for how to mature gracefully. Additionally, as much as American Idiot is about innovation, it’s also a return to the fundamentals of punk rock. The album sears with dissent, takes aim between the eyes of the Bush administration and contains a dangerous sense of unpredictability. It’s been ten years since Green Day was the most popular band in the world and with any luck American Idiot will allow them to recapture that title in no time. (Interview with drummer Tré Cool).

Bill – Before we talk about American Idiot, I wanted to discuss the infamous “lost” album first. About a year and a half ago, you guys recorded what was to be the follow-up to Warning, but reportedly the master tapes were stolen. What can you tell me about what happened?

Tré – We just knew that if it ever came out, we couldn’t do any of those same songs on the actual record. If somebody puts it out, like crappier versions of the songs, it’s going to totally ruin it. Plus, it happened right around the same time that Billie wrote the song “American Idiot” and most of “Holiday.” We were in the middle of working on those songs, so we just decided not to look back and we kept going forward.

Bill – I’ve read that you feel American Idiot is “maximum Green Day.” Why exactly do you feel this way?

Tré – Well, because we’re firing on all cylinders, ya know? Everything about even just being in the band now feels so right. Everything from the recording process to the live shows to our ambitions. This might sound kind of dumb, but even the clothes we’re wearing during photo shoots. It’s more together like a band.

Bill – People are certainly expecting this record to be political, but I think they’re going to be surprised when they hear how you really go for the throat with some of the lyrics. Examples of this would of course be the title track and also the breakdown section of “Holiday.” What are some of the main reasons why you’re so pissed off with this country?

Tré – It’s more like confused and jaded, if you will, (laughs). The bombardment of bullshit, fake news, like Fox News and CNN. All the reality-based shit that’s on television, stuff like Fear Factor that the government is using to keep everybody like good little sheep and not asking too many questions. It’s like how if a cop hears you use the word “terror” it basically means he can take any normal American citizen’s rights away from them. A cop can do that at his or her discretion if they think you might be a terrorist or whatnot. The whole Patriot Act. It’s like do we actually have any rights after all? We don’t have the right to a proper election, we already found that out. The fabric of our government right now is basically just made out of one hundred dollar bills that are drenched in oil. As far as this upcoming election goes, I know that John Kerry is extremely conservative and he’s nowhere near the liberal we need in the White House to clean up the mess. However, he’s not George Bush. Kerry’s money is in ketchup. Bush’s money is in oil and blood. I’d choose ketchup over that, (laughs).

Bill – How do you hope people react to these songs?

Tré – I hope they can look past the strong language and go into the meaning of it. I hope they realize there’s a bit of sarcasm. I hope they don’t feel that we’re telling them what to do. We’re just sort of pointing the fingers at ourselves, saying like “I don’t want to be an American idiot or I don’t want to be a part of this bullshit.”

Bill – Talk about the character called “Jesus of Suburbia.” What sort of journey does he embark on throughout these songs and what made you choose this type of format for your songwriting?

Tré – The album is sort of like a timeline of his life. Depending on where you’re at with your life, you probably fit somewhere on that timeline yourself. Whether it’s the “Holiday” party stage, or the “Give Me Novacaine” drug stage or the “Extraordinary Girl” being in love stage; all these different stages in life show that what paths you choose will inevitably lead you somewhere. It’s not necessarily the happiest ending in the world, but it’s pretty realistic.

Bill – Are you at all worried about some of your fans possibly being alienated by the two nine-minute rock operas found on the album?

Tré – I don’t think they’ll even notice they’re nine-minute songs. They’ll think they’re a bunch of short songs put together. It’s definitely short attention span theater. It’s not like Wilco, where they have a ten-minute song with the same drumbeat and the same chord progression. Not saying anything bad about Wilco, they’re a fine band. They’re great to relax to and drink iced tea to, (laughs). I think we’d get bored doing that. We just sort of get to the point, say what we want to say and move on to the next part of the song. The way the energy flows in the songs is sort of like the way America is now too, just so scattered. There’s a big misrepresentation of how we feel in this bullshit climate right now.

Bill – One of the most important topics you address on this record is the American media. Specifically, how it perpetuates fear amongst the public and does little to question the President’s follow-through on his promises. Do you think the average American is aware of how the wool is being pulled over their eyes?

Tré – No, not at all. Say you see some guy driving down the street with a Bush/Cheney sticker on his Chevy S-10, beat-up truck with a pair of flip-flops hanging off the back. I want to ask him, “Why the fuck are you a Republican? What’s in it for you, dude?” Bush isn’t doing a thing for those people. He’s not helping them get a better truck or put food on the table. He’s not going to give them a tax break. Republicans don’t care about you. They’re not going to try and help you in any way. They just want to use you and get your dead peasants insurance once you’re gone.

Bill – Tell me about the upcoming club dates that you have scheduled where you plan to perform American Idiot in its entirety. Who came up with the idea and what are you looking forward to most about it?

Tré – I’d credit Pete Townshend with the idea. We’ve always admired The Who and their lack of inhibition as far as going for whatever crazy idea they had. As crazy as something like Tommy was when it was just a small idea, compared to what it’s become now, it’s pretty insane. They did A Quick One, where they played that live. That was a quick one, but ours is an hour. Basically, we just want to kick The Who’s ass. I listened to Who’s Next yesterday, which a lot of people are comparing American Idiot to. We totally got them beat. I’ve always aspired to be as good of a drummer as Keith Moon and I think I’ve fuckin’ passed by him on this record.

Bill – Roughly ten years ago, Dookie was released and went on to sell over ten million copies and become one of the most notable albums of the ‘90s. A decade later, I think you’ve constructed in American Idiot what is arguably your strongest record yet. Is there anything specific that you hope American Idiot accomplishes?

Tré – Yeah, I think it’s about time that people think of Green Day in a different light. We’re not snot-nosed kids anymore, we’re men now. I want people to think of us more as one of the mainstay supergroups of today. I’m not asking for too much, (laughs). We’re superheroes in our own minds. We think we’re really cool, why doesn’t everybody else?

Bill – What was the weirdest thing about being the biggest band in America in 1994?

Tré – I don’t think we really had time to enjoy it when it was happening. We were just trying to pay our rent and be able to make records for the rest of our lives. We didn’t know anything like that was ever going to happen. It sort of freaked us out a bit, but at the same time I was kind of busy just moving and doing it. We didn’t have time to look back since we were doing so much. By the time we had taken a break to make Insomniac it was like, “Do you guys know what you just did?” We were like, “Oh…shit.”

Bill – Earlier this year, Thick Records released the Out of Focus DVD, which featured live Green Day footage circa 1992. What are some of your favorite memories from playing at McGregor’s in Elmhurst, Illinois?

Tré – Demetri. Demetri was this male stripper that came onstage for some girl’s birthday at McGregor’s one night. They had her sit in this chair and the stripper did his thing for her. It was fuckin’ hilarious. In the middle of our show too. We took a timeout and let her get her strip on. I think that was the last time we played McGregor’s actually. I remember seeing State Street and I remember taking acid in Chicago. I remember going to the lake and wondering why all the fish were dead. I was inside Buckingham Fountain too. It was real hot out and I got in there during the Blues Fest. There were like a million people down there, but just one in the fountain. Of course this cop was like, “Get the fuck out of there! What are you thinking?” I was like, “I don’t know. I’m fried, dude.”

Bill – Do you have any comments regarding the rumors connecting members of Green Day to the mysterious band known as The Network?

Tré – The only connection is that their record was on Adeline, which is a label run by Billie Joe’s wife. That’s a few degrees of separation if you ask me. I think they’re getting a lot of mileage out of telling people they’re Green Day or pretending to be Green Day. The Network is not Green Day. Bastards.

Bill – Growing up I know that bands like the Ramones and The Who were very influential for you. What’s it like to now be one of the biggest influences on an entire generation of punk bands?

Tré – It’s kind of wild. Especially when younger bands meet you and they’re all nervous and stuff. You sort of get a little paternal with it, like “Ah…my children.” I feel like Michael Landon from Little House on the Prairie.

Bill – What has been the hardest part about achieving all the success you’ve attained?

Tré – I think you can pretty much choose what you want to deal with. You can choose for it to be difficult or you can enjoy it. It’s kind of up to the person.

Bill – After seven albums, what aspects of punk rock are still fresh and exciting to you?

Tré – I like seeing new bands. Bands that aren’t carbon-copied pop punk bands. Bands like Dillinger Four fuckin’ excite me. I think the Rock Against Bush compilation is a pretty damn good CD. There are some older bands on there that are still going strong and some younger bands that are real fresh and exciting too.

Bill – What does the future hold for Green Day?

Tré – I think whatever we put out next has got to be really fuckin’ good. After American Idiot we set the bar so high. It’s kind of like, “Now what are we going to do?”