#I mean we have a real fucking problem with guns no shit and the laws don’t even try to regulate

[overbearingstruggles]

-

[canmom]

an expression of something, or perhaps a record of insanity

obviously there's a famine because israel destroyed any indigenous means of food production, and aren't letting food trucks in, so they're just sitting at the border. not to mention that time the other day that they fired on the crowd gathered around a food truck on the beach, causing a panicked stampede that killed people. 'the guys with guns won't let us in' is not a problem that can be solved by money. still. if even one person escapes death by starvation because an aid org or a medical org had more money on hand, then that money is better off in their hands than mine...

rn i feel very conscious that while it's impossible to achieve any significant change without sacrifice, the converse is not true, there's no magical law that ensures sacrifice must be rewarded. a social media campaign resulting in a few tens of thousands of people trying not to spend money for a week is not a strike pressing demands, and probably won't make a noticeable blip on whatever economic statistics are gathered by whoever gathers economic statistics, and even if someone notices the line going down a bit, they probably are not able to conclude it's supposed to be a general strike for Palestine.

similarly, activist actions that deliberately get someone arrested for the sake of a few hours of annoyance to security are a questionable trade in the battle of attrition. I still remember doing first aid at the massive mobilisation against the arms fair a few years ago, which ran up a hefty policing bill cutting people out of lockons on the main road, but did not in fact stop the arms fair. direct action does not always get the goods.

and in general I believe our people should not be thrown away lightly. getting arrested should be something we are prepared to risk but a risk we mitigate as much as possible, not something we actively seek out. this is something that the antifascists understood pretty well, with tactics like the black-bloc and de-arresting. but the current trend in activist orgs is to exploit the state's unwillingness to inflict bodily harm by putting activists in intentionally dangerous situations and forcing the state to spend and money time freeing them, with the resignation to getting arrested. it's less direct action and more stunts for the media. but is that just an excuse? 'the americans are not what we call a useful people', they say, when the yanks don't want to be arrested.

the gnawing feeling that I must do something wants me to stand up and prove that I give a shit. I just cannot see what would actually be effective with the resources I have available to me. the people who have real power in this situation fundamentally have no reason to listen to me. I'm sure many of them think, quietly, along the lines of that guy at the protest a couple months back who walked by and called me a gender-confused leftist pedo: giving a shit about people in palestine is disgusting to them.

I've signed up to do arrestee and court support and shit like that with a certain org that's had some success shutting down Elbit facilities in this country. between health shit and work, I'm not realistically in a place where I'm capable of doing the spiky direct actions at the moment, but if I can be part of the logistics wing for the people who can do it, maybe I can feel less fucking useless. I hope when the call comes, I'm able to get out there and show up, rather than crushed in another wave of mysterious fatigue.

of course, if a 32-year-old disabled game dev could stop a war from her bedroom, the world would be a very different place... but I must not ignore that I have some power. even if it's just the money I earn at this job.

I frequently fall back to wondering what I'd have done if I'd lived in Germany or Poland during the Holocaust. the fantasy is that I'd be a partisan in the woods, fighting the Nazis by any means available; a likely answer is probably that I'd flee the country, or die in a camp. but the scariest thought is that I'd have been able to get away with 'inner emigration', and just keep my head down and do nothing. cue the daniel kahn song I guess. (Daniel Kahn's song is of course a lot more subtle and bitter in its treatment of the subject, not just this goofy morality play in my head.)

words are cheap!!!

[dzthenerd490]

Why did you suddenly start supporting Ukraine and Sudan?

Short Answer - I'm an idiot who really should have done so sooner. No seriously these are massive issues, why didn't I do them sooner? I'm stupid that's why.

Long Answer - Duh? Because people need to be more aware of not just one problem but every fucking problem going on in our fucked-up world. I thought that Ukraine would have crushed Russia by now but while I was looking the other way Russia refused to die and instead is (extremely slowly) stealing Ukraine territory. Though thankfully Putin is starting to get scared like the little bitch he is and is hoping to handle things peacefully. And by peacefully, I mean trying to get the EU to discredit the Ukraine president... like a little bitch. Yes, I'm going to be using that insult a lot unless I or you guys help me come up with a better one.

Then theirs Sudan with its civil war between the Sudanese Armed Forces and the Rapid Support Forces. Apparently, things have gotten so bad in Sudan that these two forces are fighting so the winner can take what's left of the resources. They are literally killing each other for the scraps they have left, and NO ONE is willing to help any of them. You wanna know why? Because everyone is hoping all the Sudanese will die and thus their land will be up for grabs. There are HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS of civilians who want nothing to do with the Civil War but are getting slaughtered every day by one side other the other either on accident or on purpose. But no one wants to help them because of the land... which is exactly the same as the Palestine situation if you really think about it.

But for the record that's only three problems in the world, there are still hundreds of other problems. Like how capitalism is slowly killing us all and ensuring only the rich will live forever (if immortality is ever achieved, we all know they 1% are the ONLY one's getting it). Or how police officers are getting more violent every day and honestly believe that with the badge on they can do whatever the fuck they want to civilians. Or how the government knows about all this bullshit but wants to keep it all under wraps so they can appease their investors. Kinda like how Joe Biden is calling American college students antisemitic for calling out Isralian genocidal fuckfaces.

Seriously fuck the US president and I'm sorry to everyone who I said should still try to vote this year. Fuck that! Keep protesting! Keep boycotting! Keep setting shit on fire! But uh I mean stuff that belongs to corporations, rich bastards, and politicans. Don't go burning or wrecking some person's car on fire that's not right.

Oh! Speaking of the government sweeping things under the rug! You know how Indigenous Americans are forced to like in reservations where they barely get anything but their most basic living needs and sometimes not even that. Well guess what, apparently the US government is STILL trying to kill them all off and calm their land. How? By invoking this stupid law that utilizes "Blood Quantum". Blood Quantum for those that don't know is a test that the US government forces on Indigenous Americans to see the purity of their heritage. if they have less than 25% blood of any of tribes, they are NOT ALLOWED to claim their heritage. Why did they do this? So that even if it takes another century or two, they can thin out the tribes to the point of extinction and prevent anyone who was under the 24% blood of a tribe to be unable to claim their heritage. That way when they do die off or everyone who is above 25% is dead, the US government can take the land without complaint. (this is real, look it up)

The US government has done a lot of fucked up shit, but this is possibly the most frustrating in a very fucked up way. They are literally waiting for the Indigenous Americans to go extinct. It's no fucking different to how they were hunting them down a few hundred years ago with guns or how they promised to respect their land only the next day to ship them out somewhere else! It's been 500 years, and the US government is STILL trying to kill them all! It doesn't matter that they're not using guns anymore, in fact using the "law" is so much worse! It's still genocide! It's fucking GENOCIDE only they somehow made it legal! I'm an American but seriously?! FUCK THE US GOVERNMENT! THIS COUNTRY WAS BORN AND THRIVES ON GENOCIDE! You can tell with how the government hates the idea of saving the Palestinians and are completely ignoring Sudan and Ukraine.

... The sad part is there are still so many more fucked up issues out there and I don't even know half of them. I'm sure the one's I listed were only a small fraction. That's why I'm doing what I can to cover what I can now. I'm not exactly good at it but I'm still going to keep trying.

But hey, if I ever get some information wrong, please let me know.

If I accidently say something bigoted or idiotic, please let me know.

I'm not some prideful idiot that has to be right all the time, if I'm ever wrong about anything I want to know IMMEDIATELY!

But until then, please don't stop talking about these issues or any other issue you know about. Don't support your government or politicians unless they comply to your demands. If you have an opportunity to protest or boycott, then please take it. None of these issues are going to stop unless change is done and those in power won't make that change until we make them. The best way to do that is to keep screaming in their ears.

[necrocrunk]

thats it i AM going to post this draft:

can i be honest. the “americans dont give a shit about (insert whatever thing) until it affects them” is so stupid and specifically treats americans like we just dont have any problems and also hate everyone else. the individualistic vocal minority who are fucking batshit are disliked by Most People. they just are so aggressively disliked that algorithms prioritize showing their content for clicks and views. like,. you realize we also have problems

the wildfires are happening and people are worried about their lung health esp in a country where covid was genuinely not handled well and left people with lasting lung issues. the fact is we literally DO NOT KNOW these things are happening in most cases! but this is one that directly affects us so of course we’re speaking about it! why are you acting like it’s genuinely a move of weird nationalism that we “didnt care about the wildfires till now”??

additionally, the way that non-americans joke about america in making fun of things that americans have no grasp, bearing, or ability to change is so fucking infuriating. do you think we all like the lack of gun control? that protesting isn’t genuinely a risk of your life, being charged with a felony or considered a terrorist (and having a felony means you cant vote AND some jobs can deny you employment, meaning you cant support yourself or family or make any meaningful votes against the people who put those laws in place). the creators of the BLM movement were all found dead by things like fires in their cars and ruled suicides. you dont think it’s real odd that that shit happens and nothing is done? protesting is something people ARE doing right now and are brave enough to do, but even in the last few months protesters have been killed. it is necessary to protest but it has very very real danger behind it. its not a silly thing we do

americans do have a habit of being american based, and thats understandable! because its almost like the media in every country is focused on their country and what is happening within it. our country is huge, bigger than so so many, and there is a Lot going on. a lot to keep up with. additionally, just because you didn’t see some fucking guilt trippy post about it on tumblr or twitter yet does NOT mean people arent talking about it. trying going outside.

additionally, the way that people SPECIFICALLY seem to rag on things from the south and tear down the south, when the south has an incredibly high population of minorities that define anything from culture to the food common here? remember that british mf making of exclusively southern foods? that the shit im talking about. it’s this weird... xenophobia that especially europeans seem to level at americans as if we are too stupid and fat to function.

i understand that america sucks and america is terrible to other countries and i fully support tearing down the war crimes,etc america has committed for ex and overall complaining about your experience w americans. but throwing punches at the american people who literally have NO CHOICE but to just BE here (its VERY EXPENSIVE to emigrate !) is literally punching down. none of us like living in the middle of late stage capitalism man. it sucks. what do you win for making fun of us.

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (8/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Word Count: 2.4k words

Your parents’ house was exactly how you remembered it, but again, it had been only two months since you last saw it. Contrary to your usual life, a lot has changed in two months. You aren't working in a cubicle anymore, you're not going on random blind dates that your sister and mother plot for you. What you are doing is bartending in a town far away from your family. You're fake dating your boss who happens to be the most dangerous person in the town, at least that's what you've heard of the rumors, but so far, James has been nothing but non-threatening to you. Yes, he was mean in the beginning, but a lot has changed since then. 

And now sitting in front of your parents with James beside you, eating lunch; you recall Barry's diner and you miss the food there. It's funny because you always thought that this was your home, your family and everything associated with them should make you feel at peace, but you were feeling everything but that. You were restless and anxious, and you wanted to go to that cozy dinner with James where Sally would tell you anecdotes about her life. You wanted to sit with James and watch him debunk the myths about his career that you believed were true your whole life. Turns out, he doesn't cut off people’s dick for disrespecting him. Who would have thought? And you decided that maybe you should stop reading those stupid mafia stories.

James sensed your discomfort, you don't know how he does that, but he always knows when something is bothering you. He brought his chair closer to you in hopes of providing you some relief. And it did, his presence made you feel at ease and you weren't sure how you felt about it. You knew you were dependent on him for comfort since the incident at his club, but being with him didn't make you feel caged.

You always thought that a relationship would make you feel stuck. That's why you never engaged in one, but with James, it felt liberating. Maybe because this wasn't real and the moment this turns real, it'll be a shithole. At least that's what you told yourself. 

“So, what do you do, James?” your father asked, and you nearly choked on your food. James's hand involuntarily reached towards your back, his thumb running soothing circles while his palms patted gently. 

“I own a club and a few other buildings in town,” your faux boyfriend answered, and you were thankful he didn't get into his other business. You wanted to ask about all the rumors in town and why people are so scared of him and why does everyone in the club carries a gun, but you were scared to ask. You feared that you wouldn't like the answers. Honestly, that's false, you weren't scared of the answers, you were scared that what if he closes himself again the moment you step into uncharted territory. And you really liked this fun, caring, swiftie James.

Everybody was sitting silently at the table which was unusual because usually family dinners were the place where everyone pointed out your faults. Carol kept glancing at your parents every few seconds and vice versa. Your brother-in-law, Nick, was focused on the food and their kids were taking a nap.

 You were going to thank your stars for this peaceful lunch when your sister broke off the silence. “So, how did you two meet?”

Every head on the table turned towards you expectantly, waiting for you to explain how you met James. What were you supposed to say? That you met when you interviewed for your current job and he clearly rejected you? 

Before the panic could make its way to the surface, James' palm landed on yours softly, grounding you. Your sister's eyes fell to your hands on the table and she scoffed.

 “We're glad you're happy, but at least don't forget basic table etiquette,” She commented. How could you forget the ‘no hands on the table while eating’ rule? Just when you were about to remove your hand from the table, James held your hand and placed it on his lap, lacing his fingers with yours. 

“Auntie Y/N!” A shriek made you turn behind, and you saw your nephew and niece running towards you with the biggest grin on their faces. Both the kids jumped in your embrace without a care of their surroundings and you stifled a laugh.

Bucky didn't like kids, hated them, to be honest. In his defense, what's there to like, they're always whining and crying, but seeing you attempting to straddle two 5-year-olds on your lap while their mother complained might change his opinions on the subject. 

You didn't like kids either, except your nephew and niece. They were perfect in your eyes, but maybe you were a bit partial because you sort of shared genes with them. You were so focused on the stories Alec and Izzy were telling you that you didn't notice the eyes that were fixed on you. James looked at you with not only adoration, but also devotion. He knew if he kept looking at you like that, he'd be deep in shit, but it was too late now. 

After dinner, you made your way to the bedroom, only to realize that there was one bed. Fuck. You really should have thought this through. 

Before the embarrassment could seep in, James started collecting a blanket and some pillows. “I'll take the floor,” He said. 

You frowned. “No, James. You've already done so much for me. Take the bed, please.”

James pretended not to hear you and started preparing his bed on the floor. 

“Seriously?” You queried, slightly huffing at his childish behavior. “You're gonna pretend you didn't hear me. How old are you, five?”

Without saying a word, James started humming a tune and situated himself on the makeshift bed on the floor and closed his eyes. 

You stomped your foot furiously, yeah, maybe you were a little childish too. Without muttering another word, you made your way towards the bed and tucked yourself in a comfortable position. 

“You were saying something?” James asked, his voice laced with tease, and you huffed at his tomfoolery. 

“Yeah, just how immature you are.”

“Sorry, I didn't hear that. What was that?” you couldn't see him, but you knew he was doing some theatrical actions by putting his hands on his ears for better listening or furrowing his eyes in feigned confusion. “That I'm so smart? Oh, why, thank you. You're not so bad yourself.”

“That's real mature, James,” you murmured, clearly not enjoying his antics.

A comfortable silence fell in the room. The only thing that could be heard was your breathing and the air conditioner that always sucked in your childhood room but your parents never thought it was a primary concern. Oh, yeah, also, you were staying in your teenage room with your boss. You tried telling your parents that you could get a hotel, but they insisted so now James could see one direction posters on the wall right in front of him.

You would have assumed that he fell asleep if he hadn't broken the silence. “I know it's not my business and you don't have to answer if you don't want to,” he paused, wondering whether he is crossing a line by asking you this. “But why do you let them treat you like that?”

You coughed in surprise, you clearly did not expect him to ask this. You thought maybe he was going to ask you who is your favorite one direction member. Anything really, expect this. “Wow, you do not beat around the bush.”

You could hear him shuffling and once he settled you were sure he was facing you. Well, the bed actually. You did the same, turning towards him. You couldn't see him, but it still felt so intimate.

 “I'm honest with people I trust,” he informed and you smiled, thinking about the time when he told you he did not trust you or your intentions.

“What do I get in return?” you teased, although you would have told him without getting anything in return.

“What do you want?”

You debated for a minute whether you should go forward and just ask him so you did. “What do you do?”

You didn't expect him to actually answer. You knew that your relationship (whatever that was) with James had increased from where it was a few months ago. You deeply cared for each other and had mutual trust in the other. But you still didn't know about the actual work he did. Your realtor told you that he was a criminal, a mobster to be exact, and had sketchy connections with the mafia but you didn't know the exact nature of his work. 

He signed heavily and you were ready to drop the subject, scared that it would only push him away again and you couldn't lose whatever you had this early. 

“We provide weapons to the government at a cheaper price, eliminate problems or shootouts that the government is too scared to take the blame for,” he said, voice unwavering but you could sense the tension. Bucky thought that telling you about his work would make you fear him, and he didn't want to risk losing the progress he made with you, but he also knew that if he wanted you in his life in any form then he has to be honest with you. “We don't do the kind of stuff you're thinking of, it's mostly assisting the government to do stuff where they don't want to get their hands dirty.”

“Why?”

“How would you feel if the leaders of your country were involved in shady business?” It was a rhetorical answer, of course, you would feel unsafe, but your sleep-dazed brain was about to muster up an answer but he quickly spoke. “So if it backfires then they don't lose their men and women and can blame it on us, the criminals.”

“So that's why you weren't scared if I went to the cops? Because you kinda work for them?” you asked. His reaction made a lot of sense now, but some part of your brain hoped that he did that for you. That he would defy the police for you. 

“Off charts yeah,” he answered, “Although that has nothing to do with why I wanted you to go to the cops. I wanted you to because what Rumlow did was unacceptable and he should pay for his actions.”

“Wow,” you didn't know what to say. Anything further could push him back to the 'I don't trust you' James and you couldn't risk that. 

Bucky didn't want to elaborate further, “Your turn.”

“Sir, you just set yourself up for the biggest disappointment,” you joked, already imagining his reaction and smiling to yourself. 

“I let them treat me like this because they are my family,” you replied honestly. “I don't have anyone else but them.”

Bucky knew all about the issues that come with family, but he didn't think you'd be the victim of it. Bucky realized that in his head, he had conjured up a version of you that was perfect, so if he were to know you better, it would decrease his crush on you, right? 

Wrong. The more Bucky got to know you, the more he realized you weren't some angel and were just a vulnerable human like everyone, and the more he wanted you, all of you.

“Where does Rumlow come in this?” you questioned.

“His work is dirty like drugs, sex trafficking so he doesn't work well with government or any sort of authority,” he explained, “He's one of the problems they wanna eliminate but can't because he's too powerful. He works with Hydra.”

“Wasn't Hydra a myth?” you queried. You have heard stories about Hydra too, how Bucky was their rival. You assumed it was about territory or money. You know, like in the movies.

“Nah, doll, it's real. He's part of that organization and that makes him shielded from us and literally everyone.” 

“So you're technically not… you know, killing people for fun like the mafia and all? You're like undercover agents,” you concluded and he shook his head, chuckling at the disappointment in your voice.

In your defense, you expected him to be the movie-type mafia boss who kills people for raising their voice but again, this is not a movie. 

“If it makes you feel better, we smuggle weapons for the government. We're still criminals and dangerous,” he articulated, his tone laced with amusement at your reaction.

 “No offense, but that's a horrible career. Is that what you wanted to do growing up?” you asked, yawning, your eyelids becoming heavy from the exhaustion.

“No,” he answered truthfully. “Not everyone gets a choice, doll. My dad was murdered when I was a kid and I was shoved into the business to protect my family.”

 “Where are they? Your family, I mean,” you inquired, hoping you weren't overstepping.

“Ma basically hates me and my sister maintains her distance, but it's for her own safety.”

You didn't ask about them further, realizing his family was a touchy subject for him. You could relate to that. “What do you want to do?”

Out of all your questions and weird assumptions, this took James by surprise. No one asked him what he wanted to do. Hell, he didn't even ask him that, and now someone finally asked him, he didn't know what to answer. You understood his silence, you always understood everything James felt even without it being voiced. He generally hated when people predicted him, he prided himself on being unpredictable but not with you. James wanted nothing more than to just be Bucky with you.

“Don’t worry, you'll figure something out,” you mumbled, already drifting off to sleep.

James turned towards the opposite side. “Sleep well, doll.” he murmured, his breath growing even, matching yours.

TAGS: @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​ @rivers-rambles21​ @emmabarnes​ @goodcleanfunsis​ @valsworldofcreativity​ @boofy1998​ @marvel-3407​

[yuzukult]

i’m bad too 15 || kdy & reader

title: i’m bad too - drabble series pairing: kim doyoung x reader genre: angst, fluff, smut, goodboy!doyoung, nerdy!dy (basically he’s a dork) & badgirl!reader, hitman!au, oc-isn’t-a-hitman-but-she-could-be!au, word count: 1.8k warnings: none !! a/n: a “leading” chapter, before something actually happens! so, not the most exciting, but... yeah. :D

please let me know if anyone wants to be tagged! taglist: @wownajaemin​​​​ @crescent-iak​​​​ @ncttboo​​​​ @byunbaekby​​​​​ @jinfizz​​ @doyoungyoung​​ @ahgayeah0305​​ @doyobun​​ @sexualitaeyong​ @mrkleelvr​​ @m1ss-foodi3​​

← previous chapter || next chapter →​​

If it’s one thing you’ve learned about yourself, it’s that you hate when Ten chews his food with his mouth open. He chomps it like a cow munching on grass, and sometimes, he even makes those weird wet sounds if the food is soft and squishy enough.

But after laying in a hospital bed for a week, unable to speak, you’re missing the ability to call your big brother ‘disgusting’ across the table, toss something in his direction, and him opening his mouth to show the contents of his dinner inside.

“Are you fucking insane? You let her go into hellfire, knowing damn well she wasn’t protected?” The voice is familiar, loud, and straining, like they’re on the verge of tears but too instilled with anger to let the sadness seep through. “I thought I said to keep her fucking safe if you wanted to work together.”

“I don’t work in the field, Ten. I don’t control what happens at the moment.”

“Yeah, but you set the commands. You give the orders. She’s fucking on her deathbed, Taeyong—“

“Don’t fucking say my name in public,” he hisses through his gritted teeth. “Listen. If it’s not her, it’s me.”

“I’d rather it be you.”

“You need me, Ten. Who is gonna do the dirty work for you? Look at those pretty fingers. You wouldn’t hurt a soul. But your sister—you know damn well she’s got potential to be more. This is just a hurl she’s jumping over. When she recovers—“

“You’ve got to be fucking insane, you think I’m gonna let her go back out there when you put her in harms way?”

Before the conversation could continue, you hear the door click shut, and the shuffling of flat shoes tapping against the cold tiles, reaching to your bedside. You can’t see, your body won’t let you fully awaken, and you can’t speak with this tube lodged in your throat. But the whiff of the cologne that comes hits your nostrils is a familiar one. It’s Doyoung.

He sighs, like he’s been troubled and you can’t even blame him. You told him not to worry, that you’d stay safe, and here you are—unable to move, unable to wake up, unable to breathe on your own, and unable to talk.

You hear his moments; the scuffing of his oversized denim jacket against the leather seat by your bed, browsing through the drawers with each push and slam until he finds what he’s looking for, and when you hear the television turn on, you could only assume it was for the remote.

“I wonder if they have Marvel movies playing,” he says, seemingly to no one in particular until you realize he’s speaking to you, in spite of the fact that you’re very much in a deep sleep. “I know they’re not your favorite, but you tolerate it. I never got to ask what kind of movies you liked. I… I guess I was being a little selfish when you gave me attention that I never considered to ask.”

You wanna tell him that you actually don’t even like movies, in fact, you prefer sitcoms in spite of your very evident opposite personality. If you could, you would tell him that you watch those superhero movies because he’s into them, that if you get to see that pretty little smile on his face, it makes you forget all your problems and… the moment is worthwhile.

Warmth reaches your fingers, and you could only assume that it’s Doyoung holding your hand. It’s a familiar feeling of home, like you’re meant to be here with him, except the current setting isn’t necessarily favored.

“Do you like Spongebob?” He asks, as if you could even respond. “Mm. Doesn’t really seem like your thing, but I feel like you’re the type to not look like you enjoy it, but you actually love it because it’s annoying.”

He’s… right. You want to laugh, genuinely laugh because Kim Doyoung is spot on with his prediction. He knows you better than he gives himself credit for, because he doesn’t change the channel and watches the TV with you.

“I bet you like sitcoms,” Doyoung mentions randomly, eyes still on the screen. “Like maybe not Modern Family, but maybe like… Parks and Rec. You don’t seem like you’d enjoy the Office too much, maybe Michael Scott is too much of a character but Andy Bernard looks like a guy you’d scare to the point he’d piss his pants, but you’d like him.” Again, you think to yourself. Because Doyoung got it right yet again.

He’s quiet for a bit, letting Spongebob play in the background and you could hear the conversation between Spongebob and Patrick. Truthfully, you don’t know what’s actually happening, but the feeling of being with Doyoung like this, hand in hand with something stupid playing on TV is your favorite.

It’s casual. No missions, no guns, no family business—just you and Doyoung.

Doyoung doesn’t say much on the day you finally wake up. With a tube wedged down your throat, it’s difficult to have a two-way conversation anyways, and seeing you like this probably breaks his heart, so any word that leaves his mouth might be with a stutter and a sob.

Spongebob plays on the television for another hour before Doyoung eventually breaks the glass of quietude, letting out a soft chuckle at something Patrick said. “Sorry,” he apologizes quickly, glancing over at you. “Wasn’t sure if you liked Spongebob.” Although you can’t speak, the soft squeeze of his hand gives away your approval, and a gentle smile tugs on his face.

There's another moment of silence, just before Doyoung lowers the volume of the TV before gathering enough courage to talk. It takes a lot to get himself to speak up against you, someone he sort of feared yet at the same time had strong feelings for.

“I know what you do,” he announces, eyes never leaving the flickering screen with cartoon characters under the deep blue sea do stupid things, unmatching to what he wants to say next. “I can’t say that I totally get it, because I don’t. I’d be lying if I said I did, but… you do those things, and I’m not a hundred percent sure what to make out of it, but I get why it was hard to confess… those things.” He runs his fingers through his greasy locks, accumulating in oils from how long he’s stayed here without going home to shower. “I kind of thought I was going to date someone really simple one day, yaknow? Settle down with a girl who has a job, sweet and kind, with the same end goal in mind. Get married, have kids… all that fun stuff.”

Your nose twitches at that. Because you’re definitely not that.

“But then I met you, which is… well,” he lets out a faint laugh, “... the complete opposite of all of that. You’re dangerous, cold, and oftentimes, I’m left hanging by a thread, confused on what we are and what I actually mean to you.”

If you could, you’d interrupt him right then and there. Tell him your sorrys, belatedly confessing your true feelings for him, let him know you’d be better for real this time, but truthfully, you’re not sure if he’ll believe you anyway.

“And I could just drop everything right now. Just get up, leave, move on. Tell you that I don’t want this anymore, that whatever you’re in, I don’t wanna be roped in and get involved in your baggage.” It’s like you could hear the cracking of your heart as it falls into the depths of your stomach because your chest feels empty when he says that. The worst part is when you can’t defend yourself, tell him that it’s not like that, but in the end, Doyoung does it for you.

“Yet, I’m still here, right? Because I don’t get you, I don’t get whatever it is you got yourself caught up in, but… after knowing, it oddly makes me… trust you more. So, I’ll stay.”

“Fuck,” Ten curses underneath his breath, getting slightly frustrated with the wheelchair being caught on the steps of your home again. “Fucking shit, nothing here is disability accessible.”

It’s still hard to talk, but a weak laugh escapes from your lips.

“Don’t laugh, you’re the one in the wheelchair not doing shit.”

When he gets you through the front door, and into the hallway, you can’t help but stare at Ten curiously. He furrows his brows at this, hands at his hips with a gesture of his chin. “What’s in your head?”

“Uh,” it’s straining to speak, but if not now, it’s never. “I overheard a conversation when I was asleep. I-I don’t know if it was a dream or… I don’t know. But I heard you talking to someone, uh, someone particularly… with a reputation.”

His body goes rigid.

“Right,” you state, feeling more confident that the discussion was definitely not a dream. “So this entire time, you’ve been working with the organization?” Ten only sucks his cheeks, unable to formulate a proper rebuttal, so you take advantage of this. “This whole time, you let them constantly probe and ask me to be part of them—”

“I told him not to—”

“Well, he’s been asking, Ten, and he hasn’t stopped. I got contracted to be part of them temporarily, not permanently. This was supposed to be a one and done deal, you realize that, right?”

He scoffs. “You think that anything you do with Lee Taeyong could just be easily brushed under the rug? Hell no, you have to be insanely rich to pay off that guy. He thinks you’re talented, you know? What do you think this is?”

“I could just get up and leave—” “In your fucking dreams, kid,” Ten lets out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking his head. “I agreed to work with him before I knew that you were already contracted with him. There’s shady people in the business. There’s so many messed-up dudes who would bend the laws to get what they want. I don’t want that, but I have to protect myself.”

“But—”

“Wanna hear something, kid? Taeyong doesn’t think this accident,” Ten gestures to your wounds, heart tightening at the sight of you in pain. “... this accident, is just… it. He calls this an obstacle. He thinks this is just a bump in your progress, something you need to overcome before you hop back into the field and start training all over again. He’s not gonna let this go, doesn’t matter if I’m his client. Fuck, kid, he has a shit ton of clients.”

Uneasily, you grip onto the wheels of your seat. “Then what do you want me to do?”

“It’s your loss, kid. Either kill Taeyong and take his seat or you gotta work for him.”

[nekasu]

SnapCube’s Until Dawn Real-Time Fandub Sentence Starters (Part 1)

"I didn't bring my phone. It was in my other pants!" "This is a really long high five." "...I won't tell anyone about this." "Ya see, that's a joke thinger." "Can you see me? Don't answer that." "Who talks to screens? Maybe you can." "We're here in a strange time at a strange place." "Hopefully you enjoyed whatever the hell THIS video was." "When those girls died? That was funny." "My phone still has battery? Holy shit, I gotta keep that warm." "I'm trying to get like 100% on Animal Crossing." "Check it out, I have this gun. It's really really cool." "Are you McCree from Overwatch, hit video game?" "Make sure you don't shoot any guys with that." "Never mind, I do have the key. I just found it in my pocket." "We're all just really good beans at the end of the day." "Why did you hit me? That hurt so much!" "Sorry, I've been in jail a while." "My arm really hurts. Do you have any first aid?" "I just got off the big train in the sky." "This is my Smash invitation and frankly, I deserve it." "It was gonna be a surprise for your birthday, motherfucker!" "Jesus, everyone is so rude. What is this, Rude Mountain?" "This mountain fucking sucks." "I'm here to be rude to people." "I think this is sus. He's definitely the impostor." "As a gamer, I know all about Among Us." "Is this...Tamriel?" "Well, that's a cliff." "No, you got arms!" "I don't speak corn." "Grab my stinky hand!" "I will live on in the vibes!" "No, that's too fast! Oh, god!" "2x4? You're not even a 1x1." "You look so stupid right now." "Hehe, I'm under the bed now!" "It was for a prank video. Come on!" "It's fine, honestly. She has a blanket." "Women never listen to me when I talk..." "Everything's a big deal when you make it." "Oh my god she has pants! What the fuck?!" "No one told me I was wearing pants today!" "It's pretty cold because it's DEAD of winter!" "Hey, tree! Look at me, I'm looming right now!" "Not a blanket, but maybe I can keep you warm." "This fuckin' candle doesn't keep me warm at all.” "At least you're not calling it 'arm pants' this time." "Oh, wow! SHE'S looming! Oh, she can teach me!" "I don't want to play any of your Among Us games." "I have this weird feeling someone's looming around here." "Answer a question for me: how are you feeling today? YEAH!" "Well now, wise guy. Let's see who among us really is the funniest." "Helloooo there! I am Doctor Rabbit. The world's only rabbit rabbit." "Whoa, that guy was straight up looming! I wish I could loom like that.” "Was that that Anus Unnus guy?" "Hey, babe, you wanna go and record a blog with me?" "So are my pranks as good as Markiplier?" "Wait, when did they get the hugging perk?!" "See, that's what I think of your problems, is that they're just some sort of joke." "Got in real trouble with the locals, I did. They don't let me back there." "Maybe you're just trying to be woke or something." "Your insurance isn't covering these sessions, by the way." "We can send, like, aura to each other. You know like, uh, vibes." "I don't guess, I know. I never guess, I know everything. I do the math." "Two plus two equals you're my friend. Just kidding, it's four." "I just hurt all of my bones." "High five? No, you're too far away. My bad." "Did you solve my wolverine puzzle?" "Did you know doors hurt?" "Everyone has a raccoon!" "Why don't you keep it to yourself, tough guy?" "Save the fight until I have the camera ready, okay?" "That's not a view, that's a snow." "I think you're in the corridor of the monkey." "If you throw that me, I'm gonna fuckin' flip my goddamn lid." "You want some snow, bitch?!" "Lady? Girl? ...I should really learn her name." "Water's looking a little green, that's just the way I like it." "Did the ghosts take my friends again?" "I'm actually half ghost." "Is that a lightsaber? Like from Star Trek?" "I'm gonna level with you, I hate being in the same room as you." "BOOOOOOOOOOOK!" "You like the new office? I fuckin' don't." "You didn't read through the contract, did you kiddo?" "I can get fucked? Finally!" "Even the ghost agrees." "I should have fucking known. This ghost is such a libro." "That's great and all, but I'm gonna look like a jackass!" "This is what happens when you pull mean pranks. God punishes an elk." "THAT was a HEALING spell?! Oh god!" "Door key? You're pretty dorky!" "I can imagine a lot of dipshits, in fact." "Get un-naked! Get un-naked! Get un-naked! Get un-naked!" "I'm casting a hex on you now. Have fun getting hexed, idiot." "See? The Kinect causes psychic powers." "I can't believe Blue's freakin' clue is on here." "Ugh...I freaking hate doors." "Blue save me..." "Telling them the vibes made you do it won't hold up in a court of law." "Oh, would you look at the time. It's time for me to rip you a new one again!" "I cannot wait, but I suppose I'll have to." "The hex worked great. Now let's see if I can go shoot what remains of her." "I love running through the forest like a fucking weirdo." "You look like an idiot on the ground there." "If I have anything to say about it, you won't make it back." "I wanna see you, whatever you are, you funny-looking fellow." "Why do I have so much trouble with doors?" "Hey, funny voice! Fuck off, please!" "It's a saw trap, you dumb piece of shit!"

"Seems mysterious, but I won't shoot him this time. Gotta weaken him with the hex." "You're gonna get fucked if you can't say goodbye to a ghost. Trust me on that one." "Hey, uh, do you wanna stop having trouble with doors, now'd be a phantasmical time!" "Unless you want to work with me here, well...we're gonna be stuck here until dawn." "Not like you've ever done anything on purpose in your entire life, you fucking hack." "What, not even a goddamn laugh? Oh, it's gonna be a rough fuckin' couple weeks." "I can't believe I made it up to Rude Mountain only to be discovered by rude people." "I've got all my gamerscore on my phone, so I'm hoping that nobody really touched it.” "That's pretty cringe of you, buddy. I'm gonna put you in my Cringe Tuesday compilation." "If I wanted to talk about beans, I'd hang around with the fuckin' Among Us crew down there." "You know what? I have two arms, so I guess I CAN carry both of them at the same time." "I just got my lips unstuck. Aw, geez. I've been trying to talk to you guys this whole time."  "I left some beans in my backpack. They might be a few years old, but they don't really expire." "I should've known that coming to Rude Mountain would have made you worse as a person." "I've just been playing a lot of Among Us recently and I've just been trying to really get good at lying. "Oh, so NOW you're a funny guy, huh? You think you got your own jokes?! Ya think this is stand up?!" "I have blankets in the back, but I'm gonna go to the front just to see if I can spice things up a little." "I'm here to help you, and whaddya do? You spit in my goddamn face! ...Metaphorically, of course.” "What do you take me for, some kind of clown?! Some kind of Boo Boo the Fool that ain't done this rodeo before?!" "Here at therapy we're here to answer the one big burning question everyone's got: what the FUCK is wrong with you?" "I noticed you don't have much of a sense of humor. That might explain all the shit you've gotten into recently, wouldn't it?" "Well with my ten step plan I'll be happy to go plumb the depths of your sad, scared little mind and see what makes you...tick, as it were."

[b1ksh88p]

Be Mine Chapter 3

Plot: A storm is brewing in Valentine, and you’re in the middle of it. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen Harry and there’s already been a horrendous murder. With tensions high and everyone finger pointing your ex, Edmund, makes everything worse by spreading gossip. With the sting of rejection still weighing heavy on your heart you attempt to clear everything up only to make things worse.

Describing your mood as sour would be a understatement. You were numb. A grey cloud loomed over your usual cheery exterior as you went through day to day activities. Whenever someone asked if you were alright you’d chalk it up to trivial excuses. When in actuality you were torn that you’d been stupid enough to try and have a picnic with a killer. If you were sane maybe you’d tell the Sheriff and get some of his boys in uniform to smoke Harry out somehow but you had no taste for revenge. All you wanted was to move on.

But it seemed your ex had other plans. You worked in the diner, usually taking up the night shifts to rid yourself of boredom. As you were cleaning a table you overheard a couple chatting away about you of all topics. Why your name was in their mouths you didn’t know but from what you got out of it made you want to raise hellfire.

“I heard she goes down there every night to see that killer.”

“Edmund said that the sherif saw her go in with food and came out empty handed.”

“No way, maybe she’s a killer.”

There’s no way you could allow these two peons spread such outlandish babble. You’ve never killed anyone nor would you ever. The thought of murdering another made you sick to your stomach. “Edmund is a long-nosed good for nothing asshole who spends his time making up calumniations and dumping his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day for a dumb blonde with a baby voice. You two and the rest of your bubble headed friends would be fools to believe anything that comes out his mouth.” You finish with a astute turn into the back for a extensive smoke break.

If you saw Edmund or that sleazy sheriff you’d be sure to give them a piece of your mind. And speak of the devil, there he was. Your blood was replaced with boiling water as you stomped your way towards him. He was with the sherif and some other random cop you didn’t know. Both of them saw you coming and started to drift apart before you whistle and jogged towards the two snakes.

“Where we going boys? Running away from the new killer of the town?”

“Now listen Y/N I didn’t mean to start anything.” The sheriff assured.

You weren’t impressed. “You’re just the last one seen in the mines so...it makes sense.” Edmund shrugged.

“And you were the last one fucking the blonde bimbo you cheated on me with and she has crabs....so it makes sense right?” You snap back garnering a chortle from the other cop.

“It’s not my fault you’re a boring bitch who can’t get anyone to date you except for some psycho?!” He growled.

“I’m not dating anyone and I’m not a killer. Instead of gossiping like little girls how about you three go investigate and find the real killer.” You throw down the cigarette and stomp it out beneath your heel.

“We apologize if we’ve caused you any trouble Miss, we’re doing the best we can.” The Sheriff whispered.

“Keep my name out your ass licking mouths and out the fucking paper.” You demand before walking back inside the diner.

After your shift you began to walk home. The ominous glow of streetlights did little to scare you. On your way to you lovely home you stopped by the liquor store. A bit tipsy you ventured the winding fucked up roads. The quiet sounds of the night were ruined by the sounds of sirens. It had been what? 72 hours and some change since the last murder what the hell could the coppers be speeding for? Even in your mildly drunken stupor you noticed where they were heading. The mines. Sober you would’ve kept walking like any sane person but you were running on anger, worry, and rum. A mix that didn’t bode well when making good decisions.

You knew a shortcut through the trees and made haste. By the time you fought through flora and fauna two cars were already there. The sheriff and Edmund were there holding lanterns and guns. You step out from behind the trees, face bathed in red and blue lights. Softly stepping towards the shit show. “What the fuck are you two asswipes doing?!” You call out as you make your way to the entrance of the mine. Before they can stop you you’re in front of the cold entrance.

“You protecting your boyfriend again?” Edmund spat as he loaded his gun.

“You don’t have a gotdamn clue who killed those two. It takes you dumb mother fuckers months to even get close to closing a case!”

“We know he’s down there Y/N and he’s gonna fucking burn for what he did. And if you gotta burn with him so fucking be it!” He aimed the gun at you which almost made you piss yourself. You stumble back as he aims it at you. The thumping of your heart beat in your ears.

“I’m not you enemy! And neither is he!” Your words were bold but hoarse.

“That son of a bitch killed family. I don’t care what you think he’s going to die, and if I have to shoot you to get to him I fucking will!” The sheriffs attempts to calm down Edmund were futile. He had his eyes on you. They were large and red and full of rage. He looked like a rabid animal and you his prey.

“...You’re angry I get that but this is a mob attack not a lawful pick up. You have no evidence-“

“DONT GIVE ME A FUCKING LESSON IN LAW BITCH I AM THE FUCKING LAW!” He shot at the ground beneath your feet sending dirt into your eyes. The muffled scolding from the sheriff did nothing to stop your beating heart. In fact there were bigger problems.

Another shot cracked through the night sending you to the ground covering your head. The grotesque sound of choking made you gag. The Sheriff was on the ground, clambering hands grabbing at the gaping hole in his chest as he bled out. Edmund was in shock. He held the man’s dead hand with wide eyes. Perfect time to get away. You book it into the mines. It was dark and cold, even chillier with a fresh murderer on your heels. At first you didn’t hear him but a shot echoed through the caves followed by some demands for you and Harry to reveal yourselves. That wasn’t happening so you keep running, ducking into random corridors to try and throw him off your trail.

Apart of you was afraid of running into Harry. What if he was angry at you? Running into one killer to escape the other was a chance you really didn’t want to take. You’d rather wait it out and hide. Hopefully Harry would take care of Edmund and you could run away without interacting with either of them. You stop running to hide in a old mining cart that was turned over. Covering your mouth with shaking hands you listen. A heavy set of footsteps past you, Edmund more than likely. It wasn’t like Harry to be so loud. He taunted what you assumed were the shadows to face him like a real man. He didn’t really see him right? You wish you could peek but you were far to afraid you’d get your head blown off.

“So that’s what you look like. Y’know it’s crazy. You don’t look like a monster.” He cocked the gun. “Tell me how you did it. How you killed my dad you fucking monster.” He demanded.

There was no response on Harry’s end. You hear something fall to the ground and then Edmund’s smug laughter. What the hell was going on? You quietly peak from out your hiding space. The minimal lighting made the scene hard to make out but by the looks of it Harry had...given up. He had thrown his pick axe ahead of him, taken off the mask, and dropped to his knees. A gloved hand on the barrel of the gun pointing it to his head. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Was he insane? Edmund goes into a end game spill about how long he’s waited to do this. How he’d pin the Sheriff’s and I’s murder on Harry and walk out the mines a hero. During this you start to crawl towards them, ready to rush him or throw a rock, anything to buy Harry time. Your chest is tight as you hold your breath. Nearing the both of them as quietly as you possibly can. Edmund cocks the gun and says something to the effect of “everyone dies, somebody should’ve take your sorry ass out long ago.” Before you hear a shot.

It hits the ceiling once you use all your might to swing Harry’s pickaxe into Edmund’s head, through his cheek. The blast was so close to Harry he fell back in pain. Edmund leans on the wall holding the left side of his face, still turned away from you. When he does look at you all the blood drains from your body. His tongue hung from the broken jaw like a salivating dog, torn flesh dangled around missing teeth, with so much flesh exposed blood spritzed out every time he moved closer to you. He couldn’t move his jaw so when he spoke it was a gurgled cacophony of rage and disbelief. You lift the pick axe once more but see him lift the shotgun and take aim. This makes you freeze like a deer in headlights. You close your eyes, bracing for impact. But to your surprise it never comes. Instead Harry had gotten up and tackled him, only problem was that he got shot.

The two men fell to the ground. Edmund kicking him off and frantically reaching into his pocket for two more shells. Without thinking you kick the gun from his hands. He tried to get up but you stomp on his chest with all the rage bottled up inside. He looks up at you with that mangled face and large eyes but mercy was the last thing on your mind. You look over him, raise the crude weapon, and allow the cold metal to pierce through his chest. You let out a exasperated scream as you continue your onslaught. Hammering down years of neglect, wasted time, slander, and abuse into what’s left of his broken body. When you’re done he’s left torn apart. Rib cage broken and organs exposed. In all the madness you vomit from the stress and overall exertion of energy you used up. The groans from Harry snap you back to reality and you go to aid him.

“Oh god oh shit hold on hold on.” You ramble. Your hands try their best to cover the wound. He was shot in the side. Luckily it wasn’t a direct hit but without medical attention it was gonna get nasty. You use Edmund’s jacket to help stop the bleeding. He was just staring at you. “What? What the hell are you gonna yell at me for now???” You yell trying not to cry. He lifts a bloody hand to your face.

FIND OUT NEXT TIME ON DRAGON BALL Z

[bagadew]

The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Adventure of the Unbreakable Speckled Band (Part 1)

Last Time: With a little help from Susato, the lady in pink, we discovered that Miss Brett poisoned Dr Wilson with Curare, a fast acting poison that’s only effective when introduced into the blood stream. In a last ditch attempt to avoid justice, Miss Brett destroyed the evidence right in front of the court, but fortunately my man Hosonaga was on hand with new evidence he’d taken from the crime scene, meaning that all we had to do was catch the thief of a rare golden coin, and tie Miss Brett up with her own words! At last I (Ryunosuke) was acquitted!

...only to find out in the lobby that Miss Brett has managed to privilege her way out of any consequences and was gone like smoke in the wind. (Also Kazuma used his sword in a way I found very hot, and I think I’ve accidentally doomed him to death or moral corruption.)

I’m 90% sure The Speckled Band is a Sherlock Holmes case, and I’m 49% sure it’s one of the ones I’ve read. I’m guessing this is where we’ll meet The Great Himbo Detective Herlock Sholmes then!

Well I guess that answers that then.

(And yes, I have read this one)

HERLOCK!

And he’s voiced by Professor Layton maybe???

Ooh, this seems like a Study in Scarlet, are we doing a Study in Scarlet guys?

Herlock has a magic gun!?!

Also I’m not digging this Japanese scripture and talk of it being penned by ‘the victim himself’. Kazuma what did I tell you about leaving my sight?

Wait... I could have sworn I just saw Hosonaga dressed as a sailor...

Oh balls, am I about to be accused of murder again?

Honestly I can’t take you anywhere Ryunosuke

Well Ryunosuke, you remember how you went to a lovely restaurant and got arrested for a murder you didn’t commit?

Well, it’s just like that but substitute restaurant for ship.

Also I’m not liking how little I’ve seen of Kazuma...

Ryunosuke we really need to have a talk about you just saying what people want to hear.

ITS FUCKING KAZUMA ISN’T IT?!

:(

Nononononononono

I knew this was coming, you knew this was coming, Ace Attorney law dictated it was coming as soon as it set Kazuma up as both my mentor and best friend.

But even so, I thought they were just empty threats! I didn’t think they’d actually follow through! Or that we might at least enjoy Herlock Sholmes ad his magic gun together first.

I realise I’m stalling here, but maybe if I just don’t click I’ll not have to see his body.

Sailor Man, I understand that you’re very upset, we all are, but I need you to understand that I’m grieving here.

The man I love took one look at the morally compromised shits I’m normally into and decided he’d rather die than join them! And yes I know I’m still stalling and not taking this as seriously as I should because I still don’t believe it!

See, me and Ryunosuke are on the same page!

I didn’t Susato, but the problem is that you and I have only just met and I’m not very convincing!

:(

Kazuma you legend! I refuse to believe you are dead until I see your corpse.

Now Ryunosuke’s all: I can’t believe they tossed your case around that much. I thought I was going to die.

And Kazuma’s telling me he’s just amazed I fitted inside his trunk in the first place.

Kazuma you can’t be gone! Who else will condescendingly tell me to go to France and ask rather than translate a French label for me?

Now Kazuma’s telling me (Ryunosuke) that I’m going to have to live in his cabin for the next 50 days.

Also we’ve got to keep this from Susato because we’re breaking the law and Kazuma doesn’t want us to take her down with us.

Lol, every day I get shoved into the wardrobe by an uncaring Kazuma!

Oh, that’s what the message said!

God knows what the steward thought Kazuma was keeping in his wardrobe though

:(

See Ryunosuke, this is why we think before we speak.

I don’t envy the real killer when Susato gets hold of them.

From what I can find out it’s a locked room mystery, and the cause of death is still undetermined, so I’m guessing something like poison then rather than an obvious thing, like being stabbed with his big sword.

On one hand, I really hope it wasn’t something like Curare, because I don’t want Kazuma to have gone out like that, but on the other hand poison would explain why the killer didn’t need to be in the room when he died and why Kazuma didn’t strike them down with said big sword.

Ok, so Kazuma, legend that he was, got up every day at the crack of dawn to do sword training. And Susato, who I’m begging to suspect is incredibly hardcore, go up before him so she could go and wait for him outside.

Now that’s interesting.

The two of them seem like they were pretty close, so there’s a good chance it’s just that she’s so familiar with Kazuma’s habits that she can tell the second something’s off, or it could be that there’s some other reason we need to work out.

If that’s correct that means Kazuma was killed in the small hours of the morning.

You know up ‘til now I’ve been assuming Ryunosuke was knocked out or something, and that’s why he was unconscious in the wardrobe, but now I’m starting to think he might have just been sleeping in there.

:((

Wait why’d Kazuma write in Russian?

Like I’d buy that he might know it, but I don’t buy that’s it’s what he’d write in in his finger moments.

Well that proves my innocence then, all we need to do is get some witnesses to verify the ‘go to France and ask’ moment from the last case

Oh ok, I didn’t manage to screenshot it, but it seems that I (Ryunosuke) didn’t put myself in the wardrobe. That’s very odd.

I can see a vent up there, so maybe someone gassed us and then got in while we were asleep and set up the crime scene.

Kazuma said I should come, next question

Ryunosuke, with some of the words that come out of your mouth I don’t think you should be throwing stones.

Love?

Apparently not.

This is going to be something ominous isn’t it...

I’m starting to feel like Kazuma knew he’d never see England.

Kazuma how many toes did you tread on?

Oh fucking hell!

You can’t die and be heading down a dark moral path, that’s not fair!

Yeah, I want to know that too.

Ah

So my poison/drugging theory seems to be holding up. Apparently Kazuma bought me something to eat, I climbed into the hiding wardrobe, and then it’s lights out from there.

Given that I didn’t wake up when Kazuma was killed I’m going to say that also back that theory up. Even if it was silent I feel like Ryunosuke would have woken up if someone was going round the cabin knocking ink bottles over and killing Kazuma.

No, don’t blame yourself Ryunosuke!

It’s my fault really, if I was going to  find Kazuma hot I should have made sure I could manifest inside my switch and protect him!

Ah, of course! Isn’t her dad a professor of pathology? And she seems like the sort of person who picks things up pretty quickly!

In other words, if this is a poisoning, she could be the perfect person to be partnered up with.

:(((

Susato is fully prepared to kick our ass if we try and leave, and as the woman who got up before Kazuma, I think we should listen to her.

:(((((

I say we team up as an investigative duo and catch this bastard!

Yeah!

SHE FUCKED US UP!!!

Susato didn’t come here to play! Especially when we might have killed Kazuma!

(Editors note: this isn’t a bad screenshot, Susato genuinely made Ryunosuke’s vision go blurry)

I know we need to investigate, but my god this woman’s got a fist to match her convictions.

You know when I first met Susato I was a bit afraid she was going to be the inverse of Maya to the point of being meek and shy.

Now I see what a fool I was.

Susato might be prepared to politely follow the rules, but woe betide you if you break them.

She’s even named it!

Again I know this is bad for us but GO SUSATO!

(God damn it you can’t all be my favourite characters)

Her own special martial arts form Ryunosuke!

And just like that she regathers her composure and carries on as if nothing had happened!

I like how she’s still just standing over me.

Ok Ryunosuke let’s go!

(Seriously though we don’t want her as an enemy)

Ah of course, Kazuma stuck the seal on the wardrobe, and the fact Herlock Sholmes (the himbo detective) had to pull it off means I didn’t leave!

No one respects poor Ryunosuke...

So it seems that Susato doesn’t believe we’re innocent just yet, but as we’ve presented the possibility of doubt before her she will let us investigate this room.

Given the buck wild nature of the last trial she was involved in, I honestly can’t blame her for not ruling this possibility out. After all if this was something a witness in a trial had said I’d be thinking the same thing.

Susato’s going to be watching us to make sure we don’t disturb the crime scene, which again is fair.

I’ve got to say, I’m really digging Susato’s cautiously suspicious and sensible nature. It feels like a good counterbalance to Ryunosuke’s beautiful but naïve outlook on life.

I bet if Susato had stowed away onboard a ship you wouldn’t catch her immediately confessing as soon as a sailor started to press her.

Who am I kidding, Susato would never have got into this situation in the first place.

*sob*

Ok so far we’ve got:

A) Half a pink kimono fastener on the floor next to a brick red mark

B) One disturbed table, with the remains of our roast chicken dinner on the floor

C) The terrible knowledge that Kazuma spent his last night on earth hungry because he didn’t like chicken

D) Kazuma’s precious katana, that he loved dearly and that he’d apparently managed to persuade the government to let him bring to the UK.

Oh yeah, drive the knife in why don’t you game!

Why do I feel like Ryunosuke’s about to get roasted?

There we go.

(It’s what Kazuma would have wanted)

DON’T JUST GO WITH IT RYUNOSUKE!

Back to investigating, we’ve got a ransacked shelf, and Kazuma’s London diary.

Just, you know, to rip my heart out...

It looks like the final entry’s incomplete, which means Kazuma was probably writing it when the incident happened. Unfortunately Susato is violently insistent that we respect the Kazuma’s private thoughts after his death, so we can’t read it.

We’ve got the inky Russian(?) on the floor which none of us can either recognize, nor read (including me)

(Sorry to any Russians reading this by the way, I can only assume you’re screaming that this isn’t Russian, but I’m just going by what the Great Himbo Detective said in the cut scene.)

Ok, so the sailor who’s been guarding us got very flustered when we asked if everything was normal last night, meaning that either he’s been skiving off, or everything was in fact not normal last night.

Oh sweet, it seems that Ryunosuke and Susato both read detective novels, and while we’ve shot down the possibility of using the needle and thread trick to unbolt the door from the outside (side note: I must remember to try that later), I feel like both they, and the player who immediately started trying to rattle off facts about Curare, have had a bonding moment.

Ok, I think that’s this half of the room done, let’s go and check out that vent I saw earlier.

So the vent connects to the room next door. That means if the grate could be moved we have a way in and out of our crime scene!

HERLOCK SHOLMES!!!

I mean, he’s quite hard to miss Ryunosuke

(I think Ryunosuke might have an Apollo complex short)

Understatement of the century

Her and me both Ryunosuke, it’s The Great Himbo Detective!!!

WE’RE TALKING TO HIM!

AND HE’S BLANKING US!!!

Herlock Sholmes I understand that you’re in a critical point of your investigation, but you need to understand that Ryunosuke, Susato and I are sad and need to see your magic gun.

YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSS!!!

IT’S LIKE HE HEARD ME!!!

OH GREAT HIMBO DETECTIVE CHEER ME WITH YOUR WITH YOUR ECCENTRIC ACTS THAT ARE RELATABLE TO MY AUTISTIC ASS!!!

OMFG HE’S SO INCREDIBLY WRONG!!!

I hope this is the way all of his deductions go from now on.

Also I’m sorry Russia and the Russian language, I should not have believed what the man, who on reflection was sold to me as the great himbo detective, said.

Susato’s buying it!

Susato look into my eyes and tell me Ryunosuke could ever make it as a soldier.

No, please do!

And the bullet flies a mile wide!

I’m still upset about Kazuma, but I’m somehow also having the time of my life

SUSATO YOU KNOW I’M FROM JAPAN!!!

SHE TOOK ME OUT!!!

AND MY GOD AM I HERE FOR IT!!!

Ryunosuke’s finally snapped!

What I find amazing is that the Sherlock Holmes Herlock Sholmes stories clearly exist, basically unchanged in this world. So either Dr Watson Wilson was either lying through his teeth to spare his friend’s feelings, or he is the stopped clock is right twice a day person who Herlock actually hit the nail on the head for, and therefore he believed everything that was said.

‘On rout to foreign climates’ that’s how ships work Herlock!

Exactly!

I’ll say one thing for Herlock though, you can’t beat him down!

How am I both Ryunosuke and Susato in this scene?

Yeah Naruhodo-san! I thought you read detective stories!

Quick Susato! Get him to sign a copy!

Um... has no one told him yet...

I’m also curious about the fact that he still believes Dr Wilson’s in London. Either there are two Dr Wilson’s, or something weird is going on here.

Look at his hat Ryunosuke, it contains all the information you need

He got his own name wrong!

Hosonaga, I don’t know if you can hear from wherever you are on this ship dressed as a sailor, but there is a fight and you are rapidly losing!

(Also to be fair to Herlock, as someone who’s been playing a lot of Hitman recently, looking inside the wardrobe already means he’s doing a lot better than literally every character in that game.)

Ok so it was Russian then and I no longer have to apologies!

Do you think Herlock has ever been to Russia?

Ok Mr ‘is this cow a cat?’

:(((((((

HERLOCK THAT LOOKS NOTHING LIKE ME!!!

Ok everyone, we’re also on the lookout for a missing Russian Ballerina along with Kazuma’s killer. I don’t know how, but I wouldn’t have been told about her if she wasn’t relevant

I can’t believe we’ve finally found the vindictive part of Ryunosuke’s beautiful personality!

We’re finally reading Kazuma’s diary!

Oh fuck, Kazuma was bitten by an adder

Wait, if that was the case why didn’t he dispatch it with his big sword? We’ve seen him do precision work before, so that can’t be it.

Either way, I think we really need to talk to the person in the room next to mine.

Also: Herlock Sholmes gets seasick!

Did she just break my cuffs?

My mistake she’s just showing some tough love to get me to buck up!

Let’s go team!

HOSONAGA!!!

“What are you doing here?” “I think that should be my line” This feels like that meme of the two Spidermen pointing at each other

I wouldn’t be so sure Susato. Hosonaga seems a lot like me, a bunch of disabilities held together by sheer force of will.

He still has a job!

(Or his superiors are just trying to send him as far away from Japan as they can)

HELL YEAH HOSONAGA, LETS PUNCH THE RULES UNTIL THEY SQUEAK!

(Also your superiors are definitely trying to ship you out)

Oh...

That would explain Kazuma’s whole vibe.

Although something about this feels wrong. No disrespect to Hosonaga, but as determined as he is he doesn’t exactly have the physical prowess you’d associate with stopping an assassination. I know I haven’t exactly seen him at work yet, but something about this feels like he was set up to fail.

Now the thing is, that while he can cut it as a waiter, Hosonaga isn’t exactly built to fit in among sailors. It’s not going to take a genius therefore, to work out who Kazuma’s guard is, especially if he’s been around Kazuma from dawn till dusk. That’s probably why his killer had to kill him in his cabin, and it’s also why they probably drugged his food (which means they didn’t know him enough to know he didn’t like chicken)

:(((((((((((((

On the plus side though, it looks as though Hosonaga believes in my innocence.

Come on Hosonaga, remember when you bought Miss Brett to us!

Hell yeah Hosonaga!

Hosonaga heard my call! He heard that he was losing his place as my second favourite character and came back swinging!!!

Determination Ryunosuke!

Also probably hacking up a lot of blood, that does wonders to unnerve people in my experience

Now, I should present Kazuma’s diary here... but...

Yes, everything is as it should be...

He’s digging it!

Oh no he took it as an insult!

Sorry Ryunosuke, that’s the crime scene thief’s now

Ok let’s do this properly then

Yeah boy!

LETS DO THIS TEAM!!!

Ryunosuke, do you remember nothing about this man?

Hosonaga didn’t come here to play!

Ok, we’re moving on out (except not right now because I’ve still got a couple of things to look at before we go)

I think Ryunosuke might be a bad influence on Susato...

Also I feel like I’ve pegged Susato wrong regarding the rules. Susato’s just very good at keeping up the appearance of following them.

Come to think of it, the fact she’s a judicial assistant, despite women apparently not being allowed in the Japanese court other than to testify should have clued me in.

Susato Mikotoba: Breaking the rules in front of you, but in a way you don’t notice

(Also the bell pull’s not working, but I think we all expected that)

Susato I’ve been living in a cupboard!

Don’t pity me!

Ok, so I’m not quite sure when Ryunosuke and I started thinking as one, but we’ve all agreed it’s happening now

Ryunosuke do not get caught in the mousetrap!

Susato can see right through me (Ryunosuke)

Umm...

This is the Phoenix Maya dynamic inverted, and I am living for it.

Susato: Now this is an emergency button, it’s very important you do NOT press it!

Ryunosuke: *lunges for the trigger*

It feels amazing being the wayward partner!

Our rout into cabin 2’s blocked by approximately 1 ton of sailor, so for now Susato and I will have to dick around avenge Kazuma out here in the corridor.

It seems that last night’s log is mostly blank, so I’m guessing I was right about the sailor on duty skiving off.

Hmm, so the person in the next cabin’s probably quite important then. Given what just happened with Miss Brett that’s not a good sign.

And it seems like I’m not allowed to visit whoever it is without an invitation... which might prove tricky given as how there in there and I’m out here

Ah good, a Western Gentleman, that’s just what we need!

Hmmmmm

These guys left their post for a while didn’t they?

Either that or there’s something (or someone) they’re keeping off the records.

This might be a bit of a wide shot, but that mousetrap makes me wonder if the crew has some sort of secret pet squirrelled away somewhere. It doesn’t entirely add up what with them putting traps down, but with everyone in Ace Attorney having something to hide it’s all I can think of now.

Bif Strogenov’s left to report to the captain, nows our window to violate some privacy!

HERLOCK SHOLMES!!!

Shot down!

Herlock that thing’s tiny, I don’t think anyone’s in there!

It moved!

Guess I’m eating my words!

Herlock???

Ok, we’re not allowed to look inside the case, or indeed anything, but fortunately we have HERLOCK SHOLMES THE GREAT HIMBO DETECTIVE!!!

Deduce away Herlock!

Herlock... are you about to tell this man that he’s also the Russian Assasin? Are you going to do this round the whole ship until you get it right?

Wait this is working!?!

Herlock Sholmes is Susato’s one blind spot and Ryunosuke’s one point of clarity

CHOOCHOO!!!

THIS IS AMAZING!

He’s not entirely right though...

(Editors note: I completely managed to miss capturing 90% of the ? icons)

I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!

HERLOCK LOOK AT THIS MAN’S NOSE, LOOK AT MY FACE! NOW LOOK AT THE MAN IN THE PORTRAIT!

However, the newspaper in his pocket and the little ! icon seems to suggest there’s some connection there.

(Editors note: I also managed to miss every ! icon)

And there is a crime being committed, but it’s not to do with the case.

Yeah, it probably just contains one of those pets we’re not supposed to have.

So... a baby?

So do a lot of people Susato

Ok, so The Great Himbo Detective is actually really good at making observations, it’s just how he applies them that’s shit.

I wonder if this is what Dr Wilson did for their partnership, but he just cut out the bits where he said things like: Herlock these people have completely different faces, maybe there’s a different reason they’ve got the paper?

Ryunosuke normally: The fact Hosonaga’s working in this restaurant clearly means he’s struggling financially!

Ryunosuke around Herlock: You can’t just say the first guess that pops into your head!

HERLOCK BUSTED US OUT!!!

(Ok he’s also the reason we were in handcuffs, but still)

Olay!

What! Noooooo!

‘Course Correction: Hold it Mr Sholmes!’ What a title!

Important news just in: Ryunosuke can’t grow a beard

A part of me says that he was about to use the sheers to cut up that paper, but there are obviously other copies around the ship, so unless he’s planning a sheers rampage that can’t be right.

Hello!

Wait a second... with that reaction to the paper... is there a Russian Ballerina in there?

WE DID THE HERLOCK SHOLMES COOL SPIN AND CLICK!!!

Also look at Ryunosuke’s little cocky smirk!

He’s really getting into this!

And I couldn’t be more proud!

We’re tag teaming it!

Herlock I swear to god if you tell me she’s that assassin

WHAT DID I JUST SAY!

(Editors note: Got that one!)

I sure am Susato!

Keep telling yourself that Ryunosuke, we can all see the truth

Ah, so the nose was fake too

That makes a lot more sense now!

Well she did disappear with a priceless tiara

He said, rubbing his hand in glee

This is definitely the start of a beautiful friendship!

Damn straight I do!

Bingo

For some reason I pictured it as being pink though, I don’t know why

Anyway so, while Nikolina does need money it seems that she didn’t steal the tiara. Apparently it was given to her as a present.

Also Nikolina is only 15, and has run away by herself for reasons currently unknown. I’m starting to get the feeling that the crew (or at least the two we’ve met) might have been looking out for her.

Oh yeah, the moving travel case!

Given the rules regarding pets, I wonder if that’s what’s in there? It would explain the attitude of the sailors we met.

Is it the Russian Revolutionary Herlock? You have to tell us if it is...

He’s learning!

Yep, she’s looking at the pet rule sign, now show me the pet!

Whoooooooo!

Yeah, I’m pretty sure the guys on the door were covering for her (and probably her pet too)

Hmm, so Nikolina’s running from someone, so she decided to disguise herself to be safe and has been a jumble of nerve ever since.

Can I see...

Bless you Nikolina, but you’re not the best at keeping secrets. I’m pretty sure the crew have collectively decided to just look the other way and let the traumatised 15 year old have her pet.

HE CUFFED ME AGIAN!!!

I wonder if Nikolina’s beloved pet’s a snake?

Can I just...

:(

Fine...

No, everyone must see my badge!

HA!

:(

:D

Ok now let’s go back to actually playing the game!

So, because she’s a jumble of nerves, Nikolina hasn’t been noticing much about what’s been happening around her. However I think she’d have probably noticed signs of danger, like loud noises, so I’m a little curious as to why she didn’t pick up on the sound of the tableware being sent to the floor.

From what I can gather about her ‘never dancing again’ whatever happened probably has something to do with the ballet.

Either that or she’s worried about being linked with her old life if she goes back on the scene under another name.

That’s a good point actually, while people are funny and I can get her wanting a memento of her life, that’s an incredibly distinctive memento to have.

It must have some sort of emotional significance, I think she said it was given to her by an Earl, so maybe her father?

Hmm, that’s a pretty distinctive thing to try and pawn Nikolina.

Yikes! So the Novavich Ballet’s got really unethical working conditions. (Which probably shouldn’t be too much of a shock given the time period.) Now I understand why Nikolina’s so keen to never put herself in that situation again.

Yeah, I thought that was the case.

Huh?

Oh yeah... that is odd

Ah, so that’s why everyone was so on edge!

Right...

(I feel like this would carry more weight if we hadn’t just been flashing our badge at anyone who looks our way)

Now onto the most important question:

HERLOCK NO!

Susato is me (but personally I’m hoping for a kitten)

Ok Genius, what sort of animal is it?

I’ll eat your funky hat if that’s true Herlock

Important information 2: Never trust Herlock with a pet

Please let it be that we were Kazuma’s pet

Wait no, I’m an idiot. I’m obviously supposed to ask about the speckled band

Wow she changed quick!

She’s leaving to talk to the captain, is this our chance to meet her friend!?!

Booooo, we’ve been chucked out!!!

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Top 5 Characters in ANF Who Would’ve Made Better Love Interests Than Kate

There are a lot of mixed opinions on TWDG: A New Frontier. Some people like it, some don’t, and some people hate it so much that they refuse to accept as canon in the series. Extreme? Yeah, but hey, to each their own. 

One thing that always bothers me when I do my replay of the series and this game is how much Kate is forced on us and even kinda punishes us for not romancing her. Like, no offense, but I’m not really interested in dating my sister-in-law, especially when her husband is actually alive, and even if she wasn’t my brother’s wife, she’s still not a character I have chemistry with, y’know? 

And every time I play, I can’t help but think that almost anyone else in ANF would’ve been a better romantic interest for Javi over Kate, so I decided to make that the list for this week. 

I would’ve loved more choices and for the game to actually show Javi’s canon bisexuality outside of a flirty line with Jesus that most players didn’t even pick. Just sayin’.

I do want to note that if you enjoy the romance with Kate and the relationship between her and Javi, that’s totally cool. Just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean you can’t ship them, y’know? I’m not here to try to change your mind or tell you you’re bad for shipping something I don’t because I’m not a dingus. You do what makes you happy, friend. :)

Besides, going off the stats, a majority of players romanced her so if anything, I’m the weirdo. This list is just for fun! 

Before we start, just wanna say a big thank you to @pi-creates​ for helping out with this one! Really appreciate it! Now, here are my top 5 characters who, in my opinion, would’ve made better love interests for Javier than Kate.

5. Jane if the writers didn’t turn her into a dead potato

Oh man, you should see your face right now. 

Wait, wait, stop! Before you click outta here in a huff with your “Kenny good Jane bad” grunts and come yell at me, just hear me out-- this entry is mostly a joke and the other four on this list are serious, okay? 

I needed someone to put at #5 and after talking over some options and going back and forth.... Jane came up as a joke and then kind of made the list. Because really, I thought about it. I was like, “Would I really rather have dingdong “whatever happens stay out of it” potato face Jane as a love interest over Kate? Do I dislike Kate as an option that much?” and Pi and I talked about this for a while and yeah.... yeah I would actually. 

When I said anyone but Kate, I guess I really meant anyone. 

Trust me, I know, I’m just as surprised. I guess this really says a lot about my feelings for Kate. I didn’t know I disliked her this much either.

But for fun, let’s entertain this idea of the writers NOT pulling the ol’ character assassination on Jane and she made it to Richmond with Clementine and AJ because--

Jane: "One time I ate glass because I was drunk and thought it was sugar."

Javier: "I gambled on my own baseball matches and disgraced myself for money."

Jane: “Well, I dragged my little sister around with me after everything went to shit until I finally gave her what she wanted and left her to die.”

Javier: “I wasn’t there when my dad was fighting cancer and when I finally showed up, I was too late and he was already dead, then he turned and I bashed his skull in with a piece of wood.” 

Jane: “I shot a dude’s dick off once.”

Javier: “Oof. I insulted an old lady’s cake and then shot her eye out.”

Jane: “I screwed a guy when I was supposed to be securing a place for some lady to have her baby and it resulted in the death of a teenage girl.”

Javier: “I screwed my brother’s wife.” 

Jane: “...”

Javier: “In my defense, I thought he was dead.” 

Jane: “That’s fair.”

Clementine, exasperated and emo: “Oh my god.” 

....I mean... we might be onto something here, c’mon--

Okay, now onto the more legit entries. 

4. Conrad

Now listen... I know, okay? I know. I know this one can be seen as a bit problematic considering the fact that Conrad, in his grief and anger over Francine’s death, held a gun to Gabe’s head and threatened Javi and Clementine.... plus Javi can literally murder him.

...and if you don’t do anything, Conrad with murder both Gabe and Javi and you’ll get a “YOU ARE DEAD” screen...

But we don’t talk about that because it’s not canon.

I know, but listen... I’m allowed to have ships that are difficult, as are you, and this is my list so... there.

If Conrad was a love interest that’s the route I’d take because I love him and I think a relationship between him and Javi could’ve been so damn good if properly done.

I just find Conrad to be an interesting character with a great arc that you only get to see if you don’t shoot him... which is what most people did, so they missed out. And like, I get it, I get why y’all shot him but maybe next time you play, you could consider not doing that?

So here’s the thing, Javi and Conrad share something-- they both lost loved ones because of shithead Badger. Javi is heartbroken after Mariana’s death, Conrad is devastated after Francine’s death, and they both handle that in different ways. Conrad becomes so focused on revenge and getting into Richmond, that he’s willing to threaten two kids in order to get what he wants but the thing is... that’s not him.

He even says so himself when you keep him alive-- he genuinely apologizes for what happened and will end up coming back to save Javi’s life in ep4. The potential for this to work as a relationship? It’s there... the only problem is that my confidence in the writers handling something like this is low, but let’s pretend they used their time and brains wisely-- ya got yourself a classic slow-burn friends to enemies to friends again to lovers romance and I’m here for it. 

3. Paul “Jesus” Monroe

A lot of people really like the idea of Javi and Jesus and wanted him to be a romantic option, and I don’t blame them. They have chemistry in the scenes they share, and Javi can straight up flirt with him at the end of the season, and it’s super cute... of course, I wish we had more but Telltale was too scared to actually show Javi’s bisexuality outside of that one line, I guess.

But, anyway, this ship has a lot of sweet fanart that we love to see.

The only real reason he isn’t higher on the list is that Jesus is apparently already in a relationship at this point? I guess? From what I’ve been told? Listen, I don’t read the comics, I don’t watch the show, I just go off what y’all tell me. Plus, I believe Kent joked about Jesus having someone in each community during the commentaries so like... that’s a thing?

But let’s pretend that we throw that all out and Jesus is single and ready to be in a committed relationship with our boy Javier here. Like I mentioned above, these characters have a believable chemistry from the moment they meet and I think that has a lot to do with how charming they are by themselves. Those different charms work well together.

I also enjoy how much of a badass Jesus is when it comes to fighting off walkers. Javi has a lot of force that you feel with each hit, while Jesus almost has a lighter but just as impactful hit? I dunno if I’m explaining that well-- basically, Javi strong but Jesus can bounce off walls and do cool shit with weapons that feels effortless.

It’s a combo of fighting styles that I love, so these two fighting together? *chef kiss*

There’s also Jesus’ morality and how he wants to see Javier make “good” decisions, y’know? Sure, he gets pissy if you murder the shit outta Badger, which is mostly just Telltale showing you consequences, but I get it. He sees a lot of potential in Javi, more than Javi himself sees. And unlike certain characters, Jesus doesn’t completely hate you for doing something he doesn’t agree with to a frustrating degree.

If the game gave us the option to pursue Jesus as a love interest, he and Javier would’ve been such a badass couple with a sweet romance.

2. Eleanor

This one might come as a surprise to those of you who know my feelings about Eleanor... as in, I don’t like her. I never forgave her for the shit she pulled in ep4/ep5, and now every time I replay ANF and she shows up? Well, all I really hear is the hissing of a snake.

But, putting those feelings aside and looking at her from a different perspective, I do believe that she would’ve made for a better love interest than Kate assuming that if you romanced her, she wouldn’t rat everyone out to Joan, y’know?

Hell, most people believed that Eleanor was going to be the second option with Kate back when the episodes were coming out, and for good reason. The chemistry is there in the flirting, and their relationship could’ve been super cute.

Of course, Eleanor being a love interest also comes with things becoming awkward with Tripp, but c’mon-- as awkward as pursuing a relationship with your sister-in-law and never telling your brother after finding out he’s alive? Nah, I don’t think so.

Plus, for the first three episodes, Eleanor’s not a bad character. In fact, she’s pretty damn likable, she deeply cares for the group and wants to use her medical skills for good.

And you can tell through the dialogue that she and Javi are fond of one another... well, I guess until they shove the Kate thing in our faces and suddenly Eleanor’s like “oh, I thought you two were a thing??” like... Eleanor, we were flirting and I totally rejected all of Kate’s advances last episode I mean??

If she were a love interest, instead of turning on us, she would... y’know, not do that and instead help us out. We have a couple cute moments like back in ep1 where she’s patching Javi up but this time with a smooch? Super cute.

1. Tripp

Okay but seriously, why wasn’t Tripp a love interest? 

He’s the perfect option. I just-- uuuughhhhh. 

They already have a great believable bromance, so why not take it a step further and make it an official romance? Oh wait, that’s right, ya gotta kill off 95% of your determinant characters, I forgot. Sorry Tripp. 

Well, fuck that. Out of all the other adult characters, Javi has the most chemistry with this man. I believe them more than I believe him and Kate. Sure, they got off to a rocky start the progression of their relationship felt natural with every episode. 

That scene where Tripp is confiding in Javi about his feelings for Eleanor? And in turn, Javi can confide in him about Kate? One of my favorite scenes. I only wish there was an option to tell Tripp he can do much better and set the path for the romance. 

Seriously, I’d probably feel more okay about the romance with Kate if Tripp were the second option. That way, Kate wouldn’t be so forced onto the player, the writers confirming Javi’s bisexuality on Twitter or whatever wouldn’t feel like they were trying to earn points without actually showing representation, and we would’ve gotten the beauty that is Javier and Tripp. 

Also, then Tripp could make it to the end without dying that dumb death of his that no one likes. 

And if I haven’t convinced you yet, then look at these swaps Pi did--

--and tell me they aren’t fucking perfect?? You can’t, because look at them. 

Where’s my Tripp route, Telltale??

---

Honorable Mentions

-If I wasn’t sticking to just ANF characters, Luke probably would’ve made the list because that’s apparently a popular combo and I dig it.  -Pudding... because Javi fucking loves pudding.  -Honestly Max probably would’ve been a better love interest than Kate oof--

---

So, whattya think? Do you agree with this top 5 or nah? Do you have a favorite Javi ship? Let me know, I’d love to hear from you. :D

Next week’s T5F Top 5 Times Lee was the Absolute Best

[artificialqueens]

I Don't Know How I Know (But I Know) (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and the joke around school is that they’re joined at the hip. They started working there at the same time and they were both given the year two classes, so they planned together, filled out their assessment folders together and prepped for parent’s evenings together.

Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and Tayce has been a little bit in love with her for two of them.

(in which Tayce teaches year five, A'whora teaches Reception, Tayce hates Valentine’s day, and A'whora has a plan to change that.)

a/n: with thanks to my co-author, Lawrence Chaney. title from Intuition by LIZ, please listen to it it’s a vibe. happy valentine’s day everyone xo

***

Tayce has heard people say that teaching is a form of acting. She thinks this is true, for the most part. After all, there’s no way in hell she teaches her year fives the same way she would act around her friends.

She pretends she doesn’t know the TikTok dance to Savage Love and fakes ignorance at the memes her kids all communicate in. She’s impatient with her class when they run in the corridor and chew gum (because they’re almost the oldest in the school, and they should know better) but she’s patient when they struggle with area and perimeter and brings her chair over to sit beside whoever’s confused to explain it all again. She’s strict- she gets the girls passing notes to each other into trouble as if she didn’t do the exact same with her friends at the age of ten- and she’s built up a reputation for being one of the teachers that doesn’t take any shit. She expects a lot from the children she teaches, knows they’re a blank canvas and that they’ve got the potential to understand things that some adults struggle with, so she teaches them about racism, homophobia and transphobia, makes it part of her everyday teaching as opposed to one milquetoast lesson about Martin Luther King per year.

Some of the parents fucking hate her for it. She’d be lying if she said that wasn’t one of her favourite parts of the job.

It takes a lot for her not to drop that persona sometimes. When she has to tear through one of her boys for muttering “ah shit, here we go again” as she hands out a worksheet on direct and indirect speech instead of bursting out laughing as if it’s one of the funniest things she’s heard in years, which it is. It’s times like that when she wishes she could be more like A’whora.

A’whora with the blonde hair and the Disney-princess smile who teaches Reception. A’whora who does silly voices for all the characters when she’s reading picture books to her class and who sits and does colouring-in with them when they’re playing. A’whora who’s too nice to them all because she thinks they’re too cute to discipline, but her class love her so their behaviour is good regardless.

(A’whora with the completely inappropriate nickname only disclosed to Tayce five mojitos deep on the staff Christmas night out, which she’d earned herself at uni via her reputation. Tayce hadn’t asked for any further details.)

Tayce has never seen a teacher better suited to the youngest class in the school than A’whora. She’s constantly got specks of glitter on her face from the crafts she completes with them, she hums the silly little songs she uses to teach them their sounds when she’s at the photocopier without even realising. She turns up to work in immaculate outfits and finishes the day with them covered in glue, marker pen, and even (horrifically) a child’s snot once, but she doesn’t even mind, simply zips them up into little bodybags and puts them in for dry cleaning.

Tayce is never done telling her how she could never do what she does, she could never teach the little ones; her patience would snap, she’s too mean for them, she’d get bored having to teach the most basic of basic stuff. A’whora only ever brushes her off and says how she couldn’t teach Tayce’s year group either; they’d eat her alive, they’d walk all over her, she wouldn’t even be able to do the complicated maths she’d have to teach. Besides, she argues, drawing a glare from Tayce every time, she’s definitely goofy enough for the Reception kids.

Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and the joke around school is that they’re joined at the hip. They started working there at the same time and they were both given the year two classes, so they planned together, filled out their assessment folders together and prepped for parent’s evenings together. They worked well together, so when their headteacher sent them to opposite ends of the school Tayce almost had a meltdown. Still, they sit next to each other in the staffroom and at every staff meeting. They take turns making each other lunch every day and walk to the roll shop to get toasties every Friday. Tayce walks down from her classroom to come and sit in A’whora’s at the end of every day and they chat and bitch and sometimes cry and get absolutely nothing done for at least forty minutes. A’whora picks her up on the way to work every morning and terrifies Tayce with her bad driving and the way she almost causes road traffic accidents with only a “whoopsie!” of acknowledgement, but she’ll make up for it by taking them through the Starbucks drive-thru if they’ve got a meeting after school that night. She blasts songs by artists Tayce has never heard of but are all in the same energetic, poppy, Y2K-esque genre that A’whora seems to love.

Tayce and A’whora have been friends for three years and Tayce has been a little bit in love with her for two of them.

***

A’whora’s friends tease her and tell her that teaching five year olds must be the easiest job in the world. A’whora loves her friends, but she fucking resents them when they come out with that shite.

A’whora knows that she herself is not the brightest crayon in the box. She had known that she’d never be one of the girls in her year at high school that went off to study medicine or law, and she’d known she’d never graduate uni with a first class degree or write an award-winning dissertation.

(When she’s having a bad day she comforts herself with the fact that at least she’s not joined a multi-level-marketing scheme under the guise of being a “businesswoman”, and this helps her feel a little better.)

But what she lacks in academic ability she makes up for in spadeloads by being a damn good teacher. She’s big-hearted and silly and patient. She always picks up crisps and KitKats when she’s at the shops and keeps them in a drawer under her desk to sneak to the kids who come to school without a snack. She sits in the construction corner with her kids when they’re playing and asks them about the models they make, and pretends to die a gruesome, slow death when they shoot her with their little lego guns instead of trying to get them to make something less violent like she knows she should do. She reads books about unicorns that captivate the little shy girls in her class who come up to her afterwards and whisper in their tiny voices that they think unicorns are real, and A’whora agrees with them and watches their faces light up. She makes every day fun for her little ones; because the beauty of teaching is having the control to plan what happens every hour, so she makes sure that none of the six they have to spend in her care are boring.

The key to being a good Reception teacher is to essentially make a fool of yourself every day for the benefit of twenty-two four and five year olds, which A’whora has no problem doing. She doesn’t care what her pupil support worker thinks of her when she acts out The Gruffalo with soft toy puppets she borrowed from the library. She doesn’t care what the management team think of her when she turns up for World Book Day dressed as The Tiger Who Came To Tea. The only person’s opinion she does maybe care a tiny, ever-so-slight amount about, is Tayce’s.

Tayce is that teacher. Tayce is the cool teacher. Tayce is the teacher that all the children want to be taught by. A’whora hears the year fours whisper to each other in the corridors every June and watch as they cross their fingers and close their eyes before they open the envelope addressed to their parents, then give a screech of excitement and joy when they see the name Miss Szura-Radix on their class allocation letter. She wears heels all day without so much as a grunt of complaint and jumps in A’whora’s car each morning with a full face of makeup on at half past seven (while A’whora paints her face at quarter past eight at her desk in between shovelling a croissant down her throat in an attempt at ‘breakfast’ and sorting handwriting worksheets). The year five and six girls straighten their hair to a flattened crisp in an attempt to emulate Tayce’s endless shiny locks and she’s the only teacher that the rogue group of year six boys addresses with respect. She has the discipline of Miss Trunchbull with the heart of Miss Honey, and A’whora thinks she’s the best teacher she’s ever seen.

A’whora’s been friends with Tayce since she started working at the school but her heart still flutters in its chest whenever she sweeps in to her classroom to chat after work, or sits herself down next to her before a cluster meeting with two cups of tea in polystyrene mugs and two biscuits, or whenever A’whora mysteriously finds a packet of Percy Pigs on her desk hidden under a pile of marking with a post-it note stuck to it that says “u are a pig (but i love u)”.

She wonders if that feeling will ever go away. She kind of doesn’t want it to.

It’s that feeling that made her volunteer to help out at the year five camp last March. Tayce was complaining about having to go to a remote outdoor centre and supervise ten year olds completing various death-defying tasks for a week all in the name of character building, and A’whora had said she’d go with her. The smile it had put on Tayce’s face was worth every minute spent up to her knees in mud. Similarly every second she spent waist deep in freezing water was worth the moment Tayce fell asleep on her shoulder on the coach trip back to school on the last day.

(And she still hasn’t told anyone else about the moment she thought her heart might explode; on the last night of the week when temperatures had unexpectedly plummeted and A’whora had been trying to get to sleep but all she had been able to do was shiver and chatter her teeth and toss and turn, and Tayce had sighed dramatically, rolled her eyes, thrown off her duvet cover and patted the space in the bed beside her, with a “just get in quick, before it gets cold”. A’whora had spent the following hours until morning with Tayce’s body tangled around hers, in the most blissful sleepless night she’d ever experienced.)  

There’s so many things that endear Tayce to A’whora. Her smile, her secretly chaotic funny side, the way she never, ever makes A’whora feel like an idiot. The way she’ll ask the questions A’whora’s too scared to ask in staff meetings. The way she cares so deeply and passionately about the futures of the kids she teaches to the extent where sometimes she’ll develop a little crease at her brow in front of her attainment spreadsheet and A’whora will have to gently pry her away from her monitor to reassure her that she can’t control the way her children’s lives pan out. The way she’ll sometimes call her Rory, which makes A’whora’s heart expand at least three sizes.  

Something else that makes her heart expand three sizes is the way Tayce acts with the Reception kids, despite her insisting she could never teach that year group. It happens one day when A’whora’s marking literacy while letting her kids play and Tayce swings by her classroom without so much as a knock. They’ll do this to each other sometimes when one’s in class and the other has planning time; just drop by and check in to make sure the other isn’t having a meltdown.

“Hey bitchtits,” she murmurs quietly, smirking as she leans onto A’whora’s desk. “How’s your day going?”

“Terrible since you decided to show up,” A’whora cocks an eyebrow back, then jerks her head towards her distracted kids. “This lot are like sponges, y’know. You can’t be dropping that kind of language in this class, even if you think you’re out of earshot.”

Tayce sticks her tongue out at her. “Aw what, you gonna report me to management?”

“Report you to management and say you’re in my class annoying me during teaching time!”

“Piss off! I’m the highlight of your day and you know it.”

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“No. Just some very lucky ladies,” Tayce bites back with a smile, instantly rendering A’whora’s cheeks beetroot red as if she’s been slapped.

“You’re horrendous. You’re an actual deviant. Olly Murs without the Pringles can,” she rolls her eyes, trying to style out how flustered she’s become. She can see Tayce open her mouth to shoot a comeback her way, which is why she’s glad when one of her boys appears beside her desk holding a crumpled piece of paper covered in crayon blobs which are clearly meant to represent objects.

“Hi Archie! You okay?” she smiles brightly, turning all her attention to the little boy and trying not to cringe at Tayce getting full view of her Cbeebies-presenter voice.

“I made a picture for you,” he says, showing her the piece of paper and pointing out all the features of his drawing with a chubby little finger. “It’s a dragon that breathes fire and bombs, and he’s called Squish.”

“Wow! Thank you, Archie, I love it!” A’whora keeps smiling, blinking at the drawing the boy’s still holding. She points at some shaky rectangles with a pink acrylic. “And I can see he must be really tall because those buildings are tiny underneath him!”

Archie’s no longer interested in her or the drawing, though, as he’s looking up at Tayce through his glasses. “You’re my brother’s teacher.”

“Am I?” Tayce says, surprised that the attention is suddenly on her. “Who’s your brother?”

“Joshua. Joshua White.”

Tayce’s face instantly lights up in recognition. “Of course, you’re Josh’s brother! I should’ve known, you look so alike.”

“He’s ten and I’m five,” Archie adds, somewhat unnecessarily.

“See, I think you might be taller than him, though,” Tayce deadpans. A’whora watches affectionately as Archie’s entire body crumples up in a laugh and he splutters out a “nooooo!”. Tayce’s face breaks out into a smile- warm and genuine with her nose wrinkling up. It’s maybe the most adorable thing A’whora has ever seen.

“Josh is good at art as well. He’s not quite as good as you, but he’s good,” Tayce smiles, and as Archie smiles back A’whora feels her heart melting.

Archie turns to Tayce suddenly with the drawing still in his hand, and holds it out for her to take. “This is actually for you.”

A’whora gives a snort of outrage and amusement, which she quickly turns into a cough. She watches as Tayce accepts the drawing gratefully, giving Archie a little squeeze on his shoulder as she says thank you and Archie scuttles away back to his friends all bashful. There’s a second where Tayce smiles after him then looks down at the drawing with fondness, and A’whora’s feelings for her hit her like a tidal wave.

Tayce doesn’t notice (because of course she doesn’t) and as she straightens up she grins triumphantly at A’whora, holding the drawing in her face proudly. “Well. Guess Archie’s got a new favourite teacher then, doesn’t he?”

“He wouldn’t last five minutes in your classroom,” A’whora smirks, lying. The image of big-hearted Tayce with a class full of the littlest kids drying their tears and helping them get all organised for the day ahead is so unbelievably cute it makes A’whora want to squeal like an embarrassing teenager. She doesn’t, though. Instead she holds out a hand expectantly, raises her eyebrows at Tayce as if she’s one of her students. “Am I getting my drawing back or what?”

“Easy come, easy go,” Tayce winks at her, flouncing out of her classroom door just as the bell rings for break.

***

Tayce doesn’t really flirt with A’whora. Well, no, that’s a lie. She flirts and then immediately laughs it off, brushes it off as a joke or banter even though maybe if she’d taken flirting with A’whora a little more seriously she wouldn’t still be in this position two-bloody-years in.

Because she knows A’whora flirts sometimes. She’s positive she isn’t making it up. The way she’ll deadpan a “well, you look like shit” as she hops into her car in the mornings, the way she’ll sit close to her under her fluffy pink blanket if she’s round at Tayce’s for a movie day (because yeah, they hang out outside of work, because that’s what friends do). It’s always a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it raised eyebrow here, a laugh there, a touch of her arm and a squeeze of her hand and a smirk that bites back a thousand words Tayce wishes A’whora would just say.

So Tayce will flirt back because that’s probably just what A’whora does with her friends, and that’s all Tayce is to her. Maybe. Tayce is never sure if A’whora likes her back or not, and the risk of completely wrecking what is her only workplace friendship is too great to actually do something about it, so she’s happy being her friend for now. Every second she gets to spend with A’whora is a treat, so she can’t complain.

It would be easier if she was still labouring under the delusion that A’whora was straight, which was the whole reason it took Tayce so long to start slowly falling for her. A’whora had had a boyfriend for roughly the first six months Tayce had known her, so she hadn’t even thought of her friend in that capacity at all. Then one day on a rainy January she’d thudded her bag down on Tayce’s desk and told her they were going for drinks after work that night because her boyfriend was a cheating piece of shit and she’d broken up with him.

Tayce’s fate had further been sealed when they’d been sitting together for an inservice day on LGBT training and A’whora had turned to her and rolled her eyes.

“We don’t really need to be here, do we? We could just piss off to McDonalds.”

Tayce had laughed softly, fixing A’whora with a slightly confused glance. “Huh?”

“Well, I feel like we probably have enough lived experience of the whole thing to not need training. Still, we could always duck back in in time for the transgender part. But I mean we probably don’t really need to be told how to support kids struggling with their sexuality, do we?”

Tayce still remembers how A’whora had snorted at her, her face obviously looking as if she was searching for the last puzzle piece in the world’s most confusing jigsaw. “What is it?”

“I don’t get…what?” Tayce had said awkwardly, still unsure of what A’whora had meant.

A’whora had pulled a face, giggling a little. “Are you telling me that rainbow flag is on your desk for shits and gigs?”

“No…” Tayce said slowly, the pieces slowly falling together. “So…”

A’whora gave another funny little snort. “Tayce, did you not know I was bi? I’m sure I’ve told you this before.”

Tayce still thinks she deserves an Oscar for still being able to keep the conversation going despite the fact her entire world had been flipped on its head like a globe made of hourglass. “You’ve not! You’ve never. I mean, like, why would you need to? It’s not something that matters. I mean obviously it matters to you, but it doesn’t matter to me. You’re my friend either way. I mean it just never occurred to me because…your ex, and uh…you can drive.”

Mercifully, their headteacher had started speaking before A’whora could respond to her beyond a single raised eyebrow and a smirk on her face.

It’s been ever since then that Tayce has been looking at A’whora in a different light. How gorgeous she is at the start of the day with nothing but her laminated brows and lash extensions to pass for makeup and how gorgeous she still is at the end of the day with her mascara and eyeliner smudged a little at the edges and her lipstick all rubbed off. How she’s generous and patient and how she’ll go out of her way to help Tayce understand the new flavour-of-the-month resource their headteacher makes them use, pulling one of her kid’s chairs over to sit close beside her to see the monitor and bumping her knee against Tayce’s every so often.  

It’s how she acts around her kids, though, that really highlights everything Tayce completely adores about A’whora. Tayce is on her way up to the staffroom with two tubs of chicken shawarma salad in her hands (one for her and one for A’whora, of course) and she makes it up one flight of stairs when she suddenly hears a cry like an air raid siren pierce the air, as well as a gentle, soothing voice muttering quiet consolations.

It’s the sheer hysterical nature of the crying that catches Tayce’s attention at first, and she looks over the bannister to see A’whora on the level below, sitting a little boy who’s bawling his eyes out down on the red squashy chairs outside the office. With a stab to her heart Tayce realises that it’s Archie, the boy who’d given her the picture all those weeks ago. Both his knees and the palms of his hands are torn to ribbons; he’s obviously had a fight with the tarmac and emerged the loser. Tayce knows he’ll be okay if an adult’s seeing to him, especially if that adult’s A’whora, so she knows she can leave. She doesn’t need to stay and watch the situation play out.

But she does. She watches as one of the ladies from the office comes out and reassures A’whora that she can take over, and as A’whora waves her away kindly and says it won’t take her two minutes. She watches as A’whora puts her hands on the boy’s shoulders and directs his breathing, talking to him calmly and softly. She watches A’whora rip into a packet of sterile wipes with grim determination, telling Archie how brave he’s being and that she knows it stings as she wipes quickly and carefully over his little cut hands. She watches A’whora peel the wrapping off four plasters, making it seem effortless even with her long acrylics, and the way she makes a joke about Archie being bandaged up like a mummy which brings a smile to his little tear-stained face and a smile to Tayce’s too. The other staff don’t get to see A’whora’s caring nature very often (given how often she whispers judgemental comments to Tayce during meetings) but Tayce sees it all the time. A’whora has the biggest heart of anyone she’s ever known, and the whole scene makes Tayce feel so endeared towards her that it almost frightens her.

It’s at that point when Archie looks up at Tayce on the bannister and makes eye contact with her. He flicks his eyes back down to his teacher.

“Uh, Miss Boyle? I think Miss Szura-Radix wants to talk to you, because she’s been there a long time.”

Tayce’s heart freezes solid at the same time A’whora turns around, who fixes her with a sort of funny smile, confused but not exactly unhappy to see her.

“Uh. Coming to the staffroom?” Tayce shouts down, under pressure to explain herself but simultaneously not having any explanation.

“Two seconds!” A’whora yells up apologetically.

“I’ll wait,” Tayce yells down, reassuring her.

Tayce is used to waiting for A’whora. She supposes another minute or so won’t make a difference.

***

This is the third Valentine’s day A’whora has spent with Tayce.

The first fell on a Monday and had been an abject disaster (or success, depending on how she looked at it). A’whora was still getting over her ex and Tayce had confided in her that she hated Valentine’s day and all its commercialised, capitalist tat with a burning passion, so they’d gone to the pub after work and got so outrageously drunk that the two of them were so hungover the next day A’whora drove them to McDonalds for lunch.

The second had been last year- a Tuesday, where Tayce had been subdued and a little down until A’whora had forced her into helping her choose new clothes for the roleplay area for her kids and the pair of them had collapsed into endless breathless giggles as they both tried on costumes made for five-year-olds, the memory of Tayce in a hi-vis vest, safety goggles and a tiny hard hat one that still makes A’whora laugh if she thinks about it.

Really she’s lucky that she gets to be one of the few people who’s spent the 14th of February with their crush for three years in a row, but not for the reasons she might want. Still, she can live in the delusional daydream she’s taunted herself with many times; how maybe today Tayce will turn up at her classroom door with helium balloons and a teddy, how she’ll say she’s been secretly in love with her for years and how she’s booked them a table at that fancy seafood restaurant in town that just opened up for an actual proper date (not a mate date and not some gal-entines or pal-entines bullshit).

And then Tayce hops into her car in a foul mood with her hair drenched from waiting for A’whora in the rain with no umbrella and a face like a cow’s backside.

A’whora tries to cheer her up. She blasts the R&B that Tayce loves but Tayce just asks her to turn it off, telling her that Kiana Ledé, Mahalia and Ella Mai are exactly what she doesn’t need to hear on Valentine’s Day, endless songs about being in and out of love. So A’whora blasts Charli XCX instead, which works well until shuffle puts on Forever, and then Tayce is in the huff again.

Teaching the year fives doesn’t exactly help her feel much better, A’whora thinks, as they both sit down to lunch together and Tayce turns to her with an incredulous scowl on her face.

“They’ve all got bloody boyfriends and girlfriends!”

A’whora stops eating the pasta salad Tayce has made for her and narrows her eyes inquisitively. “Who does?”

“All the kids in my class. They’ve been going around all day telling me who they’ve paired up with, who’s snogging who, the detailed dating history of these bloody ten year olds. They keep asking me what we’re doing for Valentine’s Day. ‘Are we making cards?’ No! We’re doing more work on decimals because none of you bloody understood it the first three times I explained it to you. Make a card in your own damn time,” Tayce rolls her eyes while A’whora snorts with laughter. Tayce side-eyes her, unimpressed as A’whora tries to defend herself.

“Oh come on, Tayce, you’ve got to admit it’s a bit funny.”

“Is it? Is it though? Is it funny that a ten year old boy can get himself a girlfriend but I can’t?”

Tayce’s words make A’whora’s heart jump a hurdle. She plays it off with a joke. “Yeah, but he’s got a ten year old girlfriend, Tayce. I’m assuming you don’t want that.”

“No, funnily enough!” Tayce shakes her head. She pouts uncharacteristically, tilting her head to the ceiling. “I just…I don’t know, I just want someone that’s there for me. Who’ll always listen to all my shit, someone that makes me smile when I feel like crap. Someone I can just be myself around and have a laugh with whatever the hell we’re doing.”

A’whora nods and doesn’t say what she wants to. We do that. We do all of that together already.

“But I don’t want all the shit of having to actually get to know people, having to go on dates and do the whole talking stage and get my hopes up only to have them let down. I wish I could just…” Tayce sighs, and A’whora’s on tenterhooks wondering what’s coming next. “…I wish I just already had that person, you know?”

You do have that person. I’m that person.

A’whora nods silently and the bell rings signalling the end of their lunch break.

Since she’s not as enraged by Valentine’s day as Tayce, A’whora has planned to get the sequins and glue out and get the kids to make Valentine’s cards. She loves planning tasks like this, mainly because five year olds don’t need much help when faced with a glue stick and a shaker full of glitter, so it means she can put her feet up and have a chilled afternoon. She explains to her class what they’re going to be doing, feels her heart burst with affection as they all get outrageously excited at the very notion of using glitter. She shows them how to fold their piece of paper carefully to make a card shape, and shows them the array of colours they can choose from (and has to explain to some disappointed boys that no, she doesn’t have any blue card so no, their Valentine’s Day card can’t be the colour of Crystal Palace football club).

She’s giving out the different colours of card to her kids and cutting them to size when one of her girls stops, peers carefully at the selection of colours, then looks at A’whora thoughtfully.

“Miss Boyle, are you going to give a Valentine’s card to Miss Szura-Radix?”

A’whora almost slices through her own hand in shock. She looks with incredulity at the little girl in front of her. “Bella! No, of course not. Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re best friends and you love her,” Bella shrugs, A’whora’s attempts to shame her into silence obviously having no effect. A’whora tries to scowl, tries to do her best ‘cross face’ despite the fact that the thought of giving Tayce a Valentine’s card sets her heart racing so fast it makes her genuinely think about driving to A&E.

“I don’t…” she starts, until Bella speaks again.

“You told us before that girls can fall in love with girls and you said that we can make our Valentine’s cards for our friends too,” she insists innocently. A’whora finally musters up a frown, thrusts a pink piece of card into her hand.

“Why am I even entertaining this conversation- go and get on with your work, madam!” she says firmly, and Bella walks away with her blank card in her hand, nonplussed.

But as her kids all begin to make their cards and they’re all too caught up in glitter and painting their hands with PVA glue to even need her help with anything, A’whora begins absent-mindedly folding a spare piece of pink card in half. She draws one, two, three love hearts on it, then takes one of the little glue sticks and carefully, neatly, fills them in with splodges of clear glue. She asks one of the little boys sitting at the table opposite her if she can borrow the red glitter when he’s finished with it and he nods his head, A’whora’s heart involuntarily swelling with pride at how good her children are at sharing. She tap-tap-taps the glitter shaker over the hearts on the paper, making sure each one is covered completely before standing the card upright and watching the excess fall off like sparkly snow. Opening the card, she takes the gold shiny gel pen from her desk and writes without really thinking it through.

Maybe if Tayce isn’t going to magically read A’whora’s mind and figure out what she’s been yearning for, A’whora just has to give her a little nudge in the right direction.

When she’s done she folds it back over, stands up, crosses the room to her empty yellow message folder and slides it inside. She asks her class if anyone knows where the year five classroom is because she’s got a message to send there. Fifteen tiny hands fly up and A’whora basically has to whittle the volunteers down to the only two kids who actually know where they’re going, and she gives them the folder and tells them to take it up to Tayce’s classroom.

She doesn’t think about the reality or the implication of what she’s just done, because if she does then she’ll start hyperventilating and not stop until perhaps June of next year. Instead she catches the eye of Julia, the little girl who moved from Poland in January. She can’t speak or write a word of English yet, but the way she’s looking at A’whora with a little smile on her face makes her genuinely wonder if she knows. Sometimes kids can pick up on these sorts of things. She shoots her a little wink and puts her finger to her lips in a “shhh” just in case, and the little girl breaks into a grin that shows two missing front teeth.

The thing about teaching is that it’s a great job for providing a distraction. A’whora can’t think about the card she made for Tayce when she’s cleaning up an entire pot of glitter that Jared spilt all over the carpet, nor can she think about what she’s written in it when she’s comforting Angelica because she didn’t get to finish her card in time for hometime. But the moment she’s waved the kids off and dropped them off to their parents she walks up the stairs from the front entrance with an impending sense of dread which only increases with every new step she takes.

“What the fuck have you done,” she mutters under her breath, earning her a weird look from one of the ladies at the office.

When she gets back to her classroom to find Tayce sitting on one of the tiny tables waiting for her, A’whora feels her heart freeze in her chest and the blood rush to her face, blushing just from seeing her there. Tayce looks in a better mood than she was at lunchtime, though, which is a good start. Maybe she never even read the card. Maybe A’whora’s reception kids took it to the entirely wrong class. Christ, that would be even more embarrassing.

“Hey, boo boo,” Tayce smiles gently at her, as A’whora crosses the room and elects to sit on the desk opposite her so they’re face to face and not too far away. “How’d your afternoon go?”

“Oh, uh, y’know,” A’whora stammers out, blundering her words in the world’s worst attempt at appearing nonchalant. “Lots of glitter, lots of PVA. In fact I’m probably sitting in a massive glittery splodge of it, as are you.”

Tayce laughs, checks the table comedically.

“How was yours? You seem a bit more cheerful,” A’whora continues, looking to the floor and not darling to meet her eyes. “Did decimals finally click with your lot, or…?”

“I am a bit more cheerful,” Tayce smiles, A’whora’s heart racing and soaring in anticipation at the same time. “But not really anything to do with decimals. More to do with the fact somebody made me a really very lovely Valentine’s card.”

Tayce reaches behind her back and produces her card- A’whora’s card- from the table behind her, and A’whora feels her pulse race at her wrists and her heart leap into her mouth to the extent that she’s rendered almost too shy to speak. What the fuck was she thinking? Tayce is probably about to rip the piss out of her for it, it was a huge mistake, and she’s probably thrown their whole friendship away for nothing.

However. There’s a little something in Tayce’s eyes, a little sparkle that makes the grey shine silver. So A’whora shrugs, fixing a carefree smile on her face even though she feels anything but.

“Well, I know you hate Valentine’s day, so…I thought maybe if I gave you a card you’d stop being so mardy about it.”

When she looks at Tayce again she can see there’s a little crack in her perfect armour, the sparkle in her eyes dulled slightly. When she speaks her voice is quiet and nervous, so stripped of its usual hyperactivity and energy that A’whora wonders if it’s even Tayce’s voice at all. “Is that, uh. Is that the only reason you made it?”

A’whora can practically feel herself clam up. She has no idea where Tayce is going with this; to clarify that it was a joke or to clarify that it was serious, and A’whora doesn’t know which one Tayce wants it to be.

“What you wrote,” Tayce continues, her gaze fixed on the glitter-covered carpet and making it even more impossible to figure out her intention. “Was that, like…some girly besties chat, or was it…did you mean it…like that?”

“Yeah, I did,” A’whora says instantly. It’s out before she knows it, a terrifying leap into a freezing cold conversational plunge pool with no life raft to help her climb out. There’s only one way out and it’s Tayce’s reaction, whatever the hell that might be. She snapped her head up the moment the words left A’whora’s mouth, and her eyes are wide in what could be shock but could quite easily be horror.

A’whora doesn’t think she’s ever been more hopeful and frightened all at once. The seconds tick by and Tayce is still frozen in position, and A’whora can literally feel herself inching closer to the edge of the desk in terrified anticipation.

“Jesus Christ say something, Tayce, before I cringe myself to death,” she says breathlessly, her blood feeling almost electric as it races in her veins.

Tayce leans forward, not giving much away as she brings a thumb up to A’whora’s cheek.

“You’ve got a bit of glitter on your face,” she murmurs.

When she leans in and closes the gap between them, A’whora feels herself melt against Tayce’s lips with relief. They’re in the middle of her classroom at quarter part three with the door open and she’s very well aware that anyone could walk in at a moments’ notice, but A’whora doesn’t care. A’whora only cares about the fact that Tayce is kissing her and she’s kissing back, and it’s so hard to believe it’s actually real and not some daydream come to life, and it’s happening on Valentine’s day which makes it even more far-fetched. But every time A’whora starts to think that maybe she’s dreaming she feels Tayce’s thumb stroke her cheek, or their knees bump together, or she brings a hand up to rest at Tayce’s jaw just to make sure it’s all real.

When Tayce pulls away and they smile at each other, giggling and blushing like one of Tayce’s year fives, A’whora only allows herself to properly believe it’s all actually happening when Tayce presses their foreheads together, takes both of A’whora’s hands in her own and murmurs quietly to her what A’whora’s wanted to hear for entirely too long.

“I love you too.”

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Finding Hugo: Hugo x Male!Reader

*Requested by @jiejie-eonni-onee-sama @owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tammykelly @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho @spookybearlandtaco  Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

____________ ***Winter-1943***

You had been on the run for a year or so, ever since they took Hugo from you. Actually....it wasn't so simple. Hugo had been arrested, of course, for what made him infamous all over the western front: Killing 13 Gestapo officers. But that was just it... He'd only killed half of them. You killed the other half. You were a team, partners in crime. He loved you, and you had no doubts about it. The only problem was that he'd protect you even if it cost him his life. And that's what happened. He took a bullet for you, really. Literally, and figuratively. He took the blame for all 13 kills, and made sure you got away safely  by taking a bullet that was meant for you. By the time you realized he wasn't behind you, it was too late. But  ever since you heard he broke out of prison, you'd been looking for him. You were on the run, crossing Europe, trying to find him. You still had Hugo's knife with you. You never stopped using it. You had to if you were going to survive long enough to find him. Now, you had crossed over to Nazi-occupied France, losing your way, losing your head, and losing any remaining hope of finding Hugo.

***Meanwhile The basterds were carefully trudging through France, trying to get their shit together, really. It had been so long since they'd had a safe place to stay, running hot water, food other than stale sandwiches, which worst of all, were made by Aldo, who was a major fan of mayonaise. Which half the baterds hated. "And on top of that, it's fucking snowing!" Omar shivered, crossing his arms, clutching onto his thin sweater tightly, and clenching his teeth. "It's a...dusting." Donny looked up at the snow, which was now falling even more heavily. "We're also out of ammo. And...we've probably been spotted by way too many patrols by now. And-" Smitty tended to get more nervous the more he explained things, so Aldo cut him off, "Alright. So we're in a tight place. We been in hell, son. We'll damn sure be alright." As the sky dimmed, and the snow kept falling, they went up a steep, isolated slope in the countryside. Well, it seemed isolated. Until they saw a figure bounding down the hill. Aldo stretched out his arm, signaling the boys the stand down, in case it was just a civilian "Steady..." But in case it wasn't, each of them gripped a knife hidden in a pocket. Donny held on to his bat, of course. Hugo...well... His eyes went wide, and he couldn't believe them. "Y/n..." You froze. You were paranoid. You thought you'd been caught. But before you reached for your luger, you realized you knew that voice. It had been a lifetime since you heard him say your name.... But there it was, like a dream all over again. "Hugo!" You ran to him, wrapping your arms so tightly around him to convince yourself it wasn't a dream, that  it was real this time. He buried his face in your shoulder, his hand pressed against the back of your head as he tried to convince himself that it really was you. He took a deep breath, perhaps the only time he'd been able to really breathe since he last saw you. "Y/n..." You were frozen in time, until...well, you remember you were in France. "Now, this is touchin' n' all, but we got some real trouble, Hugo. You 'n your friend can catch up on our way to...anywhere but here, sergeant." Aldo chuckled, but signaled everyone to follow his lead to 'anywhere but here.' "Fuck a duck," Donny muttered. "We lost, lieutenant?" "We ain't lost if we don't know where we're goin, son." Aldo sighed, tired, wondering if they'd make it to the end of the week without any ammo, or clue of what to do. Wicki looked around, recognizing they were near the edge of France, not too far from Switzerland. "Gstaad." Hirschberg snorted, and laughed "We ain't takin' a vaction now, Wicki!" Wicki rolled his eyes, quickly explaining as he pushed ahead, up the slope, now taking lead "No. I know a place." "You know a place in Gstaad?" "My sister and her husband are MI6 agents. They run a small place in Gstaad, and help agents. If we can make it into Switzerland, we can make it there." Aldo stopped, "Well, that's one hell of a gamble." Hugo, for a moment, left your side. "What choice do we have?" Donny nodded, as he took a bite his last share of sandwiches. "He's got a point." And so, you were off, back up the slope, through the countryside in the dead of night. As you walked up, Hugo's hand brushed against yours, and you glanced at him with a smile warm enough to help him forget the sharp winter night. "So tell us 'bout your friend," Aldo was a little ahead of you. "This is Y/n. He used to work with me." Wicki nudged Hugo, as he had a bit of an inkling about the way you and Hugo glanced at each other, "By work you mean..." "Those 13 Gestapo officers? Half of them were his work." Hugo chuckled, though his eyes lingered on yours, with a wistful, soft smile. Sleepless endless days of secrecy and a gamble of a train ride later, you were there. It was night again, maybe nine o clock.  It was a nice little town, with towering snowy slopes, and an endless sky sprinkled with bright stars. You glanced at Hugo, and he looked down at his feet, with a shy smile. Maybe it would be a nicer place to be if you weren't being hunted. You laughed softly to yourself. You all followed Wicki, who was going off of his memory of a picture he received in a letter just before being drafted. "Here." He stood outside of an inviting wooden lodge, orange lights filtering out of a few windows, and a slow stream of smoke flowing from the fireplaces. He opened the door, and the rest of you followed. There was a man at the desk in the lobby, looking through some records. A little girl, maybe thrree or four years old. Wicki only recognized them from photographs. The man didn't look up. "Juste une minute, monsieur." "Just a minute, sir." He put the pen down and looked up. "Wilhelm?" He'd never had the honor of meeting his brother in law, but now was a good time as any. He turned back, calling "Eva!" Eva walked in, surprised to see her brother. Normally, only people with reservations were let in. And...the only ones who could make reservations were agents and spies working for the allies. Still, there was room for an exception. Especially this one. Still, Wicki's surprise family reunion was not the most eventful part of the night. Once the basterds ate, had a drink or two, showered, and were split into rooms, Aldo got down to business, poking around, speaking to a few agents who could hook the basterds up with some well needed and deserved guns and ammo. Wicki, of course, spent as much time as he could with his family. So he stayed in the room. His sister and brother-in-law, being MI6 agents, had some information to help the basterds. Wicki and Aldo started working on a plan and path back to France. Donny joined them soon after. Being the sergeant meant he had to be informed. The rest of the basterds rested up in their rooms. Still, this was Gstaad. When else would these boys have the chance to be in a place like this? They were surrounded by agents from all the allies, making this both the safest, and most dangerous place to be. But you and Hugo...it had been so long... Exploring the town  with the younger basterds sounded fun, but there were things more important to you. To both of you. You sat on the edge of Hugo's bed. He had never been a man of many words. But he never let you forget how much he loved you. Tonight was no different. He kissed you, trying to make up for all the lost time all at once. You'd showered and eaten, and warmed up a little. But that didn't erase the worries and questions in Hugo's restless mind. It also didn't erase the fact that you were covered in blood (both yours, and not yours) when you found him. "Wo warst du?" "Where've you been?" "I've just been looking for you," You paused, and smirked a little, "Mostly." You handed his knife back over to him. He sighed, smiling softly, resting his hand againast your cheek. He shook his head. He wanted you to keep it. "You found me." "I did," You smiled, annd kissed him again. "HEY HIRSCHBERG LET'S GO!" The door suddenly swung open, and both Omar and Utivich stumbled in, laughing, expecting to find Hirschberg. Hugo's eyes shot open, "GET OUT." "W....SORRY!" Omar and Utivich quickly shuffled out of the room blushing, but...that wasn't enough. Hugo glared at them with the knife in hand.   "Hugo," You put your hand on his shoulder trying to calm him down,  and he sighed. The boys looked terrified. You slipped your hand into his, though you were also scared.  "They said they were sorry, now-"

Hirschberg walked down the hall, pulling on his jacket, "ALRIGHT GODDAMNIT, WH-....what's uh..." He peeked through the door, "OH NICE!" Hugo was fuming, "GO AWAY." Now, the rest of the basterds rushed in, having heard the commotion, they thought there was trouble. Donny peered over the basterd's heads, "WHAT'S GOIN' ON?!" He saw you and Hugo and shrugged, "Aw fuck a duck." He took a breath and lowered his bat. "You uh...you three needa learn how to knock." He'd unfortunately had a similar run in. Hirschberg and Smitty had walked in on him and a...lady of the night...back in Paris once. They really needed to learn how to knock. Wicki stood there, and chuckled "Already, huh?" Hugo had told him about you, once.... Well...he mentioned you. But the way he said your name was enough to tip Wicki off about what was going on between you. He muttered through clenched teeth and impatient glares, "Gehen. Weg." 'Go. Away.' Aldo cleared his throat, "Alright, alright, everyone get the hell out." The basterds did as they were told, and just as Aldo closed the door, he peeked in "Hugo?" "What?" Normally, he was a little more formal, especially around his lieutenant. But right now...he was a little eager to be alone with you. "Way to go, boy." Aldo smirked and shut the door, and Hugo scowled. Still, he sighed, sitting down by you. He knew the basterds meant well. That was your very first night as a basterd. It was quite a welcome, but you wouldn't have had it any other way. The boys would become like your brothers, and Hugo remained your everything. That first, slightly embarrassing, night was something you all looked back on fondly and had a laugh about later. But to you and Hugo, it was just one page in a story of your own. Now that you'd found him, you were sure it would never end.

[witching-hour]

Love on Hold [Jax Teller x Reader]

(A/N): was feeling angsty after watching a montage of clips from season six of jara — their worst and most heartbreaking season. this is based on the last episode of season 5 and includes season 6 elements which had not taken place yet, so bare with my little au. this rewrite really went from 1379 words to 2777 words

SUMMARY: the reader confronts jax about his questionable actions towards wendy and reveals her plans about leaving charming

TW: usual soa violence, s5 + s6 spoilers, character death

UNSHED tears of disbelief and anger clouded your vision, making you blink them back, looking away from your husband who had blatantly lied to your face. You didn’t want to believe what you knew, but the evidence was laying out in front of you, and you couldn’t just ignore the facts.

You saw how these past few months of overturned leadership has changed him. The gavel corrupts, Bobby once warned you after voicing your concerns about Jax’s new position with SAMCRO. Be prepared for anything, sweetheart. It ain’t goin’ to be easy.

You knew that his warning was not misguided or out of line. You saw what being president had done to JT and Clay. You knew with ‘great power came great responsibility.’ Jax would carry a heavier weight than he did when he was VP. He might have to make calls that may seem questionable as he will be faced with hard decisions that he won’t want to make, but will have to for the sake of his club. And with him as president, it made you the new queen of SAMCRO. He would be away from home more, leaving you to really step up to the plate as the First Lady.

You also had new responsibilities, which could be counted as benefits or drawbacks. You were not the VP’s Old Lady – you were the Prez’s. As Jax carried a heavier weight, you would too.

Jax may have been a bad boy – an outlaw, but he had a heart of gold. And that heart is what made you fall in love with him in the first place.

Your husband had confided in you when he got out of prison about how he wanted out of outlaw and wanted more for his kids than a life of chaos and danger. After the past couple years of shit the club had faced, especially the events of Belfast, you understood where he was coming from because you felt the same way. However, you were wary, mostly seeing it as post prison blues. All Jax knew was outlaw, it was in his DNA. Charming was his home and the Son’s was his family. You knew that Jax wanted to push the club in a different direction, a more legitimate one. It was going to take a lot of time and effort to do so, but you and many of the members believed that Jax would be the one to turn the club around.

You voiced your opinions, but Jax made it clear he wanted to be a better man for you and his sons. Too much blood had been spilt, and the club lost its way. Eventually you were on board. But things went south in your plan to get out of Charming. As you had dreaded but knew deep down it was inevitable. With the club and Gemma, how were you even going to be able to make it to the town’s border?

When Jax informed you of the CIA meddling in a case with the Galindo Cartel and them needing SAMCRO to continue the supplying of guns, or they’d push for the R.I.C.O. case they just finally gotten off their backs, you knew Clay had left one huge unfuckable mess behind to his stepson and future president.

With the CIA pulling the strings, Jax was stuck in between a rock and a hard place. While he wanted better for the club and pull it out from the darkness it’s been submerged in for so long, he would put the whole club and his family in jeopardy if he caused the CIA problems and got R.I.C.O. dangling over their heads again. He was keeping too many secrets from the table between the CIA’s involvement, the letters from his father about Clay’s betrayal, and Piney’s real murderer.

Then Opie was killed

– and Jax lost a piece of himself along with him.

Something in Jax had changed. He grew cold and detached. You tried to pull him from the darkness, but he was turning into a shell of who he once was. Jax was slipping and everyone saw it. The minute Bobby realized he wasn’t getting through to the man he saw as his own, he pulled out of SAMCRO and joined the Nomads; making Chibs VP and Happy the new Sergeant in Arms. Eventually Bobby came back after recruiting some Nomads and helping bring his prez back into his own skin. And for a while the Jackson you knew was back, but then he started slipping again.

He had all the power and not the first clue on how to deal with it.

Meanwhile all this was going on, you had tried to be there for him, but there was only so much you could do. He had found it less and less to come and confide in you. The agreement of full disclosure no longer existed between you and Jax. Your titles as an Old Lady and wife ceased to have meaning. Jax only ever kept you at arm’s length.

With full disclosure thrown out the window and secrets being kept and lies more common than none, who knows what other promises he made he failed to upkeep?

No lies.

No secrets.

No hurting women.

No infidelity.

You could cross at least three off that list.

He sat across from you at the kitchen table, watching as your jaw clenched and eyes glazed over. His eyebrows pinched together in bewilderment at your clear display of emotions; disappointment, anger, disbelief. He watched as you fought to keep the tears at bay. Your irises flickered up to the ceiling, growing wide as you blinked a few times, they finally met his laid-back figure in the wooden chair.

“Wendy showed up at my job earlier today – a complete wreck – frantic, clothes disheveled, hair a mess, anxiety practically seeping out of her pores…She accused me of putting you up to what you did. I didn’t understand what the hell she was talking about at first. I didn’t even know you went to her place last night, so I covered for you, just in case you were stuck with club business last night, and, boy, was I wrong.” The realization dawned on him as you spoke, shame stretching across his sharp features. His eyes closed briefly, and his head tilted up as his jaw clenched, anger simmering on the surface. You just couldn’t tell if it was from you finding out about it or him actually committing the act. Your guess was both.

“She’s been sober – she’s been clean for four years. How could you of all people take that away from her?” You scoffed, not even bothering to let him answer if he even had one. He didn’t. “Hell, Jax, you were the one supporting her when she was laid up in the hospital. When Gemma was telling her to kill herself, you were there defending her. You encouraged her to get clean; even offered her a place to stay.”

He didn’t say a thing, only stared down at the table where his ringed fingers laid in loosely held fists.

“Yes, I was pissed when Wendy threatened for custody over Abel, but, seeing it now, do you fucking blame her? He’s been kidnapped and used as leverage with the goddamn IRA. He and Delilah were in the car when Clay’s hit on me almost earned a payday. And we were all made targets when the Irish tried to fucking blow us up in the Clubhouse; the one place we were supposed to always be safe. If you didn’t see that damn pen, Jackson, we’d be dead – all of us. Our kids, Gemma, Nero, Chibs, Happy, Tig, Bobby, Juice, Quinn, Rat, Chucky....Should I go on?”

Still, he remained silent, only now his eyes bore into yours as silent pleas stretched across the table for this conversation to end before it got worse. He could feel where the end of your confrontation would conclude for your family. His heart fell heavy in his chest and his blood ran cold by the time he came home and noticed you sitting at the table playing with your engagement and wedding rings. He could feel the tension rolling off you in waves and they only got thicker as he made his way deeper into the dimly lit room. When you requested for him to have a seat he began listing as many ways it would go.

Yet as you continued to speak, he stayed quiet. He didn’t have any answers to the questions you were asking. Or at least any that would satisfy you.

“I didn’t want her taking my son, but that didn’t mean it gave you the right to take something she worked so hard on, and might i add, it was something she did for Abel.”

His jaw clenched at the mention of his indiscretion. “I did what I had to in order to protect our family.”

And how he couldn’t have sounded more like Gemma in that moment. Was she the one who twisted his mind up into doing something so horrible? Was it her influence? The club’s?

You loved Gemma. She was your mother-in-law after all. You may have bumped heads in the beginning of your relationship, but the matriarch eventually came around to you being a part of Jax’s life (and Abel’s). However, the last year or so you have seen her in a new light. Well, as new as it gets with Gemma. She could be downright manipulative when she wanted to be, that was a known. Especially with her golden boy Jax. It was a given Gemma would do absolutely anything to protect her family.

Sometimes you found yourself questioning how far she was willing to go – if there was a line she wouldn’t cross, but sometimes you also found yourself agreeing with some of the things she did. Since you were also a mother, you could understand, but it didn’t mean it was right.

You had recently gotten involved in some club business for your husband and your SAMCRO family, which blew back on you and raised suspicion with the authorities causing a case to be built against you. The case had gotten dropped and you took the opportunity to accept the job offer in Colorado that you were presented with long before Jax even got out of Stockton. You had politely declined but was called again around the time Jax voiced his opinions about leaving the club and Charming behind. Gemma had used her knowledge as leverage and threatened you the day before to rat on you when she found out you wanted to leave Charming and take the kids to Colorado – regardless if Jax was to follow you. Either way Mama Gemma was not about to let you take her son and grandchildren away from her.

Your eyes narrowed in disbelief, a small sound making its way from the back of your throat. “How can you justify that? Who even are you?!” You jolted from your seat, no longer finding yourself calm enough to stay seated. Jax followed your movements. “What…what happened to we don’t hurt women? What happened to women and children being off limits to the club’s brutality? Did that all slip away when you became president too?”

“What the hell s’that supposed to mean?!”

Hysterical laughs escaped you. Those uncontrollable laughs then turned into sobs. Your hand came up to cover your mouth, attempting to stop the cries, but failed.

“I – I – I can’t – I can’t do this anymore,” you cried. “When I look at you...I don’t know what I see…and that terrifies me.” Your confession rose emotions you couldn’t pinpoint in his body stature or those daring blues that make you melt at one look. You took in a shaky breath, an equally shaky exhale leaving you. “I refuse for us to be the next Clay and Gemma. I’m sorry, but that’s where I draw the line. The longer we’re here, the deeper we sink into the darkness, Jax, and the more we lose of ourselves, and the more we turn into the people we despise the most.”

He shook his head, clearly disagreeing with what you were saying. “We’re not them.”

“You’re right, we’re not.” You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest. “We’re worse. We pretend that we’re better. But how are we any better than them based on the things we’ve done.”

“Babe-” he went to move toward you, but you only took a step back putting a hand out and in between the two of you.

“No.”

“(Y/N/N)—”

“No!” he stopped dead in his tracks at your shout.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself, holding back the amount of tears that could challenge that of a tsunami. “I was offered the position in Colorado again. They’re promoting me too.” you told him. “I took it.”

Jax’s eyes widened at the news, his hands gripping the back of the chair, hunched over the wooden seat. “You made this decision without me? You didn’t think to talk it over with me first?”

“I’m way past asking permission when it comes to my life. Or my children’s lives.”

“You’re takin’ them from me.” It wasn’t a question, more of a statement of incredulity. Had it really come to this? Had you both really drifted too far this time?

“You said it yourself last year, Jax. JT should have run Gemma over if it meant getting you and Thomas out of Charming and away from the madness of the club.” Using his own words against him. That was something you were known to do and relatively good at. It was scary, but effective to say the less. It would get your point across, didn’t it? “And if that’s what it takes, then so be it. I won’t make the same mistakes.”

“This is not the life we wanted for them. And if I’m the only one feeling that way, then I guess I’ll be the only one to do something about it.” You sniffled, doing your best to avoid his burning gaze. You knew if you even got a glimpse at the broken look on his face you would cave, and you needed to be strong for your kids. “You said you were gonna make it better. You said you were gonna get out of the drugs and guns. You said you were gonna get them out, remember?” You reminded him of the promises he made, but proved to be empty.

You wiped another fallen tear with the sleeve of your shirt. “I know that getting out of all the illegal shit was going to take time. I know that shit wasn’t going to just go away overnight. I know that you’re struggling with being the man you want to be and the man you have to be – not that you would say anything anyway.” you shrugged. “Baby, your slipping and I don’t know how to catch you. Your changing and it’s scaring me.”

“The club shit is getting so much worse and I can’t just sit here twiddling my thumbs pretending that everything’s going to be okay. I just can’t.” You sounded defeated but the stern tone didn’t cease. “I have to do what best for my babies.”

“And what about us?” He pleaded, throwing his arms out before letting them drop to his sides.

“This isn’t about us, Jackson. It’s not just us anymore,” you reminded him. “This is about them.” You told him, watching as the world in his deep blue eyes come crashing down. “I have to put my love for you on hold and theirs have to come first.”

His body was leant up against the cabinets, defeated and poignant. His ringed fingers ran through his already tangled hair from the number of times he pulled on it. One of them ran over his face before both hands met at the center, falling in the praying position.

Your heart was breaking. The end of your marriage was here, but you had to be strong; not for yourself, but for your two babies who were sleeping soundly in their rooms down the hall, oblivious to what was going on between their mommy and daddy. You had to be strong for them and your unborn child of eight weeks. You had to do better in order for them to live better a life. One that was worth living. Your love for Jax would never go away. You will always love him, despite anything he may say or do, nothing could possibly change how you feel about him. And perhaps that was the problem, but your children came first.

Being a mother came before being a wife or Old Lady.

SOA TAG LIST: @cutekittylexie @talicat713 @woahitslucyylu @xx--day-dreamer--xx @sweetpeaflower01 @rebelwrites

[sweetsassymusic]

The Long Kaz Rant I Told Myself I Wouldn’t Write, But Here We Are

This is probably an unpopular opinion. And I hope it doesn't come across as confrontational or anything because I don't mean it that way. But I've always been super confused by the way Kaz is accepted, basically across the entire fandom, as either morally gray or straight up villainous? He doesn’t really seem like either of those things to me. On a surface level, obviously there are things he’s done that are normally considered evil. He’s stolen, he’s killed, he threatened a child, he gouged out someone’s eye. And that’s all pretty bad, right? But it completely ignores the context given in the books. (More after the cut because this got too long...)

There’s a difference between doing something evil and doing something that’s shocking, “dark,” or difficult to watch.

Before I read the books, I heard fans discuss all the horrible things Kaz does. And the way people talk about him, I was expecting him to be… Feral Kaz – someone who delights in doing horrible things because he’s just so twisted and angry. The author herself even referred to him on her blog as being utterly despicable. Wow! This guy must really go out of his way to hurt innocent people, huh? So when I sat down to actually read it, I was so surprised. Most (if not all?) the killings were done on some level of self-defense. His “murder victims” were actual evil people trying to kill him or someone he loved. And the reason he threatened a child was because the only alternative was killing her – something he would never want to do. You know, because he’s not evil.

I don’t know if I just have very different definitions of these terms than most people? But to me, the idea of Kaz being “utterly despicable” should not even be on the table to begin with (Leigh Bardugo, you good?) and even the idea of him being “morally gray” is questionable.

When I think of a morally good character, I don’t think of someone who never does anything questionable or always perfectly makes the correct choices. I think of someone who is on a mission–either to protect the world, a loved one, or simply pursuing a personal goal–who at least tries to conduct his mission in a way that either does no harm to others, or (when that’s not possible) does as little harm as necessary to get the job done. 

Whereas, when I think of a villainous character, I think of someone who has no regard for others at all. Someone who either relishes in harming the innocent, or pays zero consideration to whether he harms innocents while pursuing his goals (which are usually, in themselves, harmful to innocent people). 

And finally, when I think of a morally gray character, I think of someone directly between these two. Someone who is a little bit evil, a little bit sadistic, but not entirely evil. He’s got a few good points too. Maybe he’s someone who keeps switching sides, unsure if he wants to be a hero or villain. Maybe he has hurt a lot of innocent people unnecessarily, but he joins in with the good guys for personal gain, and people don’t mind him there simply because he doesn’t interfere with the protagonist’s goals. Or maybe he’s the “Bad Cop” to someone else’s Good Cop: someone who uses more violence than is necessary, just for fun, but still helps the good side in some capacity, so everyone chooses to look past it.

Under these definitions, Kaz (to me) seems more like a good character. While pursuing his personal goals, he protects people he loves, and yes, he does do “dark” things. But he doesn’t relish in doing them (despite his reputation in-universe of being a chaotic sadist. His reputation is not accurate; he invented it for his own protection). He does them because he has to. If he can get the job done right without hurting anyone, that’s the route he’ll take. But that option isn’t always available. And he’s not the type to lie down and die just to avoid getting his hands dirty (nor should he, imo). 

Again, maybe I just have a different idea of what constitutes being morally gray. But I always thought it was meant to be a judgment on the choices you make when you actually HAVE a choice? A morally gray character has the choice to be good or evil, and they choose to do both (which one depending on how they feel that day). 

Whereas, if you do something “bad” because circumstances force you to do it–because you or someone you love will die otherwise–that’s pretty much the same as having a gun to your head. You’re not morally gray. You’re doing it under duress. It’s survival, not a reflection of where you stand on moral topics. Like, if you trap a vegan in a room with only a piece of meat, and you leave them there for days, weeks, that person doesn’t suddenly become a “fake vegan” if they eat that meat to avoid literally starving to death. You forced them to do it. When it comes to their moral beliefs, they would still be a vegan if they had the freedom to make that choice. You just put them in a situation where those choices aren’t available to them. Your lack of freedom in a situation shouldn’t define you.

The same can be said for placing a starving, homeless orphan boy alone in the dog-eat-dog world of Ketterdam. The option of being a sweet little law-abiding citizen is not available to him. So is it really fair to define him by something in which he had no choice?

I’ve come across so many GrishaVerse fans who, while sipping on their Starbucks in the comfort of their own home, go “Ugh, Kaz. He’s so DARK, so EVIL!” (Fun fact: while my mom was watching the show, she said Kaz is evil because “he seems to always have a plan.” Oh no! Not PLANS!)  “He must be some kind of monster to be able to do the things he does and still live with himself! I could NEVER do those things!” Well…you’ve never actually had to do those things? Your life has never depended on it? Idk, to me, it’s just a very privileged take. And I’m not trying to make this into a big social issue. It’s not like criticism against a fictional character is anywhere near the same level of importance as the issues marginalized people are facing in real life. I’m just saying, it’s very easy to condemn activity you’ve never been forced to engage in for your own survival.

One of the biggest reasons people have given me for why they think Kaz is evil is that he is “for himself.” Even the author said she thinks Kaz is worse than the Darkling (who, I’ve gotten the impression, she believes to be irredeemable) because the Darkling has communal goals (he wants to bring positive change for other people/the world at large) while Kaz’s goals are just personal (he wants to bring positive change for himself and only himself). And for one? It just isn’t true: many (if not most) of the things Kaz does is either for his Crows or for his late brother; he just disguises it with supposed self-interest for the sake of his reputation. And second? It’s…not actually wrong to have personal goals or to act in self-interest. Bettering your own life is a valid desire. It’s not the same as being selfish. Not everything you do has to be for other people.

(And, tbh, this is something Leigh Bardugo seems to have a problem with in general, not just in this scenario. I could write a whole separate rant about other characters that were demonized in-narrative for engaging in “too much” self-care, and how her unforgivingly black and white morality ruined the Shadow and Bone trilogy for me. Worst of all, she even seemed to imply recently that the only reason real-life antisemitism is wrong is because “the Jews didn’t fight back”? [Like, if they had met her criteria of “fighting back”, would that make antisemitism somewhat justified to her? What? Idek, but she should really clarify.] Basically, she seems to take “non-selfishness” to an extreme. I don’t know her personally, I don’t want to make assumptions, I don’t have anything personal against her, and I’m not trying to get her cancelled or anything, I promise. But please, when you read her books, please don’t accept all her ideas at face value, because there’s some Weird Shit™ in there sometimes.)

Anyway, another reason people say Kaz is bad or morally gray is that he wants revenge. “Revenge is a bad coping mechanism! You should want JUSTICE! Not REVENGE!” And again, this argument is wild to me. I mean, yes, there are situations–especially in real life, modern, western contexts–where revenge is a bad coping mechanism someone has developed, and transforming their anger into a desire for justice is a way for them to overcome that and express their anger in a healthier way. But that’s a very specific scenario. When we’re talking generally, the line between revenge and justice is a lot thinner than people think (and in some scenarios, there is no line at all). 

For example, real life victims and their families often say they can’t wait to see the perpetrator rot in prison, even wishing (sometimes even fantasizing) that the guy gets abused in prison by fellow inmates. For them, justice and revenge are wrapped up together in one big court-issued sentence. And while some people find that disturbing or take issue with it, it’s…generally considered valid outrage? This guy is evil and hurt them, so it’s okay for these people to want him to suffer. And most importantly, these people called the cops instead of taking matters into their own hands, therefore they’re Good, right? They’re good citizens who obey and rely on the established authority, therefore they are handling their anger in an Acceptable™ way?

But in the world of Ketterdam, if someone has victimized you, or is trying to kill you or someone you love, you can’t just call the fucking cops (and let’s be honest, looking at irl cops, it’s a questionable idea here too sometimes). If we’re analyzing Kaz’s outrage and how he handles it, we have to analyze it in the context of where he lives, not where we live. We have options in our lives that Kaz doesn’t have. So we have to ask, what are the most productive steps he could realistically take in his world?

I see activists and bloggers on websites like this, publicly fantasizing about gouging the eyes out of certain politicians and right-wing figureheads. And they would probably do it for real if they could. On Tumblr and Twitter, this is generally considered righteous anger. The politicians are evil, so it’s okay to hurt them, right? That’s how the logic goes, anyway (I know some will disagree, but it’s a common take here). Well, imagine if, instead of just being a bigot, one of these evil people personally stabbed–possibly killed–your girlfriend. And there were no cops to call, no news stations or social media to turn to, to show people what this guy did. No authority or community on your side. No way to ensure this guy faced consequences for his actions. There’s just you, your dying girlfriend, your helplessness, your anger. What would be the appropriate way to handle this situation, so you were acting out of justice instead of revenge? What does “justice” even mean in a world like that? It’s a world where either you hurt others or you lie down and just let others keep hurting those you love (which, in itself, would be evil). I can’t think of any “appropriate” response Kaz could take. Which, for better or worse, is probably why he just went for the eye. You probably would too in that context. Are you morally gray? I doubt it.

It’s really weird to me how people seem to hold Kaz to this high standard of absolute Moral Purity, but they don’t hold other characters to it. Like, was the dad on Taken being “feral” or “morally gray” when he told his daughter’s kidnapper that “I will find you and I will kill you” and then pursued him with fury? His motivations were personal and not communal. He was coming from a place of revenge, just as much as justice. But most people consider him a hero. He’s not controversial or “dark.” There are plenty of other heroes who do terrible things (sometimes to innocent people! Even when it’s not even necessary!) for the “greater good” or just because it’s convenient. People call them a “badass” and then turn around and say Kaz is just “bad.” Idk, it just seems really arbitrary the way people draw these lines.

If we’re expanding the definition of “morally gray” to include anyone who’s ever done anything questionable, made a mistake, been forced to do something they wouldn’t normally do, done something for personal reasons instead of for the world at large, or wanted revenge for something, then there literally are no heroes in fiction (except maybe a few cardboard cutouts) or in real life.

(Ironically, the most morally gray thing Kaz does, imo, is something most people don’t even have a problem with: the fact he runs a gambling house to “take money from pigeons.” And even that is really mild [no one is forcing the “pigeons” to gamble their money away]. But yeah, that’s one of the few instances I could think of where he actually hurt innocent people unnecessarily. That and the time, as a kid, where he stole candy from that other kid...and even that might be mostly-but-not-entirely excused by the fact he was starving to death. But yeah.)

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Bank Shot Job

leverage 1.05

I decided I’m also going to start highlighting meta material in these posts for reference reasons (like for fics, headcanons, meta, etc)

I’m colorcoading by what character the meta pertains to btw

Clerk: Hello, Judge Roy.

Judge Roy: [slaps her ass] Hey, sweetheart.

Frank: Can I help you, your honor?

Judge Roy: Yes, Fred. Her phone number?

Frank: It's Frank. And she's 19, sir.

Judge Roy: That's too bad. She got a younger sister

diSgUsTiNG

- - - - -

Hardison: No. No more. We gotta talk to Nate. No more rip deals. They take too damn long.

Parker (ripping paper): That's why they're called "Rip Deals". You have to convince them they're getting a deal before you can rip them off.

Hardison: Two weeks. Two weeks sleeping in crappy hotels. Two weeks eating in crappy diners. Two weeks having my soul sucked dry. It's 107 degrees. Who lives where it's 107 degrees?

Parker: Juan's not so bad. I kinda like this town

I wanna see that domestic shit of them sharing hotel rooms and eating the continental breakfasts and dingy diners and everything about them living in rundown hotels for two weeks

- - - - -

Hardison: You know, I had to retask two satellites just to get a lousy internet connection. Took more than an hour to torrent the last episode of Doctor Who.

Parker: Hey! Illegal downloading's wrong. (lights paper on fire in trash can)

that’s it. that’s their relationship.

- - - - -

Hardison: How we coming on the breakdown?

Eliot (loading truck elsewhere): Fake addresses are shut down. Post office boxes are closed. The phones are cleared. Five more minutes, we never existed

bruh those props ??? I wish I had a screenshot but wtf where they DOING for the con ???

- - - - -

Hardison: Want me to call the Delgado family, tell them the news?

Eliot: Nah. Soon as I clear county line I want to do it. I just wish we could do more than bankrupt that corrupt son of a bitch

eliot is so good you guys im-

- - - - -

Nate: Get out. Now.

Hardison: Is he talking to us?

Parker: An unmarked van parked across the street from a bank that's being robbed? Yeah. I think he's talking to us.

Hardison: Yeah, well, five more feet and he would have been in the clear. What the hell was he thinking?

Parker: Don't be an idiot, Hardison.

Hardison: What?

Parker: Sophie was still in there

parker knows nate loves sophie and would never leave her behind because she may not always get people, but even she can see how much nate cares for sophie

- - - - -

Derrick: Everyone empty your pockets. Wallets, purses, watches, everything you've got, throw it over here.

(everyone throwing stuff to center of floor)

nate threw his fucking toothpick

- - - - -

Deputy Arnold: No, right here, right here, and we need ...

(Eliot crosses police line)

Deputy Arnold: Whoa, whoa, I need you to take a step back, sir.

Eliot: Tell me what's going on in there.

Deputy Arnold: I'm afraid I can't do that, this is an active crime scene, and you need to ...

Eliot: (to cop) I'm not talking to you. (to Nate) How many are there?

Nate: Yeah, you're right. Clearly amateurs, these two. Yeah. The younger one, looks like he's never handled a gun before.

Eliot: Is judge blow-hard next to you?

Nate: Yeah, uh-huh. Yeah, definitely amateurs, That's what makes them so dangerous.

Eliot: Alright, 2 guys, both armed, neither one a criminal mastermind. You want me in there?

Deputy Arnold: Sir, we can't have you going inside the bank ...

Nate: Probably, uh, a good idea just to sit tight, don't you think? You know, and see where these guys' heads are

at, you know?

Eliot (backing away): Alright, your call boss.

Deputy Arnold: Thank you

poor deputy arnold + eliot being done with local law enforcement

- - - - -

Sophie: Okay. So what is the plan, Stan

“what’s the plan, stan” adorable.

- - - - -

(Eliot leans against a building across the street and watches Hardison and Parker pull up in a sedan)

Eliot: Nice ride.

Parker (taking notebook and removing badges): It's embarrassing. Everyone knows you don't rob a bank without an exit strategy. These two deserve to get caught. 42 seconds. (tosses notebook back to Eliot)

Hardison: What?

Parker: To rob this bank. One security guard who has never fired his gun before, 2 closed-circiut cameras outside, 1 inside, and a Glen-Reader safe built in the 50's whose default combination is the birth date of the manager's wife! Get in, get out, 42 seconds.

Hardison: Seriously

parker was so angry that she chucked the binder at eliot and he was like ??? we good ???

- - - - -

Hardison: Seriously? (to Bill) I'm Agent Leonard. This is Agent Elmore. We'll be taking over this crime scene,

Sheriff ...

Bill: Bill Hastings. Nice to meet you. You guys sure are quick, just called this in 20 minutes ago.

Hardison: Well, we were coming back from a little border skirmish. Patrol unit came under attack from a pack of Chupacabras.

Bill: Chupacabras? I thought those things were urban legend.

Hardison: You're adorable

I love it when hardison fucks with people it’s hilarious

- - - - -

Hardison: Whoa, what's going on?

Bill: Cut power to the bank. Standard operating procedure.

Hardison: Standard ... it's standard op ... it's standard? Where do you getting that bull-hockey from son?

Bill: Deputy Arnold, he took a seminar in crisis management last year.

Deputy Arnold: It was an online seminar. We got certificates.

Hardison: Certificates? Magic kits come with certificates. Does that make it cool for kids to saw their parents in half?

Bill: We're just going by the book.

Hardison: The ... the book? The book got a good man killed. I can't ... my blood pressure.

Parker: Ex-partner. Probably shouldn't mention the book again. Or propellers.

parker is doing so well with grifting considering and I’m so proud of her

- - - - -

Sophie: They are not cops, I promise you, they're friends of mine, you can trust them.

Derrick: Why should I trust you? I don't know who you are.

Sophie: I am a thief.

Derrick: Okay, I'm not sure what to do with that.

that’s it guys. that’s the show.

- - - - -

Nate: I didn't say it was going to be easy. But nothing's impossible, especially when you have the world's greatest thief on your payroll. Parker, have you ever robbed a bank that's being robbed?

Parker: There's a first time for everything.

her SMILE YOUR HONOR

- - - - -

Parker: The bank was built before 1980, before computers. Means it's got a larger than normal night deposit chute.

Hardison: 'Cause business had to drop off ledgers with their daily hauls. What, you thought my genius was only limited to ones and zeroes?

Parker: I'm thinking the chute's my way in. Only problem is, it's in the alley on this side of the building

the way she looks at hardison like damn boy you know my stuff

- - - - -

Hardison: I can take care of that, but, we actually have bigger problems.

Eliot: What's that?

Hardison: Well, Sheriff Coltrane over here called the FBI, the real FBI. Now the closes office is in San Diego, so they should be here, in about, um, give it 45 minutes.

Nate: We can't worry about that now.

Hardison: When do we worry about it?

Nate: In about 45 minutes

hardison, internally: lord give me strength

- - - - -

Hardison: Hold on ... Excuse me. (answers phone) Agent Leonard. We will do whatever you need us to do, just please, don't hurt anybody. Okay. (hangs up) Guys ... Boys, boys, come on, gather 'round. Now boys, that was THE call. The call we were waiting for. Now look, they have a list of demands. First off, they want 12 large pizzas. One cheese, one Hawaiian, extra pineapple. Two pepperoni and black olives, two meat lover's, t ... Seriously? Nobody's writing this down? Seriously? One triple-shot half-caf vanilla latte, tall,

(Parker goes down alley and opens deposit drop box)

Hardison: …three of the latest copies of the Hall and Oates CD. I know, right? Exciting stuff I didn't know they were coming out with a new one either. We're gonna need steaks. Steaks and a grill. They're trying to tailgate. Okay, they need your overalls, I don't know why. They need some kibbles n' bits, we need an Etch-A-Sketch, somebody in there likes to squiggle okay ... Are we good? Let's go people. Everybody. I need you guys moving. Everybody get out. Go. (hardison points at an officer) You stay. We need to talk about Hall & Oates.

I fucking loved this monologue,,, hardison is VERY GOOD at improvising

- - - - -

(Derrick opens night deposit box)

Parker: Hi.

Derrick (hands her the briefcase): There's a lot of money in there.

Parker: Yeah, I know.

Derrick: My wife's life depends on that money getting where it needs to go.

Parker: I understand. Sometimes bad guys are the only good guys you get

parker’s face softened and you can see that she understood. parker didn’t get people in the beginning of the show, and sure her values and ideas aren’t typical, but she was ALWAYS a good person. she cared and understood what was at risk and she consoled him.

also, this is yet another piece of evidence that parker was the main character all along!!! I’m not gonna go super into it because there are already posts out there about it, but she had three (3) episodes dedicated to her character in season one alone AND had her say what is basically the mission statement of the show here in this scene

- - - - -

Sophie: Things could be worse.

Nate: Worse than me getting shot and you blowing our cover?

Sophie: No, no, you're not gonna lay that crap on me. We wouldn't even be in this mess if you'd just walked out with the cash when you had the chance. I would've been fine.

Nate: I know.

Sophie: Yeah, I can take care of myself. I've been doing it a long time. Since way before I met you. I'm just saying.

Nate: Yeah, you're right.

Sophie: Okay

nate knows sophie is a strong independent woman and that is one of the only things I stan about him lol

- - - - -

Sophie: We lost communication.

Nate: Yeah, we did.

Sophie: Hardison, Parker, and Eliot ...

Nate: That's right, they are on their own. Yup.

they ended up doing great on their own, but also, can we acknowledge what a glow up it was building up to the rundown job ???

- - - - -

(Mom gets out of truck and tries to run)

Meth #2: Where the hell you think you're going, old lady? (pulls mom back) Where the hell you think you're g ...

Eliot (catches Meth #2’s arm): Hey, what smells like crank and screams like a girl? (Takes his gun and breaks his knee)

Meth #2: AAHH!

Eliot (kicks car door closed before Meth #3 can get out, empties the bullets from gun): That's the right answer. (throws gun into car at #3, hits #1 as he approaches) Come on. (fights #1, kicks door shut, beats #1 more, kicks door again) Stay in the car. (beats the hell out of #3 and #1, kneels down near mom and removes her gag)

Mom: Who are you?

Eliot: Well ma'am, we'd be the cavalry.

this entire fight scene always has me ROLLING it’s so funny

also I’m not sure if this should go on the List Of Non-Weapon Objects Eliot Uses As Weapons but eliot DID use the car door in the fight

- - - - -

Sophie: Just let the paramedics take him. The rest of us will stay.

Judge Roy: And give up my leverage

*sophie and nate look at each other*

both, internally: tHATS OUR WORD

- - - - -

Nate: Hey, listen. She's gonna be alright. Everything's gonna be alright

Derrick: Your people ... they're good?

Nate: Yeah. The best.

nate’s smile when he says that??? proud dad alert

- - - - -

Sophie (looking at replay of tape): You're still a geek.

Judge Roy: They're trying to ruin me.

Hardison: Geek power, baby. Stay strong!

in other words: age of the geek, baby

also- kudos to 2008 hardison editing video like that. I can’t do that shit with today’s tech lmao

- - - - -

Bill: Go home now. Bank robbers are in custody, hostages are safe. FBI's got the whole thing wrapped up.

Taggert: Do you have any idea what?

Mcsweeten: Just go with it.

Deputy Arnold: Mr. FBI guys, can you help me here?

Bill: My, my. Look at this. Our local drug boys, both with outstanding warrants. It's incredible.

Taggert: Damn, we're good!

mcsweeten and taggert stumbling onto the leverage crew’s cons and directly profiting off of them is iconic. they have no idea. too pure for this world

- - - - -

Sophie: Hey, thanks Parker.

Parker: Whatever.

Sophie: No. It was an excellent performance.

Parker: Yeah, I think I can act okay when I'm yelling at people and bossing them around.

Sophie: Well, it's a good start.

proud mom!sophie + grifting parker

Nate: Listen, we have to make sure we get the cash to the Delgado family. Ow!

Eliot (tending Nate’s wound): Oh! Settle down. You act like you've never been shot before.

Nate (glances at Sophie): So, uh, pizza boxes, huh?

Hardison: Yeah, I know, I know, You could have done better.

Nate: No, no, no. No I couldn't have.

eliot casually stitching up nate’s wound bc no hospitals but also can we talk about how much nate has to trust eliot to literally operate on him

+

nate giving praise to hardison ??? rare af I don’t know her

[breanime]

Bre can I haz Coco Cruz plz 💞💗❣️ "Who did this?" "Why do you care?" "Can you forgive me?" Pretty plz with a cherry on top? Need some more of my loco Coco puff 😍🍰

“Loco Coco puff” LITERALLY made me lol. Amazing.

Your house was right on the border, just a few miles away from one of the main tunnels the Mayans used. Your family had worked with Alvarez for years, so when your parents moved back to Mexico and left you the property, you took over their partnership with the Mayans. It was a good deal, they provided you with protection and gave you a cut of their profits, and you let them dig holes under your land and use your place as a safe house. It was a win-win.

And you got to ride Coco like a fucking bucking bronco—which was a huge plus.

But you caught feelings—which was not a part of the plan.

Naturally, you tried to swallow them down, act like it wasn’t the highlight of your week when you got to see Coco, but it was hard. Especially since he only saw you as a warm body; convenient and accessible, but not essential to his life.

“I can’t always answer when you fucking call, you know?” Coco said, pulling on his pants. “I got shit to take care of, okay? I can’t be at your beck and call.”

“Who’s asking you to?” You asked back, covering your naked body with your blanket. “I’m just saying, it’s fucked up that you haven’t answered the last four times I’ve called, but you can show up out of nowhere like it’s no big deal.”

“That’s cause it ain’t,” he said back, shrugging into his shirt before throwing on his kutte as well, “What do you want me to say, Y/N? You ain’t my woman, I don’t answer to you.”

You bristled. He wasn’t wrong, but man… That stung. “I just thought…”

“Yeah, that’s your fucking problem,” he shot back, grabbing his keys, “you think too fucking much.” He walked out, slamming the door behind him. A few moments later, you heard the roar of his bike, and you knew he was gone.

Coco felt like a dick.

He knew he was being a dick when he stormed off like that, but usually he could brush the feeling off after a nice ride. But it didn’t go away. He knew he’d fuck things up with you sooner or later, he just hadn’t thought it would be so soon. Fuck.

He was fucking crazy about you.

You were smart, funny, loyal, beautiful—and the fact that you were interested in him blew his mind. So when Coco first had the chance to get you in bed, Coco took the fucking chance to get you in bed. He hadn’t thought he’d get another, but he did. And then it kind of became a thing… whenever the Mayans had business around your area, he’d stop by. And Coco could play it off—for a while—like he was just there to hook up and that was it, but the guys knew the truth: he wanted you—not just as this temporary fling, fun as it was, but he wanted you for real. And he knew he wasn’t good enough for you, so he did what he did best.

Lashed out and fucked up any slim chance he had of being with you.

It’d been two weeks since he’d spoken to you, and every night he checked his phone to see if you called or texted, and every night… you didn’t. Coco spent hours rereading your texts and looking at the picture he had of you. He’d taken it one night while you were asleep, you looked so beautiful, cuddled in his arms, he couldn’t help himself. And now he’d fucked it all up; classic him.

“Ay, Coco,” Angel popped his head in, interrupting Coco’s brooding, “We gotta go; there’s a problem in the desert.”

“There’s a problem in the desert?” Coco repeated, pocketing is phone. “What the hell are you talkin’ about, man?”

“Y/N was robbed.”

Coco was on his feet in a second, his heart racing. “What? When? Is she hurt? Who the fuck—”

“I don’t know, man, that’s why we gotta go,” Angel answered, “Come on!”

Coco was carrying three illegal weapons on him and was a convicted felon, but he broke every speeding law to get to you. Angel, Gilly, and EZ were riding with him, but he was leading the pack. His blood was boiling thinking of you being hurt, and the idea that someone—or someones—broke into your home and terrorized you… He should have been there. Or at the very least, it should have been clear to every lowlife, criminal derelict, and cartel peon that you were with Coco fucking Cruz, and therefore not to be fucked with. But it wasn’t—and that was on him.

When they pulled up to your place, Coco got off his bike without even turning it off. He heard the guys pull in after him, but he needed to get to you, needed to make sure you were okay. And if you weren’t—he was gonna raise hell.

As soon as he had his helmet off, Coco’s sniper eyes were picking up on the damage. Your front door was cracked, and the doorknob was missing. Someone had shot it off. The window was broken, and Coco could see glass on the floor inside. He didn’t bother knocking; he assumed you knew they were coming.

“Y/N—” he called.

He was greeted by the barrel of a shotgun.

Coco stopped, putting his hands up (it was a conditioned response). You were standing in front of him with a shotgun in your hands. “Fuck, Y/N, don’t shoot!” You sighed, putting the gun down, and that’s when Coco saw your eye. You had a black eye. He moved, his hand going to the side of your face, and he growled when you winced. When he spoke, Coco’s voice was low and slow. "Who did this?"

You scoffed. "Why do you care?" You batted his hand away, stepping back.

He blinked. “Wha—cause I—you—you’re my—”

“I’m your what?” You asked, leaning the gun on the wall, “I ain’t shit to you, Coco. You made that clear.”

“That’s… Fuck, Y/N… I…” Coco sighed. “I didn’t mean that, okay? I was being a dick, and I… I’m sorry.” He took a breath. “Please, mi dulce, just let me see your eye.”

You frowned but let Coco’s fingers brush against your eye and cheek.

He took another breath, trying to calm his building rage and channel it into focusing on you. “Who did this?” He asked again.

“Juan and his crew,” you answered with a shrug, your face still in his hands, “He took a bunch of shit, slapped me around a bit—”

“He’s fucking dead,” Coco promised, his blood running cold, “I’m gonna kill all of those bastards…”

You sighed, and Coco felt you relax against him. “I know you’re not… I know you don’t want to answer to anyone, and you think I think too much and read into things, and I promise, I’m not, I won’t, but…” You looked up at him, and your eyes looked so big and sad and scared, and Coco felt simultaneously murderous and guilty all at once. “Can you just hold me for a second-?”

Coco pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around you. This is where you belonged, and he fucking knew that. He always had. “I need you to listen,” he said, his voice muffled by your hair, “I know I don’t deserve it, but just… Hear me out. I’m a fucking dumbass.”

“I’m listening,” you deadpanned.

He chuckled, still holding you. “I was being a fucking pussy before, when I said you’re not my woman and all that shit… It was…” He pulled back, his dark eyes staring down at you. “I didn’t mean that shit. I want you—for real. And I should have said all this before this shit happened to you…” He cupped your face. “I should have been here. I should have protected you, hermosa. I never should have talked to you like that before, and I’m sorry.” He wanted to kiss you, but he wasn’t sure if he had your permission to yet.  "Can you forgive me?"

You nodded. “It’s not your fault that this happened, Coco.”

“No, I mean I’m sorry for everything—for what happened between us before and for this,” he clarified, “I know I ain’t shit, Y/N, and I don’t deserve you, but I—”

You shut him up with a kiss, and Coco sighed into your lips. He held you as close as he could, and as he kissed you, he vowed to himself to always hold you like this—no matter how scared he was. You deserved that, and he wanted to be the one to give it to you. You were both smiling when you pulled back. He opened his mouth to say something sweet to you—

—but was interrupted by thunderous applause and cheering.

You both turned to see Angel, EZ, and Gilly in the entry way, clapping as you embraced.

“Fucking finally,” Angel grinned.

“Taza owes me 30 bucks,” Gilly added.

“Riz owes me 20,” EZ said, nodding.

“The fuck, you assholes were taking bets?” Coco asked, his arms still wrapped around you.

“Hell yeah,” Angel answered, sauntering into the house and carelessly stepping on the broken glass, “We knew from the get that Y/N wanted a nice cup of hot Coco…”

“And clearly you’re an emotional wuss who’s all heart eyes for Y/N,” Gilly said.

You laughed, and while Coco flipped them off, he laughed too. The guys spent the rest of the evening cleaning up your place before the others met them out there, and before they hit the road to track down Juan and his guys, Coco kissed you.

“You know,” you said, smiling up at him, “I’m starting to think there might be some benefits to being your girl.”

“Oh, baby,” he grinned back, “There are. The occasional murder is one thing, but the orgasms,” he leaned in, his lips brushing over yours, “that’s where I really shine.”

You giggled, kissing him.

“Don’t buy that shit,” Angel called from his spot on his bike, “He’s much better at the murdering!”

“Implying that my boyfriend has given you an orgasm,” you deadpanned.

“Hey,” Coco flicked your nose, “watch your mouth.” He leaned down and kissed you again. “The Boy Scout’s gonna stay and make sure you’re safe, and I’ll be back in a few hours, okay?”

You nodded. “Be safe.”

Coco grinned back—there was still the tight coil of rage burning in his chest, but he was on his way to relieve it. Besides, he had you now, for real, and by the end of the night, every motherfucker on either side of the border would know:

You were Coco Cruz’s girl.

*******************************************************************************************

Thanks for reading! I felt like those prompts were PERFECT for Coco!

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