#regardless of where she’s put she’s okay because situations don’t dictate her worth the way they do Teruhashi

[fluffydice]

One big difference between Aiura and Teruhashi is that I think Aiura could be comfortable either sitting on someone’s lap or having someone sit on her lap, but Teruhashi deep down would only feel 100% at ease if someone was sitting in hers, not the other way around

[dweetwise]

day 16: bad day

prompt from: whumptober (tho i misread the title and can’t post to the challenge but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i still like it) pairing: felix x ace notes: felix’s day goes from bad to neutral to Nice (tm). also everyone except david is a shitty person in this lmao. warnings: implied emotional abuse, implied cheating, threat of violence word count: 2900

It was official; this was the worst day of Felix’s life.

It shouldn’t have been. He should have been happy, maybe a little shocked and nervous, but definitely excited. Not anxious, scared and downright spiteful like he felt right now.

His girlfriend was pregnant. They hadn’t been trying, but she was excited to tell him regardless, already thinking of baby names and giving Felix no room to voice any of his doubts. He knew this was what he claimed he’d always wanted, what he knew his parents wanted for him, to continue the family name since he was the last of his line.

He took another swig of the foul-tasting beer and wondered if she’d done it on purpose. She’d been not-so-subtly hinting at marriage for months, and Felix had always brushed her off. Maybe this was her taking matters into her own hands, forcing Felix to commit to her or drag down both his family name and professional image for having a child out of wedlock.

He didn’t want to marry her because she always seemed way more fond of his money than Felix himself, and he didn’t want to have kids because…

Well. He hated children.

He probably should have brought up that particular piece of information sooner, but he wasn’t sure it would have even made a difference. Not to his parents, not to his girlfriend, and certainly not to the ungodly amount of distant relatives and business associates who kept bugging him about settling down and starting a family.

Because, for some reason, dedicating the last twenty years of his life to doing what other people wanted him to do wasn’t enough.

He’d stupidly believed it would get better. That the twelve-hour work days and countless all-nighters on uninspiring projects would eventually pay off, when in reality all it had lead to were more boring projects. He’d thought buying his girlfriend expensive gifts and taking her on weekly dates followed by the obligatory weekly sex would make them fall in love, but instead she was pushing him into commitments he wasn’t ready for.

He downed the rest of the beer and tried to numb out the suffocating feeling of being trapped. He was doomed to keep living his shitty life exactly the way others dictated, and there was nothing he could do to change his fate.

Maybe that’s why he’d chosen this bar. It wasn’t the usual high-end, after-hour cocktail bar next to his office where everyone would recognize him. It was a shitty sports bar owned and frequented by foreigners, where nobody would approach him to congratulate him on the “good news” after his girlfriend e-mailed his entire contacts list in her excitement.

He debated getting another beer, maybe finally being able to pick one that didn’t taste like piss. God, how sad was his life that the biggest act of rebellion he could come up with was getting drunk on cheap beer in a bad part of town?

Felix clutched the glass tighter in his hand, frustrated at his life but also at himself, how he was unable to do anything but play right into everyone else’s plans. Fuck, he needed to do something different, something he’d never even considered would be in the realm of possibilities for him. But what?

He looked around the bar, seeing a group of backpackers animatedly chatting in what sounded like Spanish. He could go travelling, but that wouldn’t accomplish much except buy him a little bit of time. Not to mention his girlfriend would guilt him until he let her come along.

He could always get blackout drunk and puke his guts out in the bathroom. Maybe get into a bar fight. Try to get his hands on some drugs. Hire a prostitute.

Unfortunately none of those things seemed even remotely more thrilling than the bland beer he’d been drinking the entire night.

Felix sighed and buried his face into his hands. For forty years, he’d kept telling himself he wasn’t like everyone else, that he’d do something meaningful in his life, that he was a risk taker and not a conformer.

And he still would; he just didn’t know what. If he only got a sign—

The door to the bar slammed open and Felix snapped his head up from the noise, his table rattling from the impact of the door hitting the wall.

There was a man, his grey hair and cheap suit both wet from the autumn rain, clutching something under his arm while panting like he’d just run a half marathon. He hurried to close the door, and Felix didn’t mean to stare, but it was the most exciting thing to happen all night.

The man caught Felix’s eye and gave a quick grin.

“You saw nothing,” he offered before running up to the bar.

“Don’t tell me ya fuckin’—” the bartender started, clear annoyance on his features.

“Oops, gotta run, I was never here!” the man offered good-naturedly before hopping over the bar and disappearing into the back.

“Ace for fuck’s sake!” the bartender cursed, yelling at the doorway to what had to be a back room or kitchen. Still, he made no move to follow him, instead sighing in agitation and aggressively started cleaning a couple of pint glasses.

Felix realized three things at once; one, the new customer screamed trouble. Two, he clearly knew the bartender. And three, Felix was intrigued.

He made his way to the bar with his empty glass, placing a ten euro bill on the worn wood that earned him a fresh glass of beer in only a couple of seconds. He appreciated that the bartender hadn’t tried to make small talk during the entire evening, and lamented the fact that he had to break the silence.

“Who is your friend?” Felix asked, trying to ignore the self-consciousness that always surfaced when he had to subject the world to his extremely obvious German accent.

“'Friend' is a strong word,” the bartender huffed in annoyance, though it seemed to be directed at the person they were talking about and not Felix. “'A pest who keeps comin' back like a boomerang no matter how many times I kick 'im out' sounds more fitting.”

Felix hummed in acknowledgement and sipped at his beer, deciding to sit down at the bar instead of returning to his table.

“He seems interesting,” Felix mused, trying to fish more information about the man.

Instead of humoring him, the bartender stopped cleaning the glasses and gave him an incredulous stare.

“You've gotta be fucking kidding me,” he deadpanned. “The hell's a guy like you see in a rat like 'im?”

“That wasn't what I meant,” Felix insisted, staring at his glass in embarrassment. He was just curious, he wasn't… interested, at least not that way. God, why could he never communicate properly? This is why he never tried anything new.

He heard the bartender sigh long and loud, like this wasn't the first time he'd had to put up with a similar situation.

“Look mate, whatever yer thinkin', don't,” he offered, like that was supposed to help Felix at all. “Guy's way more trouble than 'es worth, an' he sure as hell ain't here to make friends.”

Felix didn't have time to reply, not that he even knew what he would have said, before the door slammed open once again and heavy footsteps stomped into the bar.

“Oi!” the bartender shouted in annoyance. “Don't go draggin' mud into my bar!"

“Where is he?” one of the new patrons demanded in German, and his voice was threatening enough to make Felix glance over his shoulder at the new arrivals.

He saw a group of four men that looked like bad news, their cheap clothing and poorly made tattoos making Felix think of some lowly local gang.

“Read the sign, mate,” the bartender scoffed, pointing at a metal plaque in the style of a road sign that said ‘Service in English only’.

“What a fucking moron,” one of the thugs commented, not even attempting to switch languages.

“We know he's here!” the man at the front barked out and proceeded to slam a fist against the bar.

“I got no bloody clue what yer talkin' about!” the bartender claimed. “But if yer gonna come to my bar an' start a fight, so help me—”

"Let's just beat him up!” one of the men was getting impatient.

“For the last time, where is he!?” one of the thugs surged forward and grabbed the bartender by his collar.

“You've got the fuckin' wrong place, I dun know shit about what ya even want!” the bartender, to his credit, didn't even bat an eye. Then again, it looked like he could easily hold his own in a fight.

Felix heard a gasp and noticed one of the Spanish kids cower closer to the corner they were sitting in, observing the scene with fear in her eyes.

The tension in the air seemed like it was about to snap, and instead of making Felix want to bolt into the safety of his mansion, it made his adrenaline start pumping.

This was what he needed. A thrill.

“You heard the man,” Felix raised his voice, finally turning to address the group. “You're in the wrong place.”

“Shut the fuck up, this doesn't involve you!” one of them eloquently responded.

“It started involving me when you barged in and ruined my night,” Felix explained calmly despite feeling his palms start sweating from nervousness, years of faking an unphased persona finally coming to use.

“Okay, the fuck's your problem!?” the guy who seemed to be the leader demanded, finally letting go of the bartender in favor of looming over Felix threateningly.

“I said,” he emphasized, slowly lifting his pint glass to take a sip of his drink and flash his ring with the family insignia. “You've got the wrong place.”

There was a moment of silence when all Felix heard was his own heart beating in his ears, keeping his expression neutral and looking at the thugs like they were nothing more than a fleck of dirt on his expensive suit. Hopefully, they'd recognize the symbol, even if the Richters hadn’t been involved in the local underworld for years, not after the disappearance of his parents.

“The fuck is he on about?” one of the men, who looked to be the youngest, demanded. “Let's just beat them both up and—”

“Shut up,” the leader barked, glancing at Felix fleetingly. “We seem to have gotten lost on the way.”

Felix couldn’t help the smug smile.

“Happens to the best of us,” he said.

The group slowly started slinking out of the bar without further complaints, with Felix's eyes following them the entire time as if daring them to protest.

“Sorry for bother,” one of them even offered to the bartender in questionable English before the door closed after them.

“I'll be damned,” the bartender huffed and crossed his arms, giving Felix a look that could generously be described as somewhat impressed. Felix offered a shaky smile in return before he focused all his attention on staring at the surface of the bar and trying not to tremble from fear as the adrenaline left his body. He hoped it wasn’t obvious he was taking unnecessarily deep breaths and that cold sweat was running down his back under the suit.

That had been the most idiotic thing he had ever done. It was stupid, it was dangerous, and unnecessary and—

And he'd never felt such a rush of absolute victory before.

There was a thud as a beer was placed in front of him, and he glanced up to see the bartender smirking at him.

“It's on the house,” he said in a heavily accented but otherwise fluent German.

Well. It seemed this night was just full of surprises.

Soon after, Felix found himself sitting in a corner booth nursing his two beers. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt good, and it wasn’t just from the alcohol buzzing in his system.

He’d proved to himself that he had balls. He was one wrong move away from ending up in a bar fight, and even that thought didn't make him cower in fear like it would have before. Despite never being in a fight before, his confidence was soaring, and he liked to imagine him and the bartender could have easily taken the four thugs.

And then his night only got better as a handsome stranger slid down into the opposite side of the booth.

“So, King told me you saved my ass just now,” the man said with a charming smile, casually leaning closer and propping his chin up on his elbow like they were old friends catching up.

It took Felix longer than he'd like to recognize the man as the one that caught his attention earlier. Without the baseball cap, sunglasses and cheap suit jacket, he cleaned up rather well, dressed in a simple light pink button-up and jeans. Slightly messy, silver hair was a stark contrast to the mischievous brown eyes and almost youthful, cocky smirk on his face.

Felix suddenly realized why the bartender thought he was interested in more than just the man's colorful personality.

“I suppose that's true,” Felix said after a way longer silence than was socially acceptable, but his companion was courteous not to mention anything.

“Well, whether you meant to or not, you have my thanks!” the man grinned good-naturedly. “I would have bought you a beer, but I see David's already got you covered,” he added, gesturing to the two pints where Felix was still working through his first.

“Yes, it's…” Felix started, debating whether he should be honest about his distaste for the drink or not. Fuck it, drunk and brave had worked earlier. “A shame it doesn't make it taste any better.”

The man barked out a laugh and Felix smiled at the success of his joke.

“I know, right?” his companion snickered. “I keep telling him to mix it up, maybe get some nice wines too, but he insists on importing that awful stuff the Brits call beer.”

Felix smiled politely, not knowing what to add to the statement. Regardless of what the bartender—David?—had claimed before, the two definitely seemed to be friends.

“I'm sorry, where are my manners!” the man suddenly seemed to realize, offering his hand over the table. “I'm Ace.”

“Felix,” Felix replied, returning the handshake firmly, like his father and numerous career coaches had taught him.

“So, Felix,” Ace continued, retracting his hand but leaning over the table even further. “What brings you here? I think I'd remember seeing someone like you before.”

Was that flirting? It had been so long since anyone had showed any interest in Felix, he couldn’t even recognize what was just casual conversation, too used to business world small talk about the stock market and someone's secretary's family.

“I needed a change,” Felix said, before realizing he probably shouldn't be revealing too much. “—of scenery,” he hastily added.

Ace regarded him silently for a few heartbeats and Felix gulped down some beer to try not to fret under the scrutinizing gaze.

“Scenery, huh?" Ace hummed. "Seen anything you like so far?”

Okay, that had to be flirting. Right? Felix stared at Ace's face, but the other wasn’t giving anything away. And Felix thought he was good a keeping a straight face.

“Maybe,” he answered simply, keeping eye contact much longer than appropriate on purpose.

Ace didn't look away and Felix wondered if he was the only one who noticed the tension in the air.

He always sucked at flirting, even in his native tongue, and now he had to do it in broken English. He thought he'd been pretty obvious, but he still wasn’t sure if Ace was just being friendly. Maybe he wasn’t even into men.

Well, to be fair Felix didn't think he was either, university time experimentation aside. There was something about this particular night, like he was desperate to prove to himself that he was still capable of making decisions for himself.

He’d always thought he wouldn't cheat, but he also knew that if Ace offered, he wasn’t going to say no. If this was the only thing in his life he still had control over, he was going to make the most of it, and he no longer cared if that made him a bad person.

“You know, I've stayed in a bunch of different hotels in the area while I've been here,” Ace mentioned out of the blue, and Felix furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “There's a pretty good one just down the street.”

Felix swallowed, at last realizing what the other was getting at.

“Really?” he asked, trying to mask his suddenly surfacing nerves.

“Yup. Kinda cozy, very… discreet,” Ace chirped casually, like he was talking about the weather and not propositioning a stranger.

Felix cleared his throat and shoved a hand in his pocket, managing to fish out a crumpled twenty euro bill despite his sweaty palms. He slapped the money on the table, hoping the tip would convey his gratitude to David for setting him up for the best night of his life.

Finally, he stood up from the booth and offered Ace a nervous smile that probably made it glaringly obvious just how eager he was.

“Lead the way."

[travelingtarot]

TAROT THE WEEK!!!

Weekly Psychic Forecasts Every Monday Morning To Help Guide You Through Your Week!

Week Of August 13th – August 19th 2018

Card: Ace of Swords (R)

Quick Analysis: One of the general interpretations of any Swords card in the tarot deck is the matter of communication.  Truthful communication.  Brutal honesty.  Not being afraid of speaking our truth and further, not being afraid to stand firm and tall in our truth.  When the Swords cards are in the Reversed position, based on the communication interpretation of the card, it can mean we have a hard time speaking our truth.  The truth gets caught in our throat.  Or we have a hard time living our truth.  We ignore that part of ourselves that would lead us to more authentic lives.  We pretend we’re something we’re not.  We put on a happy smile and pretend everything is well when secretly we detest the life we’re leading.

When the Ace of Swords comes up Reversed in a reading it means that truth we’ve been hiding or the truth we’ve refused to speak is trying its best to come out.  It’s trying to be spoken, heard and lived.  We may have found lately it’s getting harder and harder to “go along to get along”.  We may have found ourselves in more and more situations where what’s happening around us and what we’re required to do to keep the peace in those scenarios butts against who we really are.  These kinds of situations where we have tamped down our true and authentic selves are presenting themselves to us repeatedly.

Usually when that happens the Universe is trying to get our attention.  The Universe is trying to tell us the time has come for us to allow ourselves to be true and authentic.  The Universe is telling us the time for speaking our truths is now.  The time for standing firm and tall in our truths is now.  Because the longer we choose to ignore that still small voice of truth inside of us, the louder it will scream for release, until that release will either become mandatory or we’ll forcibly allow a part of our soul to wither and die.

So, the question becomes if we choose to live an authentic life, is there a possibility the life we’ve grown accustomed to will change?  Sure.  There’s always that possibility.  There’s the possibility friends and family won’t understand.  Our loved ones may turn on us.  Our careers could suffer.  There’s a chance we may lose the things that are dear to us.  The absolute worst things we can think of could very well happen to us.

Or not.

Then the question becomes will we take that chance?  Will we take the chance everything will fall apart if we speak our truth?  Will we take the chance our world will turn upside down of we live our truth?  Is living our truth worth the price?There’s an old Bible verse that says, “What will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and lose his own soul?”  Our souls are the most important part of our beings.  We must always be mindful to take the best care of our souls we possibly can.  We are spirits living a human experience.  Because of that our spirits live on after our human bodies turn to dust.  Our soul’s purpose is the grow, evolve and aid and assist the growth and evolution of the planet and thereby the Universe.  If we refuse, we’ve wasted our time here on Earth.  We’ve just taken up valuable space for however long we’re granted here.  And the catch is, until we decide to allow our spirit to grow and evolve we’ll continue to live the same scenario over and over again.

I encourage us all to make the best use of our time on this planet.  I encourage us to speak our truth.  Stand tall and firm in our truth.  Allow our truth to grow and evolve as more truth is revealed to us.  Live our truth, because words without action are meaningless.  Finally, be our truth.  Let us all strive to be the living embodiment of living a life of integrity.

In-Depth Analysis: In our in-depth analysis today, I want to talk about control issues.  Both sides of the control issue.  The need to always be in control as well as the fear of never being in control and allowing others to have control over us.  Both issues are equally as damaging to our psyche as well as our soul.  It’s important to recognize if we have either of those issues (or a combination of both) and take good and positive steps to fix them.  Let’s dive in!

We’ll start with loss of control.  The feeling we are never in control of our own lives and our own destinies.  We allow people, places and circumstances dictate how we move, without having a strong grounded center inside us.

There are some of us who have never found our voice.  For one reason or another our voice was dismissed early on and we carried that lesson with us into our adult lives.  One of the worst things we as “big people” can do to a child is let them believe their opinion, their voice, doesn’t matter.  The old parenting style of “kids should be seen and not heard”, in my opinion is no longer a viable parenting style.  It cuts off our kids’ spiritual vocal cords.  Worse, it can lead some of us to believe we shouldn’t be heard at all, regardless of our age.

Growing up, I had yin-yang parents.  My father thought his job ended after he brought home a paycheck.  “Are the kids fed?  Good.  Do they have clothes on their back?  Great.  Are the bills paid so they can keep a roof over their heads?  Perfect!  Job done.  Clocking out!”  And he did.  There was never room in his life for children except for taking care of their physical needs.  He could care less about our voices and would rather we have kept quiet when he was around.

My mother on the other hand was always interested in our voices.  She loved having deep conversations with us kids, regardless of our ages.  She would ask questions and listen to the feedback we provided.  She was interested in how our lives were progressing and took an active part in making sure we were listened to and our thoughts and opinions taken into consideration.

Because I had that yin-yang parenting dynamic going on around me, I never knew in the outside world if I had a voice or if I didn’t.  I was always testing the waters to see how much “big people” would actually listen to me.  When they did, they couldn’t shake me.  I was like a talking faucet that couldn’t be turned off.  But when they didn’t listen, I immediately shut down and didn’t say a word.

That dynamic of never knowing whether a situation would be amicable to my voice or not carried over into my young adult life.  When I was just starting out as an adult and trying to figure out “adulting” for the first time, more often than not I would be quiet.  In the workforce there were always “big people” around who had way more experience and way more expertise than I did.  I always got the impression, real or imagined, that my voice was not nearly as important as the next person because I was just starting out and they’d been there forever and knew how things “worked”.  Add to that, my line of work was always production driven cubicle work which doesn’t lend itself to creativity at all, my voice really was not required.  I never fully shut down because there were times I would assert myself and see positive results.  But there were plenty more times when I said nothing for fear of being dismissed.  

It’s only been in the last 6 or 7 years now that I have leaned into my voice and taken more control over how my life plays out rather than having other people, places, things and circumstances dictate that for me.  And what a difference that has made!  I may not always get it right, but at the end of the day I can truthfully say “This is my life.  And I’m living it on my terms, for the most part.” (More on that a little later.)

On the other side of that coin is the control freak.  The person who must retain complete control in all situations.  The person who not only asserts control over his or her life, but the lives of everyone around them.  Believe it or not, I had a little bit of that inside me as well.

I learned early on I couldn’t control other people.  People are going to do what they’re going to do and there’s not a damned thing you can do about it.  But I could control myself.I graduated from college at the age of 22 and I had my life all mapped out.  I had a plan.

Cut to the present.  I make part of my living as a psychic.  I write psychic forecast/self-help/advice columns once a week.  I have a deep interest in metaphysics.  Spirituality, not religion, is one of the most paramount things in my life.  Had you told me at 25 when I was singing “Lucky Star” in NYC subways trying to make rent I would someday be all the things I am today, I would have punched you in the face.  I was gonna be a star, baby!  I was gonna have hit after hit.  I was gonna snatch Grammys every time an album dropped.  I was gonna go back to my Broadway roots from time to time and do a show just to remind people I’m not just a pop star, I’m a fucking musician!  (I was gonna snatch a Tony or two in the process too!)  My life turned out completely different than I expected it would.  And for the most part that’s okay.

I learned long ago that while we do have control over our lives and our destinies, we also have a job to do while we’re here.  We’re not here just to take up valuable space.  As I said above, we should do our best to aid in the spiritual evolution not only of ourselves but of the planet as well.  That is our primary objective for being alive.  I chose to listen to spirit when spirit spoke to me.  And truth be told, my life has been so much more interesting since I ceded control of my primary directive to the Universe.

Bottom Line: The Ace of Swords is advising us this week to speak, stand tall in, live and be our truth.  But it’s also advising us to know what we truly have control over and what we don’t.  We are in control of our lives.  We’re not in control of anyone else’s.  Further, we have control over the quality of life we have but we also have a prime directive for being here.  Something we and the Universe agreed upon long before we slid down the rainbow bridge.  So regardless of anything else, we must accomplish our prime directive.  I encourage each of us to make sure the way we’re living our lives is in concert with our prime directive.  The way things turn out may not be the way we anticipated they would, but what a ride!  You can thank me later.

Have a FANTASTIC week, everybody!

Be Blessed.

Song Of The Week: Tracy Chapman “Song For You”

For more information and to book a psychic reading with me, click HERE 

For more information on the card used for this week’s reading click HERE 

[appleciders]

blindspot character sortings

okay, so, once again, this is entirely the fault of @zapatterson 

i’ve sorted the main five characters in blindspot into their hogwarts houses, with...very long analyses to go along with them. 

here’s the (very simplified) summary:

jane—gryffindor, for her need to be on the right side

kurt—gryffindor, for his morals dictated by his gut

patterson—ravenclaw, for her intellect and creativity

reade—hufflepuff, for his prioritization of others and his deep compassion

tasha—slytherin, for her need to protect her people

if anyone disagrees with any of my sortings, hit me up! i’d be pumped to hear your opinions.

(side note: i promise i have a life. i do, really. i just had a lot of time on my hands because i accidentally gave myself food poisoning. which...also means i wrote half of this with a 100 degree fever, so...don’t judge me too harshly, okay?)

Okay, first and foremost. Easiest for me to sort, except for maybe Weller. My moon and stars: Tasha Zapata.

Tasha is a Slytherin.

She is supremely loyal to her people. Supremely. We all know this, it’s like, her most defining character trait. She has her people, who she’ll sacrifice everything for, and then she has everyone else. See here:

Reade: You should have thought about that before you decided to steal evidence. Tasha: I did! You think I didn't realize that I could go to prison for this? But you are my best friend. That was the risk that I was willing to take to save you, but I will not go to prison to save Freddy. And that is exactly what will happen if we don't put that knife back.

In fact, the only person Tasha can prioritize over her team is herself. This isn’t a bad thing—selfishness can be good, especially when it means she doesn’t burn herself up for other people like Reade, or occasionally considers whether a risk is worth it before she leaps in, unlike Kurt or Jane. It’s also probably born out of her childhood, with her alcoholic mother, absent father, and her three brothers. She needed to be a bit selfish, because if she wasn’t, she wouldn’t’ve survived.

This selfishness is especially apparent in the first season. When she’s caught out by Weitz, blackmailed by both him and Carter, she does initially decide to give her team up.

Tasha: I gave you the file, that was the deal. This is over. Thomas Carter: But, little lady. But you already took my money. You already sold out your friends. If I tell the FBI what you've done... you won't just be fired, you'll be indicted. This is over when I say it's over. You're mine now, Agent Zapata. So you take care.

Another person—a non-Slytherin—might have weighed that and taken the high-road. Might have turned themselves over to be imprisoned for the sake of the FBI and for the sake of whatever plot was going on with Jane’s tattoos. But Tasha is a survivor; she needs to survive. She saves herself, even at the possible cost of whatever’s coming.

Then, later, she does find out the cost: Mayfair. She hears Weitz’s story, Mayfair’s corruption, the danger she might be putting the agency in. And she makes a judgement: she excommunicates Mayfair from her people. Mayfair is putting her friends in danger. Mayfair lied to her. In Tasha’s eyes, however hypocritical, however flawed, that is betrayal.

And we know how Slytherins react to betrayal.

Tasha: Thought about what you said... about Mayfair. If Mayfair's going down, she goes down alone. I don't want my friends to be dragged down with her. Matthew Weitz: You got it, partner. Tasha: I'm not your partner.

(Later this gets overturned when she discovers Mayfair’s true motivations and her side of the story. Regardless, it happened.)

It also happens to Jane at the beginning of S2:

Actually, yk what, I don’t even think I have to source this one. She shoots Jane, for crying out loud. And she doesn’t sympathize with her like Reade does—her being a pawn is not justification for her betrayal. Jane has to earn her way back into being Tasha’s people, just like Mayfair did.

It’s also interesting to tie when Tasha finally rebels against Carter to when she realizes she has lost control of the situation. Tasha prefers to control, rather than to be controlled (more on that later) and that is a very Slytherin trait.

As for the rest of her moral system, well, it’s very black and white. To steal words from @sortinghatchats, even if I was too lazy to use their system:

“But when the major part of your moral system that you feel viscerally is to protect yourself and your people, there are a lot of gaps in how you interact with the world and with moral situations. What do Slytherins do when confronted with wrongs that don’t touch their people? It depends on the Slytherin. Some Slytherins simply don’t care—they opt out of the moral complications of the rest of the world and what touches other people and choose a contented apathy about the things that don’t intrude on their space—but other Slytherins construct ways to interact with these situations.”

Tasha’s constructed system is very binary. Just look:

Jane: So, Gibson was a good guy. He just wanted the killing to stop. Tasha: He killed ten innocent people this morning. Good guys don't do that. Jane: You don't think good people ever do terrible things? Tasha: I think terrible people do terrible things. And the good people stop them.

Wow, okay. By this metric, none of the FBI team are good guys. They’ve ALL done morally questionable things to get through. Does Tasha consider herself a good guy? Does she consider the rest of her people good guys? She doesn’t treat them like she treats bad guys, that’s for sure.

And that’s because, for her, it doesn’t matter. Because herself and her people? They’re, by nature, exempt from her constructed morality, because it is secondary to her motivation to protect her own.

Okay, now on to the other “traditional Slytherin traits.”

The ones the wiki lists are:

Resourcefulness

Cunning

Ambition

Determination

Self-Preservation

Fraternity

Cleverness

Okay, moving through that—resourcefulness. The whole knife situation? Saving Reade’s ass after she thought he killed his ex-coach? Resourceful. When she was trapped in that basement with the women who were being trafficked, and managed to get everyone out, including herself? Resourceful. When she went undercover again, to the prison? And managed to execute all of Patterson’s plan for getting her out, as well as make Ronda Rousey (what was her character’s name again whoops) trust her, while being a prisoner, in a high security prison? If that isn’t resourcefulness, I don’t think I understand the word right.

Cunning—well, see above, and all the times she’s in interrogation. And doing, like, anything. She’s smart, and she knows how to use it, folks.

Ambition; less obvious, but yeah, she has ambition. As of S2, her ambition is I’m going to survive and so are my people, but we know that earlier she wanted more. See this conversation with Mayfair (also a huge, wonderful Slytherin deserving of love btw):

Tasha: I'd like to run a division one day, like you. Mayfair: Be careful what you wish for. Early on in my career, someone powerful approached me, asking for help. It was a big career opportunity. What he was asking me to do was... morally ambiguous at best. I went along. Told myself it was for the greater good, but in my gut, I knew that was a lie. Didn't sleep well back then. Still don't. Things went sideways and that powerful person was nowhere to be found. I was left alone to account for my actions, wishing that I'd trusted my gut. Whatever you're doing with Weitz, for Weitz, just make sure you can sleep at night.

Determination: well, she doesn’t quit. Like, ever. It’s both really impressive and irritating, especially when her people are trying to hide things from her—she gets on both Reade and Patterson’s backs when they’re not taking care of themselves, even when they would rather she not.

Self-preservation we’ve covered, as have we with fraternity. Cleverness has pretty much been covered, too, but if you need more proof: she can code, she has a remarkable memory, she’s quick on her feet, and she comes up with quips like nobody’s business.

Lastly, there’s the question of control.

In short, Tasha likes to be in it. One of the biggest things I kept running into while building the “self-preservation” section is that Tasha…is pretty darn self-destructive. We can divide that into two categories—personal self-destruction, and professional self-destruction. Professional self-destruction is kind of in her job description. She routinely makes the call that her life is less important than that of her teammates or her mission, which is also a part of her my team is the most important mindset she’s got going on.

But while the other characters on Blindspot are personally self-destructive for a greater purpose or for an escape, Tasha is self-destructive because she feels like it’s the only way she can keep her life in her own hands. See her speech during the one (1) time she went to Gambler’s Anonymous:

Tasha:  After [the death of her partner], I, uh... My life was a mess. His death was so random. So... You know, as dumb as it sounds, when I was gambling, I knew the rules. Even when I was losing, it was on my terms, it was something I could control. But it doesn't really feel that way anymore.

Also see the time in the prison where she let herself get beat up, with no back-up or safeguards:

Tasha: I was in total control. I could’ve put them all on the floor if I wanted. Kurt: Really? Tasha: Mm-hmm.

She’s reckless with herself, but only because it gives her something out of it. Control.

All of this isn’t to say that she’s not brave, smart, or hardworking—she is. But she’s also all of these things in a ridiculously Slytherin way.

tl;dr: Tasha is the most Slytherin character I think I’ve ever seen on TV and I love her with my whole entire heart. She’s also a lesbian, so jot that down.

Okay, next up: Edgar Reade.

My man Eddie is a Hufflepuff.

You might be thinking, hey, Sophie, did you just make this up so you could have Tasha and Reade reiterate the time-old Slytherin/Hufflepuff best friend duo? The answer would be no, but dude, this shoe fits like a glove.

But stop! you might think. Reade likes order, can be uptight. Isn’t that more Ravenclawish? And he’s brave…isn’t that more Gryffindor? And he can be suspicious of newcomers. Slytherin like Tasha?

Not really. The core question is: why does Reade do what he does? The answer is he cares about people. That’s what allows him to work, really:

Tasha, to Reade: Understanding, identifying with victims. That’s what makes you good at your job.

Reade tries to understand people—all people, from strangers to traitors to suspects. He cares about them, whether he should or not. That’s what makes him good at his job.

We see it especially in contrast to Tasha, when Jane and Mayfair have both “betrayed” them. He refuses to accept that at face value; he wants to believe the best in them. He’s loyal that way.

In Mayfair’s case, he starts here:

Tasha: [tells him her suspicions] Reade: Mayfair is the one person who always has our backs, I don't know where you're getting your information from. Who put a bug in your ear?

And then he continually refuses to suspect her, aiding and abetting her all the way. In one of their last conversations, he says:

Reade: Hey. Thanks. Mayfair: For what? Reade: For trusting me. Mayfair: Always.

For him, being trusted is one of the highest honors he could receive. And then, after Jane carries out Sandstorm’s plan and betrays the FBI—which Reade had long suspected and tried to stop, by the way—he still gives her reasonable doubt. The lens which he views her through is still fair.

Tasha: Mayfair's dead because of her. I wouldn't give her too much credit.  Reade: What do you mean?  Tasha: She lied to us, she's...  Reade: She's a pawn. She was a pawn for Sandstorm, now she's a pawn for us. Pawns get sacrificed. I almost feel sorry for her.  Tasha: [gives Reade a Look] Reade: Uh, be easy. I said 'almost.'

While he doesn’t absolve her of anything, he has the kindness to step back, even as he’s no doubt hurting from the betrayal just as much as Tasha.

He’s fair, he’s kind, he’s empathetic. He identifies with people and feels responsibility for them.

Unfortunately for him, that’s what fucks up his life pretty much constantly.

Take the whole Sarah shebang from S1, for example. Reade finds a girl he likes and who likes him. Reade is incredibly happy (Tasha: You were really happy with her. Like, happier than I've ever seen you). Weller tries to break them up, in a pretty douche move, tbh—Reade calls him out on his hypocrisy and won’t end it just for that. But then, he gets threatened. Sarah and Sawyer are put in danger.

He puts aside his own feelings, his own happiness, and ends it. Because he can’t stand to see his people hurt, not ever, and he will put aside himself in every situation to protect those he loves. And it damages him, but he does it anyway.

This is dialed up to the nines in S2.

(Disclaimer: none of this is a defense of the writing of Edgar Reade’s character, especially not in the second season. The writers were repeatedly lazy and dismissive of Reade as a person. However, I love him, so my analysis is going to look both at and through that to reach a conclusion about his character.)

Okay, here it comes, the biggie—the Freddy/Coach Jones situation.

The moment he hears Freddy’s side of the story, he immediately feels responsible. He feels guilty. And he knows he shouldn’t, but he still does.

Weller: I'm not much of a bartender. Hope you like your scotch neat. And in a paper cup. Reade: I know what you're gonna say. That none of this is my fault. There's no way I could have known the man I looked up to since I was a kid is such a monster. None of the lives he ruined are my responsibility. And you're right. I know all this. But it doesn't make it any easier to live with. And I can do without the lecture, to be honest.

He’s also a persistent guy. He puts in a ton of extra work to try and convince the prosecutor to take Coach Jones’s case to trial.

Then he gets hit with another bombshell—Freddy alleges that he was one of the boys that Coach Jones abused, too. And he loses himself.

And then Coach Jones is killed.

And he loses himself more.

All of that emotion that Reade is so good at feeling for others, all of that guilt and responsibility he felt for not being able to help Freddy with Coach Jones—it all magnifies back on himself in ways that he has no idea how to deal with.

Because Reade is great at caring about other people, but he is shit about caring for himself.

(This is where, if he were a Slytherin like Tasha, his self-preservation would kick in. But he’s not.)

So he turns to the one thing that makes him feel lighter again, and because knock-knock, hello, no healthy coping mechanisms here, that thing is drugs. They allow him to ignore everything he’s feeling without actually dealing with it. They make him experience some semblance of happiness.

Reade: For the first time in a while, I feel like I can breathe, like I can have fun again. Tasha: Who is she? Reade: It’s not even like that. Tasha: Well, you’d better not mess this one up. Reade: Tasha. Tasha: I’m serious. You deserve to be happy. So don’t let anyone get in the way of that, including yourself. I know how you get. Reade: I know.

This re-establishes that Reade putting himself behind others is a recurring character trait. See more:

Reade, about Freddy’s girlfriend who got him hooked on drugs: I just feel bad. I can tell she feels guilty, like she’s responsible or something. Tasha: That woman…she is not your problem. You can’t change what happened to Freddy, and you cannot change what he did. You gotta start taking care of yourself.

Again, there’s that intense commitment to others, loyalty to people in a more generalized sense, and dismissal of his own wellbeing.

If you need even more:

Reade, to Tasha: I can live with whatever happens to me, but I couldn’t if something were to happen to you.

Unfortunately for him, the drug route takes him away from his better nature. In trying to push people away, in attempting to remove them from his own mental health spiral, he ends up hurting and rejecting them. That’s a bad call, and one he regrets once he gets clean again.

Okay, now that that slight tangent is over, let’s review the wiki list for Hufflepuffs

Dedication

Repeatedly dedicated to his work, his friends and even to people he already knows.

Hard Work

As are all the people on this team, Reade is a lowkey workaholic.

Fair play

He’s fair, even to those who have betrayed him (Jane).

Patience

Less proof on this one, but hey, I’m a very impatient Hufflepuff so I’m letting it go.

Kindness

The man pours his heart out for every single person he cares about. Jesus Christ.

Tolerance

He seems tolerant? Idk we haven’t really gotten a good situation to grade this on, imo.

Loyalty

See the above twelve-hundred words for why he is loyal in both a personal and to-all-people sort of way.

One last, very ‘Puff speech:

Reade, to an emotionally exhausted Patterson: I know how you feel, Patterson, believe me. This job takes everything from all of us. But it gives back, too. It gives us a way to fight against all the garbage that’s piling up in the world. It gives us each other. It gives us family. And families fight. Sometimes, they lose hope. But what they damn sure don’t do is give up.

tl;dr: Reade’s a Hufflepuff, cool?

Next up: Patterson.

Patterson is…surprisingly hard? Because at first glance, she seems textbook Ravenclaw. If we were going to divide this into a primary/secondary model (primary: why she does things, secondary: how she does them) she would definitely be a Ravenclaw secondary. Everything she does is in a very Ravenclaw way. But are her motivations all Ravenclaw based? She’s actually pretty people-driven, and has quite a few Hufflepuff traits. And, because we know she’s also an avid Harry Potter fan, she might have seen herself a lot in Hermione growing up, especially because she is brave. But when it comes down to it, for a sorting, she’d get to choose.

And Patterson, well, I think Patterson would still choose Ravenclaw.

Okay, why?

She loves puzzles. She loves learning. And yeah, she could still pull a Hermione and be a nerd within a different house, but I think the appeal of Ravenclaw would be too much to resist. Could you imagine Patterson turning down the chance to answer a riddle every time she wanted to go to her common room? Or the chance to live with people who wouldn’t tease her for being nerdy, who might leave her alone every time she was hyper-focused on her new special interest?

(Girl wasn’t ready to let David, aka literal love of her life, live with her. She’s picky about roommates.)

Her sense of the world around her can also be described in terms of metaphorical puzzles. In this way, her point of view is partially constructed, like most Ravenclaws’. See here:

Patterson: Do you know what a tangram is? Jane: No. Patterson: It's a... it's a dissection puzzle consisting of flat geometric pieces, known as tans, which are put together to form elaborate shapes. This team has been one shape for a very long time. And you're a new piece. And we're just trying to figure out how you fit into all of this. But we're gonna find our new shape. It's just gonna take a second.

While her goal is to comfort Jane, to try and make her comfortable in the team environment in a welcoming, friendly way, she does so by making a comparison to an intellectual game. Morality = welcome new people, trust that they have a good heart; expression = clearly constructed, something Patterson doesn’t feel in her gut but has come up with in her head.

However, this constructed system always seems to involve people—she really loves her family, guys, like a lot.

Reade: The silent treatment, really? That's how we're playing this? Tasha: We said we were sorry. Patterson: I tell you guys everything! Tasha: We were aiding and abetting a fugitive. We were just trying to keep you out of it. Patterson: You were aiding and abetting Mayfair. Mayfair! I am happy to aid and abet Mayfair.

And then later in the episode:

Patterson: You guys are my family! If someone is threatening you, they're threatening me, but if you keep me in the dark I can't help you, and we're supposed to help each other, right? If something would have happened, and if there was something that I could have done and I... I can't take that.

Both of these quotes are remarkably close to quotes that Reade and Tasha have, and Patterson says them with such kindness, stubbornness, and protectiveness that I was looking at that badger awful hard. And then I got conflicted, because, as her gf Tasha points out, she’s also really darn brave:

Tasha, about Patterson: You just stopped a major terrorist attack. You’re one of the smartest, bravest people I know, and, uh, you’re allergic to cats.

So, again, a Hermione-Granger-Gryffindor scenario could have been back in the works.

But, as usual, her massive nerdiness won out.

Do you really need me to list all of the nerdy things Patterson says? 90% of her lines are either nerdy jokes or exposition. Do you really need me to list them?

She’s also, as we know, a genius. Like, bona fide.

Patterson: I have some preliminary theories, but obviously space is a little out of my wheelhouse. Patterson: [explains a really good fucking plan in space] Stand-in-FBI-Lady: And this isn’t your wheelhouse? Color me terrified.

And earlier, in an iconic line:

Patterson: Yes, you can for sure maintain enough airspeed. I did the math. Chief Inspector Fischer: How? Where? Patterson: In my head, where math is done. Please don't interrupt.

Morally, she’s also less gut-feeling than Jane or Kurt. She’s willing to budge the line a bit more, in the search of an end. To Patterson, if something makes sense, if it’s just an extension of something they’ve been doing, why not?

Kurt: How exactly did you crack the Bible verse tattoo? You told me on the phone you picked up the phrase on some chatter. Patterson: You're never this interested in how I solve the tattoos. Kurt: This one points to an off-the-book program being run out of this office, so I need to know what is happening under my watch, and I need to know now. Patterson: Uh, okay. I linked the tattoo database to a secret NSA data collection program. Kurt: Omaha? Nas told me it's very similar to Daylight. Patterson: Daylight on steroids is more accurate. Kurt: So you've been using illegal wiretaps to solve these tattoos? [Patterson is reluctant to say anything] Kurt: [losing his patience] Patterson. Patterson: This was the first one. Kurt: Really? Patterson: I know. It's just I have to use every resource that I have. We're running out of time to figure out what all of this adds up to. Kurt: That is my call to make, not yours. Understand?

This is a very interesting moral struggle that I’m definitely going to come back to in Kurt’s section. Regardless, the conflict here on Patterson’s end is clear; she needs to retrieve the knowledge that allows her to do her job, and NSA data collection is that retrieval tool. It’s helping her reach a greater end—to her morality, it makes sense, whether it feels wrong in her gut or not.

Very Ravenclaw.

Also, wowza, the culmination of the Borden ordeal. When she’s facing him, gun pointed at his face, and their conversation goes like this:

Borden: It’s okay, it’s okay. Any reasonable person would want to kill me. Patterson: Shut up! Borden: Your rage is completely normal— Patterson: Shut up! You don’t get to do that to me anymore! I’m not gonna kill you. I took an oath…. To my country, to the bureau. To uphold the law.

So Patterson’s not the best at processing her own emotions, right? Whenever she’s not sure how to face them, she kinda shoves them to the back of her mind and tries to outrun them with busywork. But here, there’s no time. Her constructed morality—which is pretty much mostly just ‘I trust the people I interact with unless they’re suspects” falls through when she’s confronted with a betrayal by someone she’s so close to. So she falls back on a different constructed model—guess what, another Ravenclaw trait—and speaks through the FBI’s code. Because for her, it’s both something she believes in and means she doesn’t have to process so much sudden interaction into her personal pre-existing program for how to deal with new situations.

Next—Ravenclaws are also very curious, right? Well, Patterson’s nothing if not curious. Curious to her detriment, even, especially about the tattoos. Patterson loves her job, dedicates an extreme amount of work to it—overworking chronically, and like, never taking a single day off—but she can be blinded to her duty by curiosity.

The David situation is a prime example:

Mayfair: Do you have any idea how dangerous your actions were? Those tattoos are not some Sunday morning crossword puzzle. They contain extremely sensitive, classified intelligence, all of which have led us to volatile criminal activity. You put the case, yourself, and a civilian at great risk. Patterson: I know. I—We were just trying to solve—I screwed up. I'm so sorry.

She was just trying to solve it. She just wanted to solve it. And in doing so, she was careless enough to put both David and her job in jeopardy. For her, discovering the truth behind the tattoos isn’t a matter of just saving lives or preventing attacks (though that’s definitely part of it). She is driven by her curiosity.

Here’s the point where I pull out that Ravenclaw traits list.

Intelligence

Wit

Wisdom

Creativity

Originality

Individuality

Intelligence—check.

Wit—

Mayfair: So, just a recap, ZOMO did or didn't design Jane's tattoos, did or didn't paint the burning rose, and then did or didn't steal it and try and blow us up? Patterson: Looks like we're making progress.

And:

Patterson: Does all the staring drive you crazy? Jane: I've never known anything different. Patterson: Right. Good point. Jane: Not like I can do anything about it. Patterson: Not unless... turtlenecks come back into fashion.

And:

Patterson: Do you see these propane tanks? What do you think “highly flammable” means?

And:

Patterson, nostalgically: I remember my first date. Took him forever to stop crying.

Wisdom—

Jane: [asks whether she can remove her tattoos] Patterson: As an agent, of course, I should tell you to keep them.  Jane: As... my friend?  Patterson: As your friend... I would say... it's your body. You should do what you want.

Creativity + Originality—the way she solves every problem ever.

Individuality—she’s got her own drum, and she fuckin marches to it.

tl;dr: though she’s more multi-faceted than some people like to think, I’m calling in Patterson as a Ravenclaw

Okay, this is like, an essay at this point. Fuck, this is seven times longer than the college application essay I should be writing right now. God why.

Next up is Kurt! Kurt is a Gryffindor.

This is pretty textbook. He’s got a gut, and he follows it without qualms. He’s headstrong, stubborn, and brave. He has a lot of machismo going on. He’s a very strong archetypal version of The Leader. He’s a bit of an idiot sometimes. His feelings can override his better sense.

Because this is my fourth one, this is probably going to be a little shorter than the others. Sorry, Kurt fans.

Okay, let’s start with his sense of right/wrong. According to sortinghatchats:

“Gryffindor Primaries trust their moral intuitions and have a need and a drive to live by them. They feel what’s right in their gut, and that matters and guides them. If they don’t listen to and act on that, it feels immoral.”

That’s very Kurt. Often—especially when he goes “screw the rules,” typically involving Jane—he’s behaving based on his gut instinct. Sure, as a trained FBI agent, he knows, logically that he shouldn’t do a lot of things he does. But when Jane asks for help, something about him goes, okay, yeah, that feels right. And when it doesn’t, he feels guilty, but occasionally does it anyway and then feels worse. And then takes it out on others.

(Not always, yeah. But more than a team leader/assistant director should, ngl.)

He can also be idealistic—he thinks there’s a concrete “right” way things should be done, and gets irritated if they’re not done that way. Kinda like Tasha—his morality is very black and white. Except Kurt…genuinely seems to believe it, and holds no one exempt from it.

Jane: You didn't have to... Kurt: Yeah, I did. It could've been you in that body bag. Jane: He was innocent. He never wanted any of this. Kurt: Someone puts my team at risk, or you at risk, I don't second guess. Jane: Things can be more complicated than they seem. Kurt: In this job, there are good guys and there are bad guys. It's not that complicated.

He doesn’t even hold his family apart—not Mayfair, when she betrayed him, not Jane, when she betrayed him, and not his father, when he thought he killed Taylor Shaw.

Kurt: The first time I came in here, remember what you did? You showed me that letter from the Bureau threatening Martin Luther King back in the corrupt Hoover days. A reminder not to abuse our authority. Mayfair: Weller... Kurt: You taught me how to do this job. Everyone here looks to me for what to do. I used to look at you. That's gone. I can't trust you anymore.

Kurt: Turn around, get on your knees, and put your hands on your head. Jane, raising her hands: I can explain. Kurt: You have the right to remain silent. Jane, on the brink of tears: Kurt... Kurt: Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. Jane, crying: No, don't do this. Kurt: You have the right to an Attorney. Jane: You need to listen to me. Kurt: You said you remembered! You remembered what? Fishing? Camping with us? How? You lied to me. I let my father back into my life... into my home. I let him be around Sawyer! He killed her. And I let him back in... because of you. So turn around... get on your knees... put your hands on your head. I'm not gonna say it again. Do it. Put your hands on your head.

He doesn’t even hear them out, because they crossed his moral line. The line in his chest that tells him what’s right and what’s not. He even does this for smaller-scale situations, especially regarding his sister:

Reade: Look, I'm sorry it's your sister, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but I... Kurt: Reade, don't. Reade: Kurt, I love her. Kurt: This conversation... this is the problem. I can't have your personal life interfering with our work. All right? Reade: A little hypocritical, but okay.

If Kurt were looking at it from a purely logical standpoint, he would understand that Reade’s right—he is being hypocritical. If he were vouching purely for his sister’s best interest, he would hear her side of the story. But because he’s been blinded by being told off for having feelings for Jane, because he’s always had this feeling that boys near his sister is not okay, he refuses to see all of that. It’s declared a moral wrong, even without external justification.

And wow, he can morally feel himself into ignoring of a LOT of proof:

Mayfair: Look, I know you want Jane to be Taylor Shaw... Kurt: This has nothing to do with what I want. Her DNA is Taylor's DNA. End of story. Mayfair: Kurt, you can't pick and choose evidence to suit your preferred narrative. I shouldn't have to tell you that. Have you told her yet? Kurt: There's nothing to tell.

Okay, but back to idealistic rights and wrongs—that passage from Patterson earlier, about the NSA surveillance program.

Kurt: How exactly did you crack the Bible verse tattoo? You told me on the phone you picked up the phrase on some chatter. Patterson: You're never this interested in how I solve the tattoos. Kurt: This one points to an off-the-book program being run out of this office, so I need to know what is happening under my watch, and I need to know now. Patterson: Uh, okay. I linked the tattoo database to a secret NSA data collection program. Kurt: Omaha? Nas told me it's very similar to Daylight. Patterson: Daylight on steroids is more accurate. Kurt: So you've been using illegal wiretaps to solve these tattoos? [Patterson is reluctant to say anything] Kurt: [losing his patience] Patterson. Patterson: This was the first one. Kurt: Really? Patterson: I know. It's just I have to use every resource that I have. We're running out of time to figure out what all of this adds up to. Kurt: That is my call to make, not yours. Understand?

This is black and white. For him, this is crossing a line. Greater good is gone, saving the lives this end could meet is gone, hearing out Patterson’s argument is gone. This is wrong to Kurt Weller, and he doesn’t need to think it through.

Okay, now we have the age-old wiki list. Here:

Bravery

Nerve

Chivalry

Courage

Daring

Now, if you ask me, these are all basically synonyms. And I don’t feel like I need to justify that Kurt is brave—the whole team is, they’re fictional FBI agents for crying out loud. They face bomb threats and shootings on the daily. Like…. Yeah, he’s brave. And he does let that bravery guide him, but he also lets his gut do that.

tl;dr: Kurt is a Gryff and I had more to say about him than I thought I did! Also for the record I think he should have less screentime, but no offense.

Finally, god, god, finally, we come to our last core cast member. And protagonist.

Jane is…also hard. Goddammit.

I’m going with Gryffindor, but I’m going to preface this with the fact that because she is reconstructing her identity, a lot of things about her are fluid. In fact, she may well be just modeling Gryffindor because Kurt is a Gryffindor, and he’s the first one she bonded with.

(I’m not going to be including any analysis of Remi, because, like, no thanks. She’s probably either a Gryff or Slytherin, though. Not gonna analyze it. Not gonna.)

Anyway, so. Jane. Literally shows up in a duffel bag in central square. Gets dragged into the FBI. Gets her entire body imaged. Finds out she knows like an entirely new language. Takes down an abusive asshole despite being like mentally 24 hours old. Doesn’t she like, get shot? And shoots a guy dead? And then she decides she wants to stay with the organization who put her through that? Oh yeah, she does.

Kurt: I don't think you were [a terrible person before all this], Jane. Whoever you were then... that's not who you are now. Jane: How do you know? Kurt: Your first instinct is to help people, Jane. Battered wife in Chinatown, Reade after the explosion today. You don't hesitate, you act. And you do the right thing. So, I don't know what it is you're remembering or what the context is. But I do think you're a good person.

She wants to do good, and she does so by immediately charging in and trying to set the problem right head on. Like, okay, the case for Gryffindor is pretty strong right off the bat.

It’s harder to make a case for Jane’s moral intuition, especially because it’s so flexible. A lot of her feelings are I wanna do what’s right but I don’t know what that is or who to trust!!!! Which, like, that’s understandable, babe, you were just popped out from the womb of a revolutionary extremist group into a corrupt facet of the American government. The idea of right is a pretty contentious one.

Like, repeatedly contentious:

Jane: I've seen the laws this country's willing to violate, and all I've seen Sandstorm do is expose corruption and save lives. How can you be so sure we're on the right side of this?

Nas: Look, everything they knew about you is a lie. You've got to give them time to forgive you. Jane: They handed me over to the CIA to be tortured and interrogated without charge or trial. As far as I can tell, this country runs on lies.

Oscar: Your colleagues, the FBI, they're into some very, very terrible things. Jane: No... they're good people and they're my friends. Oscar: Friends don't imprison you.

Part of her entire character is built on the fact that she doesn’t know what’s right, who to believe, and she’s trying to reorient her moral compass. Another part, though, is that that moral compass is a huge part of who she is—so much of her growth is centered around it, because she feels like she needs to determine rights and wrongs for herself. She needs to have her own internal sense of morality—unlike Slytherins or Ravenclaws, she’s not content to just adopt the models of others. That’s why, the moment she learns about choices (and choice is a BIG thing for Jane) she immediately starts to try and apply it to her ethics.

She’s always questioning complications, other people, how they figure out good and evil—

Jane: Her son killed three people and all she wants to do is hug him. Kurt: She got him back. That's all she cares about. Jane: Why haven't you forgiven your father. You know, he didn't - That you were wrong about that night. Kurt: It's more complicated than that. Jane: You always say that, But - Why? What's so complicated? Kurt: He was a terrible father. He was distant. He was drunk. Me being wrong about one night doesn't change any of that. Jane: But he's sick, right? [Weller hangs his head]

And she gets angry if someone takes that autonomy, that ability to determine her own self, away from her.

Kurt: Jane... I'm sorry that I brought you here, all right? I chose this life, you didn't. You never had a choice. Jane: Yes, I did.

Another defining part of who she is is her desire for a home, for a place to belong. She’s so achingly, achingly lonely. God.

Jane: So, the owl is just a personal thing? It didn't come from anywhere else? Because we can't find it referenced anywhere. Did you design it? Ana Montes: No. Jane: Well, do you know who did? Ana Montes: My brother. Jane: I saw in your file that he was killed last year. I'm sorry. Do you live alone now? Me too. It's hard, all that quiet. Ana Montes: I'm used to it. Jane: I'm not.

Damn.

Jane, in Russian: Let me help you. I know what it feels like to be alone and afraid. I was an orphan, too. The worst thing that can happen is not to have a home.

“The worst thing that can happen is not to have a home.”

God, well. Give me five minutes to recover my heart? I forgot how fucking devastating Jane was in S1.

Anyway. She obviously values having a home very highly. But she doesn’t do it like a Hufflepuff or a Slytherin would do it—a Slytherin or Puff would probably stay loyal to the FBI team, and would prioritize the people over the cause.

Jane needs to know that she’s joining the right side. That’s why she’s got so much conflict going on with Oscar and then later Sandstorm—while she loves her FBI team like family, she needs to make sure that she’s on the right side of any war, not just the side that they’re on.

(Gryffindor....)

As for the daring, nerve, courage, yadayadaya…well, the girl just like. Jumps off of fucking balconies and takes on guys five times her size. She was like the only female Navy SEAL. Like. Again, I don’t really think that’s the entire selling point of Gryff, but if you need pure bravery, she’s got it in spades.

tl;dr: I’ve pretty well convinced myself that Jane is a Gryffindor, but if you don’t agree, hit me up! I totally don’t think I’m the end-all-be-all of any of these.

I’m done now, so I should probably, go, like, be a functioning member of society or something.

[jennyhamstercheeks]

(1/1)

Today I learned that people regardless of age and sex, cope differently from one another. Every problem is unique, every heartache is different but they have one thing in common, they hurt.

This pain defines us in two ways, Strong or Weak.

Trust me no one wants to be called weak. If we trace our roots down to our primieval instincts, it is always the weaklings that get left behind and be fed to predators to keep the pack going. The battle for survival dictates that it is a burden to keep the weak.

I remember the morning I’ve been told that I’m very weak. I was crying my heart out on the bedroom floor. I was hoping it was all just a dream. I couldn’t face it.

I was told I was weak because I’m too emotional, because I’m too insecured, because I’m too attached. In other words, I was told I was weak because I wear my heart out on my sleeve.

You know for a while I believed it. Maybe I’m too much. Or maybe I’m not enough. I didn’t know who I was. I lost track of who I am. I tried to fit every standard and every checklist just to gain approval. Whenever I fall short, I was always the one to blame. I was constantly trying to prove my worth that I have already lost my value as a person, as Jenny.

A relationship that started in a wrong way will always end in a wrong way, I’ve always known that and I refused to accept my intuitions. I was scared of the day I would get cheated on because that’s how it all started, that Other Woman label. There were good times. There were also bad times. There were even worse times. Every fear, every precaution, every pressure I put on myself to be number one has led me to the inevitable conclusion that I am bound to be replaced by The Other Woman.

I have lost my light. I wish it was the only problem. I bit more than I could chew for the one I was living with would point a knife at me and hit me in the face for every time arguments blow out of proportion. I remember the first night it ever happened to me. I was on the floor with his housemate, a girl of the same culture as him. He kicked me but he kicked her harder. He was checking our phones until he hit me with mine. He thought I was cheating on him with one of his friends just because the girl introduced me to them and we hang out for a few hours. He didn’t like her because he believes she’s a slut and he judged me with her.

One huge terrible fight always leads to months of peace and harmless arguments until one of us starts to aggravate the other and the next bomb starts to explode. I have experienced getting my hair pulled out and wrestled my way back to the unit because I’ve been kicked out with my things thrown out the door. I’ve experienced being locked out many times and with nothing but house clothes and bare feet. As much as I do my best to fight back, I just end up crying.

And for everytime we exhaust ourselves from anger and killing each other, we would look at one another and end up laughing with guilt for how stupid we acted. It was push and pull, everytime.

If you have read far enough to reach here, I’m sure you’d say the same things others have already told me. I am stupid for staying. I am dumb for putting up with this. I am crazy to think this is normal.

You see, you are correct in most cases but let me enlighten you a bit with my absurd reasons. I was born feisty. I fight with you, I will fight for you. I have invested so much time, attention and effort on this relationship to just walk away. Like I said, I already bit more than I could chew and I swallowed it all in vain. I didn’t want to meet anyone else. I have given him my dignity, that one thing that kept my pride high and my value higher. I will take what I can get from the relationship or what’s left of it because it was the only thing I could hold on to, nothing else.

I sacrificed too much that I revolved my world around it. I let it control my emotions and my motivation. I fought for him even when my parents disapproved because they can already see how much it was taking toll on me. I put it first before my studies. I didn’t study. Not one bit. Some days I would try. Most days I wouldn’t care. I had no focus because my brain wouldn’t stop overthinking of the many possibilities this relationship could go. I was toxic to myself not because I’m too lazy but because I punished myself too much. I punished myself for not being enough.

To be resilient and to hold on inspite the mental, spiritual and emotional exhaustion, I thought I was strong. He didn’t see it as strength, he saw it as weakness. I made the decision to struggle with him no matter what. Yet he chose otherwise. I got left behind. I got eaten by my own demons.

Days have passed and yes, I begged for mercy. No matter what I do or where I go, I had a sense of guilt that I can never enjoy myself without him. Yes, he accepted me. Yes, he said he missed me. Yes, he said he wanted me back. Yes, the new girl was still in the picture. Yes, I am back to where I started, the other woman. The Other Woman. Again. I sat there alone. Something hit me really hard. It felt wrong, in more ways than one. It felt wrong to be back in the same cycle when I could have been free from all these. I didn’t know what it was that hit me. Either my inner conscience or God telling me to give it up.

So I did.

And for the first time in many attempts of breaking up, I didn’t want to go back. I felt lighter, like a heavy load was taken off of my chest.

The feeling of waking up from a coma, not that I ever been in one but like you missed out so much on life because your body has been deep down under for so long. I was learning to walk again.

And as expected, he didn’t take it lightly. It wasn’t my first time seeing a man become so desperate as soon as he sees you moving on. He got triggered after finding out I’m finally going out with someone. I would find him at my doorstep everyday, passively begging. I would find my phone getting flooded by texts and unanswered calls. I would find him saying “I love you” way too much it even hurts my ears. I would find him bringing me food that he was proud to cook. I would find him skipping out from duty just to see me. I would find him crying then vomiting from too much anxiety. I would find him being too much of a puppy. All those, out of the fear of losing me. All those, I have wished he had done before we ever fell apart. There will always be care. Sadly, when you lose trust, you lose everything. I didn’t believe in any of it anymore. I couldn’t let him lick my wounds. People only work harder when they are close to death penalty. As hard as I pushed him away, the angrier he had become. And once again, I hit his fuse. My face was bruised. This time with so much witnesses. We ended up at the Police station that night. My mind was telling me to push the case against him but my heart and his friends begged to let it go because he is graduating soon. I wasn’t happy with how it ended let alone did I ever fathom we would reach this point. It is what it is and I have made a decision to leave who we were, in that four walls of confinement.

So with no choice, I moved forward, one step at a time. In all honesty, starting back at zero is very difficult but not impossible. I lost so many people. The ones good for having fun, all disappeared on me. One misunderstanding. One judgement. They proved the kind of people they are. I am okay with it. I didn’t even realize I missed out on my childhood friends, the ones who have been there with me since day one. They always tell me positive things, to move forward with maturity rather than try to make me bitter by bashing him and his new girlfriend like most people around me do. I spent more time contacting them. I opened up to my mother. Of course she was hurt. Her one and only child fell down but I guess all that tough love paid off. You see, my mother is a tiger and she doesn’t let me be a burden to anyone, to her, even to myself. I think the nicest thing she has ever told me was that I am stronger than her. My dad, the one I look up to, cried for me. That’s a grown ass man right there but quite frankly, I’ve seen him emotional quite a few times and mostly because of me. I also think that’s one thing that makes him a man of honor. He is not afraid to show his soft side.

About the man I met out of the misadventures, he reminded me how it is to truly treat a lady; to be gentle and kind. It surely is a no brainer to have such qualities for a man but I have honestly forgotten that there are still guys out there with chivalry. Most of all, he thought me that it is very important to be friends before anything because that way you can build a foundation for respect. He drinks hard and party hard but he prays harder and takes good care of his family. You can truly never judge about someone's character regardless of the religion until you've seen him in his element and see the things that he values. For that, I continue to pray for him and his family's well being. I don’t know if I will ever cross paths with him again but I am thankful God introduced him even for a short time.

And as more days passed by, I am slowly remembering who I am before all these madness happened. I remembered how much I like to dance. I remembered how giddy I get when it comes to adventures. I remembered how loud I laugh and how hideous I sound like. I remembered I have a bad habit of cracking up during the worst of situations. I remembered listening to screamo and metal music because deep down inside I am quite the hardcore type. I remembered how much I love to write poems, essays and articles and here I am typing another long one. I remembered enjoying making fun of people especially of myself, because I’m too confident and I like my flaws just the way they are. The small nose, double eyebags, fat cheeks, flat chest and flat feet. I liked myself too much to be even bothered by people who want me to be someone I’m not.

All of these qualities, nothing changed, just forgotten. It’s like driving skills. It may take you years to drive again but once you are on the wheel, you know everything like at the back of your head. And I learned, I am still me. I may have lost my way but I haven’t lost myself. I realized I wasn’t even destroyed. I can never be destroyed. No one is. Every person in this planet is indestructible, some are just afraid to face the truth. I learned that I am as caring as a mother can ever be. I have what it takes to hold a relationship and for that I surely have what it takes to keep a family together.