end of rambling

It’s been a while since I’ve watched Miraculous Ladybug but I came across a cover of the theme song on YouTube and I am honestly falling in love with the show all over again

i just had a thought about how cars 3 could possibly end (just my own personal thought/theory/whatever)

like, basically, cruz ends up going into racing instead at the end, becomes the first female racecar in the games, and lightning, like doc did for him, ultimately ends up becoming her crew chief, like when he does retire finally, i feel like the movie would end with lightning finally retiring the same way the king did, but when or if he does, puts cruz in his place instead and decides to help her train.

i dont know, i just feel like it would be a fitting end to the franchise. lightning ends up following in doc’s tiretracks in more ways than one. 

also i feel like certain cars can be made into racecars/given the needed parts to be one sO

So, 2016 in summary in case anyone missed it:

  • Donald Trump becomes President of the United States
  • Murder clowns hide in the forest and jump out at cars
  • Alan Rickman, Muhammad Ali, Prince, and David Bowie all die
  • Brexit
  • A Gorilla is killed at the Cincinnati zoo which blows up from a rage fest and then into a full-out meme. Said gorilla claims over 14,000 votes in the US Presidential Election.
  • Ash Ketchum kisses a girl
  • Vine gets shut down
  • The cursed baseball team who hasn’t won a World Series in over 100 years wins the World Series
  • Lightning McQueen dies
10

do you know that (8/8) : bts edition

thinking about it, this week’s episode did a lot to dispel any remaining fear i had about a power imbalance or ulterior motives in victor and yuuri’s relationship, and it’s basically because of one line.

because remember, we’ve only very recently started to hear victor’s internal dialogue, and it told us crucially here that this is exactly what victor was doing. not because of any malicious intent, sure; he was genuinely trying to help yuuri, and based on his own experiences, an extreme ultimatum like the one he presented to yuuri was the best that he could come up with. nonetheless, it was designed to manipulate yuuri in a way, to motivate him, to snap him out of his stress. 

and the thing is, even in a very well done story, that’s what we might reasonably have expected to happen: yuuri, filled with a new drive not to lose victor, someone he admires immensely, as his coach/friend/partner, delivers a stunning performance and all is resolved. that’s just how the trope seems to go.

instead, yuuri immediately sees through what victor was doing, recognizes it as out of character for victor’s coaching style and how he treats yuuri in general, and calls him the fuck out on it, because yeah, that’s unhealthy, it’s not okay, and yuuri knows it, knows that he’s in and deserves a relationship with mutual honesty and respect. 

regardless of his anxiety, his insecurities, this is not a relationship where yuuri is on thin ice, and it’s lovely to see.

2

When they’ve got him in the interrogation room every officer seems to have the same question; was it worth it? With all that happened, with how it turned out, the years of drunken revelry, the constant media attention, the heists, the hubris, the way it ended in a bloodbath the likes of which Los Santos has never seen. This is your legacy Ramsey, was it worth it?

They ask like his answer means anything, ask like they even care what he thinks, ask like they don’t think he feels anything at all. They ask like it wasn’t his plans that brought him here. Like it wasn’t his plans the led to six body bags and a single pair of handcuffs, a room full of tactless officers and a kingpin with no one left to call crew. They ask like can’t help themselves from asking.

Was it worth it?



There’s never a serious discussion, no big heart to heart, but there’s no escaping the fact that the Fake’s all know they are dying in slow motion. More or less signed their own death certificate’s years ago, living on stolen time, and sooner or later they’ll find themselves in the ground.

They took Los Santos by storm and defended it with their lives. With each others lives. Have sacrificed themselves and the ones they love to a city that takes no prisoners. They fought hard for their crown, and kept on fighting every single day to succeed, to profit, to reaffirm themselves as the city’s biggest bads. They knew that they would only be unstoppable until they aren’t. Until the day they fall, and eventually they must fall.  

Even after all the years of action, all the blood, sweat and tears they’ve poured into this empire, everyone knows there is no such thing as retirement for the Fake AH Crew; for all they’ve already trained their own successors the frontrunners of the reigning crew in Los Santos will never be allowed to simply step down and move aside when their time is over. Between old enemies and constant rivals, members of law enforcement and anyone simply looking to boost their own reputation, there are countless numbers who would hunt them to the ends of the earth. Everyone knows, one way or another, the FAHC is going out bloody.

And by god, did they go out bloody.



The Fake’s die halfway through the afternoon on a Tuesday. What a fucking inconsequential day right? They were owed a Friday at the very least, were meant to go out past midnight, meant to go out in a blaze of glory. They were meant to go out all together. They weren’t meant to go out at all.  

The wheels fell off weeks before, a series of questionable jobs and public fights, a level of disorder totally out of line with the crew’s trademark cohesion. Rumour has it they were rife with in-fighting. Rumour has it after all this time the cracks were finally showing. Its easy, afterwards, to read into the events that came before, to manufacture clues, to swear the writing was on the wall for anyone to see. In reality no one saw it coming. In reality the whole damn city was taken by surprise.

Maybe they bit off more than they could chew, maybe they were distracted, out of sync, or maybe it was just the inevitable finally catching up with them but in the end the Fake’s wind up in a firefight they aren’t winning. After endless years of near misses and close calls, of lucky runs and brilliant timing, after thousands of impossible victories, the FAHC finally lost.

To lose like this, picked off one by one, powerless to save themselves, to save each other, must have been their worst nightmare. With every body on the ground those left only grew more furious, more reckless, lose whatever feeble grasp on self-preservation they ever had, throwing away any possibility of retreat in favour of retribution. It wasn’t enough.

In the end the only one left breathing on either side is Ramsey. The scene finally gone still, silent, the echoes of screams and gunfire fading away into a shivery stunned kind of shock. They say Ramsey’d fallen to his knees amongst the grime, iconic suit near indistinguishable under all the dirt and ash, the blood of men and women who thought they’d live forever. He kneels there in silence while sirens grow ever louder, makes no move to flee, doesn’t even look up from bodies as cars scream to a stop around him.

The messed up thing, the really fucked up part? They say Ramsey was laughing by the time the police got there. Say he stood and brushed himself off, surrounded by the bodies of those he claimed family, drenched sickly red while his empire lay in ruins, and laughed. And god doesn’t that confirm what everyone’s always thought, doesn’t that just prove he always was a monster. Never cared for anyone, for anything, not really. People used to say the one thing Geoff loved was his crew but it seems Ramsey’s cold-blooded ruthlessness won out in the end.



In the fallout of a travesty, of a victory, of an unexpected bloodbath, in a stark grey room faced with a distressingly apathetic villain, in circumstances none could have predicted, all the detectives seem capable of asking is if it was worth it in the end. They ask and ask and Ramsey’s answer never changes, his cold smirk never fades, so calm and unconcerned they catch him glancing at the clock, as though he’s bored. As though even now he’s got somewhere better to be. And still, full of horrified disbelief, they have to ask.

Was it worth it? Yes. Was it worth it? Always. Knowing what you know now, knowing how it ends, how they all go down for you, would you do it all again? Every damn time. Surely you have regrets, you had to know one day it would end like this.  

Oh baby, who says it’s over?



It comes together as a joke more than anything, the cumulation of too many late nights followed by too many bad movies. Their last job was tense, a heist with months of preparations and so much on the line, and while they’ve certainly celebrated their victory like royalty they didn’t come away unscathed. The injuries, numerous though mostly minor, serve to once again remind them all how lucky they’ve been so far. How most don’t make it nearly this many years without tragedy, couldn’t be in the game this long, let alone running the game this long without signing up for devastation. How losing a member, to outright death or crippling injury, is without a doubt only a matter of time at this point. How such a loss will be so much worse in this ridiculously close-knit crew than any they’d experienced before.

Sobering thoughts, combined with the difficulties of winding down after endless weeks of  stress eventually leads to the discussion they never have, the question of what else they could be doing with their lives, what choices brought them here, what they would do if they could just step out, sign off, retire. It’s not that they’re bored of this life they’ve built – how could they be when the world is their oyster – but there’s no denying the fact that after all this time terrorising Los Santos doesn’t quite thrill them like it used to.

If you’d asked any of them ten, five, hell even two years ago they’d have scoffed at the idea of ever retiring, would have sworn up and down that they wanted to go down in flames, to end with a bang, and at the time they meant it. At the time it was true. It still is, in a way, they’ll probably always see something dreadfully appealing in going out on top, but with every passing year it’s harder and harder to look at a room full of people they love and consider playing a role in their deaths. Every time they get hurt it takes a little longer to heal, the old aches and pains are becoming more prominent, and their ever growing patchwork of scars have started looking less badge of honour than they do morbid countdown. Obviously they’ve still got it, still in their prime enough to keep their crown, but between age and gratuitous injury, time is creeping up on them all.

The Fake’s used to joke about the end, said whoever lasted longest won, got to make off with the fortunes, live like a king, but that reality isn’t quite so funny anymore. The idea of surviving, of being left behind with nothing but cold hard cash and heyday memories is enough to make them physically ill. So maybe retiring doesn’t seem quite so unappealing anymore.

Maybe a passing comment way too late at night, after far too much mixing of alcohol and pain meds, in the spirit of some dumb con movie they’d all been heckling, was enough to plant an idea. A ridiculous, unrealistic, completely unattainable idea, but still an idea nonetheless. They’re all a bit hung up on it, still joking, still assuring one another that they aren’t serious, but still bringing it up all the same, running through all the possibilities.

It would take far more than simply disappearing; they have too much wealth and notoriety, have far too many enemies, the world is simply too easy a place to comb through these days. People, at least the vast majority of people, would have to be convinced not to come looking. Convinced there was nothing to look for, nothing to track, would have to think the absent members of the Fake AH Crew were in the one place no one could ever reach them.

There are ways, of course, to feign death. For those with the right contacts, with endless money and enough resources, there are ways to trick the body into something close enough to pass, at least for a time. But even then it’s not so simple; there must be witnesses, there must be evidence, crook and cop alike must be sure. Of course with a public death comes increased risk- it wouldn’t do to go so far in their act that appearances became reality, to go to such lengths to imitate death only to wind up that way regardless. Somehow, someone’s going to have to play guardian, prevent anyone’s corpse from catching a stray bullet to the brain, or jerking back to life too late with guts already laid out on an autopsy table. Someone has to be ready to whisk them all away, and who do any of them trust more than the man they’ve been following all these years. The boss they’d die for. The boss they will die for.

They don’t talk about it, because no one wants to admit it might be happening, no one wants to burst the bubble, to invite reality to rush in and crush the unbelievable thought that the Fake’s might get a happy ending, but at some point they stop laughing. At some point they each quietly start getting all their ducks in a row, using their free time to organise their affairs.

No one questions the way Geoff and Jack have started having day-long meetings with the support crew in-between jobs, the way Lindsay’s spending far more of her time recruiting than ever before, the way Gavin’s taking calls at all hours of the day, rarely in english, clearly haggling over something. They don’t wonder why all their money is getting moved around, why Ryan and Michael are busy collecting all outstanding debts while Jeremy and Ray are plotting the layout of the police station, the morgue.

It’s all happening on the down low, all behind business as usual, but eventually, after nearly a year of quiet organisation, they are just about ready to disappear. All that’s left is the bang, the flashy smoke and mirrors, the hook to stop anyone coming after them, anyone even thinking to track them down. One final step, one last decision to make, a choice they must commit to as one or not at all. All they’ve got left to do is die.



Over the years the Fake AH Crew has grown exponentially but the original elements have never drifted apart, never gone looking for something else or turned on one another. The crew has flourished, become a full blown empire, but nothing can touch the unity of the innermost members, as strong now as it have ever been. For all their loyal familiarity was mocked back in the day, for all their closeness was seen as a weakness, after all these years it seems only death itself will seperate them now. If they had the chance to evade their own mortality one last time, to get out, to be free, would they make the leap?



The Fake’s die halfway through the afternoon on a Tuesday. Pattillo, the Vagabond, Mogar and the Golden Boy, Little J and Brownman, but not the boss. Well not on paper anyway – any who knew them must know Ramsey’d never recover from the loss. Any who didn’t just know the LSPD took seven bodies away that day and none of them ever came back. It’s not a stretch to assume Ramsey’s survival was a rumour. To believe it wishful thinking, to say he died at the scene or died at the station, delayed injury or the cops cleaning up the last loose thread of the group who’d made their lives living hell for years.

There’s paperwork out there, somewhere, claiming a different story. A report that barely makes a lick of sense, the sworn record that a kingpin arrived in chains and left with corpses, slipped out of his cell like he was never there, without a hint as to how he got free. He disappeared like smoke, not a trace left behind, and none of the seven alive or dead ever resurfaced. The story is embarrassing, inexplicable, and it reflects badly enough on the LSPD that it is quickly buried.

Even if it hadn’t been there are few who would believe it. Few who could believe for even a moment that Ramsey could walk free and not be with the last of his crew, that he would let another run his empire, run his city, if he was in any way capable of preventing it. No, however it went down Ramsey did not survive. It’s fitting, really. No one can live forever and the OG Fake’s were certainty pushing their luck, had been pushing it for years; a crew that close should go out together.



The Fall of the Fake AH Crew isn’t much of a fall, in the end. The seemingly inevitable power vacuum one would expect following the death of the group who’d been running the city for endless years never comes. It shouldn’t be possible but even after the most devastating loss imaginable the the FAHC isn’t toppled from their throne. They restructure almost overnight; many of the oldest, original members of the support crew bow out, disappear on the wind without a trace, but there are more than enough left behind to fill their shoes. It’s almost perfect, almost unbelievable, some of support shuffling into the spotlight while still more unknown faces are revealed to boost their ranks. Their ability to keep their enemies at bay during the turmoil is impressive enough, but it’s the absence of internal conflicts that is truely boggling; there are no betrayals or executions, no public power plays or jealous feuds, somehow the city’s most scrutinised gang managed to completely restructure after the loss of not just their leader but all their key members without a single hitch. Almost like they were ready, like it was planned.



If the Fake’s had the chance to stay together, to start over somewhere else, stop waiting for the day one of them inevitably doesn’t make it home, but in return they had to step away from the action, give up everything they’d built, hand if off to legacy and fade out into legend, would it be worth it?

Apparently, yes. For all of them, from the moment the possibility arises, throughout every conversation, every debate and consideration, with everything they will lose, with everything they stand to gain, every goddamn time without fail, yes.



Somewhere out there, worlds away from Los Santos, a man sits on a private beach. He isn’t armed with anything more than a beer, there are no weapons, he simply sits upon the sand enjoying the breeze. There’s a woman to his right, sunbathing, a man to his left doing the same; golden tans make their startling number of scars stand out in stark relief but the heat of the sun does wonders for stubborn pains. At the shoreline old friends are knocking shoulders, bumping each other nearer and nearer to the water, not quite rough-housing like little boys but they’re getting close, voices rising on the wind.

The single house behind them is huge and noisy, full of music and chatter, full of monsters and overgrown children, the most loyal humans the man has ever had the honour of knowing. In a brief moment of silence sound from the television drifts down to the beach, an American news anchor reporting the latest infraction of some criminal organisation in a far away city; the house cheers and kicks back into a merry roar. Down by the water there is a betrayal, a splash and screeching protest as one winds up in the waves against his will. Safe on the sand, without a trouble in the world, the man laughs.

“Sherlock Holmes is in love, but with who?”

We all knew it was coming, we have been watching and waiting for it for years, but to see it actually happening still somehow feels a little….overwhelming? Like, we knew it was gonna happen, but WOW IT’S ACTUALLY HAPPENING, what are we supposed to do with ourselves right now??? What are we supposed to do when we’re on the cusp of getting everything we’ve ever asked for?

i recently realized that it doesn’t matter how long you’ve known someone. sometimes the people that you thought might never leave you, end up leaving you. and it can leave you feeling confused, hurt, angry, bitter, and maybe even resentful. but you can’t let that stop you from making connections with other people and opening yourself up to others. sometimes, even though it can be hard, you have to stop focusing on the past and what could’ve been. sometimes, you have to focus on the present and future; what is, and what could be.   

4

Anonymous said to skamz:Your untold scenes are literally the best thank you :)) would you consider writing about what happened after the almost kiss like how even left after seeing noora and what isak was thinking the whole weekend before seeing even at his locker? - aah, tysm anon!!! :))))

this is how the whole almost kiss happened, i think. and then this ( first 2 pictures above) is where they left us. it was really intense, coming so close after all that time and being so abruptly interrupted. but for a minute or so, isak doesn’t think about what just happened, because isak is still at a stage where he only lets himself be with even when they’re by themselves. noora being there is like a splash of cold water on the face

and what happens after the scene is probably noora telling him that she’s back from london now. and her looking at even who’s behind isak and isak once again snapping back to reality and introducing them to each other. ”this is…even” he doesn’t say more than that. even is even. that’s all he can let himself say for now. and maybe even’s thinking “who is this pretty girl, and who is she in relation to isak?” it’s obvious for us that noora has never ever been a love interest for isak. but even has no idea. and from the look on his face, i think he might’ve wondered for a second? he looks at her and then at isak, and he looks like he wants answers. from even’s pov, the road leading up to that moment, that almost kiss, was full of obstacles. he doesn’t want another one 

and even is probably relieved when he finds out she’s the girl who used to live here and left to live with her own boyfriend in london. even actually ends up feeling for her because he quickly can tell that being back is not what she wanted, and she seems upset (he tells isak the next day that he hopes she’s okay). and then i think even is really nice to her, and asks if they can help her with her suitcase or something, and she thanks him and tells him it’s fine. and then isak and even end up alone, once again

but it’s too late to just go back to what they were doing. they’re not a couple who’s just been interrupted by a friend and can simply go back to being affectionate. reality just hit them. they actually need some sort of steady build up before their fist kiss. they need to build that little bubble around themselves. and it’s not going to happen tonight. their feelings for each other are still there, but the bubble burst. the kiss won’t happen tonight

we know that isak ends up staying home and doesn’t go to the party. i don’t think even stayed for too long. but that’s when they exchange numbers because the next day is when they first text each other. even is probably next to the door and putting on his jacket and he’s about to leave when he asks isak “we should hang out tomorrow, like last week. that was…chill. what do you think?” and isak is silent for a second before quickly nodding and saying “yeah. yeah, we should do that.” and even gives him a little smile and teasingly tells him “it’d be a good idea for us to have each other’s number, right?” 

and so they exchange numbers. and that’s when even leaves. and isak lets out the biggest sigh, like he can’t believe what just happened. but last week’s heartache when they got interrupted because sonja arrived at even’s place isn’t there this time. isak is still confused, but he’s more hopeful. because he now knows that even wanted to kiss him. he can hold on to that fact, at least subconsciously 

the next day, isak is pretty eager to text even. he’s actually making that first step (3rd picture above), asking even if he wants to hang out like he said yesterday. however, even tells him he has plans with sonja today. and i think it’s important to understand that at that point even is not trying to play with isak’s feelings. this is pretty difficult and confusing for even, too. we’re still supposed to see him as completely sure of what he’s doing and there are definitively moments when even tells himself i’m doing this, and is pretty certain, but also other moments when he hesitates. because it’s not just easy, giving up on his relationship with sonja, letting himself be known, taking that risk. i can’t dump sonja 

but isak doesn’t know about even’s inner conflict. so he’s just. disappointed and, once again, confused and wondering what even’s deal is (4th picture above). that happens saturday morning, and i think it’s isak’s mindset for the weekend, up until the next day when even texts him a random meme in the evening. and then isak knows that even is not fully avoiding him, but when isak asks him if he’s had a good weekend, even doesn’t reply. so, once again, a bit of confusion. but the hope isn’t fully gone. i think it’s clear in isak’s mind that there is something between the two of them. it’s small, but it’s there, it’s established. but the ball is in even’s court, and isak is not going to make another step before even makes one (isak is not there yet) so even will have to do just that 

and even does, the next day, by asking isak if he’s going to the halloween party and proposing that they pre-drink together 

I’m actually about to cry. If there is one thing Teen Wolf will never fail at is showing us just how much these characters have grown together? The amount of love and devotion they each have? How they all so desperately want to risk their lives to save one person. The entire town is being erased and they still want to save this one goofy boy whom they all love and adore. How Lydia’s love for him breaks the barrier of a supernatural rift. How Scott who has no banshee-like powers can still remember his best friend, his brother. How none of them fully remember him yet, but Malia still knows he’s her anchor. How the Sheriff was able to conjure up his son’s old room in his mind

The McCall Pack will forever be the best ragtag misfits turned-to-friends group there ever was. <3