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?
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.
it worth it?
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
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.
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.
by god, did they go out bloody.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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
baby, who says it’s over?
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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?
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.
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.
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
it is well known that adam lanza was quite interested in video game dance dance revolution. he frequented the amc theater located in danbury, connecticut, where he played the game so much, he became known as “ddr boy.”
darren price, an employee at the theater, recalled one time he wanted to play. he had to put a token in the game in order to let adam know that he wanted a turn to play. instead of giving it up completely, adam let the employee play together with him.
in april 2011, adam started playing ddr with a girl who became known as “ddr girl” and another guy. adam would go to the theater every weekend and play from eight to ten hours at a time. sometime later in 2011, there was a snowstorm which caused adam not to go to the theater. he came back in february 2012, but had stopped playing with ddr girl and the other boy.
the last interaction price had with adam was in august or september of 2012. adam was coming back from the restroom after cleaning himself of sweat. price asked him if he was okay and adam responded with “i just don’t want to go home now.” price noticed that adam had a large bruise on his arm and offered him $20 so he could keep playing. adam accepted and continued to play until the manager of the theater had to unplug the game in order to get him to leave.
the iplier problematic fav: why u like them (analyzed)
damn, that edgy manipulative stuff really got you. you want a guy who can 100% keep things on the dl, but conspire with at the same time. maybe feeling a new rush of uncontrollability is something you like, or prefer the control to be in another's hands. there's a power they have that you envy to have.
the guy may be blind be he knows more about you than yourself. literature is appealing, a way one could manipulate words escapes you, or you admire it. There's a certain mystery that lingers, but it won't faze you.
the bubbly murder, his every reaction invites for response. carefree, yet troubled. you can relate, yet may not undersrand why. or maybe you just like pastel. an innocence that lies hidden or is broadcast far and wide, with something else always underneath
you want control. maybe you lack it. orders and commands appeal to you. they aren't necessarily witty, or sassy, but you know their response to a conflict will be neat and swift. no more and no less. organization is a must, regardless. there's the hint of evil that shows through, but you know in essence, it's harmless.
the man has courtesy. he may not see it in every perspective, but it's there. you want someone more honest and blantant, but choosy with their words. there's a hint of compassion in what they do that you envy.
he's got the enthusiasm. a bit confident, some might even say overzealous. sees their own importance, or what they can bring to the table. what do you want? pretty much all of that.
finally, someone who might even yearn for you. a trait that shows unending care, with the cost of possibly too much attention, but that wouldn't matter to you. always gets what they want, no matter what.
he's got some sly wit, and you know they can make you laugh. possibly too honest, but satirical at the same time, their responses lack direction. maybe you know there's character in there, willing to share what they know. adventurous, maybe, and even enjoys a thrill.
their dry yet snarky comments add to a conversation. they've got facts, who know if they're true. you know the duo comes as a package, and you're willing to accept full force their attitudes, even if they are somewhat solemn
@yourpinkpill - ummm, the source of not only the best jikook gifs, but all gifs???? i absolutely love them and i love seeing them on my dashboard!! thEYRE AMAZING AND DESERVE ALL THE LOVE (imagine how hard it must be to make such perfect gifs?)
@wingstyles - kjdkksd i love their blog so much they’re absolutely hilarious!!! i have no idea how they come up with their text posts (a robot? yeah probably a robot) and sometimes i spend so long just scrolling through their blog… I LOVE THEM SO MUCH IT PHYSICALLY HURTS
@trashywickie - their fake subs give me life??? they’re always so hilarious and they always manage to make my day!!!! like i totally recommend following them. not only do they post those amazing subs, but they also do really good analyses from time to time!!!!
@mintsugakookies - the u l t i m a t e jikook blog. if u arent following them then wyd?? (lmao jk.) they also post lots of jikook gifs and they’re great and they write fanfiction, too!!! overall, i recommend, 11/10, i die whenever i go to their blog so….
@tanktoptiger@harunyany - more wonderful jikook gif makers!!!!!! tanktoptiger’s text posts (though they aren’t jikook) make me laugh so hard skfjksdf. and then there’s the amazing harunyany whose blog is… like, goals. (its not fair.)
@jikookdetails - i can literally always count on them to notice every single detail (as their url implies, lmao). like, they’re a god. thats some top tier stuff right there that they’re doing, im telling you. gifs are amazing, and they’re blog goals.
@bkayl - another one of those jikook blogs where if you’re not following them…. u good? lmao jk. their analyses are great all the time and i frequently visit them when i need my daily dose of jikook. they’re probably one of the blogs that actually got me into jikook in the first place
As left wing Jewish activists invested in de-centering Ashkenazi identity, we need to work on how that’s defined in the first place, and how it fits into anti racism work. We can’t be distracted into thinking that there’s a one-to-one relationship with whiteness and ashkenazi-ness; after all, do Ashkenazi Jews know actual Ashkenazi history? Do we study Yiddish, for example? Do we know the history of the Jewish Labor Bund? Or does our history simply play out when we eat pastrami at Katz’s deli?
When combatting ashkenazi-centricness, we should also be combatting this lack of identity, this notion of bland whiteness of Ashkenazi Jews; because it is precisely in these identities, and our connection to these specific histories, that valuable sources of Jewish Resistance can be found, since ashkenazi identity is something that Jews were forced to give up in order to assimilate into white supremacy. We affirm the solidarity between Ashkenazi and Sephardi and Mizrahi and Romaniote Jews through our uniqueness. Our histories and languages may vary, but our fights converge.
But we need to be cognizant of the ways in which Jewish activism can erase specific identities by focusing broadly on religion or on Hebrew, for example, in an effort for us all to unite.
Terfs like yourself aren't feminists. You just echo the misogynistic rhetoric that women are walking vaginas
If you think recognizing a person as female, with all the biological and social baggage that comes with that, and that acknowledging that female oppression comes from patriarchal control over our bodies in order to control our reproductive abilities, is “seeing women as walking vaginas”, you’ve completely failed in your feminist analysis. I can’t help your critical thinking, all I can do is keep applying my critical skills to material reality and lived experiences.
If saying a woman has a vulva “reduces” her in any way to you, it seems to me that you are the misogynist, not me. Women are whole and complete beings, often taken advantage of, raped, forcibly impregnated, maligned for not having children or for having them, and treated like our bodies are methods of validation or prizes to be won. Recognizing that female bodies like mine exist and that we have commonalities is hardly reductive and hardly takes away from our personhood, unless you believe that a vagina (and notice how you only refer to the portion of our genitalia that can be penetrated? How reductive) is somehow demeaning.
You can think whatever you like. It’s just fundamentally useless to female liberation. I hope that your strengths and interests are elsewhere.
Would you consider just scheduling posts rather than posting whenever you have something? So when you aren't in the mood to play there's something still going out for your followers? Im just curious as to why you post in bursts (not that im complaining I put on notifs for when you post)
1. I post in bursts becuase I like to make stories. Instead of posting four things every day and it taking three days to show a birthday party, I’d rather show the entire party in one night, that way my followers can follow along, rather than have to go back and check.
2. I play things out of order some times. (for example Louis and Mariposa have already moved back in with Adrientte but im still deciding what to do with Piper before she gets sent under cover.)
3. I already put a lot of time and effort into this blog running it the way I do, and setting up a regular posting schedule would just turn something fun into something needlessly stressful. This is my chill blog, that I go to when I want to relax <3
♈ aries: if the clouds cover the sky, then the sun never rose. crawl back under the covers. time has less meaning than it did before. if it had any less meaning it would be real.
♉ taurus: close the umbrella. you will get wet anyway. open the umbrella. you will get struck by lightning anyway. avoid rubber boots. they will protect you, but then what was the point?
♊ gemini: splash in puddles the way you did as a child, with reckless abandon, childish glee, and no fear of pneumonia. tomorrow, they will not be here. tomorrow, neither will “you”.
♋ cancer: it’s raining, grab your umbrella. nevermind, it’s snowing. nevermind, it’s hailing. the cuter it is the less it will help, but the happier you will be.
♌ leo: you will wake to the soft melody of rain tapping on your window. you needn’t look. keep you eyes closed. don’t focus on the sound. deep in your heart, you should know by now it isn’t the rain.
♍ virgo: bright yellow galoshes! what are those? who knows! but you wear them anyway. it is the uniform. and endless battle against the outdoors, that only ever has wanted in.
♎ libra: is it raining or is it…simply wet? don’t look up, but it’s always been this way. don’t question it. things will start to unravel. your fingers prune. you have already begun.
scorpio: dry, dry skin. it hurts. you catch the rain in your hands, but everything still feels dry. no lesson, just pain.
♐ sagittarius: hate the rain all you want, it will still love you. loving it won’t stop it either, that would only encourage it. try a restraining order.
capricorn: curl up with a book in the windowsil, a mug of something hot, and the rain pounding at the window. it is peaceful, isn’t it? it’s practically picturesque. people look at you strangely. no one actually does this
aquarius: drink from the puddles. or don’t that’s unsanitary. but find a way to drink from them. in a weird, metaphoric way.
♓ pisces:when raindrops race down the window, watch them with amusement. don’t pay attention to the prophecies of destruction and loss they foretell. it is not for you to read.
Hey, I hope these aren't stupid or obvious questions but I've just been curious about the Novak siblings in your au. How many of them are there, what's the age order, and are any of them adopted? (You can ignore me if this dumb or I'm asking for a lot. I love your art work by the way!!!! You're so talented❤️)
not stupid or obvious at all! haha I don’t mind repeats of questions the AU has been going on since 2015 so it’s reasonable that some people don’t get all the info that i’ve answered int he past!
Gabe, Balthazar, Anna, Jimmy and Cas are one set of Novak siblings! Oldest to youngest in that order (haven’t really settled on an age yet but they’re between that ages of 30-40), Cas is the baby of the family uwu
Michael and Luci of course as siblings and cousins to Cas
Gadreel’s another cousin so is Raphael
Scary Naomi is a distant Novak aunt
There are some other angels that do pop up but they’re not all Novaks, I haven’t thought much beyond these characters tho but that’s the gist of it!
Note, this is only the Obi stuff because I’m short on time and severely biased~ Below is the very beginning…then skips to the end when Obi comes back. In between is Izana doing king stuffs and the twins resolving things with Zen.
I’ll try to add a few other good parts over the weekend. As usual, please forgive my over-summarization and frequent butchering of subject/topics~
「Post War Management 」
オビ「Well then, Master and everyone, see you a little later. Take care. I’m out of here.」
ゼン「Well then, I’ve returned to the palace 」
ゼン「Obi told me if he did not return to go meet with Shikito. I can’t stand making vacation plans, I’m going to pick him up」
オビ「Did you call me Master?」
ゼン「…Have you just arrived?」
オビ「Nope. Honestly I returned yesterday but…」
ミツヒデ「Please excuse us Zen」
木々「We agreed with his opinion that we should tell you after everything was over.」
オビ「Why do you think? You are in the castle now right? The pharmacy director could use some help in the library.」
木々「We had Shikito put his arrangements in order and come here when the news of the resolution was received from Sereg.」
ミツヒデ「We were thinking about going there to greet them. Zen, would you like to go? Zen?」
Hiii 💓💓💓💓💓 Idon't mean to bother you, but I'm new to the fandom and I figured you were the main blogger? I think? Anyway could you recommend some art blogs that are mostly les mis centered?? Also thank you for that Ferre Teacher AU, I love it💓💓💓💓💓💓💓
Aw “main blogger”, anon ;-; ♥ Believe me, I’m way better at sharing other people’s content than my own. Bless your soul, though ♥
As for the list, I’m sure I’ll forget some people, so i’ll update it as I come across other names, so be sure to check it again in a few days ;)