these aren't in order by the way

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.


take me from the dark


dance dance revolution

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)
  • Darkiplier: 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 Author/Host: 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.
  • Wilford Warfstache: 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
  • Googleplier: 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.
  • Dr. Iplier: 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.
  • Bim Trimmer: 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.
  • Yandereplier: 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.
  • Ed Edgar: 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.
  • Jim(s): 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

anonymous asked:

Do you have any favorite jikook blogs?

ohoho i have so many but heRE WE GO

@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  👀

and so many others like @mimibtsghost, @parkdatassjiminie, @chim-n-kookie, @pkjjm, @caughtinjimin, @hellosempai1, @staycute1234, and sO MANY MORE I WISH I COULD LIST AND WRITE A PARAGRAPH ABOUT BUT THIS POST HAS ALREADY GOTTEN SO LONG AND I SINCERELY LOVE EVERY SINGLE BLOG ON HERE EQUALLY N THEYRE AMAZING <33333


first & last appearances 

Wartime Starters
  • "We have no choice. We have to go in there."
  • "Forged by fire, we are united in one cause!"
  • "We fight for our homes. We fight for our freedom. We fight for very survival."
  • "War never solved anything. It only makes life more miserable for everyone."
  • "We must delve into the darkness. Sometimes bad things have to be done for the good."
  • "Do you even hear yourself? What happened to you?"
  • "I'm not letting you go. They'll kill you."
  • "You want to do what? No. That's suicide."
  • "No, don't let practicality get in the way."
  • "We can do this. I know we can."
  • "Stand firm! We can take them!"
  • "I think we found your inner mad scientist."
  • "I can still smell it, you know. I can't forget that smell."
  • "We go in and hit them hard. They'll never know what happened."
  • "All we have to do is last the night. Reinforcements will come in the morning."
  • "We're going to win this one, aren't we?"
  • "Hey! Hey! Stay with me. Don't you fall asleep yet."
  • "Does anyone know we're here?"
  • "There's no damn reason why we're out here. We're all just killing one another."
  • "This is going to be a one way trip, isn't it?"
  • "How is any of this going to change anything?"
  • "We have to stop them here. We're the last line of defense."
  • "Does it matter what my gender is or the color of my skin? We're all dead if we don't win."
  • "I take orders from no man."
  • "We could run, you know."
  • "There's no such thing as bomb proof."
  • "Am I the last one?"
  • "Hope? There's no hope here."
  • "We aren't going to be able to tell who is who out there."
  • "Can we move through this fog?"
  • "I'm no hero. I just did my job."
  • "I don't know about you, but I expect to get out of this alive and in one piece."

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.

anonymous asked:

But I have male cishet friends who aren't assholes and respect women and non-binary peeps?????

why are you using the ‘good’ cishet men in order to excuse the abusive ones?

look, i’m a dude, and i try to be a ‘good’ dude. part of that is i that i don’t want people to use me as an excuse to shoot down discussions on how awful white men are as an oppressive class

don’t use me as a way to stop people calling out dudes as a whole, and any ‘good’ dude should agree w/ me on that

cinder-is-gay  asked:

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.

anonymous asked:

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

Rainy Horoscopes 🌂🌁 ⚡

(and other bad advice the rain may suggest)

♈  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. 

anonymous asked:

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! 

anyway but thank you for enjoying the comics! ❤️

Chapter  87 Snippet


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 」

「Wistal Palace」

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?」

ゼン「I understand.  I’m on my way.」


turn week + day three: favorite moment → culper jr. smiling and he actually does smile, just in his own way.

anonymous asked:

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 ;)

(This is no way listed by order of preference, I literally salmoned my way through my “blog I follow” page)