i love the finale of season 3 rb ITS SO GOOD and it hurts my heart but it’s so sweet and RAHH I WILL NEVER GET OVER ITTT
Like Heatwave gently but firmly telling Chief “With all due respect, sir, it’s not your call to make” AND THEN THEY GO AND BASICALLY SACRIFICE THEMSELVES knowing FULL WELL that they might never recover from this AUGH
Heatwave carries so much respect for Chief Burns and we see that respect form and grow and it all leads up to this point where Heatwave is essentially like “we all care about this family so much, we’d do anything for you guys” and then THEY DO and then we see how upset Cody is and how upset KADE is ohhh don’t get me STARTEDD because I will never stop
It’s the culmination of all the soft moments, all of the rescues and hardships the entire Burns family (including the bots you cowards they ARE family, it’s not “the Burns and the bots” it’s just the Burns at this point so when I say Burns I mean THE HUMAN BURNS AND THE BOTS CAN ANYONE HEAR MEE) has led up to his moment of loyalty and respect and straight up love and it’s so plain for anyone to see it.
And that’s why Frankie putting the unedited video into the time capsule is so important, not just for the future residents of Griffin Rock to see the kind of good people the Burns are, but for the whole world to see the character of the family. It’s also a declaration that these guys, the Bots, are important to us and our family lineage. We have loved them and they have loved us since day one, that’s why we think it’s important to have that notion in the future as well, yk what I mean?
The Burns and the Greenes family are SO IMPORTANT TO ME and the Bots are just as much family as any other human in that fold, and they were prepared and entirely willing to sacrifice themselves for that family, no matter the protest
52 notes
·
View notes
30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 3
Use the words: kitchen, date, music (from this list)
➸ this could be canon-verse (ish??) or it would honestly work for any AU of mine too. choose your own adventure!
“This doesn’t count as our big date night, for the record.”
Foggy actually pauses in the middle of pouring the wine and gestures around him in bewilderment. “What? Why not?”
“We’re in the office kitchen,” Matt says, leaning back in the uncomfortable plastic chair. When they’d moved into their new office—after a much longer time than either of them had counted on working out of the back of the Nelsons’ shop—money had still been tight enough that most of their furniture was secondhand and largely donated by well-meaning friends and family. They’ve been slowly replacing things to make the place seem less ramshackle but it takes time and they’ve obviously focused their early efforts on the spaces that their clients actually see. The pathetic little kitchen table with its two chairs is not a high priority for replacement, all things considered.
“What’s wrong with our kitchen?” Foggy asks. “Kitchens can be romantic.”
“Kitchens in general can, sure, but this one cannot.”
“And I’m asking why not?”
“For one thing, it’s not really a kitchen,” Matt says. “It’s a coffeemaker, a few cabinets, and a microwave.”
“And a sink,” Foggy replies, cheerfully. “Don’t forget the sink.”
“Oh, right. The sink does make it more romantic.”
“Thank you!”
“A date needs ambience,” Matt continues, undeterred. “Candles, or mood lighting, at the very least. Music or…something! We have none of that.”
“I can get that wind-up lantern we have in case of power outages, if you think that would help,” Foggy says. “And I think I have a kazoo in my office.”
“Why do you have a kazoo, of all things?”
“Marlena’s daughter gave it to me last time they were here. I think it counts as our payment for that case, by the way.”
Matt shakes his head, refusing to be amused. “We’re drinking bodega wine and eating…God, what are we even eating?”
“Your choice of—” Foggy is interrupted by the crinkling of plastic—“frozen breakfast burritos or…pizza bagels.”
“We’re grown men,” Matt says, scandalized, but somehow his smile escapes his attempt at containment. “This is pathetic.”
“I don’t know when you suddenly got too good for convenience store fare, but I’ve never made any such claims.”
“Your mother would kill me if she knew this is what I let pass for a romantic dinner.”
“Believe it or not, Matt, I don’t report back to my mother after every date,” Foggy replies, sounding like he’s very much resisting the urge to laugh. “Where on earth would you get the idea that I did?”
“I don’t know,” Matt sighs. “I’m being irrational, I understand.”
Foggy pats his hand where it’s resting on the table. “I’m disappointed too,” he says, gently.
Matt sighs again, even more dramatically. They’d had big plans to go out tonight, to finally take a night to themselves after cases had taken up most of their nights and weekends as well as their days. It wasn’t like they could afford to say no, not when people needed their help and when they needed to pay rent, so they’d been steadily working themselves down to nubs for the past few months. Tonight was meant to be a small reprieve, and Matt had learned enough to know he might not feel the need for it as much as Foggy claimed to but he did still need a break now and then, whether he could recognize it ahead of time or not.
Then, of course, a trial for one of their clients had gotten moved up, which meant they had to get all their prep done in a very small timeframe and their plans for a night off had dutifully been thrown over in favor of work once again. Hence the late dinner of whatever Foggy could find at the nearest bodega, because of course he was the one to remember, amidst the tidal wave of work, that they still needed to eat something, at least. Matt really doesn’t know how he managed to stay alive before Foggy—though, now that he thinks of it, “before Foggy” is such a distant time in the past for him at this point that he struggles to remember it at all. Which is its own kind of alarming.
“You’re not going to break up with me over this, right?” Matt asks, and again, it’s a real sign of growth that he can say it out loud at all, that he can even admit to needing the reassurance.
“God no,” Foggy says, rubbing Matt’s knuckles with his thumb. “First of all, this isn’t even a little bit your fault—”
“It was my idea to start the firm in the first place, though, so technically—”
“And secondly,” Foggy continues, ignoring him, “if I broke up with you, I’d never find someone else who would put up with this kind of thing on a regular basis. You’re the only person who understands. I got very lucky. Breaking up with you would be like hitting on a 17 in blackjack.”
“I don’t know anything about gambling, but I’m guessing that was very sweet.”
Foggy laughs. “It was, thank you for noticing. If we ever get a moment of peace in our lives, I’ll take you to Atlantic City and teach you everything you need to know about blackjack.”
“I have a set of Braille playing cards at home,” Matt says, feeling his face heat for no real reason. “I mean, just in the interest of setting more reasonable goals.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Getting as far away as New Jersey is pretty unrealistic, for us.”
“I appreciate that you want to take me away someplace nice, though.”
“Of course,” Foggy says. “Only the best for you.”
“Exotic vacations to New Jersey, fancy dinners from the freezer aisle, six dollar wine…” Matt muses. “Who says you can’t have it all?”
“You haven’t seen anything yet, baby,” Foggy quips. “If you think dinner for two in the office kitchenette is uninspiring, wait until you experience making love on the office couch!”
Matt wrinkles his nose, even as he feels himself blush. “Yeah, that’s going to take some convincing,” he says, though he doesn’t admit that it probably won’t amount to all that much. Foggy can talk him into almost anything, because a major component of being in love is being dangerously stupid for another person, he’s found.
“I think I’ll let the cheap wine do the talking for me on this one,” Foggy says, reaching across the table to top off Matt’s glass—or, well, paper cup. “Drink up!”
Matt does, and it’s a pleasant surprise when it turns out to be better and sweeter than he ever imagined. There’s probably a metaphor in there somewhere…
19 notes
·
View notes