#despite there being no evidence to back it up

[saint-luiji-of-fiji]

So to catch you up to speed

Luigi Mangione is an innocent man who has not been confirmed to have been involved in any crime.

We have police documents confirming he was not DNA tested or fingerprinted, and confirmation no usable DNA or fingerprints were recovered at the crime scene due to incomplete prints and immense DNA contamination of New Yorks streets.

No evidence has linked him to the crime.

No facial recognition has even remotely come close to identifying the cctv suspects face as that of Luigi. His own family and friends do not see a resemblance. Most people agree the features in the cctv do not match the very well documented features of Luigi Mangione.

Luigi Mangione has no history of violence nor with firearms. He is a vegan pacifist with no history of mental illness and an aversion to killing even bugs.

He is still only a SUSPECT and all involvement in any crimes are merely ALLEGED at this time. Alleged by the most corrupt police force in the entire nation; the NYPD who do more organized crime than they've ever stopped.

Luigi Mangione's attorneys confirmed they have been shown absolutely nothing that even places Luigi at the scene of the crime.

People have repeatedly tried to recreate the entire timeline of events and found it is not physically possible to do what was alleged in the time frame police gave. Especially dubious for Luigi Mangione to have done given his recent, crippling back injury.

Luigi Mangione in his own words has said police planted evidence on him and are not being honest about his arrest or what he had on him at the time.

There is no body cam footage of Luigi's arrest.

There is no autopsy report for Brian Thompson.

Luigi has so far been:

Stripped of his hat, jacket and shoes and forced to walk in the cold in December wearing wet socks.

Forced to urinate on himself where police then took and published humiliation photos of him.

He was then stripped of his shirt pants and socks and put in a blue psychiatric gown and strapped to a chair inmates called "the torture chair" and left for prolonged periods of time. To the point the entire inmate population at the prison protested in anger.

He was slammed unto a brick wall, choked, and shoved by various police officers for no reason.

Was marched through nyc at gunpoint by officers with military firearms, forced to wear chains

Was called a murderer by the mayor of NYC on national television.

Was then placed in solitary confinement for weeks. Something extremely damaging psychologically to be exposed to for even just a few days. Something usually reserved for cannibals.

He is now being forced to sleep on the floor despite again, a crippling back injury.

Again, he has not even had trial yet. He is an innocent man by the very definition of the law. He has nothing tying him to any crime. And even the crime itself was a nobody being shot in a city where nobodies are shot everyday, seven days a week. And those shooters don't get this treatment. Cannibals don't get this treatment. Serial killers don't get this treatment. Why are they doing this? Because we entered an oligarchy and they want people who are rich to matter more than people who are not. The NO ONE, no name, insignificant person that Brian THOMPSON always was and WILL ALWAYS BE is more important because of his net worth, to the fascist oligarchy we've entered into, than the innocent man, data scientist and robotics engineer with a promising future that is Luigi Mangione.

The NYPD doesn't want him to be innocent. They are torturing him gleefully and postponing his trial because they know he's innocent. They just want to scare the public into understanding that the ultra rich, even those who's names will never be remembered as anything other than markings on a never visited tombstone, are the only persons who matter now. Not yours. Never yours. You're poor. They'll torture you without a trial too. Your life means nothing to them. Your children dying in school shootings means nothing to them. Pinning a crime on an innocent man they can beat to scare the public out of class consciousness is the only thing that matters to them now. Depose them.

[magical-reid]

could you please do 2 and 28 for Sebastian please, thought it might be interesting because of the time period. Thanks.

A Debt of the Heart

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Word Count: 900

Prompts: 2: “If there was ever anybody meant for me, it’s you.”

28: “You owe me.” “I owe you $20 not a day of pretending to be your partner to get your parents off your back.” 

Summary: After being reluctantly roped into pretending to be Sebastian's partner to impress his demanding parents, you find yourself enduring an evening of awkward questions and forced affection, much to your embarrassment. Despite the humiliation, Sebastian's unexpected sincerity later in the evening reveals a deeper, more genuine side of him, leaving you both confused and drawn to each other in a way neither of you anticipated.

The crisp autumn air rustled through the golden-leaved trees surrounding the Sallow family estate in Feldcroft. A soft mist clung to the hills, the sun just beginning to burn it away. You had arrived earlier than anticipated, suitcase in hand, cursing the letter from Sebastian that had dragged you away from your peaceful weekend at Hogwarts.

“Pretend to be your partner, Sebastian?” you said, exasperation evident as you stood on the threshold of the cottage. He had opened the door, his trademark smirk faltering ever so slightly when he saw the glare you were giving him.

“You owe me,” Sebastian said, leaning casually against the doorframe, as though his request was entirely reasonable.

“I owe you twenty Galleons, not a day of pretending to be your partner to get your parents off your back,” you hissed, your voice low in case Anne or his uncle Solomon overheard.

Sebastian winced at the sharpness in your tone but quickly regained his composure. “Oh, come on. Twenty Galleons hardly covers the number of times I’ve saved your life. Let’s call it interest.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but he stepped aside, letting you into the cozy yet slightly cramped Sallow home. “And what exactly do you expect me to do? Hold your hand and gaze lovingly into your eyes?”

“Would it kill you to try?” His grin returned in full force, mischievous and infuriating.

The truth was, Sebastian’s parents were visiting from the continent for the first time in years. And with his mother’s sharp tongue and his father’s endless questions, Sebastian had resorted to desperate measures. They had long since given up hope that he would “settle down,” but when his last letter home mentioned a “significant other,” they had demanded to meet the mysterious person.

That’s where you came in.

“You could have asked literally anyone else,” you muttered, setting your bag down near the hearth. Anne, seated in a rocking chair by the window, shot you a knowing glance but said nothing.

“Anyone else?” Sebastian scoffed, pulling you aside as Anne chuckled softly. “And miss out on seeing you squirm under my parents’ interrogation? Never.”

You were about to retort when the door swung open, and in strode Mr. and Mrs. Sallow, both clad in dark traveling cloaks.

“Sebastian!” his mother exclaimed, her voice warm but commanding. Her eyes shifted to you almost immediately, sharp and calculating. “And this must be the one we’ve heard so much about.”

You swallowed hard, plastering on a polite smile. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Sallow.”

The day wore on, filled with tea and polite conversation that felt anything but casual. Sebastian sat closer to you than necessary, his hand occasionally brushing yours as he leaned in to make some cheeky comment. His parents asked endless questions: How had you two met? What did you see in their son? Were you planning a future together?

You were mortified. Sebastian, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying himself, especially when you stumbled over your answers.

By the time dinner rolled around, you were exhausted, sitting beside Sebastian at the long wooden table as candles floated above, casting a warm glow.

“Thank you for indulging us, my dear,” Mrs. Sallow said, eyeing you with an unreadable expression. “I admit, I was beginning to think Sebastian would never find someone. He’s always been… selective.”

“Picky,” Mr. Sallow corrected, chuckling. “But it seems he’s made an excellent choice.”

You forced a smile, feeling your cheeks heat under their scrutiny. Beneath the table, Sebastian’s hand found yours. You turned to glare at him, but his expression was surprisingly soft. He gave your hand a small squeeze, his usual arrogance replaced with something genuine.

Later that evening, as the house grew quiet and the Sallows retreated to bed, you cornered Sebastian in the kitchen.

“This has been humiliating,” you hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest.

“I think you handled it brilliantly,” he said, grabbing your hand to stop your poking.

“Don’t try to charm your way out of this.”

Sebastian’s smile faltered, and for a moment, he looked serious. “I mean it. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

You sighed, tugging your hand away but not entirely angry anymore. “You owe me more than twenty Galleons after this, you know.”

“I’ll pay you back,” he promised, a teasing lilt returning to his voice. “With interest.”

You rolled your eyes, turning to leave, but his voice stopped you.

“If there was ever anybody meant for me,” he said quietly, “it’s you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Turning back, you found him watching you, his usual smirk gone, replaced with a sincerity that made your heart skip.

“Sebastian…” you began, but he cut you off.

“I mean it. And not just for tonight.” He took a step closer, his gaze locked on yours. “Maybe you’ll hex me for saying this, but I don’t think I’ve ever cared about anyone the way I care about you.”

You were silent for a long moment, unsure how to respond. Finally, you gave a soft laugh, shaking your head. “You really are insufferable.”

“Maybe,” he said, his grin returning. “But I’m your insufferable idiot, aren’t I?”

“Unfortunately,” you muttered, though you didn’t protest when he leaned in closer, his hand brushing yours once again.

For all his flaws, Sebastian had a way of making your heart race—and somehow, despite everything, you knew you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[delimeful]

not always what they seem (6)

warnings: poor decision-making, graphic panic attacks, lack of communication, guilt, fear, angst

—

With a sinking feeling, Logan watched the most easily-agitated of their guests continue on into the next testing area alone.

It was a breach of conduct to hope for certain results while performing an experiment, primarily because objectivity was vital if one wanted to produce genuine analytic results, but in this case, he found he couldn’t help the urge to wish that either of the others had ventured forward first.

The test itself was a relatively simple one: the chambers in this area were a series of identical rooms, as in the last, with sensitive motion trackers embedded in the flooring. In the previous area, the rooms had been temperature-controlled, so they could see which room their guests would seek out as ideal. There had been more mixed results than expected, but in a case like this, any data was good data.

In this area, each room had a different level of lighting, a spectrum ranging from bright enough that some exclusively-nocturnal species would struggle to see, to dark enough that most diurnal species wouldn’t be able to make anything out.

It was one of the simpler tests, with little to actively fear. Virgil had already begun investigating it with far more initiative than they’d shown in the maze before, their ever present hunched shoulders even beginning to slowly ease down as they went. Clearly, the presence of the other two beings and the harmless precedent set by the previous areas was helping settle their persistent wariness.

(A fact which only made Logan feel worse about what they would have to do next.)

Virgil headed directly for the lighter side of the area at first, frequently casting glances back toward the more shadowed areas, a mannerism that made Logan wonder if they had a surplus of natural predators on their native planet. They spotted the only item of note in the first room immediately, providing substantial evidence to support Patton’s proposal that their guests had strong visual abilities, and approached it slowly.

Seeing as they had refused to do even that much in Logan’s maze, this was heartening progress.

A flat dish segmented into two halves sat on a small stool in the corner of the room, and on top of that dish rested a simple nutrient tab and an orb made up of colorful pieces.

Virgil didn’t spare the nutrient tab much more than a glance, but after a prolonged moment of direct staring, they dared to reached out and swipe the puzzle sphere off the dish, immediately skipping back a few steps and craning their neck to look up at the semi-transparent ceiling.

(The opaque coating on the material was one-sided, so they could watch the results directly without perturbing the subjects by looming over them. In theory, anyhow. Virgil’s vision must have indeed been strong, or at least highly cued to motion, for them to have already noticed the muted shadows of Logan and his research partners through the roof.)

Virgil seemed to be waiting for some sort of severe repercussion for touching the puzzle sphere, as though they expected one of them to swoop down and grab the item from their hands— or even grab Virgil themself. None of them had so much as twitched, aware that even the simplest movements had been known to startle their most skittish guest.

After an exceedingly long pause, Virgil’s tense posture dropped away, and they spent a few moments inspecting the puzzle sphere with enough intensity that they even forgot to check over their shoulder for the duration. Despite being a few levels more complex than the treat ball Logan used in his maze— these were sapient beings, after all— it didn’t take Virgil long to align the pieces properly and thus solve the puzzle, allowing the sphere to pop open and reveal their prize: a dark shining stone.

They had all agreed on shiny prizes, seeing how glinting items had often subtly caught the attention of the tiny aliens. Patton had been concerned about the likelihood of them mistaking something inedible for food, so they had switched from polished mineral marbles to valt stones with a reflective sucrose coating applied to them. Valt stones dissolved in medium heat, so even if Virgil did manage to eat one, the stone would gradually crumble away based on the temperature readings Roman had taken.

It seemed maybe they’d been overly-proactive; Virgil flipped the stone in their hands a few times, drew it close to inspect it, but didn’t so much as smell it, let alone put it in their mouth. After a moment of this, they dropped the stone into the pocket of their leg garment.

They all shared an excited glance: positive engagement!

Virgil perked up further when they ventured into the next room and saw the same set up, only slightly altered: the stool and dish were set in a different corner, and the puzzle was a different shape. They didn’t seem nearly as wary this time, and settled into a routine of locating the dish and walking up to it, picking up the puzzle, and using deft fingers to fiddle with it until they got to the small prize inside.

The only sign that the brightest room gave them any trouble was the slight squint they took on, though the light evidently wasn’t perturbing enough to make them take the puzzle into a different room. That was a good sign; it meant that the odds of causing damage to their guests’ eyes with ray-based scans were low, and many of those scans were invaluable for determining physical makeup.

When it came to the dark rooms, Virgil moved slower, and took slightly longer to scout out the location of the dish each time. In the last three rooms, they took the puzzles to one of the lighter rooms to solve it, helpfully confirming Logan’s theory that they were focusing on the color-matching element of the puzzles rather than matching the tactile symbols on the pieces. In the last room, it was extremely likely that they couldn’t see anything at all, as they moved extremely slowly and searched the room through touch, making a circuit around to each corner and then walking back and forth until they gently bumped into the stool.

These results seemed to indicate that their guests could operate in a wide range of different lighting, but had a considerably easier time navigating in the rooms set to daytime-lighting. They also indicated that Virgil, at least, could see a fairly large scope of color, as it was only on the two most color-complex puzzles that they resorted to using the other available senses to solve them.

The test also indicated that they had no choice but to use the next chamber.

After all those rooms, Virgil still hadn’t touched a single nutrient tab, just as none of the three had done more than disinterestedly inspect the nutrient tabs Patton had left on the table with them in the past two cycles.

This wouldn’t have been unusual or particularly concerning if these had been normal specimens. Many fauna didn’t engage with the nutrient tabs, since they were tailored to be non-toxic to all lifeforms in this quadrant, and thus were admittedly rather bland and uninteresting. In that case, they would usually move on to performing more physical tests to discern what variety of foods were safe and tempting to the creature in question, and then provide those instead.

Things were obviously quite different when working with sapient aliens, especially ones who had refused all physical tests more intensive than touching a thermometer. They couldn’t effectively communicate with their guests yet, and they didn’t have time to dismantle that language barrier. It had already been a concerning amount of time since they’d been taken from the stasis of the specimen sects, and they had no idea how to identify or treat starvation.

It was probable that providing items more easily recognized as edible would solve the issue of their guests not eating, but without that testing, they didn’t know what would be poisonous to the small aliens. If they simply offered an array of foods, as they had the textiles, the chances of their guests having a bad or even fatal reaction to something were far too high. That was an unacceptable risk.

Logan had been the one to insist, in the end. No matter how ill-advised it was to ignore the boundaries of their guests, no matter how much he dreaded the idea of being responsible for the reappearance of that upset and frightened body language, he wasn’t willing to allow them to die through his inaction or lack of care.

He had already made a mistake with the three of them previously, letting panic drive him and ignoring their objections in favor of picking up Remus. If one of them had to become untrustworthy in their eyes, better that it was him.

Logan ignored the concerned glances of his research partners, watching grimly as Virgil pushed through the door to the next testing area.

—

Virgil was having a surprisingly okay time, considering the circumstances.

At first sight of the structure, he’d anticipated some kind of horrible alien death maze, full of sawblades and pit traps and possibly even a car-sized boulder that would squash them all flat.

Instead, it had been full of various rooms, not winding or confusing or particularly maze-like in any way, with items or environments for them to react to. He’d gotten a bit concerned about the puzzles, but really, there weren’t any real signs that pointed to this being a bizarre trial-by-fire or even a remotely competitive scenario, even by his paranoid standards.

There were doors between each distinct chamber, but none separating the rooms themselves, and all the chamber doors had remained open even after they’d split the party like idiots in a horror movie.

He tossed the last weird rock he’d earned in his palm, rubbing his thumb over the dull angles of it. Even knowing they were part of some weird alien plot, it had been surprisingly soothing to focus on those puzzles, probably because he could burn some of his nervous energy by fidgeting with them. Not that he’d say as much aloud; that sounded a little too ‘enthusiastic lab rat’ for him. No thank you.

There was probably plenty of data they were getting from each chamber, no matter how simple they seemed, but Virgil wasn’t really in the mood to try and puzzle it out. Dee was probably right about the aliens trying to squeeze as much relevant information from them as possible, but he couldn’t help but feel sort of apathetic on the matter. Sure, they could be using it to learn more about humanity for presumably nefarious purposes, but if they wanted more humans, couldn’t they just grab more humans? They certainly didn’t seem to have a problem nabbing the three of them.

Maybe he was just being stupid, too busy freaking out about their own lives to really think about the big picture or whatever, but it didn’t seem to add up. Like, if he’d found an anthill and wanted to get rid of it, he wouldn’t need to run experiments on the ants to learn more about them first. He’d only have to kick over the anthill.

If all the aliens wanted to do was get rid of them, why bother with all the tests? It had to be obvious by now that they didn’t have any sort of natural defenses that could stand against giant aliens, and their technological capabilities obviously outstripped humanity’s by far.

He wasn’t suggesting they were trustworthy or anything— there was a wide range of options between metaphorical ants and potential friends, after all. Even if their status was closer to ‘interesting lab specimens’ than ‘pests to annihilate’, they still weren’t guaranteed any sort of safety. It was just… something useful to think about whenever the overwhelming panic started to boil up in him.

It was a theory that Virgil immediately lost all faith in when the doors to the next chamber sealed behind him.

He whipped around, a jolt of ice spiking through his veins as he confirmed that yeah, that sliding noise absolutely had been the doors closing, he’d jinxed himself so hard, he was going to fucking die—

“Hey!” he snapped, the word coming out a little strangled on his first try. “Hey! No, no no no, open those back up! Dee! Remus!”

The doors weren’t entirely opaque; he could see through them well enough to tell that the doorways beyond remained clear of any silhouettes. One beat passed, and then another. The fear crept in quicker now, his breathing coming faster. “Guys! I’m serious, something’s happening! Dee!”

Still, nothing.

They wouldn’t just ignore him. Even if they were actually total assholes who didn’t care what happened to him like his brain was screaming, he’d spent enough time around them to know that Dee was nosy beyond belief, and Remus sought out danger like a moth flying into an oven. If they’d heard, they would have responded, one way or another.

So, they couldn’t hear him. That meant this was planned. The aliens wanted something with them— no, with him. They’d separated them, singled him out to get it.

Virgil stumbled hurriedly into a corner, bracing his back against it as he scanned the room, his gaze periodically flickering up to the gray ceiling above where he was sure he’d spotted a shadow of movement earlier.

The chamber itself was empty, with no visible doors other than the two on either side that had firmly locked him in. It was a single blank room, nothing on the floor or the walls, the only notable difference being the fact that it was apparently soundproofed.

It was quiet for long enough that he managed to wrangle his breathing back under control, the tension in him only ramping up as the uncertain moment stretched on and on and on.

And then, a click, and the ceiling was pulled away.

Virgil sank down into a crouch on sheer instinct, as though he could avoid whatever was coming simply by shying away from it. He’d thought the enclosed room was bad, but the sudden feeling of being completely exposed was somehow worse.

The panther alien— Logan— leaned into sight, uncanny eyes locking on him immediately, and Virgil hunkered down a little further.

“No,” he tried, not even sure what he was objecting to, other than everything about the situation. “Do you h-hear me? No.”

Logan’s ears flicked and angled backwards, eyes narrowing slightly, and an audible rumbling started up. Wow! Virgil hated everything about that, actually.

When the alien moved, reaching into the enclosure with one of those inhuman hands, the gesture was almost painstakingly slow. If it was an attempt to not frighten Virgil any further, it failed miserably; it only gave him more time to work himself into a proper panic.

He tried to duck away the moment that hand got close, obviously, but it only took a few tries before Logan seemed to lose their patience. The next grab was too quick to dodge, and Virgil couldn’t help the small shriek that burst from him the moment he was caught, primal terror overriding all rational thought. Logan jolted at the sound, but didn’t loosen their grip nearly enough for him to wiggle free.

“No!” he shouted desperately, but there was no point. Logan may have understood the word, but understanding didn’t mean listening. Virgil didn’t have the same dauntless charisma as Dee, the confidence to negotiate with giants that could choose to do anything they wanted.

His stomach dropped as he was lifted up, the restraining hand wrapped around him never faltering even as he cried out and tried to thrash free. The panic felt nearly blinding, and he barely registered the blur of the much larger room passing by as Logan carried him over to some new surface, presumably for some other strange test.

The moment there was a solid surface under his feet again, he instantly tried to push off of it and scramble free, but even now Logan didn’t release him. He only had a moment to feel oddly betrayed– had some part of him really thought this wouldn’t actually end horrifically?– before he was being repositioned and gently but firmly pressed against the surface, like a butterfly being spread over a pinboard.

Or a corpse set out for dissection.

“Fuckshit fuck, fuck you fuck you fuck you,” Virgil spat as viciously as he could, twisting his limbs ineffectively and frantically pushing against that impossible hold. “Let me go, don’t you fucking dare–!”

The rumbling grew louder, the slightest shake tangible in the hand pressing him down, and the alien shifted their hand slightly, enough for Virgil to see past it.

With their other hand, Logan was holding a narrow silver instrument in the air above him, its purpose indiscernible but its mere presence enough to make Virgil’s voice cut off sharply. His furious struggling died down to involuntary twitches, his wide eyes locked on the tool.

The alien was as unreadable as always, the tip of the tool drifting closer, and Virgil felt his mind go entirely blank with terror.

A high, thin whine split the air, like an animal caught in a trap. It took Virgil a long moment to realize the sound was coming from him.

“Please,” he tried hopelessly, the words barely taking shape. “No. Please no.”

—

This wasn’t working.

Even from an animal, this sort of mindless, terrified whimpering would have been reason enough to stop this procedure and look for alternative, less stressful methods. Knowing they were coming from a sapient being? Knowing that, translatable or not, Virgil had likely been reduced to begging for their life because of his actions?

Logan couldn’t do this.

—

The pressure on him abruptly vanished.

Virgil’s body reacted far quicker than his mind, a fresh surge of adrenaline tearing through him as he hauled himself upright and bolted. It didn’t matter which direction he picked, so long as he was getting away from the threat looming over him.

There were thin semi-transparent barriers set up on each side of the table, preventing him from getting too far and also from doing anything rash in his panic. He twisted to look behind him the moment he reached the furthest corner, half-expecting a massive hand to be hovering over him already, only waiting for him to pause so it could come swooping down–

The alien hadn’t reached forward at all. In fact, Logan looked further away, as though they’d taken a step or two back.

It took a few tense moments for Virgil to pay attention to anything beyond that distance, most of his focus going to keeping his heavy, gasping breaths from turning to outright hyperventilation. His gaze locked onto every small motion Logan was making, but it took several repetitions before he registered the meaning behind the gesture.

It was the same movement as the other one– Roman– had done after trying to separate him from Remus by grabbing him. Dee had hypothesized it was some kind of… apology.

“You should fucking be sorry,” Virgil muttered, still wheezing a little with every inhale. “Serve you right if I– if I keeled over just from– fuck.”

His voice died out as soon as Logan moved, his body flattening further against the barrier behind him as though he could somehow merge through it, but Logan was moving away, reaching towards something to the side.

After a few seconds of rifling, they returned with a thick disc-shaped object in hand. Virgil stared blankly, suspicious and bewildered in equal measure.

Logan seemed to glance over to check that he was watching, and then carefully lifted the disc to their mouth and emphatically sank their teeth into it like they were an excited kid taking a bite out of a cookie. Their lip curled up as they did so, giving Virgil a better look at those fangs than he’d ever particularly wanted, and then, after a long stretch of holding that position, they opened their mouth back up without actually tearing a chunk free from the disc.

Virgil frowned, almost too confused to be frightened, as Logan tilted the disc to show Virgil the clean imprint of teeth left in it. The alien set the disc aside, and then picked the silver tool back up, which set his heart racing anew.

Instead of reaching forward with it, however, Logan simply lowered the tool to the surface where Virgil had been pinned down minutes before, and set a small item down before retreating. Now that he was looking at it from a distance, the tool wasn’t sharp-edged at all, only having two narrow prongs at the end.

… Had he seriously had a panic attack over the outer space equivalent of tweezers?

The embarrassment was powerful enough that he managed to force himself to slowly edge forward, squinting at the item Logan had placed before him.

It looked just like the disc Logan had just bitten, only in miniature.

Oh. Oh.

Virgil was no genius, but even he could put the pieces together on this one.

With a few wary glances at Logan’s towering form, he slid closer and picked the disc up. There was a hard outer shell along the sides of it for him to grip, but the rest of it seemed to be made up of a thick, clay-like material. Not the sort of thing he’d usually put anywhere near his mouth, but… he looked up at Logan again, considering.

There was nothing stopping them from doing this against his will, earlier. Nothing but Virgil’s own protests, desperate enough that Logan had decided to try a different way. Maybe Dee had been onto something, when it came to compromising with these creatures.

Besides, it wasn’t like he was actually eating the stuff. Just… biting it. Eugh.

Pushing past his deep reluctance, Virgil bit down into the disc, jolting a little when he realized there was a flat pane of plastic-y material in the middle that kept him from biting through the whole thing. Really, it felt oddly similar to those mouthguards dentists made him wear while getting an x-ray of his teeth. Except squishier.

He forced himself to hold the weird disc thing in his mouth for what he thought was probably the same amount of time Logan had while demonstrating, and then unhooked his teeth from it with a grunt. Peering closely at the disc, he could see that the holes left behind were perfectly matched to the shape of his teeth.

It had to be some kind of plaster-mold-cast thing, but Virgil had never been all that into ceramics, and so he didn’t have the foggiest idea of what exactly Logan intended to do with a mold of his teeth. At this point, he didn’t even care.

The energy crash was beginning to hit, and so he barely even jumped when Logan reached down at him, only taking a few stumbling steps back and then holding the disc out as far from his body as he could manage.

To the alien’s credit, their touch was gentle enough that he barely registered it as they plucked the disc out of his grasp, the palm-sized disc looking comically tiny between those massive fingers. The rumbling had started back up again. Maybe it wasn’t a displeased sound, after all. Cats purred soothingly, didn’t they?

Logan immediately moved away, presumably to do mysterious alien scientist things to the disc. Virgil spat a few times, trying to get the faint aftertaste out of his mouth, and sat down heavily. His whole body was still shaking like a leaf in the wind, but this sort of wrung-out jittering was vastly preferable to the frantic, burning terror of before.

He’d managed some kind of communication, for what it was worth. He hadn’t died, despite all expectations to the contrary. It had been a horrible experience, but at least he’d managed to figure out what was going on in time to prevent any actual heart attacks.

One thing was for certain: the minute he reunited with the others, he was putting a permanent ban on splitting up in weird mystery mazes. This little excursion had been more than enough for him.

[quokkaholic]

Confession and Cuffs s.c

Warnings/tags: suggestive fluff, cop hate lol, cussing duh, y/n aggressively flirty low key would be harassment irl. Lightly edited

Synopsis: You are a notorious criminal that is very familiar with your local police force. Detained on a faulty warrant and interrogated for hours, you give them nothing but sass and harsh criticism. That is, until you meet Detective Seo.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

You remain in the same sterile interrogation room you have been in for hours, stainless steel chair bruising your tailbone and digging into your spine. With an adjustable lamp clamped to the edge of the table turned off, the lighting is dim but you can still see the reflective surface of the one way glass opposite you. Even though you are alone, and have been for a while, there is no mistaking the feeling of eyes on you monitoring and examining your every move, every breath, every blink. You feel like it has been at least an hour since the last officer was in here with you demanding a confession to a crime you, for once, didn’t commit; even if you had, you’d never spill your guts to them. The only reason you are here now, is they arrested you under the guise of a warrant out for not paying a speeding ticket you received years ago as a teen. You know for a fact you paid it and got it expunged from your record, but it was so long ago you no longer have proof of the transaction. On top of that, it's a Friday night so the records department won’t be up and running again until Monday. These pigs orchestrated the whole thing to get you in their custody, and you aren’t even the perpetrator in this case.

Since your arrest, it has been a revolving door of officers trying different tactics on you. They’ve made offers of food and lenient sentencing. Tried to coerce you to sell out your compatriots. The last guy practically just screamed at you for half an hour, voice screeching and droplets of spit flying from his red hot face, trying to scare out a confession, but all you could do was laugh. He must be new, you thought, despite being a criminal, you have gotten to know and are on decent terms with a lot of the more reasonable officers. After having to release you on the grounds of no evidence countless times, many of them have accepted that your actions tend to only harm other members of the seedy underbelly of the city.

That is the case for most of the force, but obviously not the next officer that walks in. You can tell by his demeanor that he is going for bad cop as he saunters in with an expression of disgust and accusation when he looks your way. He avoids eye contact, maybe because he wants you to feel lowly and beneath him, but it's more likely he knows you will see through his ruse if he lets you meet his gaze.

“We know it was you” he spits flipping through a folder labeled evidence that is without a doubt filled with blank pages. While you usually give ambiguous answers or simply remain silent, you’re over messing with the investigators at this point,

“Hmmm no you dont” you hum out matter of factly

“Quiet! We’ve got you this time,” he must be really committed to the bit, raising his voice and ordering you around.

“Really? What dirt do you have on me? Go on. I wanna see.”

“It's in the evidence storage for the night,”

“You don’t have photos in that conveniently marked folder you've got? If I’ve told you dipshits once, I've told you 100 times,” you pause to squint at the name badge on his chest,

“Skinner, I’m not your guy” shouting back to get the attention of the people that are without a doubt recording, before leaning back in the chair that feels like a bed of nails at this point. Not allowing your discomfort to show, you continue,

“You're a bad liar, Skinner. If you had something real I'd have been arrested for a real charge and not some backhanded bureaucratic nonsense. I’m done talking” your statement punctuated by the crossing of your arms over your chest. The goose bumps on your skin are impossible to ignore; it's a damn icebox in here, another tactic to get you to admit to this crime you played no part in. Despite your refusal to engage, he went on accusing you and shouting garbage before stomping out like a frustrated child.

A while later, you are beginning to doze off with your head resting on the frozen table, but the sound of the locks being opened shakes you from your drowsiness. In walks a hunk not in the typical uniform. He’s got on a white button up that hugs his thick arms so perfectly accentuating his toned form and a black vest over it and pressed black dress pants with a key ring and badge clipped to the belt. You turn to the mirror and attempt the make eye contact with the people on the other side before blurting out,

“Oh so we’re doing sexy cop now? That's new,” before looking back at the man entering the room. He puckers his lips and presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek trying to fight back a smirk while dropping his file on the table across from you.

“I’m Detective Seo. I’ve been assigned to this case, and I just wanted to ask you a few questions” He says with confidence but politely as he pulls out the chair opposite to you and takes a seat.

“You and every other pig in this pen.” You say coldly before allowing your grimace to shift into a cheeky grin, “Don’t worry, I can kid around with them. We’re all close; I practically know them all by name” feigning sincerity in your tone.

“I bet you do” he lets the words slowly fall from his mouth as he mocks you for your seemingly endless unofficial record, opening the thick folder,

“I’ve checked out your file”

“Oooh a fan I assume?” you question, heightening your tone to speak more sweetly staring up at him through your lashes. He looms over you flicking on the table lamp. If he wasn’t so jaw droppingly handsome, you'd be irked by his attempt at asserting dominance over you. You like the look of him above you, but it ends all too soon as he pulls out the chair on the other side of the table and gracefully and controlled lowers himself into the seat drawing your gaze to his muscles straining against the fabric of his button down.

“You could say that,” he mumbles seemingly unimpassioned. His eyes skimming the papers in his hands,

“I can’t lie, I’m impressed. Life long career criminal and not a single conviction”

“I don’t know what this criminal nonsense you speak of is, but you're damn right, my record is as clean as a whistle. Well, I guess until today,” you aren’t trying to maintain an ere of innocence. Everyone here knows what you do for work, and you aren’t oblivious to that, but you’ll be dead before they get audio of some half ass admittance of guilt they can spin and manipulate to finally take you to court.

“We both know this charge is bullshit, and you’ll be set loose on Monday,” he nonchalantly muses and he peers over the top of the papers at you. His warm eyes would be mezmerizing in any other circumstance, but you have to remain sharp.

“You sound sad, babe. We’ll work hard to make the most of the time we have together,” you tease. Leaning forward to rest onto his elbows,

“I know I will,” he assures you then asks,

“So why did you do it?” he asks. You give an exaggerated disappointed huff before answering,

“So so handsome, but unfortunately just as dense as your mates,” clicking your tongue before continuing,

“Just as I told your last goon, and the one before that, and the one before that, and I’ll say it again just for you, babe, I. Didn’t. Do. It.” Holding unblinking eye contact you lean forward closing the distance between you, your voice becomes a cooing whisper as you go on,

“I don’t know how else to put it, love. Why can’t you understand me?” drawing up your eyebrows and slowly shaking your head to convey distress continuing to draw closer to him.

“My name is Detective Seo,” He mutters trying to correct you as he seems to struggle to keep his eyes from drinking in your approaching features.

“Oh I know, baby” whispering for only him to hear.

He has remained strong, not letting your seductress intimidation technique win out over his macho demeanor, but as you near only a foot of nose to nose separation he pushes back not only his upper body but his whole chair from the table causing a smug smile to spread across your features. His slight fluster is impossible to hide due to the pink rising to his cheeks and his lack of grace as he gathers his documents before heading to the door. Soon the feeling of watching eyes fall back over you, and you hope so deeply that they are his.

Despite the painful furniture and frigid temperature the only thing on your mind is Seo. He’s there when you’re awake being grilled by other cops or just staring at the damn wall, and when you get brief moments to rest, he's in your dreams.

You’ve long lost track of time in the windowless room, another way they are trying to disorient you to let your guard down. With some sweet talking, you convince them to allow you to use a private bathroom as opposed to the grimey stalls that the other detainees use. While you are lucky to be affording this luxury, you have ulterior motives. As your escort guides you through the hall passing cubicle after cubicle, you get a glimpse out the window. The light is dim and dusky; it must already be Saturday evening. Your romantic daydreams have done wonders for making time fly by. After a few turns down corridors, you see what you’ve been looking for, not the bathroom, a rich wooden door with a window covered neatly by a curtain, and just to the right a gleaming placard. Detective Seo Changbin. Such a pretty name for such a pretty man. You commit the path to his office to memory for potential future use.

They graciously let you rest for just a bit longer before starting up the interrogations again. Without fail you continue your typical slough of jesting and snarky comments without revealing any semblence of guilt, but unlike usual, there are some requests for the handsome detective sprinkled in. This continues late into the night and you can assume early into Sunday morning.

During a particularly kind session of questions, more like pleading on their part, you had just had a scrumptious meal hand delivered by your favorite officer; you are feeling generous. After some careful deliberation, you decide to throw them a bone but only on your terms.

“Bailey, you know me. You know I work alone and what little evidence you have points to a group of at least two. The fact that you guys won’t drop this line of questioning after hours of getting nowhere is making me question your sanity, lady,” you chide with a mouth full of food.

“I feel bad for you, hon. So bad, in fact, that I want to help you guys. I’ll share…” her face lights up as if what you're about to say will free her from this never ending game.

“But only to Seo” and her giddy face shifts to one of despair before one of determination as she rushes out the door pulling out her phone from her back pocket as the door slams behind her. Not an hour later, the man of your dreams is pushing open the thick door. Equally as confident as last time, but he has ditched the tough guy demeanour for a more flirtatious one to match your own.

“I heard you were begging for me all night” he humors with the corner of his full lips pulling up into a sly smile.

“Oh baby that wasn’t begging, that was negotiating, but I'll beg if that's what you want.”

He moves close, foregoing the chair and sitting on the edge of the table forcing you to tilt your head back to keep the steamy eye contact that makes a heat rise in your stomach. He sends you a wink and opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off,

“Getting you here is only part of my request. I'll help you, but in exchange, I demand a date with you once I’m released”, his sultry look quickly shifts to a genuine smile and red cheeks as he breathily chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief,

“Before you go on about it being unprofessional, this is all just a big misunderstanding on record, babe. Remember, there was simply a glitch in the system that put out a warrant for my arrest. I am perfectly innocent. Actually, this is a massive mistake on your part and a major inconvenience to me. It truly is the least you could do”

“Oh really? I don't think innocent is the right word,” he leans down a bit, eyebrows raising knowingly.

“How about blameless? I'm just a blameless woman held hostage by a mismanaged police force, the least you could do is take me to dinner.” jokingly sticking out your lower lip to pout. He gives his best attempt at a disappointed sigh, but no matter how many times he attempts to release his tensing cheek muscles, they keep returning to a full smile.

“Fine, now who was it?”

“You think I’m that easy, Changbin?” pulling back clutching your imaginary pearls with one hand in faux shock,

“I'm not doing your job for you, plus I can't be on record selling out a coworker can I? Now, you promise me to take me out Monday after we clear up this silly clerical mistake, and I'll tell you where to look, you just have to trust me, yeah?” Caused by the name drop and your outlandish proposal, the shocked look on his face is genuine unlike yours.

“Trust you!?” he chokes out the question, but you just look back expectantly waiting on his response.

“I promise, y/n, to take you on a date this Monday” This the first time hes had a serious look in his face since he walked in.

“No take backs detective Seo” you warn. His flush brightens hearing you say his title for the first time after only calling him pet names.

“The old storage units on the west side of town”

“The owner? No way Mrs Lee had anything..”

“Let me finish!” you yelp, holding hand up to stop him.

“The owner of unit 87. Me and Mrs. Lee are actually members of the same book club, and I have it on good authority that the owner of that unit hasn’t paid his dues in three months”

“So he's the…” you once again interrupt him trying to jump to conclusions.

“No! I said I'm not doing this for you! However, your cute looks and eagerness make me want to help you extra. His kid has some unsavory affiliations, and they have been using said unit to store some… things. I'm not saying it's them, but what I am saying is the stuff you find there will lead you guys to the perp as long as one of you has even the barest minimum of reasoning skills. I know that can be few and far between in this line of work.” You just had to slip in that last jab, “Now, there's your in. You're welcome in advance, baby” He is a whirlwind running out the door, but before it shuts he shouts back to you

“See you tomorrow!”

They keep you in custody for the majority of Sunday, but no one enters to question you further. Only a few familiar officers pop in to chat or share a meal as you're finally able to drop the smug persona since Changbin is hard at work clearing your name. He returns to finally have a normal conversation with you and iron out the details of your date before your release. While it is policy to keep suspects cuffed on your way out the door, they usually never do, but Changbin insists. Both enjoying it a bit too much as he locks your wrists together before guiding you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. You stop before the main entrance of the station for him to remove your restraints. While your conversations have been respectful and polite ever since you gave the crucial information in solving the case, his smirk resurfaces as he twists the key.

“If you behave for me, maybe I’ll bring these tomorrow night.”

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

A.n- I can’t be anti authoritarian; one of my best friends is a cop! Thanks for reading! I felt particularly delulu writing this one. Wanted to name this ‘If you’re bad cop, and I’m good cop, who is sexy cop?’. Also, what the hell else do you call a smirk? Lots of smirking in this one. I can only alternate bt smile, smirk, and grin so much before I start feeling silly

-mo (acab)

Masterlist

[akitossohma]

i wanted to say your post about lu guang's morality is currently my favorite thing ever. im not sure if you're just incredibly smart or have the gift of prophecy but you are so right and the post is very very good

hi! i'm so glad you enjoy my post >.<

i tragically do not have the gift of prophecy, but i'm happy to explain my reasoning! spoilers ahead.

first off, i wanna say that when i made that post, it was less of a prediction and more of a reading of what the show had already laid out.

i've seen a few detractors of my post on twitter, all of them saying things along the lines of "this is a misguided take because lg is selfless. lg only killed vein bc vein killed csx. we have no proof that lg is sacrificing others." there's a lot to pick apart with these rebuttals, and i'll get to that, but i feel there is one essential point they are all missing: time travel in an of itself is an act of hubris.

going back in time with the intention of changing the past is one born out of great hubristic selfishness. anyone doing so is automatically (and wrongfully) assuming the role of a god.

the show is well aware of this. take the earthquake arc for example. as csx takes it upon himself to try and evacuate the village, lg points out that in doing so, he could end up inadvertently killing more people. this is because the butterfly effect is uncertain and lg knows this. that whole interaction functions two-fold. one: it establishes that the narrative itself is aware of the stakes here. it is an in-universe acknowledgment that changing the past, even if it's to save lives, is extremely risky and ultimately selfish. two: it establishes that lg is very aware of this truth, which is what makes the s2 reveal so shocking. despite being aware of the consequences, lg is still trying to change the past to save csx.

it also tells us that lg's steadfastness about csx not changing the past is likely born out of a fear of csx accidentally messing up the timeline lg is cultivating, and not out of some noble effort to minimize their impact on others' lives, which is how it was previously framed. all this evidence paints a very clear picture: lu guang is not the morally just character we once thought. he is placing his own happiness above literally everyone else's wellbeing. yes he is trying to save csx, but he's only doing that because he can't stomach the idea of living without him. his motivations are objectively selfish at their core.

back to the detractors: i feel some people are conflating lg's actions being done out of love for his actions also being selfless. and while i agree there is an (albeit twisted) form of love behind all this, there is nothing selfless about what he's doing. why does lg get to decide what the future should hold? why does any one man get the final say on what happens to the rest of the world, and all the billions of rich lives within it? hell, why does he even get to decide what happens to csx? yes he's acting under the pretense of saving csx, but does csx even want to be saved? would csx even be okay with what he's doing? i honestly don't think so. when csx believed lg had died, he contemplated using his powers to go back in time and save him, but ultimately decided against it because as far as he was concerned, lg wouldn't approve. he understands the potential chain reaction that comes from saving even one life because lg drilled it into his head. even if he is impulsive to a fault, at the end of the day, csx would never want to cause harm to others, especially not at this magnitude.

even if this effort to change the past/future fails, the fact that he was willing to take this massive risk in the first places says a lot about his priorities and overall character. while he probably doesn't actively want to sacrifice others, he absolutely will if it means keeping csx in his life saving csx.

in this most recent episode, just minutes before killing vein, he says to him, "do you know the butterfly effect? in a dynamic system, any subtle change in the initial conditions may lead to different outcomes. i've been thinking how to change a destined ending completely. if there is an additional point before this, an unchangeable point, what will happen? no need to fear the deviation. just let it happen more completely." lg killed vein partly out of revenge yes, but also to create another unchangeable node in the timeline. he is trying to secure csx's future by taking another life.

and none of this is even touching on how lg possessed a woman's body, which is a COMPLETE violation of her autonomy, to kill vein, knowing damn well she'd take the fall for his murder. lol.

so yeah. lu guang is (and always has been) a selfish, immoral bastard (she said with love), and the writers were very deliberate in setting that up.

there's so much more i could say on this but then this would get way too long, which it already lowkey is haha. thank you for the ask! i genuinely appreciate the opportunity to word vomit all this <3

[charlietheepicwriter7]

@anotheroceanid Part 2!

Lightning branched across the sky, lighting up the overstuffed room with brilliant white. Thunder boomed moments later. Odysseus flinched back, his claws retracting and his body shrinking as his monstrousness was sucked back into him. He felt naked. Raw. 

Human. 

The woman continued to sleep. The light had given him a better look of her, and she was clearly exhausted. Recovering from a rough birth, as every mother of godly children suffered from, and dark bruises under her eyes… She wasn’t sleeping enough. She wouldn’t wake. 

Her daughter did. 

In her crib, the babe stirred. Letting out a quiet whimper, she raised one curled fist to her eyes, as though she was blocking the light. She grew restless as the storm outside worsened, hail banging against the fire escape. Her eyes fluttered open, wide and soft green. 

Odysseus turned away, his stomach turning. 

He’d expected Poseidon’s eyes. His children always had his eyes; it was the defining characteristic of children of the Sea God, even more than their tan skin or their dark hair. Glowing, piercing green eyes that made it easy to despise them, easy to gut them or behead them or–

His wife had green eyes. Dark, like the leaves of their marriage bed, with beautiful golden flecks that their son inherited. She was divine, he thought mournfully, his heart breaking again.

This child did not have her father’s eyes, nor his wife’s. Her eyes were as light as an olive and stared at him, even though he knew an  infant’s eyes could not see that far. 

Infants typically were born with blue eyes, he remembered. 

Odysseus loomed over the crib as he once was, the only evidence of his fate being his red eyes. He stood as just a man over the babe, his soul laid bare. 

She squirmed against her swaddle, legs kicking underneath the blanket. Whining unhappily, she broke free from its constraints, one arm flopping wildly, almost hitting herself. He caught her hand without thinking, her little palm curling around his thumb. 

A soft, gummy smile spread across her tiny face, her bright eyes crinkling with joy as if she recognized him—welcomed him. She let out a tiny gurgle and released his thumb, reaching up to his face. 

Odysseus froze. 

The last baby he held, he killed. 

He never even held his grandchildren, or their children, waiting until they were old enough to run, to scream, to fight back before he even dared touch them. Too cautious. Too tempting. He didn’t even like seeing the babies, not until they were older.

Lightning illuminated the room again, and thunder followed, rattling the windows. Tears immediately welled up in her eyes and, without thinking, Odysseus picked her up and held her against his chest. His arms naturally cradled her, supporting her neck in a gesture he’d learned centuries ago. He hushed her softly, comforting her as best he could while keeping an eye on the mother. Mothers were the most dangerous creatures in every species. 

The comfort continued for many minutes, Odysseus speaking at a low volume to keep her calm against the instinctual fear of thunder. Her free arm latched onto his beard, digging her fingers into the coarse hair and pulling. Odysseus winced, but didn’t stop her. Small as she was, she couldn’t hurt him. 

But he could hurt her. He was there to hurt her. 

A great many things in this world would hurt her. 

Odysseus frowned. The Lord of the Sky would soon discover Poseidon's oath breaking, and so would the Lord of the Dead. Both would be furious when they discovered little Penelope; he got the distinct impression that neither king was particularly happy to stop having children, despite the Gods’ general disinterest in their young. And as she aged, her scent would grow stronger and attract monster after monster after monster after—

He took a deep breath. His hands tightened slightly around the infant, as if bracing himself against the weight of the realization crashing down on him. His purpose—vengeance, justice, the satisfaction of seeing Poseidon suffer as he had suffered—was literally in his hands. And yet, standing in the dim glow of streetlights refracting in the rain, holding this tiny, helpless creature against his chest, all he could think of was how fragile she was.

He exhaled slowly, pressing his lips into a thin line.

If he left now, pretended he never saw the child, she’d live. For a while. But eventually, the monsters would come for her. She would be devoured before she learned how to run. Even if she somehow survived, even if she grew up strong, she would be dragged into the games of the gods, made a pawn in the endless war between Olympians. 

Odysseus had such a fate, once. He’d escaped by the skin of his teeth and ichor on his hands, but he escaped. 

It was better for her to die, a part of him whispered. The ghosts of his past murmured in his head, warning him, cursing him, reminding him of all that he had lost, all that he had destroyed.

But the girl in his arms did not yet know of loss. She knew only warmth. Only comfort. Her little fingers tangled in his beard, and when he shifted her slightly, she let out a sleepy sigh, nestling against him as though he were something safe. Something familiar.

Odysseus closed his eyes.

He was not a hero. He was not a good man. He had no illusions about what he was—what he had become. But for the first time in centuries, he had a choice.

He could leave her. Let fate claim her. Let the gods have their way.

Or he could take her.

How many times had he wondered what would have happened, if he didn’t drop Hector’s infant from that Trojan wall? Hundreds of times? Thousands? 

“Penelope.”

The name ached in his chest. He looked down at her one last time before making his decision.

With practiced ease, he adjusted his grip, holding her securely against him. He moved silently, his steps soundless as he turned away from the crib, from the exhausted mother who would wake in the morning to an empty cradle. Odysseus did not look back.

The storm raged on as he slipped out the window, the shadows swallowing him whole.

[radioactiverats]

Mentor Starscream x seeker!reader (8.5/?)

A little snippet because I am Inspired TvT

——

Joors into your repairs, Starscream had let himself back into the med bay. It was abundantly clear that he wasn’t going to leave.

It took a few lengths of pacing back and forth before Knockout tiredly told him to stay the frag put, and Starscream looked ready to throw hands before Knockout pointedly told him it was a distraction to your repairs - Starscream promptly shut his intake and slunk away to perch sullenly on a nearby medical berth.

Starscream’s optics remained glued to your prone frame, but he would look away every time he felt he was being watched.

Knockout stopped working to look pointedly at him, and Starscream’s optics slid stubbornly to some vials in the cupboard by the door. He probably wasn’t even aware that his wings were twitching something awful, shoulders nearly up to his audials with tension. Ex-venting, Knockout returns to his welding.

“You don’t need to pretend in front of me, you know.”

At that, Starscream bristles.

“Pretending?” He snarls. “I’m not pretending.”

Knockout glances at him.

“If you feel nothing, then why are you shaking?”

Starscream’s optics widen for a nanoklik before he leaps off the berth, wings quivering as he jabs a finger against Knockout’s chassis.

“You don’t know anything,” he hisses. “You’re the one who needs to stop pretending that you do.”

Despite having a faceful of angry seeker in front of him, Knockout merely sighs and, having ascertained that you were stable, clicks the welder off.

“Is it so hard to accept that you’re not the only one who cares?”

Starscream bares his denta, optics alight with fury. “If you care, why do I see no evidence of it?”

“Oh, please.”

Knockout rolls his optics, rounds the table to retrieve a jar of nanites. “I’m just better at hiding it than you are.”

He layers a section of torn mesh with nanites. “Cadet patches you up so often,” he drawls, before Starscream can work himself up even further. “Where do you think the endless medical supplies come from?”

That stops Starscream short. Reluctantly, he realises that he’d never actually thought about that.

A snarky retort dies in his vocaliser with an abrupt click as he raises his optics to Knockout’s faceplate - unlike the smugness he’d expected, the expression on the other mech’s faceplate is… sympathetic. Starscream clenches his servos into fists and turns away with a snarl.

Was he really such an open book? He’d spent endless nights struggling with the thought. Against his better judgement, wants you to know that he cares - the last thing he wants is to see your spirit broken. But… Starscream glances back over his shoulder to your frame, caked in drying energon, optics shuttered and oh so still. He shutters his optics with a shuddering ex-vent. Look where his care got you.

His shoulders slump. Reluctantly, he concedes that Knockout has a point. He’d let his weakness get the better of him - thought it would be okay for him to get attached, thought he could keep you out of harm’s way. When would he learn that he would always be alone? The most unbearable thing, however, was for you to become collateral damage. Never again.

“Don’t,” Knockout warns quietly. “They need you.”

Starscream whirls around, servos clenched.

Instead of the fight Knockout expected, though, the pain in Starscream’s optics is damning. No wonder Megatron had picked up on his weak point so quickly.

“I can’t do that to them,” Starscream murmurs, vocaliser thick with static.

“You-“ Knockout ex-vents harshly and curses his luck for being the only mech with any ounce of emotional self-awareness on this ship, even if he does understand how difficult Starscream’s position is. Still -

“You need to get it through your thick helm that their chances of survival skyrocket as long as you’re around,” Knockout snaps. “How can you think of abandoning them at such a crucial point?”

“I wasn’t-“ Starscream growls, and snarls when he meets Knockout’s challenging gaze. “You cannot hope to understand!”

Preserving your spark was the most important thing. Even if he had to keep his distance from you. Even if you ended up hating him. Even if you thought he’d abandoned you - Starscream’s fist abruptly meets the wall of the med bay even as Knockout yells at him to keep it together.

For a klik, his ragged ex-vents are all that fill the med bay.

“There has to be another way,” Starscream rasps. Alarm bells sound off in Knockout’s processor, sensors firing off when the air commander turns to meet his optics again. Starscream’s frame is strangely still, optics huge and glittering in a way that Knockout has only seen in cornered animals before.

“What are you planning?” Knockout asks warily.

Starscream doesn’t reply immediately. On stiff pedes, he approaches your side and, as if for the last time, gently strokes his servo over your cheek.

“Keep them safe,” Starscream whispers, and faster than Knockout can blink, he’s gone.

Mandatory @radioactiverats fic drawing… not an actual quote but I saw that line on Twitter and thought “yeah that’s so them”

[regulationhottie7905]

When I first watched ST, Mike’s, “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls!” immediately struck me as him projecting. Like anyone, I’ve read a lot of analysis and I’ve seen a lot of takes, but let me explain mine.

In my opinion, until s4, there’s more evidence to support the idea that MIKE is the one who doesn’t like girls, rather than Will. He only has 3 close (guy) friends. He never remarks on girls he finds pretty, he shows zero interest in any girl but El (which I honestly think is just him trying to hold on to a veneer of heterosexuality). In s2, Will, Lucas, and Dustin wants to be friends with Max- it’s Mike who dislikes her.

I think Mike and Will have always had a different kind of friendship. Even if they don’t have the right words for it, it’s kind of like the codependent homoerotic teenage friendships people make memes about. I mean, honestly, Mike won’t properly apologize to his own girlfriend but he runs with his tail between his legs to apologize to his ‘best friend’. Mike has always known he was Different, but he didn’t have the support system Will has, or the time to try and figure it out.

In s3, Mike is going headfirst into his relationship with El. He’s copying everyone around him and doing what he thinks he should do, which (imo) is why he spends SO much time making out with El (living up to the red blooded American male fantasy) than establishing a genuine relationship with her. Something about it is Off, but I don’t know if he’s even admitted that to himself. And Will made him stop (with the “day without girls”). Will made him hang out with him, and Will made Something Happen.

They’ve always had Something between them, but verbalizing it is too dangerous in a town like Hawkins in the 80s. They just knew that they were… different. Best friends in a way Lucas and Dustin weren’t. But Mike crossed the line during the fight (“it’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”) and after he says it, you can see him pull back. He felt guilty and weird and he didn’t know why, and he felt defensive and felt like he was backed into a corner so he said it. Will was being earnest and honest in a way he wasn’t ready for- but he doesn’t know that. He just knows that he felt sick and needed Will to stop. So he blamed Will. Because it’s Will’s being weird, right? Will is the one who’s making him feel weird, because HE’S the one being weird about it.

“It’s not MY fault YOU don’t like girls!” As much as we like to joke about it (Mike accusing Will of being gay whenever they argue) a lot of byler fights make a lot of sense in this vein, and I think it’s a really interesting insight into his character imo. Will is being honest and genuine in a way Mike isn’t ready for. Pushing Will away and attacking him in such a vitriolic ways really ensures that Mike’s masculinity is protected while Will is shamed (in Mike’s mind, at least.) The Byers moved to Cali so soon that the events of the rain fight were never truly discussed.

Mike REALLY hurt Will and I think that’s why he didn’t reach out- because he didn’t know what to say. He avoided his feelings and thinking about Will as much as possible and wrote El letters. But seeing Will at the airport changed something. He’s taller. He’s grown. He’s confident now (I’ll get back to that later). And when he sees him, Mike’s stomach does something it’s never done before. And he doesn’t know why. But despite that, he goes to hug his girlfriend. He doesn’t hug Will.

I firmly believe that Mike is gay (again, imo. Bi Mike people, ily, I love ur analysis, ur cool asf, this is just my opinion). I don’t think he’s ever felt a genuine attraction to El. He’s mimicking his parents and his friends and comics and fairytales- he will be her knight in shining armor, her Superman. With El, it’s friendship and the anxiety of a facade, but he mistakes it for the butterflies of a crush. With Will, it’s the only time he feels something REAL. I just don’t think he’s used to feeling genuine feelings, especially powerful feelings (let’s not forget he’s a teenager, the hormones are RAGING) and while he likes it (even though he has trouble admitting it… I think he gets better as s4 goes on though) it’s overwhelming and scary. I think he interprets those feelings as some kind of threat (especially considering that he’s been bullied before) or at least, he subconsciously does.

[seoulmatez]

𝓈𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓉𝑒𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇

as the crown prince's bodyguard, you've pledged to see that no harm comes to him. with a threat on the horizon, it's time to act on your word.

scaramouche x reader ﾉ 1k wc ﾉ sfw ﾉ prince!scaramouche ﾉ bodyguard!reader ﾉ mentions of violence ﾉ repost from previous blog :3

Events like these have always been boring to you—nobles dressing up and putting on their facades to keep up appearances with hopes of earning the favor of the royal family. They used to be a lot more tolerable in the presence of the prince who you’ve sworn to protect with your life. Despite his cold exterior and his harsh way with words, you’ve always found him to be quite entertaining. If anyone hated outings that gave an opportunity for sucking up more than you, it would be him. Though, tonight he made a very explicit point for you to keep your distance.

He seems to have grown fed up with your constant proximity if his foul mood the past few weeks is any evidence. He’s been particularly snappy as of late and you have no idea why. You doubt you’ll be finding out any time soon—you’ve never known Scaramouche to be one to willingly share his feelings.

Even though you’ve been cast away from his side, you refuse to let him leave your sight until the event comes to a close and he’s safely escorted back to the walls of the palace. You’re sure he can feel your stare burning into the side of his head but he chooses to ignore it. 

He looks just about as thrilled as you are at having to attend this gathering. The unimpressed expression he’s been wearing ever since you arrived has yet to leave his face, even as he converses with the people of his empire. You find yourself grinning despite his behavior not being particularly fitting of a soon-to-be emperor—though, being familiar with plenty of the nobles in attendance, you understand why he doesn’t attempt to hide his distaste.

They aren’t very pleasant.

Your eyes follow Scaramouche as he makes his way through the room, the cloak draped over his shoulders drifting gracefully behind him. Time seems to slow at that moment—each of his steps lagging, the fabric around him stilling.

And then—chaos.

Smoke fills the entrance of the room, thick grey clouds billowing from the doorway. then come the panicked screams and the hurried, frantic footsteps. You’re on the move before you truly piece together just what is going on. The head of midnight blue hair you’ve been keyed in on all night is barely visible through the fumes but you follow what little sight of it you have. You can hear your blood rushing and heart thumping as you race through the crowd, shoving past the bodies of dukes and duchesses, counts and countesses.

You’re sure you’ll be in for an earful later regarding your carelessness, but there’s only one thing—one person—you care about right now.

“Your Highness!” The smoke is thicker here but you can make out his figure despite the obstruction. His hand is on the hilt of the sword sheathed at his waist but his head whips around in the direction of your voice. You reach out to grab him with the intention of dragging him away from the disarray, though, before you can reach him, another figure appears within the smoke.

It’s cloaked in darkness and in its gloved hand is a sword, one raised in the air to cut down the crown prince. Your blood boils at the thought of any harm coming to Scaramouche and you jump into action. You swap places with the prince, pulling him protectively behind you before lifting your leg to deliver a blow to the assassin’s chest.

He stumbles on his feet which gives you just enough time to draw your own sword, to point the tip of the blade at the man’s throat. “Surrender.”

Whether it’s the cool metal threatening to pierce his skin or the murderous glint in your eyes, you can’t be sure, but the man drops his weapon.

You allow the other guards to handle wrapping up the situation—calming the crowd and locking the assassin up for his crimes.

You have more pressing matters to attend to. “Your Highness, are you injured?”

“I thought I told you to stay back tonight.” Scaramouche disregards your question entirely, eyebrows knit together in frustration. His hand is balled into a fist and shaking at his side, though, you can’t tell if that’s because of the close call or it’s because he’s that angry with you for ignoring his demand.

“That man could have killed you.” It’s not a justification, but an explanation.

“I could have handled it!” he shouts.

His raised voice might have made anyone else flinch but you stand your ground. Scaramouche is your prince—his word is law and any request he makes should be treated as an order. That is usually the case but you have commands from higher above—the emperor and empress themselves—to protect their heir. And you promised to do just that, even if it may cost you your life.

“I have no doubt about that, Your Highness,” you tell him, finally taking a moment to return your sword to its scabbard. It’s then that you notice that your hands are shaking, too. Different from your speculation with Scaramouche, you can definitively say that fear is the cause of the tremors. The thought of losing your prince was an undeniably scary one. “However, it is my duty to keep you safe—whether you like it or not. Unfortunately for you, you’re stuck with me.”

Scaramouche’s breath catches in his throat. Your words are bold for a mere guard—he could have you dismissed and replaced with the snap of his finger if he so pleased. But as quickly as the thought comes, he dismisses it—that isn’t what he wants, anyway. Your loyalty is unwavering and he would be a fool not to accept it.

There’s no need for you to know that so Scaramouche keeps quiet. He’s been eager for this night to end since it started and the unforeseen circumstances have given him the perfect opportunity to retire early. He turns on his heel to leave the room that is still being aired out.

“Your Highness, please let me escort you to the physician.” Your voice and footsteps follow him, lingering a few steps behind.

Do you really think he needs to see a doctor? Despite his momentary inadequacy, you carried out your duties well. “That won’t be necessary. I’m fine.”

manon here ( ≧ᗜ≦) thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[starryjake]

ever since tate mcraw dropped sports car, the line that goes "you could do it on your own while youre lookin at me" just SCREAMS mutual masterbation with k

k just bleeds sensuality and confidence when in an intimate relationship that just makes you also wanna be as sensual and confident, and what better way to test that then to watch each other get off before k just slams into you whispering you how proud of you he is and that you did so good for him

<3 🎨

🤭🤭🤭🤭delicious.

i agree that he bleeds sensuality and confidence, and therefore he feels completely comfortable and shameless jerking off in front of you. in fact, he likes being watched by you and seeing how you blush just from him stroking his cock.

“you should do it too,” he’d suggest, eyeing the empty spot on the bed. “it’d be fun.”

you remained in your spot, standing a few feet away from the bed. he wanted you to touch yourself? right in front of him? just the thought alone embarrassed you.

yet he wasn’t embarrassed at all. he was moaning carelessly as he sexily dragged his fist up and down his length.

“c’mere,” he urged, sensing your shyness. “don’t be nervous.”

you shakily walked over and sat on the bed with him. he smiled a little at your evident nervousness, finding you cuter than ever.

“take your clothes off for me, baby,” he said. “it’s okay, i’m right here.”

maintaining eye contact with him, you slowly peeled your shirt up and over your head, followed by your pants and underwear, which left you completely bare in front of him.

“now touch your pretty pussy for me,” he commanded. “i know you want to, angel. i can see how wet you are.”

you were positive your face was the brightest shade of red. despite the level of embarrassment you were at, you were also beyond aroused. you needed to touch yourself.

watching k stroke himself, you brought your hand down to your pussy, rubbing your clit and immediately moaning at the relief your fingers provided. k watched you with dark eyes, feeling his cock twitch in his hold.

you couldn’t keep your eyes open after a few minutes, the pleasure too overcoming. k, however, couldn’t blink because he didn’t want to miss a moment of the sight of you touching yourself.

he could tell you were getting close by the way your legs started shaking, your body twitching slightly.

you flinched, your eyes flying open at the feeling of his hands suddenly on your skin. he laid you down onto your back, spread your legs, and slid his cock inside you with ease.

“you did so good for me,” he whispered, kissing your forehead as he thrusted. “you feel amazing. nice and warm for me, hm?”

“please,” you cried out.

he smiled, intertwining your hands together.

“i’ve got you, sweetheart,” he assured. “i’m so proud of you for doing so good. i’ll let you cum for being such a good girl.”

needless to say, you were gushing around his cock in minutes.

[narrans]

A Small and Tall Collection | Chapter Sixteen | Not So Silent Night

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Chapter Sixteen | Not So Silent Night

Soren’s day had been perfect. His brothers experienced something he’d cherished all his life with his parents – their mother. Sure, the power was out; but, on the other hand he’d spent the day with the boys as well as their new little friend, Ashlynn. The apartment was safe. The boys were fed.

Christmas Even had been one to remember.

He’d been asleep. Completely asleep, drifting into the abyss of nothingness behind his eyes, when a cacophonous slam instantly snapped him out of his slumber.

*WHAM*

Immediately, Soren was upright and off the air mattress, crouched and tense with his eyes glued on the front door. He listened for a moment as his adrenaline spiked. Every nerve in his body was poised to strike or run.

What was that? A fluke? Snow and ice falling off the roof? No. Too deliberate. And that was on the door. That would only happen if someo-

*WHAM*

“Hhnnn… Soren?” Dorian and Rey’s sleepy faces poked over the arms of the couches they were sleeping under to look at Soren’s silhouette. They’d been woken up by whatever was happening outside, which made Soren mad. Not only did it wake the boys, but a quick glance down revealed Ashlynn also on her feet in a similarly crouched position, ready to bolt and hide at the drop of a hat.

Then, he heard it – a voice that could instantly boil Soren’s blood.

“Sssssoorrn? Opppen uuupp!”

Curses.

“Dorian. Rey. Get up and lock yourselves in your room. Take my phone. Call the police. Remember how to do that?” Soren snagged his phone, thankfully charged with the last of the generator battery, and held it out behind him, golden eyes burning a hole right through the door. His voice barked out orders like a military general, all trace of his own voice masked behind his words.

Ashlynn looked between Soren and the door, hoping for some clarification as to what was going on. Who was behind the door? Why was Soren’s voice not his own? Ashlynn glanced over her shoulder at the younger brothers, hoping for some clarity and received none.

Despite Soren’s orders, neither boy moved. It was like they were petrified except for the subtle tremble of their frames. Ashlynn knew the look, but was surprised to see it on a human. It was the same look that a Borrower would have when being seen. It was obvious both boys recognized the voice on the other side of the door, and it struck fear in them.

“Dorian! Rey!” Soren’s sharp tone cut through the air. Like the shattering of glass, the boys were jolted out of their stupor and fumbled to get out of their blankets, pausing as another round of harsh pounds made the door visibly shake. Ashlynn began backing away. It was instinct that had her grab her pin and hook from her bag as she inched toward the boys.

“Soren? Who is that?” she asked, unsure whether or not her voice was heard. Evidently not. Soren’s body, poised like a cat ready to spring, stood and took a few bold steps toward the door.

Soren, for many years, had charged into danger while his heart and mind stayed still and calm. He prided himself in this ability. Between his sixth sense and control over himself, Soren felt like he could charge into anything and make it out alright.

Now, his heart was a warring drum. The gravity of the present bled into his thoughts. What to do seemed a mirky vision compared to so many other decisions he’d made in his life. So much being so clear, and now not weighed on his chest.

*WHAM*

“Sooorrrrnn! Iwanna ssseee m’boys!”

*WHAM* *WHAM* *WHAM*

I need to do something. Soren clenched his fists and approached the door, staying several feet away as he spoke.

“Brady! Leave! Go away! The police are on their way!” Soren knew the last one was a lie, but he couldn’t do much about that now. His goal was just to make Brady go away. Hopefully, he would.

“Sssoooorrrenn! Open the d-dooorr! You’ve nnno rrright!”

Ashlynn’s back tapped against the couch. It nearly made her jump, but she refrained from yelping in surprise. Her eyes darted around frantically for the boys, who had barely moved an inch after getting out of their makeshift couch beds. Ashlynn wasn’t sure if it was fear that kept them or uncertainty that their brother was going to be alright.

Whatever the case, she needed to help if she could.

Soren had asked them to retreat to the next bedroom, and she was determined to make them. Before she did, however, she heard a harsh *CRACK* as wood began to splinter.

“Iiifff youdon t oppen uuupp, Immana break down this door! Theeey’re my sons!” Brady slurred.

“Not anymore! Leave! Before you make this worse for yourself!” Soren shouted.

“I HAAVVEEE RIGHTS!”

“Your appeal won’t go through! Not if I have anything to say about it. If you come in here, I swear you won’t be leaving in one piece, Brady. Leave!” Soren shouted back. He glanced over his shoulder, gut wrenching as he saw Dorian and Rey both frozen in place in the far corner of the room.

Curses! They’re scared, and they’re not listening!

“Dorian! Rey! Get to y-.”

*CRACK*

The door burst from the frame, cold wind possessing a foreboding presence of tension and danger, and a bundled figure stumbled in, falling to the ground before staggering to his feet. Ashlynn stared at the man as she backed away in to the shadows behind her and closer to the boys.

The man was obviously older, probably double Soren’s age if she had to venture a guess. His resemblance to his sons was uncanny, making them undeniably his. Their hair color and squarish jaws were nearly identical. Yet there was something in his eyes that told Ashlynn that those two, sweet boys could be nothing like this man. The Borrower continued to retreat as he and Soren stood at their full height, making it to the boys’ sides in record time.

The moment the man spotted Dorian and Rey, both trembling and hugging close to one another, a drunken smile spread across his face. Though Ashlynn only glimpsed it from her hiding spot before ducking behind the couch, she could see that the man genuinely was glad to see the two youngsters.

“Tthheere theyar. I jusss-” His eyes flicked over and darkened as they spotted Soren. “I jussss wanna talkta the bbooyys.”

“You can talk to them when a judge tells you it’s fine. Get out of my house and stay away from them until then,” Soren growled.

“Awww comeon Ssoorren. Itt’ss Chrisssstmas.”

“I don’t care. Get out of our home!” Soren shouted firmly. Brady’s eyes darkened as he took a staggering step forward.

“Yyyouu self-righteous pig. They’re naawwtt yours!” With reflexes unmatching his drunken state, Brady lunged forward and shoved Soren hard, forcing him back a few steps. “Yyyoouurr nno fath-”

He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence as Soren had all the provocation he needed. If Ashlynn thought Brady was fast, then Soren moved at the speed of light. The way his body darted forward, nimble and precise, before delivering a swift punch to Brady’s jawline reminded Ashlynn of the cat she likened him to minutes earlier. The solid thud followed by Brady stumbling across the floor and against the wall sounded like rolling thunder. Like a boulder unable to gain purchase on the mountainside and cascading down further and further down, Brady continued to fumble until he slammed against the opposite wall.

“I’m more of a father than you! Now get out!” Soren roared. Something about that strike on his jaw brought an acute awareness to his eyes, and Brady suddenly was pushing himself off of the wall and grappling Soren by the shirt as he used his weight to shove Soren back. The two slammed against the wall enough to crack the drywall. Soren responded in kind, grabbing Brady’s collar and drawing up his knee into Brady’s abdomen and delivering another blow in the same place as before.

For Ashlynn, it looked like clash of the titans. The ground shook as each of them stomped and slammed one another against whatever surface they could. In the dark, sprays of some dark liquid erupted from Brady’s nose and Soren’s lip as the two men exchanged strikes. Each blow was deafening, the sound of each fist making contact against a hollow chest or firm bone shaking Ashlynn to her core.

And she wasn’t the only one.

As Soren and Brady tussled, one fighting to get closer to the boys and the other desperate to keep him away, Ashlynn heard pitiful sobs coming from just above her. Her neck snapped up to see Dorian and Rey both with tear stained faces, Dorian standing protectively in front of his brothers even as he shook in his shoes.

Soren grunted as he was suddenly struck hard three times. He gritted his teeth and glanced back at the boys, who were still frozen in place. It was then that Ashlynn saw what was happening.

Soren is trying to be careful in front of them. He’s pulling his punches! They don’t need to see this. I need to get them out of here!

“Dorian! Rey!” Ashlynn shouted as Soren forced Brady back toward the door, barely missing the frame to shove the man back into the frigid air. Dorian glanced down, snot and tears glistening in the meager illumination of the flashlight array they’d made for their fort. He sniffled and continued to look down at her, a haunting image if Ashlynn didn’t know the boys or their distress.

“We need to go to your rooms. Do what Soren said and go to your rooms! Call the police!” Ashlynn wasn’t exactly sure what the last thing was, but evidently Soren thought it was important enough to tell the boys to do it. Dorian sniffled, a hiccup escaping his lips. He nodded timidly and gave Rey a tug as the two watched the men continue their brawl. Soren, from the corner of his eye, caught the movement and took the moment to push harder, snagging Brady’s collar again and forcing him out into the kitchen toward the garage.

Ashlynn ran alongside Dorian and Rey as if she were some kind of guardian. There was little she could do if the situation arose. She couldn’t stop Brady from coming after the boys. She couldn’t hold them and comfort them as they cried. The Borrower had never felt so small in all her life. What she could do was guide them forward though, and that’s exactly what she did. As Ashlynn sprinted beside the boys earthquake inducing strides, she glanced over to see Soren grappling something that Brady had in his hand.

It took all she had to tear her eyes away and focus on making sure the boys continued running, and in that moment she wished she hadn’t.

At that moment, there was a sharp yell of pain that made her blood run cold. Another glance in the dim illumination of the flashlights revealed the glint of a blade. Her heart lurched as she realized it wasn’t Soren who held the knife – he was the one who had shouted.

It was Brady who had the knife.

No… he needs help. Soren needs help! She looked back at Dorian and Rey, who heard the shout and stopped dead in their tracks. I have to get them into their room first.

“Dorian! Rey! Go! Do what Soren said! I’m going to go help him.” What on earth am I saying?! I can’t help, but I have to try. Right? Yes… I’ll figure something out. I’m sure of it.

Ashlynn pivoted and began sprinting toward the kitchen once she was sure she heard the door shut and the lock click. The sound of more grunting and pounding and hollering consumed her ears. She held her blade close as she sprinted along the edge of the trim, hoping she would go unnoticed and uncrushed being so close to the wall.

Her heart felt as strong and as loud as rolling thunder. Every breath felt ragged. It was against every instinct in her body that she charged forward toward the two humans brawling. Still, it was for a friend – for Soren.

She rounded the corner and, instantly, her heart dropped into her shoes. Soren’s arm was gushing blood and the knife was nowhere to be seen. His golden hazel eyes were wild with fury, a look that was frightening beyond words, as he was now pinned to the wall. The stance Brady took was keeping Soren firmly in place, and Soren’s injured arm was of little use as they struggled.

I need to break Brady’s stance. If I… Ashlynn knew what she had to do. It took every ounce of courage in the Borrower’s body to take one step forward, and then the next. Soren’s eyes flicked from Brady’s down to the floor at her slight movement, and his eyes went wide. For just a moment, he shook his head before looking back to the intruder.

Her body acted before she had a chance to reason her way out of it. Drawing her blade, she sprinted forward toward Brady’s ankles. She couldn’t hear his words. She didn’t want to. She didn’t even want to be there, and yet she was. Who would’ve ever known a Borrower would be charging a human, Ashlynn thought.

With the distance closed, Ashlynn waisted no time as, out of pure impulse and sheer willpower to protect her friend, she leapt and grabbed onto the inside seam of Brady’s pants, scurrying up quickly into the dark tunnel of stinking flesh where she saw his exposed leg. Then, she did the unthinkable for a Borrower.

She attacked.

Driving the edge of her blade as far as she could into the human’s leg and dragging down, she used her weight to pull her knife down the length of his calf. Brady’s step faltered instantly as he howled in pain. Ashlynn’s world was turned on its head as he began flailing around and stomping his leg.

“Whhhaaa? The f-”

Ashlynn didn’t wait to hear the rest. Terrified she’d be trampled, she dropped to the ground and sprinted toward the wall. The snow continued to drift in, sending ripping chills through Ashlynn’s body and threatening to cripple her movements. Ashlynn didn’t let herself stop though. She continued to sprint until she hid behind the fragments of the busted door and whipped around in time to see Brady crash to the ground, Soren finally pinning him.

Soren, who’d seen Ashlynn quickly dart forward and vanish from his line of sight, dared not move out of fear of crushing her. What on earth is she doing? What is she thinking? Soren didn’t have to wonder for long as Brady suddenly howled his foul breath in Soren’s face. He watched Ashlynn dart away, which was his cue to act.

He’d been holding back all this time, afraid that his brothers would see their father beaten beyond recognition; at least, that’s how Soren would’ve had it if he had his way. Now that he didn’t see his brothers anywhere and Ashlynn was out of the way, Soren could finally act without pulling his punches.

In just a fraction of a second, he had Brady pinned in a secure hold on the ground, delivering a few harsh blows for his own satisfaction to keep the man he despised in compliance. While Brady struggled on the ground, thrashing and shouting about knowing his rights and that he deserved to see his sons, red and blue flashing lights followed by a piercing siren told Soren that help was on the way.

Good. They called. I was starting to wonder. Soren continued to keep his hands firmly around Brady’s wrists as he kept him pinned. The stinging in his arm reminded him of his own injury and he prayed he wouldn’t have to go to the hospital.

When the police arrived, the flurry of events was little more than a blur. They charged in and temporarily kept Soren detained as they cuffed Brady and led him out to the nearest squad car. Several officers were ones Soren was familiar with, being friends on the force with similar goals of helping and saving others. It only encouraged taunts once Soren verified he and his brothers were alright.

Next came the explaining part. Soren was able to share some of the security footage but refrained from revealing anything inside as his mind thought back to Ashlynn and how she’d bravely come to his aid without briefly screening it first. He used the excuse that he needed to fast forward through him and his brothers making forts and food, and thankfully Ashlynn was nowhere to be seen in any angle.

When everything had been explained and signed, Soren and his brothers temporarily had to talk to the paramedics just to make sure they were okay. The knife laceration was, thankfully, shallow and only required a bit of glue and no stitches along with a firm scolding that he needed to take it easy for the present.

Before he knew it, everyone had been escorted out and the door was temporarily back up, blocking out the freezing air. Soren placed the heaters in his room and shut the door, knowing exactly where the rest of the night was going to go – slumber party in his bed. The boys would undoubtedly have a hard time sleeping on their own for the next week.

“You guys okay?” asked Soren, kneeling in front of his brothers and searching each of their faces for any sign they weren’t completely traumatized by the events of the night.

“Y-y-yeah,” stammered Rey. He sniffled and wiped his nose down the length of his sleeve.

“That was r-really scary,” Dorian murmured. “Did… did he hurt you?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Soren smiled. Curse that man, Soren thought bitterly. “And I know you both were really scared, but you did so well listening to instructions and calling for help when I asked.

The trio was silent as Soren rubbed his brothers’ arms. It was a grounding technique he’d been taught, and hopefully they would do the same.

“I-is… is Ashlynn okay?” asked Rey.

“Yeah, she helped us get to our rooms,” Dorian added.

A pit formed in Soren’s stomach. He had been so worried with everything else in the world that he hadn’t even stopped for a second to make sure she was okay. “I… think so. I think when the officers came in she did a really good job of hiding. Don’t worry. I’ll find her. Until then, you two go in my room and get in the bed. I’ll be there in a second.”

“But… do you need help finding Ashlynn?” asked Dorian. Rey nodded in agreement.

“Right now, no. I’ll let you know if I need help but getting you two settled matters more. It’ll take you two forever to snuggle in my bed anyway.” Soren directed the two boys into his room and helped them into bed.

The door clicked behind the eldest brothers, weight of the world feeling like it had once again pinned itself to his shoulders, as he began scanning the ground. He couldn’t believe that it had slipped his mind that he hadn’t seen their little friend since she’d ducked behind the door. Now being more mindful of his surroundings, Soren crouched and listened briefly to see if he could pick anything up.

“Ashlynn?” he called. “Everyone’s gone. Well, except for us. You there?” A painstaking thirty seconds passed with nothing indicating that Ashlynn was anywhere near them when, from under the couch, Soren noticed her peering out at him. Her clothes were covered in blood, which had also matted her hair in a few dozen tiny clumps, and she looked rattled.

“Yeah, I’m… here. Who was that?” asked Ashlynn, her voice cracking a few times before coughing awkwardly to clear the tension surrounding her.

“That,” sighed Soren. “Was Brady. He’s Dorian and Rey’s father. He’s not supposed to have any contact with us, but legally speaking he was made privy to where we live. Courts will probably have us move or something crazy, but that’s a problem for another day.”

“M-move?” Ashlynn gawked.

“Again, or something crazy. I don’t think it’ll come to that, but it’ll be months before anything like that is decided,” reassured Soren. Ashlynn’s blue gray eyes flicked almost imperceptibly from Soren’s face to the drying blood spot on his shirt.

“You’re hurt.”

Soren gave a shrug, hiding the wince as he did, and smiled instead. “I’ve had worse, believe me.”

“On your hands and face too,” she said. Soren hadn’t noticed, but Ashlynn was right. There were tiny cuts and splits in his hands from where he and Brady had been punching one another. He was sure his swelling lip was also a hint that he looked a bit banged up.

“Probably. Seems like we should get cleaned up,” suggested Soren. Ashlynn nodded, fingers snagging one of the many clumps and lifting, which brought the rest of her matting hair with her. She stepped onto Soren’s offered hand and the two of them retreated to the kitchen counter.

Ashlynn didn’t protest when Soren didn’t put her down while he heated the water for them. She didn’t move even after when he brought her to the table with the warmed water. It was only when he began dabbing the cloth on his lip that she stood, grabbed a fragment of cloth, and began scrubbing not on herself, but on him.

Knuckles. Fingers. Palm. Every nook and crevasse that was miniscule for a human was easy for Ashlynn to clean.

To be so close to the hands she’d seen commit such intense violence made her shiver. If Soren were to try and grab her with that same speed and force, she’d never stand a chance. It was a testament to him and his character. Before, Ashlynn wasn’t sure if Soren was capable of hurting someone else. Now, she knew better.

But, it had been in defense of his brothers and herself. That protective instinct was obviously stronger than any perception he wanted to keep to make Ashlynn feel at ease with being so close to him. And, if she was being honest with herself, it was both terrifying and exhilarating to see Soren in action like that. If she hadn’t been so scared, she might’ve felt more than a blush in her cheeks.

“Thank you, for helping me.” Soren’s words disrupted her thoughts and made her startle. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to spook you. I just wanted to say that what you did… that was crazy, but also really brave. You didn’t have to help, but you did. So, thanks.”

Ashlynn bit her lip and looked away, glancing up from time to time. She stepped over to the water and dunked the cloth fragment she was using. The watched the droplets form as she rung out the fibers before returning to the task at hand.

“I didn’t really do much,” she mumbled. She continued to look down as she hoped Soren didn’t notice her blush.

“Yes, you did.” Soren’s finger suddenly came into view and, with the delicacy of a feather, hooked just under her chin and tilted her head back and up to look at him. “Seriously. I was in a bit of trouble back there. Things would’ve ended up really bad if you didn’t come along.”

She held his gaze, and he held hers. The Borrower woman wasn’t sure when his finger retracted, his eyes alone keeping her set in stone perched on the edge of his hand. Something in her heart swelled. Her skin tingled all over. She had to force herself to swallow as she finally tore her gaze away from his and back to the task at hand. Words escaped her mind as time and space whirled past her.

Finally, she managed to fumble out, “Well… you’re welcome. And you’ve already done the same for me so… seems like we make a good team.”

She heard Soren chuckle ever so softly and caught him nodding out of the corner of her eye as he agreed. “We certainly are.”

It took a few more minutes to get both Soren and Ashlynn clean, Ashlynn having to change yet again into another set of warm clothes she had with her, before the two of them went into Soren’s room. Just as they entered, the sound of beeping in the kitchen alerted them that the power was on once again.

Both Dorian and Rey were awake, but drowsy, when Soren slid under the covers beside them. Ashlynn, despite better Borrower worthy judgment, decided to stay on the bed with Soren and his brothers, curling up in the little gap between Soren’s shoulder and the pillow he rested his head on. Both Dorian and Rey curled under his arms, falling asleep within seconds of being reunited with their brother, and Soren and Ashlynn weren’t far behind.

It was a not so silent night, but the events leading up to it solidified their bonds together. Nothing could separate them now.

Well… almost nothing….

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

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A Tall and Small Collection | Original Story

[achaotichuman]

ACOTAR Discussion

Okay, so recently my mutual @sonics-atelier posted this fic Perfect To Me (which is so fucking amazing, I cried, go read it rn) and in this fic, they write about Tamlin developing an eating disorder (specifically anorexia) since his body changed after starting to get Spring back on its feet. And it started me down a whole rant about fictional characters being the pinnacle of beauty standards, specifically in relation to what they're bodies look like. So, to save my mutuals the long spam texts about my thoughts, I'm gonna post em here.

General trigger warning- Discussion of a variety of eating disorders, body dysmorphia and Cassian.

SJM covers disordered eating within ACOTAR, it happens specifically to the female characters. And this is something, I have a huge problem with. That might seem like a massive asshole sentence, but let me explain my thought process.

These eating disorders are not well respresented, they do not further affect the plot, they only serve to be an outward appearance to the male saviour characters that something is wrong, and they never appear on the female characters in a way that makes them any less pretty, in fact, I would say, the resulting skinniness from said disordered eating, is the desired result. By that I mean, yes I think SJM writes her female characters starving themselves to make them fit the female beauty standard.

This is very evident with Nesta, who somehow miraculously only grows thinner in the waist and hips when she is starving herself. But still has massive breasts which Cassian makes a point of oogling, despite noticing how thin she is everywhere else. Instead of taking Nesta's not wanting to eat anything and turning it into a plot point for her character in which she learns to take care of and eventually love her new Fae body, SJM decides to further starve Nesta, but Cassian limiting her sugar intake, so she reminds the same 000 size in the waist.

Now, onto what really, truly makes me angry within SJM's series. Character's gaining weight, rather than losing it.

This happens once in the series. It is one singular comment, that put me off Cassian forever.

"You need to get out in the practice ring, brother. Don't want your mate to find any soft bits."

This comment was from Cassian to Rhysand in the third chapter of ACOSF, after looking Rhys up and down pretty much.

May seem like a harmless jab to a lot of people, but take into account all of the context around it.

Cassian had just been eyeing Nesta's body-clearly suffering from the effects of long-term starvation, like a hunk of meat.

They had just won a war not long ago-still coming down from the stress highs that would have no doubt been enough to put any normal person in bed for a month.

Rhysand had only recently found out about Feyre's pregnancy, if I remember correctly-would have also found out about the risks, and would be dealing the extreme stress that would be causing.

It would be incredibly normal for Rhysand to gain weight because of all these factors. Not to mention this being the first (and I'm fairly certain) only time, SJM's mentions a male character gaining weight, and it being in such a negative light, could only suggest she, and thus Cassian, find the idea unappealing or perhaps downright abhorrent.

Which really fucking pisses me off.

Most of her female characters have experienced a form of anorexia throughout the books as a trauma or stress response. And it never exists to go further than making them more conventionally attractive.

Now further on her male characters, not a single one of them ever has an ounce of fat on their body. Weight gain is entirely out of the question, even when it should be the obvious occurrence due to whatever change in their situation.

Now this also brings me to another problem I have, which also leeches into fandom behaviour.

We all love Tamlin's tits, ofc, ofc, but muscle behaves like fat if its not being actively flexed. Tamlin's pectoral muscles are no doubt incredibly strong, and would, probably be able to crack a nut (no pun intended) if flexed. But if they werent, they would be soft and squishy. No one talks about THAT THOUGH DO YOU???

Not to mention, that, Tamlin is a beast creature, wandering the forests, not training or exercising properly, and is only gouging on the carcasses of animals he kills. This could be an excellent time to lean into weight gain, and the intense feelings of guilt, and body dysmorphia that it brings.

Lets also discuss Gwyn, a traumatised young woman who fled to the Library in order to live a life of peace. She has never trained a day in her life before becoming a Valkyrie, why is she so skinny?

It's never mentioned Gwyn having any kind of reaction to her trauma that affects her eating (as far as I remember) and I think it would be far more interesting to delve into the effects grief and the lose of a dear loved one has on the body and ones eating habits.

Lets talk about Elain, who is said to use baking a coping mechanism, why is she skinny? This is the perfect opportunity to delve into a character binge eating, then extreme guilt from the times where they were in poverty, and purging. But finding comfort in food because food = wealth, wealth =safety.

And in the end, a character can be fat and be happy. Why do we have so many characters that are so thin at the end of their books?

So many of these characters also have near no stability, their diet would not doubt be changing constantly from the inconsistency in their living situations. Which should to lead to drastic changes in their body. This could be a very interesting way to explore body dysphoria. Hating seeing yourself in the mirror even if you just survived battle, because you can hardly recognise yourself. Changing so much in the mind and not even having the comfort of your body being the same. Especially with Nesta and Elain being Made against their will. I honestly believe Nesta's starvation should have been her hating her new Fae body so much that she just wants to destroy it. Her healing, should have been learning to love herself, no matter what body she is in.

In the end, your body is you, but you are more than your body. Bodies are such incredibly fascinating tool, and people don't always have to like what it looks like to care for it. Bodies can be smaller, bigger, stronger, they take your brain wherever it wants to go. But they are not all of you. And that should have been what especially Nesta's journey could have been.

Anyway, this is incredibly sensitive topic for a lot of people, so I do really want to open this up to everyone. What are your thoughts on this topic? Do you think SJM's portrayal of eating disorders is justified, or do you think I'm wrong on any of these points? Let me know in either the comments or the reblogs, I would be happy to discuss it.

[downsteepy]

i am very grateful that im not someone that has to deal with daily seizures but it is evil when it takes like a week and a half's worth of business days to recover from a seizure

[idol-emu-otori-official-archived]

╰┈➤ SHUFFLE AU

DESTINATION POINT (DP)

the Leo/need adjacent unit, composed of Ichika Hoshino, Airi Momoi, Ena Shinonome, and Minori Hanasato. ☆ a girl who's lost her friendships, and three others searching for their worth.

about the group's name: ♡ originally, i had "from here to there" in mind, but someone from the Discord gave me the name "destination point" and i thought it was much better, so i went with that. ♪

about the SEKAI: ♡ the Train SEKAI. no one knows when it left, or where it's going - just that it never stops. it's the perfect place for those who feel like they're lagging behind. just close your eyes and let yourself be carried away, right? but maybe there's something you can do… starts with a Miku and a Rin. the former's hardworking and talented, but the latter struggles - Rin is somewhat influenced by Ena's (and, to a lesser extent, Airi's) jealousy towards others.

•

Ichika hasn't managed to rekindle her friendship with her friends, and she's not doing particularly well. At one point, she meets Airi - who just quit being an idol. The two start talking and become friends, at which point they end up forming a band together. Airi wants to try finding a place where she could finally be taken seriously.

Ena's invited by Airi, and Minori - who had failed auditions recently - ends up inspired by Ichika's kindness, Airi's drive and Ena's determination, which is how she joins. (Haruka completely gave up on being an idol; something Minori is saddened by.)

In my mind, Ichika plays the guitar; Airi, the drums; Minori, the keyboard and Ena, the bass.

-

IDEAL HEAVEN! (IH)

the MORE MORE JUMP! adjacent unit, composed of Mafuyu Asahina, Emu Otori, Mizuki Akiyama and Shizuku Hinomori. ☆ an up-and-coming idol group that combines cuteness and sophistication.

about the SEKAI: ♡ quite similar to the Empty SEKAI, but with some idol influences - a broken stage with no one in sight. there's no bright lights, no colorful props. nothing. that SEKAI both comforts and pains Mafuyu. home to a lone Miku. sweet, hopeful, but genuinely crushed by the pressure she's feeling.

•

Mafuyu's mother wants a perfect child. idols are very frequently represented as being perfect - so, she decides that her daughter should become one, too. Mafuyu's not keen on the idea, but that's her mother; she's obedient, so she goes along with it.

Shizuku still quit Cheerful * Days, but instead of stopping altogether she ends up with Mafuyu. Emu wants to make people smile, but no one ever came; Wonderlands × Showtime was never a thing. so she decides to become an idol instead, even if it means she'll never bring back the Wonder Stage to its former state.

Mizuki's half-dragged into IDEAL HEAVEN! by Emu, who saw them looking with interest at idol merch. after bringing them to meet Mafuyu and Shizuku, Mizuki ends up accepting - the idea of wearing cute clothes and being called cute doesn't seem too terrible.

-

READY MADE SUCCESS (RMS)

the Vivid BAD SQUAD adjacent unit, composed of Haruka Kiritani, An Shiraishi, Shiho Hinomori and Akito Shinonome. ☆ two street musicians chasing after their dream, and the two girls they brought with them.

about the SEKAI: ♡ the Street SEKAI. weirdly, it seems Haruka's idol background has somewhat influenced its appearance. its inhabitants are Miku, Meiko and Len. this Miku is levelheaded, but it seems like there's something holding her back from going all-in...

•

after quitting being an idol, Haruka is invited by An to join her.

An's never met Kohane, and she never found a partner. Haruka is hesitant for a moment before deciding to give it a shot, though she keeps struggling with singing. Shiho tries getting more experience, meets Akito. no one really knows how these two ended together, but they both have a similar drive and take music very seriously.

eventually, they all start working together. Haruka deals with her guilt and, while she doubts she'll become an idol again, she's mostly made peace with what happened.

-

STARLIGHT ☆ EVERMORE (S ☆ E)

the Wonderlands × Showtime adjacent unit, composed of Tsukasa Tenma, Saki Tenma, Kanade Yoisaki and Toya Aoyagi. ☆ a strange troupe of people who aim to help others through their performances.

about the SEKAI: ♡ still very much Tsukasa's, so it's the Wonderland SEKAI. [kanade goes there for the first time and dies. alas, they're still a shut-in and this place is simply too colorful for her poor eyes.] starts with a Miku and a Kaito, though this version of the former uses far less onomatopoeias.

Tsukasa figures he needs to show the world how much of a star he is himself, and he drags his siblings into it (with varying degrees of willingness).

a part of Saki still wishes she could be in a band with her friends; she's only somewhat managed to repair her friendship with Ichika. but she's still happy to do something fun and lighthearted after all her struggles. Toya's very excited to do something with Tsukasa and his siblings. he also gets to stick it to his dad, which, honestly - is a bonus.

out of the three, Kanade is obviously the most hesitant about the whole thing. but she sees Tsukasa's drive to make others happy, something she shares with him, so she ends up agreeing. Kanade is… slightly healthier physically on account of the stubborn people looking after her, as well as all the exercise she does she does as part of Starlight ☆ Evermore. mentally? eh… we'll get there. i need her traumatized to be interesting. <3

-

LONELY SYNDROME (LS)

the 25-ji, Nightcord de. adjacent unit, composed of Nene Kusanagi, Rui Kamishiro, Honami Mochizuki and Kohane Azusawa. ☆ hidden behind avatars, these citizens of the web tell stories online.

about the SEKAI: ♡ the arcade SEKAI. this Miku is shy and withdrawn, though she one day hopes she'll be able to break out of her shell, just like Nene. alongside her is Luka - she has a bit of a teasing attitude and a catlike personality, but she always does her best to boost Nene's confidence.

about the group's name: ♡ syndrome refers to a group of symptoms - i paired it with the word lonely because i felt like it represented the atmosphere of an arcade. you're connected with people who share your interests, but at the same time, you're sort of separate from them. surrounded by people, but utterly alone…

•

Nene's social anxiety hasn't gotten better over the years. since she never joins Wonderlands × Showtime, she doesn't learn how to fight her stage fright.

but, she finds an alternate solution; using an avatar online. it's less stress-inducing, and it lets her pursue acting, in a way - it's not what Nene wants, but it's close enough. she figures she could be satisfied with that. Rui ends up figuring out what she's doing, and asks if he can help. Nene doesn't really have any reason to say no, so they start working together.

as for Honami and Kohane, they ended up on Nene's channel by pure accident. but her performances quickly became a comfort to them, since they were struggling at the time (the former because she no longer had her friends, the latter because of her lack of confidence).

unfortunately, ignoring your problems only goes so far, and eventually, her feelings give birth to the arcade SEKAI.

[nem0-nee]

On "heavy inspiration"

First, I'd like to apologize for the contents of this post. I do not wish to be a blog that just complains about matters, but I feel like I need to say this at least once.

If you don't agree with what I say, that's perfectly fine. We can agree to disagree, that is all.

It never fails to anger me when I see any issue related to tracing and "heavy inspiration." These are definitely tools when it comes to learning more about art, but there's definitely a line that dictates whether the use of those methods are acceptable or not.

I will not be naming names, but back then there was a blog which was "heavily inspired" by me. I'm flattered that I inspire people out there, but this case was truly something else.

[NOTE: If you recognize the account I'm referring to, please don't bring them up. I don't want this to escalate, nor do I want to stir up any issues. This is just to discuss what happened.]

There was a time where I've made a character sheet/template for one of my OCs, intending it to be for her specifically; every element about it reflected her as a character in general. A few days later, I see that a certain blog had done the same with their own sheet. The only difference was that it was all mirrored. I commend them for giving me credit, however I was not on board with what they did.

DISCLAIMER #1: Yes, I am aware that I may sound like a whiny baby for being possessive over a character template. It truly sounds absurd, and even now I don't know if what I felt was valid. But my reason for it was that I had specifically designed that sheet for THAT character. It was completely original, as I had made it all from scratch. It took me a while to conceptualize it all. Then someone comes along, taking and running with it without asking me? Can you blame me for being upset?

I didn't want to cause an issue, so I privately settled this issue with them. I made it clear with them that they should've asked me first before doing it, but also added in that they don't have to take the post down. I may be protective of my works, but I'm not a jerk to force someone to take down their own hard work. Plus, I didn't want to cause any drama nor controversy over a character sheet, so I just kept my mouth shut.

Additionally, I made a post as a measure to make sure this incident doesn't repeat.

You'd think this would all stop, but it surprisingly didn't! A few months later, I released a Birthday Union Card for one of my characters. I took some creative liberties with it and added my own twist to things. So, I gave my OC a different kind of bow and nail polish. A few weeks later and what do I see? The same kind of bow and nail polish are on their own birthday card too!!

DISCLAIMER #2: I am aware I don't own these "creative liberties" or certain aspects of design. I would've brushed this off as a coincidence if they hadn't taken "major inspiration" from me before, but this was the second time it all happened. I was beginning to get paranoid; I felt like they were keeping note of everything I do so they could do the same. damn. thing. Plus from what I know, I don't think anyone has done this before? Maybe that's just me...

Don't get me even started with the post formats! I did things a certain way back then, mixing up the font styles, incorporating colors, cringeworthy quotes- you name it. Would you believe me that they got inspired by me to this degree? That they would format posts that contained similar content as me IN A SIMILAR WAY?

DISCLAIMER #3: I am aware that I don't own post formats. My point here is that they were truly coming across as a copycat. I believe they could've changed things up for the sake of originality. But I suppose you can't have everything nice in life.

Every time they post something, the first thing that comes to mind is "what did they copy from me this time?" And it's truly a shame. Any slight resemblance or similarity to what I did stirred panic within me. It wasn't healthy, and I felt like I couldn't do anything about it.

Though, I must admit I'm not entirely in the right for this. Thinking about it, I may have enabled them due to my lack of communication.

FAULT #1: I must acknowledge my fault for not telling them off enough. I really thought they'd just eventually stop and learn from their mistakes. I just didn't have the heart to tell them any more. Being accused of copying is not a great thing, and I didn't really want to be that person. Unfortunately, look where that got me.

FAULT #2: It's also my fault I decided to follow them back despite the first instance and didn't block them. Admittedly, I have a bad habit of wanting to see the good in people. So I assumed that they would change in the long run.

Things only stopped when I finally blocked them and notified them about it. I don't think they're active on here anymore, and sometimes I worry if I was the reason for that. I wished it didn't come to this point.

This is a cautionary tale for fellow artists out there. Please, don't take things without permission. This whole incident took a toll on me for months, and I still fear instances of these. Some artists may be more lenient and wouldn't mind, but there are definitely others who are not okay with "heavy inspiration." Always, ALWAYS ask.

[supreme-burrito]

You know what I just realized

So Spirit of Justice came out in 2016 near the end of the 3DS’s life span.

Ace Attorney thrived because its core game mechanics (not counting the GBA era games from Japan) heavily relied on the mechanics of two consoles from Nintendo. Yes, it’s possible to play these games on other consoles, but you don’t get that same experience as you did in their original format. I never played an Ace Attorney on in its original format so I don’t know what that experience feels like. I played the original trilogy and the Sholmes games on PlayStation and the remainder of the series that is available to the West (I do plan on getting around to playing Investigations 2 at some point) on mobile.

The PlayStation experience is alright because the graphics are an inherent glow up, but in my opinion, the best, most current way to experience the Ace Attorney games is through mobile. You don’t need the dual screens, just having the ability to play via touching the screen is sufficient enough.

Now here is the depressing realization. It’s been almost 7 years since a brand new AA game as been released to Western audiences. All other new entries have been either remakes or ports. The last new game for Japan was in 2017 with The Great Ace Attorney 2: Resolve, almost 6 years ago.

Everyone wants AA7. I want AA7, your grandma wants AA7. However, as I see it, because of the simplicity of Ace Attorney game mechanics, but it shouldn’t be difficult to make a new game.

Unless they completely overall the system and mechanics entirely so the franchise can survive on future at-home consoles OR they stick to the mobile market where the game is currently the best and current experience. The most recent release to the West for Ace Attorney as far as I can tell, was the original trilogy to mobile which was a year ago as of yesterday according to Wikipedia. Which makes me ask, why the three year gap between EVERY OTHER PORT of the original trilogy and THEN have this disclaimer on the App Store?

My point in all this is my hopes for AA7 ever coming to fruition are slim to none due to Capcom and the whole project got canned

OR

Due to searching up some information, we might be getting Ace Attorney 7 soon

I did some digging and found out that back at the end of 2020, Capcom had a massive data breach where a handful of projects got leaked including the following: RE4 remake, Street Fighter 6, Dragon’s Dogma 2, and AA7.

The prior three projects have already been announced/released as of this year.

Capcom does not give specifics on what was let out, so all I can find about this specific list of games is from old articles talking about AA7 speculation and the leak. According to this roadmap, supposedly the main production phase of AA7 was supposed to begin around October of 2021.

This is just my speculation (like all the other game articles), but depending on how much of the main game mechanics have been overhauled (if at all) or if they’re just making Ace Attorney with a glow up, it will most likely be later at the end of this year or sometime around this time next year and might be announced during Capcom’s biggest round of game release announcements.

I could be 100% wrong or I once again have the deduction skills of Sherlock Holmes and gift of prophecy from Apollo.

2024: Gay Lawyers 2: Electic Boogaloo

And yes Yagami you count too

Who knows he might get a cameo in Yakuza 8 (YES I KNOW THE SERIES IS CALLED LIKE A DRAGON NOW BUT I WIL ALWAYS REFER TO IT AS YAKUZA. It’s the same reason it’s why I will always refer to Cole Cassidy as McCree. Because the change was made solely for political reasons and was kind of unnecessary)