miss demeanor

can ace attorney lay off like this. One really specific character trope for all their young female characters who aren’t in the main cast, where she’s introduced as being really sexy / cute and flirty and innocent and helpless and the judge is completely weak for her and the gallery yells at you for being mean to her but then you pick her testimony apart and her personality does a 180 and she’s abrasive and angry and snaps at you and the judge says something like “miss ___! you….your demeanor completely changed! you’re much less cute” and the gallery turns against her and she usually gets completely humiliated before being revealed to be the murderer/an accomplice to the murderer/ a minor antagonist.

like off the top of my head, i can think of april may, dahlia hawthorne, mimi/ini miney, betty de famme, and wocky kitakis gf all who fit exactly into this trope. and that’s just off the top of my head, if i looked for them i would probably find more. like aside from being annoying, it’s just boring and predictable like im playing through spirit of justice blind and geiru was just introduced as being sexy and ditzy with painful boob jiggle animation and im waiting for it to turn out that she’s a sadistic horrible person

also like every brown and black person in the ace attorney series is either the murderer or dead, im not even kidding like the only brown people i can think of are juan corrida, marlon from dual destinies, puh'ray zehlot, gant, and tah'rust inmee. maaaaybe the gavin brothers too. and they are all, respectively: dead, a murderer, dead AND a murderer, a murderer, dead, and a murderer. the only exception is klavier. the series is soooo predictable and terrible when it comes to women and brown/black men

Echoes .3

Originally posted by sugutie

Member: Jeon Jungkook

Genre: angst, soulmate au, fluff

Word Count: 6,103

Warnings: slight cursing

Author’s Note: part three of this soulmate series, thank you for being so patient, i’m already planning the next chapters, and a little heads up, but there might be two or three more chapters before the finale!! enjoy :)

Part one. two. three.

Soulmate. When your whole world comes to a stop when destiny draws the pair close.

By the time you get back to your dorm, it’s already dark. The stars are twinkling in contrast to the dark emptiness of space. The view of the sky during your car ride was a changing spectrum of oranges, pinks, purples, and blues. 

After leaving the cafe, you had driven around Seoul for hours, getting off every once in a while, and taking pictures. Although futile, since the pictures would disappear the next day when the time loop reset your world, you loved the act of capturing the scenery into a single square. 

Unlocking the dorm door was a familiar, yet depressing scene. It meant another day of failing to find your soulmate. With the room still dark, you walk over to the compact refrigerator sitting in your tiny kitchen and grab your bottle of water. The brightness of the refrigerator momentarily fills up the room with yellow-tinted light, but disappears along with the sound of the doors shutting.

You walk over and collapse on your couch. Streetlights outside let see the empty road, and the doors of the apartments outside.

1…2…3…you count silently; however, you already know that there are 12 lamps lining the streets outside. Counting streetlights is something you do pointlessly on certain nights. 

You take a sip from the water bottle in your hand and pull up the time from your cell phone. 

11:47 pm shines from the screen. You rest your eyes…another day is over

The lone car cruises down the street and you can hear the soft rumbling of its engine streaking down the pavement. You close you eyes for a moment, and let the events of today replay in your mind.

11:59 pm, you see now on your phone when you open your eyes. On top of the time, May 23, 2016 is written in smaller font.

You stare at the clock and wait to see the clock change, wishing that the date would change along with the time. However, before the time changes, fatigue washes over you, and an ungodly force forces your eyes to close and everything goes blank.

Pitch black darkness.

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Voltron Spoilers

So I didn’t get any sleep.

A Bond That Carries

by stumbling-while-balancing

Pairing: Sven/Keith

Rating: T


Sven studied the pretty one in front of him curiously. He and Slav had heard him dismiss himself from his princess-companion through the duct work, but only after the pretty one had made an angry comment about the Altean lack of respect for a person’s free will. So Sven was feeling slightly more certain that these strange visitors that had appeared out of nowhere just might be on the resistance’s side.

But if Slav and Sven were wrong and the strangers were in fact with the Alteans, then they had sent the right one after Sven.

It’s just-

He was very pretty.

Not only in looks, though those were a draw- the dark locks of his hair framing intense violet eyes set in a heart-shaped face. Overall, a very pretty picture. But the fire in those eyes, the conviction, the strange need that seemed to draw Sven in and swallow him whole.

That was what really made him beautiful.

And those eyes were fixed on Sven himself now, bright enough to burn him alive and deep enough to drown in.

Yes, if this one had been sent to seduce him… then he and Slav were in trouble.

“Do you have someone like me?” The pretty one asked abruptly after they had been studying each other for several moments.

“What?” Sven returned, hone’stly puzzled by the question.

The pretty one looked down for a moment, struggling with something before asking, “Have you met me? In this universe. Do you know my other self?”


“No.” Sven confessed, feeling as though it were the wrong thing to say for some reason, even though it was the truth.

The pretty one nodded to himself before stepping closer to him abruptly, “Then if you ever do, apologize to him for me.”

Before Sven could even open his mouth to ask for what, the pretty one’s mouth was closing over his fiercely. In the seconds that followed, he almost, almost found the strength to push away before the fire that shone in the pretty one’s eyes swept into his blood and Sven was moaning and drawing the pretty one into a deeper kiss before he even realized what was happening. It was like nothing else Sven had ever felt before. He felt like he was being burned alive as the heat within him rose steadily. He pushed the pretty one, Keith, they had called him Keith, into the wall, bracketing the pretty one’s body with his own. Each brush of their bodies against each other only made him burn hotter, and Sven felt consumed.

It was seconds, minutes, hours later when they finally pulled apart again to catch their breath, panting hotly into each other’s mouths as they separated only far enough away to draw air in. After a moment, Keith drew his hand up to fist in Sven’s hair and whispered-breathed, “Let me pretend. Please. Please just for right now, let me pretend.”

And even as Sven captured Keith’s lips again in a kiss just as burning as the last, he understood. Keith had known someone like Sven, Sven’s double from that universe perhaps. He had known him, and he had lost him.

Between scorching kisses, Sven wondered dazedly who could ever be fool enough to do something that would cause them to lose this, to leave Keith’s touch, Keith’s warmth long enough to get take away.

But the rational side of himself realized that his other self probably hadn’t had a choice.

He pressed Keith firmer into the wall as his pretty one started shaking, and ran a soothing hand down his side even as his other hand rested on the wall beside Keith’s head. Keeping him calm, and safe, and sheltered. If only for the moment.

When their kisses finally ended, Keith bowed his head to rest it against Sven’s shoulder, staying there for a time. Hiding in his arms like he trusted the safety Sven was trying to provide.

“Thank you.” Sven’s pretty one said softly against his shoulder.

Sven thought he could feel tears soak through the cloth.

“It was my pleasure.” Sven said playfully, hoping to draw a smile if not a laugh from his pretty one.

To Sven’s happy satisfaction it worked. Even though the laugh sounded faintly choked and the smile carried a trace of pain, Keith was smiling.

“I’m sure.” Keith said with an attempt at playful dryness, before his eyes faded back to a more serious demeanor. Sven missed the laughter already. His pretty one should always be laughing.

“I’ve got to get back to the others.” Keith said, starting to pull away.

Sven let him go, if reluctantly. He missed his pretty one’s warmth even more than he had missed his laughter. But they both had tasks to do, and Sven knew that lives depended on them each succeeding in their task. His pretty one most likely wouldn’t even acknowledge Sven if they saw each other again; there was too much pain, too much longing in his pretty one’s eyes. No, Keith would pretend that Sven didn’t exist in an attempt to protect his heart.

Sven understood it, even though it made a part of him ache. He had known his pretty one for such a short time; but he supposed that some bonds must be so incredibly strong, so meant to be that they would carry across time, across even universes. How else could he explain feeling as though he had met, and was now about to lose, the love of his life?

But it was too late, because Keith was walking away from him, and Sven didn’t have quite enough selfishness to damn their universes and call him back.

That didn’t stop hope from rising in him when Keith himself stopped in the middle of the hallway, though it fell when Keith didn’t turn to face him.

“If you ever get the chance to visit Earth, I’m pretty sure there’s someone desperately in need of you living in a shack in the middle of a desert in a place called America.”

And with that, Keith continued down the hallway.


Sven clutched his side as Slav pulled him frantically into their ship, reciting odds and alternate universal facts so close together they almost blurred. He allowed himself to be strapped into the copilot seat, before leaning back and trying to think of the best way to convince Slav to visit a world called Earth.

He had a pretty one to find.



Spoiler: Sven does wind up finding the Keith of his universe. And they’re very happy together.


This was basically speed written while I should have been sleeping because I’m still mad about the lack of reaction they forced Keith to express during the Sven ep. and I now spite ship this pairing so hard. (Well, that and I ship Keith with all the Shiro’s.) Just- Keith was falling apart without Shiro one ep ago, you really expect me to be okay with how you’ve written him in this ep, writers? Seriously, seriously bad writing in that one. If you guys see any errors, please let me know. I’m still a little salty with myself that I haven’t had inspiration for Sheith, but I had inspiration with an alt Shiro. WTF, brain?

Also, the working title of this fic was ‘Fuck you, writers.’

Word Count: 1007

Triggers: None?

Requested by Anonymous

You knew what you’d signed up for. Eliot had told you after things started getting serious. He told you about his job, and with a little prodding; his background, and you knew that he’d be doing dangerous things. It was in his nature.

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Johnlock Military Kink - The First Bit

John having to dress up in his uniform to go to some kind of military function, and he walks downstairs and Sherlock sees him, and just goes completely still. John, still fiddling with his braids and double-checking that his medals are aligned, is about to ask if he looks alright, when he finally glances up to find Sherlock staring at him, pupils blown wide. An almost hungry look about him.

Sherlock’s muscles tense like a predator’s might, though he doesn’t move, not right away. He just observes, as usual. His piqued gaze roves over John all at once, those bright eyes darting over his form like he’s trying to take in everything at once. John doesn’t dare move throughout it, barely even breathing. And then that stare stops, lifts to meet John’s, suddenly darkened. 

“John…” he starts, and his voice has taken on an odd, husky tone. One that–accompanied by that stare–makes John’s mouth feel a bit dry. He finds himself wetting his lips.

“Sherlock,” John answers coolly. 

And then, in a transition so sudden he nearly misses it, Sherlock’s demeanor completely shifts. He’s squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and clasped his hands behind his back, which is now ramrod straight. John’s response is unconscious and automatic, dropping his shoulders and matching Sherlock’s stiff posture with ease.

“Captain,” Sherlock states with an air of authority that makes John instinctively snap to full attention. 

“Sir,” John answers again, this time short and clipped. His mien has shifted along with Sherlock’s, and he stands, tense, as though awaiting orders. 

And then Sherlock marches forward. Except it’s not a march, not really. His steps are slow, deliberate, fluid rather than stiff, almost like he’s performing a dance. But it’s with the formality of a march–his upper body unmoving and his expression giving away nothing. 

But John can still feel it. The air is charged, like something pulled taut. And it intensifies with each slow, purposeful stride forward, until Sherlock’s come to a stop barely a foot away from John. 

Well, maybe Sherlock’s expression isn’t completely unreadable. His eyes are even darker as the pupils slowly overtake his irises, and that hungry expression is back full force. John’s heart is thudding around, and he has to focus to make himself breathe properly. They’re standing close together and John’s straining not to lean forward–when he breathes in it seems like he can taste Sherlock on the air he exhales.

the second bit →

anonymous asked:

He has her eyes. It's almost like looking in a mirror. Her chest is heaving from adrenaline and the kids around her are crying and screaming, chaotic compared to her too-calm demeanor. "I missed you." She finally whispers. "It's been ten years hasn't it. To the day." -lcngdcnetlcvecu

Tate’s hands are shaky as he freezes, taking a moment before he lowers the gun. He can’t shoot her. Of course he can’t shoot her, he knows exactly who she is. With a small sigh, sounding almost like a sob, he extends a hand out to her, keeping his weapon in the other.


Missy Elliot & Da Brat- Sock It 2 Me

will always love missy and this video. suck ittttttt~

Arrow Fic: I Try Not To Speak Superlatives

A/N: Another installment in the Sight of the Sun post-finale roadtrip ‘verse. The event that turns their conversations about returning to Starling from generalities to specifics is when Ray Palmer literally blows the roof off the building.

p.s. For the purposes of this fic, Palmer takes a few weeks to chill post-finale before he starts tinkering with the suit and goes kaboom. Also, FYI, I’m totally ignoring the Flash finale madness in this ‘verse because I think I have to for any of the road trip happiness to happen.

(Sight of the Sun Series: Pack Light - Some Scars - Everything I Want From This Life - Thus Far You Are The Best Thing - You Keep The Light On)

I Try Not To Speak Superlatives

AO3 / ff.net

“You know I try not to speak superlatives,
but it’s impossible to you”
-fun. “Sight of the Sun”

They talk about it here and there after Nyssa’s surprise visit, but the event that turns their conversations about returning to Starling from generalities to specifics is when Ray Palmer literally blows the roof off the building.

They’re having dinner at a little dive on the side of the highway, outside Coast City, when they see it on the news. “EXPLOSION AT PALMER TECH, CEO MISSING, PRESUMED DEAD.” Felicity freezes, frantically grabbing her cell phone from her purse and turning it on to a flood of texts and voicemails. Unplugging’s become something of a surprising habit of hers on this trip, keeping her phone off, living in the moment, and it’s been wonderful but she hates herself for it for a few violent moments just then. It’s only once she makes certain that there are no messages from Ray, no last communications or cries for help, that she can breathe again.

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Happy Birthday, Dean


Dean comes home to the bunker and is surprised to find Castiel in his room.

It’s late when the Impala pulls up to the bunker. He’s hoping to slip in quietly and save the major confrontations until tomorrow, so he forgoes the noise of parking in the garage. When he pushes the door open the main room is dark. He heaves a silent breath and relaxes. He’ll have time to compose himself before he has to deal with what’s left of his relationship with Sammy and Cas.

He imagines he’ll be awake for a while, so he grabs two beers on the way to his room. In spite of himself he starts to feel grateful he’ll be sleeping in his own bed tonight. He pushes into his dark room, as soon as his bag slips from his shoulder to his bed, he senses that he’s not alone. His knife is out before his eyes are able to settle on the intruder. When he really sees him, sitting calmly on his bed, eyes wide with surprise, Dean drops his arms in shock, “Cas…What the hell are you doing in here?”

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