#plaid posts

[plaidsleep]

crown clown by hemi_tattoo on instagram

[plaid-maniac]

@ratblazer ‼️‼️‼️🎉🥳🎉✨😁✨💛❤️💛 (Thank you)

[plaid-maniac]

Have been fiddling around with a “Bruce is not Batman but all his kids are vigilantes still” au fic thing that may or may not see the light of day.

Anyway I have determined that Damian still exists because Talia was doing some shit or something in Gotham and was swept off her feet by Bruce Wayne. She gets pregnant and Ra’s is all like mad about it or whatever and she just goes “oh, haven’t you heard? There’s this super incredible super vigilante man in Gotham called Batman. Don’t know about him? Guess you need better sources.”

This pisses Ra’s off so hard like ripping his hair out trying to find any evidence of this supposed god detective who no one knows the true identity of. He’s going manic, he’s creating string conspiracy boards because there is like zero evidence of Batman but his daughter wouldn’t just hook up with a random guy and insist on keeping the kid if there wasn’t a tactical advantage, right?

Meanwhile Talia is over there thinking about how much she hopes her son gets his father’s eyes and commanding people to build an entire new mansion to raise him in because she can.

[plaid-maniac]

There is a boy at the clinic.

It is late at night and you at volunteering at a clinic for a family friend. It’s one of the only times you really feel like you are helping people.

You have treated wounds from all sources of violence that surround the clinic. Stab wounds, drug misuse, burn treatments, you have seen it all.

The boy’s wound, for all intents and purposes, is simple. Wipe away the blood, disinfect the area, wrap the wound in a bandage. You have done this a million times.

It is not even a particularly shocking story he tells you. A graze from a gunshot he was too slow to avoid. You have heard the story plenty of times, and have seen far worse outcomes than this. This kid would be a completely normal patient.

He is wearing a mask.

A simple thing, really, enough to hide his face. Not enough to hide his smile.

Not enough to hide the way he stutters around his name. Or hide how he stutters around yours. Only enough to hide himself in the dark.

He isn’t in the dark.

He’s sitting on the patient’s bed, underneath the bright examination light, swinging his legs cause they can’t touch the ground and he has nothing better to do, and chatting away like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

His outfit is bright colors. Reds and greens and yellows dancing throughout what can only be described as a circus outfit. All completed with a cape to hide himself with.

Even with all that said, the outfit is dirty. Wet from the rain or maybe the ocean nearby allowing for the sawdust and dirt to stick to it. The shoes that almost certainly were not built to be run around in are caked in gunk and residue from running around filthy streets, nearly hiding the bright green it’s supposed to be.

It looks like months of built-up dirt, only barely kept at bay by the inexperienced scrubbing of a nine-year old. But you know deep down that it is only worn at night. Only at night when the city really wakes up.

You know because you see him in the light.

At breakfast tomorrow morning the boy will come sliding down the railing, preforming a maneuver professionals struggle with at the end, and walk to the table wondering about the plans for the day.

You’ll tell him about your meeting at 11, how it’ll be with businessmen you hardly know the names of trying to sell you something you don’t want or need just to grab a quick buck and their names in the headlines alongside yours.

You’ll remind him his tutor will be there at 1 to help him get caught up with the curriculum at nearby schools. You’ll also remind him to come to you if he needs anything.

He’ll look up at you with a calculating look, the same look he gives all the new gymnastic equipment every time he’s about to start practicing. He will smile. A little too mischievous. Like you just told a funny joke, or he knows something he shouldn’t. He will say of course I will. But I really should go get practicing.

You want to wonder what he is practicing for as he makes his way up the stairs. You’re afraid you already know.

Your routine is muted with images from last night. Of the bird-like acrobat who had to come to a clinic at 1 in the morning. You think about your own bird-like acrobat, who wore long sleeves to breakfast this morning.

You do not want to connect the dots.

You do not like the picture it paints.

But the dots practically overlap each other. They sit, snug up to one another like peas in a pod. And they only get closer when you read the morning newspaper as you get settled in your office.

Late last night, at about 12:45, the police apprehended a small gang down at the Gotham harbor. Another instance where the police respond to a call only to have every crook tied up in complex knots and covered in bruises in strange spots.

The only ones conscious enough to explain what happened all mumble of a haunting laugh echoing around them, and a swirl of colors before they are taken down.

One of the swore up and down he managed to shoot down the thing that attacked them, only to end up hanging upside down from the rafters.

The picture is glaringly bright to you. As bright as the family you once saw performing at the circus. As bright as a spotlight reflecting off blood.

You send a single prayer to Lady Gotham, perhaps the only god who you know listens, and beg

“Please, please protect my boy. And if the time comes, please don’t let him make the wrong choice.”

[plaid-maniac]

Ok but like: Amity park was moved into the Ghost Zone when Pariah Dark attacked right? And like it was returned when he was defeated, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was stuck in the ghost zone, and no one could get it back because only the king could return it, and Danny either doesn’t realize he’s king or doesn’t know how to put it back.

Or what if it was put back, but in the wrong dimension? It would be a wild way to crossover for sure, but it would basically cover for why no one in the new dimension know about ghosts or Amity and why no one in Amity would know about the new dimension.

What if it maintained its ‘floating island vibe’? Like it’s time in the ghost zone infused the soil and buildings with ectoplasm and it was just floating above but to the side of wherever the main location of the new universe’s protagonists are located.

[plaid-maniac]

Ok but real talk: What the Fuck was Edgeworth doing in 1-3? No like seriously, what did he do? Like in 1-2 he’s updating autopsies and convincing the bellhop to not talk, in 2-4 he’s pulling Will Powers out of fucking nowhere cause he saw Shelly and Matt doing a transaction in the hallway. 3-5 he’s obviously doing stuff cause we are doing stuff, same goes for all the investigation games. But like what was he doing in 1-3?

Like with Franziska’s cases you see her at the scene talking to witnesses or gathering evidence directly. Godot shows up with evidence he didn’t even clear with the police. They clearly do stuff before a trial. Edgeworth does too, in literally every case but 1-3.

The first time Edgeworth meets his witnesses is when they are on the stand. I can vaguely believe that cause it might be the detective’s job to handle witness stuff, with Franziska just being controlling about it. But he doesn’t even look at like the one piece of evidence we know he had to have gotten before the trial (the photo of the steel samurai going to studio 1 from the security camera). Gumshoe clearly gets the evidence well before the trial, but Edgeworth first sees it during the trial, and is completely shocked at how bad of evidence it is. Gumshoe had it, did he just not look at it or ask about it?

As far as I can recall all he does is call witnesses, get upset when they don’t respect him, mock Phoenix for being an idiot whenever he says something wrong, throw up a couple very loose objections that get overridden immediately, and then at the end stall Dee Vasquez on the stand until Phoenix can convict her of murder. He doesn’t do any evidence gathering, leaving everything up to his witnesses, and basically throws the whole trial away by being woefully underprepared.

The only three reasons I can think of as to why this is:

1. He’s such a fanboy of Will Powers that he decides not to do his job and hopes that Phoenix steamrolls him in court to get a not guilty for his celebrity crush (unlikely, he hasn’t properly gone through his redemption arc, it’s clear that losing still effects him, and he has too high of a sense of Justice to let someone that is almost certainly [due to the testimonies and evidence] the killer go)

2. He is so backed up with other cases/other obligations outside of work that he has no time to actually work the case (unlikely, as there is no evidence to suggest that the prosecution’s office asks prosecutors to work more than one case at a time, and as far as any other reason, I mean just look at him. He’s got nothing else going on besides work)

3. He is so stuck in Guilt and Gay Pining due to his recent loss that he can not get any work done (listen, it’s the only thing that makes sense. What the fuck else would be going on to cause him to not even check the evidence before a trial?)

[plaid-maniac]

I doubt I will ever be able to touch on the yatagarasu stuff in my mega alternate dl-6 au fic thing but this is basically how it would originally go down.

Calisto Yew: “This sort of injustice could have been stopped if only someone had been able to break the laws and gotten the evidence.”

Byrne Faraday: “Yeah this whole situation sucks.”

Tyrell Badd: “If only I could have done something more. I’m sorry I let you two down.”

Yew: “We need to form a group to prevent this from happening ever again!”

Badd: “…Go on.”

Yew: “So what if we work together to steal evidence to give to the police so that they can arrest the right criminals. Then killers won’t walk away again.”

Badd: “This is extremely illegal and also a horrible plan.”

Faraday: “No, I think this is a great plan. And since we would have a detective and a prosecutor working together, we just need to find a defense attorney to like balance the team out, like, morally or something.”

Yew: “I’m actually studying to-“

Faraday: “Hey Edgeworth!”

Gregory Edgeworth looks up mid-bite of his Swiss roll, very confused.

Faraday: “Wanna join this group me and Badd are making?”

Edgeworth: “…Depends I guess. What are you wanting to do.”

Faraday: “Ok so the premise is we steal-“

Edgeworth: “I’m in.”

Badd: “…He hasn’t finished explaining.”

Edgeworth, Already pulling out his car keys: “I said I’m in. Wanna go to my office and get a game plan rolling?”

Faraday: “Hell yeah.”

Badd: “… I wonder if I should be arresting you right now.”

Faraday, hoping into the shotgun of Edgeworth’s 2004 Honda Accord: “Just get in, we’ll get you some toffee from that expensive chocolate shop.”

Yew: “But what about-“

Badd, hopping in the back seat: “Bye Miss Yew. Sorry about your sister.”

[plaid-maniac]

Phoenix and Miles are bad with technology

Phoenix and Larry are hyperactive

Miles and Larry are bad with social cues

All three of them are infodump 4 infodump