#AO3 link in title

[caspira-writes-fanfiction]

GIT BEVVER SWOON :(

"Get out"

Moxie and Millie blink back at their boss. They were both concerned, but it was Millie who spoke up first.

"Are you sure you don't want-"

"It's been a very long day and Loonie needs to get home now." There was no smile on Blitz's face, and any pleasantries in his voice were worn thin. He couldn't be having whatever conversation Millie wanted to force on him right now.

"Right, it's just. The van..."

"Is mine" Blitz finished her sentence "And you have two god damn seconds to get out of it before you're both out of a job."

Moxxie slid off of Millie's lap and opened the car's front door. He jumped down to the sidewalk in front of their apartment and reached for Millie's hand. He motioned for her to join him. Millie frowned, but did as Blitz asked and got out of the car.

Blitz sped off as soon as her feet touched the ground.

Loona had fallen asleep as soon as she'd hit the floor of the van back in Sloth. Blitz considered leaving her there for the night, but couldn't bring himself to do it. She deserved her bed, even if might be a fight to get her there. The growl that Loona gave when Blitz told her it was time to get up was far less scary than the bits of feather and blue blood staining his seats.

Blitz hadn't known Stolas could get hurt.

He was tougher than his emotions, smarter too. With a deep breath and the familiar pinch of his claws digging into his palm, Blitz was able to swallow down his emotions and forget about them. Loona needed to get inside.

The doctor had said Loona may be out of it for a little while after receiving her shot and the fight they endured to get the hound her vaccine had been tiring. His daughter was all growl and no bite by the time they'd gotten back to Pride. She was hardly a fight as Blitz got her upstairs and tucked into bed (or well, dropped off at her door. Blitz wasn't allowed inside her room).

She might be the one thing he hadn't ruined.

The van needed to be cleaned. Blitz knew how to clean blood out of upholstery, he knew how to clean Stolas's blood from upholstery, it's not as if they hadn't had their fun before. Stolas hadn't been afraid of knives or pain. He fucking asked for the bear traps. Blitz had seen Stolas hurt many times, he'd always been fine.

Blitz hadn't known Stolas could get hurt.

Blitz stopped by the kitchen before starting his work on the van. He poured dish soap in a large bowl until it covered the bottom and filled it with hot water. He grabbed towels, additional cleaners, and a wire brush. He grabbed a bottle of liquor from the cabinet, there was no way he was doing this without a drink.

Starting was the first step. Blitz started on the bottle before he started on the van. He didn't know where to start with the van. Feathers, he supposed. He could pick up feathers.

There were too many feathers.

How many times had the feathers been annoying? A disturbance? They were something to disrupt a meeting when Blitz would accidentally cough one up. They were something that needed to be preened, which meant watching Stolas groom himself for hours sometimes after a rough night between the two of them. They were itchy, and ticklish, and annoying. But these feathers were damaged. These feathers were sad. There were so many of them.

Blitz didn't count how many feathers there were in total but there was enough to make a small bouquet of them. He wondered how many more were back at Striker's. Blitz cursed himself for forgetting a trash can. He couldn't abandon the small collection of feathers he'd collected. He put them on the front seat for now.

He needed a break. Blitz sat on the floor of the van with his feet dangling from the opening in the side. He pulled his phone out and took a drink. He looked through his photos: Loona's adoption Day, Lunch with M&M, him and Verosika, him and Fizz. He stops on the picture of him and Stolas. The Royal loved documenting their time together but he didn't know about this picture. He didn't know the way Blitz smiled while Feathers hooted quietly in his ear as he slept. Stolas didn't know that Blitz took pictures of them while Stolas was sleeping, when Blitz was allowed to be his most vulnerable.

Blitz focused on a blood stain in his peripheral. He looked back at the photo. The two images couldn't be any more different.

He hadn't known Stolas could get hurt.

Blitz brought to the bottle to his lips and tipped it back once more. He rolled up his sleeves and got back to work.

Working was easier than thinking. It was easier than feeling. It accomplished something, more than feeling ever did. Blitz scrubbed until his arms hurt, until his chest heaved from exertion and he couldn't feel anymore because everything hurt, so nothing hurt. Her only managed two of the stains. He hadn't yet touched the worst of them.

If Stolas dies he might have to sell the van. He couldn't even begin to think about that.

"Stolas is fine. He's a prince, he's....powerful. He'll be fine." There was nobody around for Blitz convince other than himself, and even then he didn't feel that convinced of his words.

His answer is weren't at the bottom of that bottle. The world was swaying peacefully. Blitz had tipped over tipsy but was still able to feel his face and several bruised ribs from earlier today. He abandoned the van and walked off.

It wasn't hard to find a distraction in Pride. Wether it be drugs or sex or some other vice, Blitz was sure to find something that would help him numb. He was too far from the Royal circle to walk, but if he could have that's where Blitz would have ended up. Instead he ended up at a bar.

Blitz lasted two drinks before getting kicked out, but managed to swipe a bottle of something off the bottom shelf on the way. He could feel a throbbing in his jaw from where he'd been punched, but the rest of his face was sufficiently numb. He swayed along the sidewalk as he returned home. He had almost forgotten why he'd even gotten drunk in the first place.

The bloodstains were still in the carpet of the van. The seat might as well just be dyed to match at this point. No, die it black. This shade of dark blue is sickening.

No it's not, blood is cool!

Blitz thinks today he might side with Fizzarolli. There is nothing cool about the attempted murder scene in the back of his van. Blitz isn't excited at the sight of this, he's horrified. It takes a lot to gross Blitz out. He sits on the sidewalk for a while to catch his breath.

Soap and water and elbow grease hadn't been enough to get the stains out. He tries something more stringent. Bleach may eat away at the fabric if he doesn't stop scrubbing, but at least the blood will be gone.

I think you should come and save me!

Blitz hadn't known Stolas could get hurt. Stolas hadn't even sounded scared on the phone. Had he been scared later?

"No, fucking stop it!" Blitz slapped himself with his own tail. Worrying wasn't going to do anything. He didn't want to feel right now.

This wasn't his fault. Blitz couldn't be to blame. He didn't know how much danger the prince was in, it wasn't his job to protect Stolas, he had a duty to his daughter. It was all just.....really bad. It wasn't his fault.

Then why did Blitz feel so fucking guilty?

He found half a pack of cigarettes under the passenger seat and took another break. The burn of the smoke was nice. The immediate little rush that came to his head after the first smoke was nice. The stars were nice.

No, the stars were Stolas.

Blitz looked up at the sky. There weren't many stars that could be seen from the streets of Imp City. With the lights and Blitz's unsteadiness they all sort of blurred together. The stars were falling, Stolas was hurt. He hadn't known Stolas could get hurt.

"Fuck, Birdie." There was no coo in reply, no gentle hoot, no amusing quip that went halfway over Blitz's head half the time. Blitz turned his head and remembered just how alone he was.....On the edge of his van, talking to a bird shaped blood stain, doing everything in his power to just forget. If he could erase Stolas from his memory, he could save himself from the pain of losing him.

Blitz touched the skull on his choker, his only living memory of his mother. Tears sprang to his eyes.

For a moment Blitz considered lighting the van on fire. All he would have to do was drop his cigarette in the right spot. He could even stay right where he was, he could blow up with it. That would save everyone so much pain. It wasn't his fault Stolas got hurt, but Blitz knew deep down it was.

Blitz only entertained the thought for a moment. Loona was inside, sleeping and unaware of what had happened today. He couldn't have her wake up to that. He knew she would be fine on her own, but Blitz didn't need to die today. Not everyone had left him just yet.

Blitz finished the last of his drink and thew the bottle outside hard enough to shatter it. He took off his coat and wadded it up until it was vaguely something he could hold onto. He curled on the backseat next to the larger blood stain. He tried not to think about it. Blitz looked at his phone one more time, at the photo Stolas was never supposed to know about, but now may never get the chance to. Blitz had done everything in his power not to feel but he couldn't help it.

Stolas might die and it was all his fault.

Blitz started to type out a message to Stolas. He wanted to wish him better, to tell him he was sorry he was hurt. He considered apologizing for not being there. He fell asleep before he could do much more than type out one message, let alone send it. It was his best attempt at telling Stolas how he felt.

GIT BEVVER SWOON :(

[yell0wsalt]

New Fic: Blooming

Rating: G

Pairing: Lin Beifong/Tenzin

Word Count: 1,186

Summary: Tenzin works at his family's bakery. There's a customer one day that catches his eye.

full fic below:

It was the way she looked when she walked in his family’s bakery.

The way her face pinched in concentration, scoping out all the options they had to offer.

The way she leaned into his stupid jokes.

“Could I get two loaves of bread, please?”

“Sure, I’ve got just what you knead.”

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head in mirth. “That was so stale.”

“You think so? I think I can dough better.”

“Not bad, not bad. Throw in another loaf with my order. It’s the yeast I could do for you making me laugh.”

When their fingers brushed passing off the several loaves of bread to her, the leap in his chest was too strong to ignore.

Her shy smile in response. She peeked over her shoulder for a final glance and nod goodbye before turning the corner out of sight with her goods.

It was then he realized how he needed to see her again.

His reverie was broken by tempered snickers coming from his brother and sister who have been sitting off to the side on break, watching the interaction unfold.

“Looks like someone fancies a Beifong,” Bumi teased. 

Kya clapped her hands and stared off to the distance dreamily. “Oh, how I can hear the wedding chapel bells already!”

He rushed over to them in a panic.

“You know who she is? Tell me!” Grasping Bumi by his collar to pull him in with a forceful grip.

“Easy, Tenzin. Relax,” pushing his grip to the side. He smoothed the wrinkles in his shirt. “That’s Miss Lin Beifong. She’s one of the hostesses at the Flying Boar Tavern owned by her mother.”

“Lin Beifong of the Flying Boar Tavern,” speaking slowly, savoring the taste of her name on his lips. Tenzin smiled quietly to himself. He liked it. 

Raising a curious brow, Bumi leaned into Kya’s ear. “Looks like Tenz has got it bad already.”

A fervent nod and hum in agreement.

“Are you thinking about going to see her?” Kya asked.

His face flushed a bright pink. “See her?”

Bumi stood from his chair for a playful nudge before wrapping a strong arm around Tenzin’s shoulder. “Yeah! Why not? Go over to her tavern, profess your undying love, follow the fancy courtship dance and song, you know.” 

Bright pink deepened to a heated red. “I- I can’t do that, are you out of your mind?!”

A casual shrug of his shoulders. “I mean, sure, why not? But you don't know when she’s going to come back again, or if she even will. Take a chance, Tenzin, she’ll appreciate the initiative.” 

Take a chance, Tenzin. Thoughts drifted to her– Lin– once more and he steeled his nerves.

“You might be onto something, Bumi.” He puffed his chest, amping up his courage. “Yeah, I can do this.”

****

Stepping into The Flying Boar Tavern, the confident pep tak he gave himself earlier in the day was left at the door, and he deflated being completely out of his element.

Around a small stage where live music played, patrons swayed side to side jovially, obnoxiously singing out of tune in their drunken stupors.

Tenzin gave them a wide berth and tried to scope the rest of the scene in search of Lin.

She has to be at the bar table in the back, right?

Realizing the barrier between there and where he stood was the masses wreaking of sweat and alcohol, he blanched. Nevertheless, he had to take a chance, so he took his first step forward.

****

Too long was he jostled around like a limp ragdoll by random patrons in his journey to the back of the tavern, but by the grace of a higher power, he made it. Weary from the ordeal, he took an open seat and hung his head, letting out a breath of relief.

“Looks like you’ve had a day.”

The familiar voice snapped him from his weary state and eyes floated to hers. Lin.

Green eyes sparkled with interest. “Hey, it’s you from the bakery earlier today!”

He brought a hand to the back of his neck, bearing a sheepish grin. “Yeah, my brother recommended I check out this place, so here I am.”

“Here you are.”

A long pause as they stared at each other.

“You know you’re supposed to place an order, right?” Eyes crinkled delightfully.

“Yeah, right, I’ll take uhhhh whatever you have on tap?”

She raised a dubious brow. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Half a minute later, she dropped off a pint of ale in front of him.

“Here you go, ummm…,” trailing off in a question.

“Tenzin,” he supplied.

Lips curved to an easy smile. “Tenzin. Lin, by the way.”

“Thank you, Lin.”

Gingerly, he brought the mug to his face and caught his reflection in the drink before taking a sip.

He fruitlessly tried to fight the bitter grimace on his face.

“Not much of a drinker, are you?” eyes playfully focused on his reaction, she smirked.

A dry laugh to himself. “That obvious?”

“Maybe.”

Tenzin tried to take another sip, but his spine stiffened in rejection.

“You know–” a hand reached for his to gently bring down the mug. “You don’t have to keep at it if you don’t like it,” she chuckled.

He choked out a thanks.

“I have water or barley tea, too, if you’d like.”

“I’ll have tea if you don’t mind.”

“Coming right up.”

****

“Be honest with me.”

Tenzin’s eyes flitted up to reach hers after finishing a sip of his tea. “Hm?”

Elbows propped up on the table, Lin rested her head in one of her hands. “Clearly you don’t have a taste for alcohol. Why would you stop by a tavern of all places? And mine by chance when there are several other places around town that may be better suited to your tastes?”

Tenzin began to open his mouth to formulate a response.

“Listen, I think you like me, and to be honest I like you, too,” she continued.

Immediately his jaw snapped shut, cutting off what he had planned to say, settling for a, “you do?”

She nodded. 

“Because you’re right. I like you as well. You’re quite perceptive, Lin.”

“I get that a lot. But you’re also an easy read.”

He huffed a laugh. “So, what do you say about me taking you on a date?”

“I–”

A shout from the opposite side of the table cut her off. “Lin! What the hell have you been doing all this time? I’m not paying you to sit around and pick up on the customers. Not our business!”

Lin bristled in embarrassment; her face turned a bright pink. “Mom! That’s not– ugh, no mind.” She rolled her eyes at the interruption before bringing her attention back to Tenzin.

“Looks like I have to get back to work, but I’d love that. How about we meet at the town center midday on the morrow.”

He nodded in confirmation. “I’ll be there.”

“Perfect. Until then, Tenzin.” Lin swiftly left to return to other customers.

Watching her leave, Tenzin smiled dumbly to himself. It’s a date.

[thefandomcassandra]

hallowed be thy unknown Ch3: Haunted Turnabout 3: Pink Anemone, Evergreen Clematis, and Blackthorn

After court concluded, two faceless cops took Maya back to the detention center, not even bothering to uncuff her when she was in her cell. Waiting for Detective Gumshoe to come pick wasn't going to take long—according to the cops, who were kind enough to let her know—but she was going to have to wait. That gave her time to sort out her information and feelings—and for Phoenix to start chattering nonstop again, all of his courtroom seriousness gone.

"He's probably debriefing with Edgeworth," Phoenix posited about Detective Gumshoe. He was in rather high spirits—literally as well as figuratively—his mood matching Maya's. "We shouldn't have to wait terribly long but we will have to wait. Congratulations, by the way. Proud of you."

Maya quickly splashed her face with cold water to calm down a little. She could still hear her blood rushing through her ears. It sounded like the gallery muttering and murmuring in excitement and suspicion. Adrenaline made her fingers numb, her breath came in short bursts, and she felt...she felt...

She wasn't sure how she felt.

"Maya?" Phoenix floated closer to her. While she couldn't see him, bent over her cell's sink as she was, she could hear the concern in his voice. "Are you okay?"

"One second." She wanted to hurl. The rush was wearing off and it was turning into anxiety. She swallowed a handful of water and breathed some more. When she was feeling less on-edge, she turned the water off and stumbled over to the cot to sit down. A burst of air left her mouth, a sharp sigh. "Yeah, okay, I'm...better."

"Nerves?" Phoenix scanned her up and down, lips pursed in concern.

"Mmhmm. Finally hit me." Maya's hand went to her sash, only remembering that they'd taken her phone to process as evidence when she only touched her stomach. The wiretap too. "I can't believe I did that..."

"You did so, so good though!" It was weird, after seeing how serious Phoenix had been in court, to hear the cheerful man she met two days ago once more. "Between your logic and your objections, you had the court eating out of your hands. I only had to help with the more technical aspects!"

"Thanks for that." Maya looked out at the cop standing guard. A thought occurred to her. "Do...can we get copies of the court transcript and evidence and stuff?"

"Probably, but we should ask Gumshoe. He seems more willing to help than these mob-characters." The cops, of course, heard nothing.

"I feel bad for him, having to deal with April May and Prosecutor Edgeworth." He'd looked so uncomfortable when Maya had insisted he could corroborate the office phone being messed with. "Plus I didn't exactly let up on him during his testimony, not that admitting I stole evidence helped his case."

"Too late to feel guilt now!" That seemed cruel. Maya pouted at him. "C'mon now, Maya! Don't be like that!"

"You're mean." She didn't mean it. Talking with Phoenix like this felt...familiar. Comforting. Like talking with Mia.

Phoenix went to reply—judging by his smirk, probably in some kind of sarcastic or snarky way—but Detective Gumshoe finally arrived and the cop on guard opened her cell.

Maya stood up and walked over to him. "Hi Detective Gumshoe." She gave him a polite bow again.

"Miss Maya." Detective Gumshoe sounded upset. Not at her, thankfully, but certainly unhappy in general. "Despite your stealin' evidence from the Gatewater Hotel, you still got permission to investigate. Where to this time?" He must've gotten scolded for her misdeeds, the thought of which made her stomach turn with guilt.

"I'm surprised they only just penalized you in court, instead of throwing the evidence out wholecloth. You're at one of five at the moment, but having any wiggle room is good. And I just assumed they'd also make your time investigating more strict. Add an extra guard, what have you." Phoenix poked his head out of the cell, through the bars, and looked around. "It doesn't look like they sent anyone else to help him, so I guess we're sticking it out with only Gumshoe."

Maya fought the urge to roll her eyes. Instead she looked up at Detective Gumshoe with her best puppy-dog eyes. "Am I allowed to speak with other people in this detention center in the same way Lana and I talked? In the, uh, visitor's room?" She had to get April May to admit she was connected to him. She had to have concrete proof that he was involved.

"Uh...," Detective Gumshoe picked at the bandage on his cheek as he thought, "I don't think it's an issue? Nobody told me you couldn't. Miss Lana just said 'allow her to take part in investigatin' like she's a real attorney'. I'm pretty sure questionin' witnesses is part of the investigation."

Phoenix pulled himself back into the cell and stared at Maya, confused. Had he not figured out what she wanted to do? He had seemed so ahead of her until now, so this was interesting.

"Thank you." Genuinely, Detective Gumshoe was turning out to be a powerful ally in her fight to prove her innocence.

"Who all did you want to talk to anyway, pal?"

"April May." When she said that, Phoenix gasped. Now, it seemed, he understood. "I have some questions regarding her testimony today. I didn't get to ask them in court."

"Huh." Detective Gumshoe's brows furrowed. "I s'pose I can stand outside if you want? There's already gonna' be a guard in there anyway." He didn't want to be in the same room as her. She had, after all, hit on him and he hadn't liked it.

"If you want." Maya didn't blame him.

Without justifying her statement with a response, the detective started the trek to the visitor's room. He paused to whisper something to one of the cops guarding the detention center—who sent the message along the chain of command through their radio, probably—and then continued on. Maya didn't bother trying to make small-talk this time, content in the silence. It gave her time to figure out her plan of attack.

April May wouldn't be swayed without force. She was stubborn—Maya was too—and trying to cajole or coerce her would only get animosity in return. If Maya brought up her employer's name, if she revealed that she knew who and what April May's job was, then maybe...

"Last night, I went looking around in the office while you were sleeping." Phoenix, however, had no qualms about talking through the silence. "Namely, I started thinking about Mia's killer and what he could have gotten from her death. I found something interesting in her filing cabinet and, while I'm not sure we can take files without asking Gumshoe to sign off as it being evidence, I can probably grab that info to recite to you later, so we can have them on hand."

Them? Maya shot Phoenix a wordless look.

"Names, mostly. Don't worry about it now. Just focus on May and getting her to talk." They'd arrived at their destination anyway.

Detective Gumshoe held the door open for Maya to enter. "Miss May is waitin' for you. You got thirty minutes max."

"That's not a lot, but it should be enough."

Maya smiled at Detective Gumshoe. "Thanks. It shouldn't take that long."

"Don't do anythin' that'd get you in trouble, okay pal?" He sounded concerned.

"I won't." She entered the visitor's room, Phoenix by her side, and he closed the door behind her. On the opposite side of the glass—where Maya had sat the day before—April May glared at her with enough intensity to set her hair on fire. "Hello, April May. I was hoping to see you in stripes but you haven't been formally charged yet, have you?"

"They're still cuffing you, even as they let you wander around?" April May sneered at her. "Your connections are as shitty as your skincare routine."

"I'm allowed out because I'm building my case. It's not my fault your connections have severed ties." She was hoping that, by implying abandonment, she could expose a chink in her armor.

April May slammed her hands against the counter on her side of the glass. "How dare you?!" She yowled. "He would never—!"

"I know exactly the kind of man he is," Maya cut her off. "But if you play nice, if you give him up, then your sentence could get reduced."

Phoenix backed up her bluff. "Right now she's facing felony charges for wiretapping. If she gives him up, she might just wind up with just 'accessory with intent to harm' or something similar. Somewhat like murder to manslaughter, it's enough of a distinction to be worth it."

"Why would I? He has more power than you do, little murderer." Tough nut.

Fine. Maya could put more pressure on her. "Do you think he's going to save you? That was a public trial. I'll bet news has already spread. He likes to look good, after all..."

April May flinched and leaned back in her chair. "Y-you..."

"If she admits this here, she can have the guard act as witness. That means that, in court, she has proof she isn't just trying to save her skin." Phoenix gave her the ammo she needed to deliver the finishing blow.

"I know and you know. All I need is for you to admit it and the cop there can act as witness." Maya gestured at the guard, who stared at her with confusion plain on their face. "I'm going to fight him. I'm going to get him in court, I'm going to prove he did this, and I'm going to win. I'll disarm him. He won't have the ability to throw his weight around."

"He—"

"Be more aggressive. She's not going to listen." Phoenix was staring at April May now, just as intense as he had been in court. This was just his serious face, it seemed.

"You don't know who you're talking about!" April May went back on the defensive. "You're just talking out your ass! You'll get crushed into a fine purple paste!"

"I know exactly what kind of man Redd White is. So did my sister." The man's name felt like poison on Maya's tongue. Still, the way April May paled, her body going rigid with fear, was well worth the disgust. "She died because she had enough to ruin him and you helped with that. Do you want to be the sole accused?"

"I—"

"He will throw you under the bus." She wasn't backing down now. After her time in court, after all the arguing and objecting she did with Prosecutor Edgeworth, talking to this pink irritant was nothing in comparison. "You're a convenient scapegoat. You're nothing compared to him and his reputation is everything."

"You won't win!" She was still trying to fight, biting and clawing at the hand trying to help her. "He has so much of the court—"

"And if I try, I run a greater risk than if I just take the charges against me. Even so, I'm not backing down. I will get a full acquittal. I will prove he did it." Listen to me. Listen to what I'm saying. "If I lose, I lose big. If I win, you win too. Selling him out won't make you any more than you're already made."

"Do you really think that'll work?" Phoenix didn't seem to trust in Maya's persuasiveness but, really, it's not as if she has anything else going for.

"He—"

"If you don't talk, the best case scenario is that you take the fall for him and he spends money to shave time off your sentence so you get to slink back to him when it's all done. Worst case scenario is that you take the fall for him and he lets you." Maya shook her head, hoping that she was listening now. "If you do talk, the best case scenario is that he gets his and you can act as a corroborating witness, which reduces your sentence and changes it from your current felony to accessory to a felony. Worst case scenario is that you take the fall for him and he lets you. It's a zero-sum-game for you."

Their argument reached a fever pitch.

"He would never—"

"Fifteen years ago—"

"I did my job—"

"Mia had proof—"

"You can't prove—"

"The Thinker had—"

"Mr. White would kill me!" April May clapped her hands over her mouth, visibly horrified.

Phoenix let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Wow. The power of an argumentative little sister, I guess."

"Not if he's in jail." That wasn't a promise Maya could make with any surety but April May didn't need to know that. "If you admit to working for him, especially in regards to the wiretapping, then I can get him on the stand for this murder and get him convicted. A murder charge would put him in a federal prison while your charges might not even land you in a local cell for longer than a few months."

Phoenix shook his head. Her numbers were wrong but...well, a little creative truth-telling wouldn't hurt anyone but Redd White.

April May looked at the guard on her side of the visitor's room. The cop silently looked back at her from under the shadow of their cap's brim. Then she turned back to face Maya. "You...you're just as conniving as your sister, you know."

"Thank you."

April May sniffed. "It wasn't a compliment." Maya was aware of that but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was talking. "Fine. I did everything I did because of my boss, Redd White. Happy now?"

"Yep." Maya stood up. "Have a good day, April May."

"I know you're upset because your nosey older sister died but that's not all, is it?" Maya stopped dead in her tracks, almost to the door out of the visitor's room. "Fifteen years ago, you said? I bet you haven't seen her since then. I wonder if you'd even recognize her?"

"Maya?" Phoenix's concern was, once again, audible.

Maya kept her mouth shut. She wasn't going to rise to April May's goading. She wasn't going to show how badly hearing that hurt.

Her pain must've shown in her posture, however, because April May laughed. It was cruel, nothing like the sweet lies in the courtroom, all razor-blades against her skin. "You were so little and all you had was your big sis. And now you have nobody! At least we're similar in that regard, aren't we? Both in jail and both all alone."

"That's not true." Somehow, against all odds, Maya kept her voice calm and clear. What she was saying was the objective truth. "I'm not alone." Then she opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind her as carefully as she could.

It rattled in the frame.

Detective Gumshoe seemed to immediately sense something was wrong. "Are you okay, pal?"

"...no, but I got what I wanted." She didn't have it in her to feed Detective Gumshoe a pretty lie. He was nice to her, was honest with her, and she liked him.

"You need a minute?" He didn't press, either.

She took a deep breath. In. Out. Calm. "I should be okay soon."

Judging by the way he was frowning, he didn't believe her.

Neither did Phoenix, it seemed. "You can take a break. You don't have to be on all the time. You're still alive so you need rest from time-to-time."

"Can we...can we go?" She didn't want to rest. She didn't want to talk about it. All the courtroom energy had turned into anger. All her anger became sorrow. She wasn't fragile anymore but she was hollow again.

Detective Gumshoe looked conflicted. In the end, duty won out against his own nature. "Where to?"

"Bluecorp."

He flinched. "B-Bluecorp? Are you sure?"

Phoenix and Maya both watched him carefully, concerned by his reaction. "Yeah. April May gave up her boss and I want to pay my respects. Maybe even send my complaints up the corporate ladder." And serve him a subpoena.

"I don't think that's a good idea though!" Why was Gumshoe so bothered by this? "Like, even Mister Edgeworth doesn't go to Bluecorp. Says it's 'a den of snakes and smoke and mirrors'. The one time I saw him walkin' out, he looked fit to drive his car twenty over the limit for stress relief."

Phoenix looked like he was trying to imagine Prosecutor Edgeworth speeding. A fond smile played at his lips, laughter seeping out.

"I can handle it. I have you, don't I?" Maya tried to spin his anxieties to something more positive. "It's my lead, right? April May confessed to who ordered her to tap Mia's phone. It's not like he can do anything if I show up and inform him that he's going to show up on the stand tomorrow, can he?"

"That's not how a subpoena works." Phoenix wasn't being condescending, but Maya was still a little raw from her shouting match with April May, so she bristled and he backtracked to explain himself. "We don't have the authority to draft up the legal documentation, first off, and we haven't gone through the proper channels. Unlike evidence, we can't just squirrel White into the courtroom and slap him in the witness stand like a weird magic trick. That's even assuming he'll even come willingly. He might have to be served the writ on threat of incarceration and if he has the pull I think he does, we're going to have to fight to see him where we want him."

As Phoenix explained how things worked, Maya kept her smile even. Apparently, Detective Gumshoe didn't even realize it had faltered in the first place because he rolled his neck and gestured for Maya to start walking. "Alright. But don't say I didn't warn you, okay pal?"

"Of course." Besides, it's not as if Bluecorp was her only destination for the day. First she had to see a man about her sister, but Detective Gumshoe didn't need to know about that yet.

She could ask when they were closer.

Bluecorp was a twenty minute walk or a five minute car ride. Detective Gumshoe's clunky car, however, didn't want to start and the poor man ripped the emergency break out in his attempt to diagnose the problem, so they just gave up and took to the trip by foot. This was, for Maya, a good thing because she was used to walking most everywhere and also the route they were taking put them past Grossberg's office. How convenient!

Detective Gumshoe took the walk as time to complain a little bit about the repercussions of the day's trial. His low voice filled the space and let Maya recharge her social batteries as she listened to his woes about Prosecutor Edgeworth.

"He wasn't rude—never is, really—but he did get snippy and yell at me about the breakfast I left you. Said it was a waste and it'd be comin' out of my paycheck. I wanted to argue, right? But in the end, I couldn't even talk back." He sighed heavily and leaned back as he walked, hands in his jacket pockets. "I just wonder if he understands we're doin' our best?"

"Probably not. He seems like a guy who'd leave an old woman behind when crossing the road."

That got her a glare that melted into puppy-dog-eyes from the detective, who seemed affronted on Prosecutor Edgeworth's behalf for some reason. "He's a good man! He's just...rough around the edges."

"Like a cactus."

"You don't get him! Nobody does but me." That earned an incredulous giggle fit from Phoenix, who tumbled in the air from the force of trying to hold it back.

Thankfully for both of them, Maya realized where they were. "Hey, Detective Gumshoe?"

"Yeah?"

"Since it's on our way, can we stop at the office here? My sister worked here and I wanted to talk to the man who owns it." As with every other time she told an untruth, there was honesty coating her true intentions. Yes, she wanted to talk to Marvin Grossberg. She wanted to give him an earful, to use all the pent-up frustration that had built up again after talking with April May in the detention center. She wanted to be more calm when she finally confronted Mia's killer.

"You...wanna' take a detour?" He seemed confused. "For personal reasons?"

"Mmhmm." She took a moment to determine how she was going to explain her reasoning, then opted for the truth. Detective Gumshoe deserved that much. "Aside from him having been my sister's employer once, he also was going to be my attorney but he refused. I wasn't given any kind of reason past he was busy, but since we're in the area I thought I could actually find out why."

"Maya," Phoenix warned, "Don't be rash." She wasn't. She was being calculated. She had given this lots of thought and, since she had the chance, she was going to personally inform Marvin Grossberg that she thought he was backstabbing scum.

Thankfully, Detective Gumshoe was fine with it. "So long as it don't take too much time, I can say it was a 'necessary detour' if anyone asks."

"And if anyone asks me, it really was a necessary detour." Maya beamed. It was nice to have one person—the person watching her as she did her work—on her side. "While I'm thinking about it: is there any way for me to get a copy of the trial's transcript and a list of the evidence? I want to look over everything for tomorrow."

"Yeah, no problem pal. I can ask one of the bailiffs to get you your papers and some kinda' envelope or folder or somethin'."

"Thanks." Maya turned towards Grossberg Law Offices. "It's this building." Detective Gumshoe held the door open for her and the three of them entered in file.

Phoenix eyed the reception area with disdain. "Man has a whole building to himself and he decorates it like this? Mia always liked to say a good office was comfortable for the client, not a way to show off your wealth. I see where she got that opinion from now."

Grossberg Law Offices was a gaudy place. The reception desk was a fine, polished dark wood, the computer and phone sitting on it state-of-the-line. While nobody was sitting in the velvet-lined chair at the moment, the door leading into the man's office was closed, a light shining through the frosted glass.

Maya, unwilling to let anything like a closed door or no warm welcome stop her, threw the door to Grossberg's personal office wide open—to Detective Gumshoe's horrified protest and Phoenix's worry that she might get in trouble again. Nobody was there and there were several files and papers scattered on his very lavish desk.

As she strode across the empty office, Phoenix following close behind, Detective Gumshoe finally asserted himself. "Miss Maya, you can't! If you go rummagin' around in someone else's office, that's a crime! I can't let you!"

That gave her pause. He was right.

"I'll look, you just stand there. You're waiting for Grossberg, right?" Phoenix offered, floating towards the papers on the desk.

"You're right. I'm sorry I didn't explain myself." Maya bowed in apology. "I wasn't going to go searching through his things. I just wanted to be here when he came back. It's lunchtime and he should be back in a little bit."

"Is he expectin' you?"

Now she was going to boldly lie to him. "Yeah. I called him, remember?" Hopefully he didn't remember how upset she was when she was walking to questioning after the fact. That seemed to mollify him enough that he stood at attention by the closed door, uncomfortable but not willing to drag her away just yet.

Maya sat down on the leather chair by the door—wincing as the springs pressed against her thighs—and stared around the office, pretending as if she wasn't just waiting on Phoenix to finish his investigating. Large bookshelves filled with fancy books and curios that looked like they were all for show. A nice desk and a leather chair for the man himself. A carpet the size of the room in full, crimson and gold pattern hypnotizing even if it was thin and only surface-level padding. A large, pale patch of wall with a set of hooks where something might have once been hung.

That last thing was weird, but not worth commenting on just yet.

What was worth commenting on was how pale Phoenix was getting as he read the papers left out under the lamplight on his desk. Maya didn't think ghosts could get pale with no blood to lose. His mouth worked around the words, then he locked eyes with Maya. She raised her eyebrows and he pointed at the pages. "Do you know about the DL-6 Incident? It's the case-file number for the trial where the police used a spirit medium in an attempt to get a post-mortem testimony. Misty Fey, your mother, was called to channel the victim."

Maya's blood turned to ice. She understood why Phoenix started looking ill.

"There are two photos here. The first one, your mother, makes sense. The other one is of Redd White."

Her blood turned to fire. She wanted to scream. Why did Grossberg know that Redd White had a connection to that incident? What had he done?!

"Some of the other information on this document are paperwork-type things but one thing stands out to me above all else," Phoenix, unlike Maya, was keeping his cool somehow, "is that the attorney defending the accused in question was someone employed here. Which would explain the paperwork and the incident being filed here, but why...why is Misty Fey's photo here? Her involvement wasn't made public until after the trial concluded, after White leaked it to the press. Why would he have a photo of White attached to this file, when he should have something more like the attorney who was on the case? What is he..."

Redd White leaked her mother's involvement with that case to the press. Marvin Grossberg would have known everything about the case if he was the employer of the attorney defending the accused. Marvin Grossberg knew that her mother was involved with this case. Marvin Grossberg—

Before Maya could complete that thought, the office door opened and a very startled Grossberg paused in the doorway. His eyes flicked between Detective Gumshoe beside him and Maya in the chair. Sweat dripped down his face and left dark marks on his brown suit. He took a step back as if he was going to try and flee.

Maya stood up and faced him. "Hello, Grossberg-san!" Maya hoped that he had gotten her message. She hoped that he had feared she would come to his offices to inform him of how much she appreciated his loyalty. She hoped that every bit of venom she was spitting hit their mark because now she had a new reason to hate him. "I thought you were too busy to take my case!"

"Ah!" Grossberg's voice caught and pitched. He was frightened. Good. "H-hello Maya. It seems as though my schedule was, ehrm, more clear than I believed. Though I heard my acting as your attorney was unnecessary in the end, as you take after your sister in the court. A terror, she was."

"And yet I have to come see you to be congratulated?" Her bared teeth were not a smile. "All the time Mia spent in your care and I have to be the one to reach out after her death?"

"Miss Maya—" Detective Gumshoe called out, not physically holding her back, though he seemed moments away from doing just that.

"Maya, please be careful!" Even Phoenix was demanding she step back and take a breath.

Fine. She could be calm. She could be clever. She could be like Mia.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. "Grossberg-san, do you know something interesting?"

"Wh-what?" Her calming down seemed to take some of the edge and fear away from his voice but he wasn't moving from his place in the doorway. He wanted to be able to flee at a moment's notice in case she chose to resort to violence. A good and logical fear.

"Mia told me to come to you for help. She told me 'Grossberg-san will take care of you in court if I can't.' She trusted you." Maya walked towards his desk and, glancing down enough to make sure she knew which photo was which, pressed an accusatory finger to the photo of Redd White. "And she never knew the truth, did she?"

Grossberg's color changed, first ruddy, then fish flesh. He understood what she was trying to say. He knew he was caught. "N-now let's not be hasty!"

"How much did he pay you? How much did my mother's name make you? How valuable was her existence to you?"

Detective Gumshoe seemed to be lost. "What does your mother—"

"Fifteen years ago, you ruined our lives. Twelve years later, my sister worked for you, and you said nothing to her. How much of your office even belongs to you, Grossberg-san?" She stalked toward him, not yet at a point where she would lay hands on him, but she was shaking. Furious. He could see it in her face, in her posture. "And now, yesterday, you refused to help me when I needed it. You have done nothing but ruin the Fey family's life and all for money!"

"Please understand—!"

"No! You understand!" Money. It was money. It was this man's fault, his greed, that led to this. "It was me and Mia for almost my entire life! I can't remember what my mother looks like and it's because you wanted wealth! You're a greedy fool! You're the reason why Mia's dead!" Her vision swam. Was she crying? She couldn't tell. She wanted Grossberg to understand what he had done. She wanted him to pay.

Maya staggered towards Grossberg but Detective Gumshoe finally stopped her in her tracks with one arm across her chest. She didn't even look away from Grossberg, just shouted at him from where she was being held.

"This is your fault! I hope you know that! I hope you suffer for it!"

"Miss Maya, please..." Detective Gumshoe's voice, low and quiet, rumbled through her chest at the point where his arm kept her back.

"Maya, I know you're angry but you can't do this," Phoenix was in her ear, trying to calm her down.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry but—"

"But nothing!" Maya screamed at him. He wasn't going to try and wiggle his way out of this. He was going to understand what he had done. "You're corrupt! Mia was trying to take him to court and I'm trying the same but on murder this time! Help me! Prove you cared about Mia, even a little!"

"I...can't." Even under her vicious assault, even with all the guilt she was piling on him, Grossberg didn't give in. He slumped in on himself, battered beneath her verbal barrage. "You have to understand what kind of position I'm in at this moment, Maya."

"Does he have something on you or is it just that you sold my mother out?" Grossberg's silence spoke volumes. Maya sneered and rattled her cuffs in his direction. "I hope you get everything you deserve, Grossberg-san. I hope you get what's coming to you!"

It was at this point that Detective Gumshoe had enough. He nodded his head at Grossberg. "Do you mind?" The man stepped back out of the door to the side and the detective switched his grip on Maya to walk her out of the office. "C'mon, Miss Maya. Let's go. We got places to be, don't we?"

Maya couldn't speak for the fury and disgust clogging her chest up. All fight left her and she allowed Detective Gumshoe to herd her outside. What was the point anyway? Trying to take her anger out on the middle man didn't matter because she needed to bag the big one. Plus she was just tired now. Being mad took all her energy.

Phoenix floated next to her the whole time, endlessly telling her it was alright. His chatter, like always, was calming. Waves of quiet affirmation helped soothed her.

"Miss Maya..." Detective Gumshoe didn't seem to know what to say for a moment before he pulled something from inside his jacket pocket and offered it to her. It was a travel pack of tissues. "Wipe up and blow your nose, okay? We don't have to go to Bluecorp right away, do we?"

Maya took the pack—it was one of those themed ones, the Steel Samurai staring at her from the plastic packaging—and pulled a tissue out to blow her nose as she stood on the sidewalk. She felt raw, like an open wound. She wanted to just give up but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Phoenix hovered around her shoulder. "Are you good? How long do we need to wait? Do you want me to go beforehand?"

Deep breaths, even and careful. Maya blew her nose again, crumpling the second tissue in her fist with the first. It was only then that she realized how close she'd come to physically assaulting Grossberg. She could've gone to jail for doing that, especially in front of a cop—no matter how nice Detective Gumshoe was, he was a cop. She wouldn't be able to defend herself for assault if she'd assaulted someone and Prosecutor Edgeworth would absolutely get her on that. Not to mention she would lose investigative privileges.

The handcuffs felt heavy around her wrists. They reminded her how tenuous her position was.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Maya handed the pack of tissues back to Detective Gumshoe and scrubbed at her face with the back of her hand, the crumpled ones still in her fist. "Thanks."

Detective Gumshoe held his hand out for the used tissues too. Maya looked up at him, confused. "So I can throw them away. You don't have both hands all the time, do you, pal?" Right. She gave him the tissues and watched as he put them in an inside pocket of his jacket. Yuck. "I might not know what you were yellin' at Mister Grossberg about, but you seemed really upset. First time I saw you like that and all. Seemed unusual...didn't like it. Sorry for manhandlin' you and all but you needed to get outside to clear your head." From another pocket—not the one he put the tissues in, thankfully—he produced a wrapped sucker and offered it to her.

Maya took it and tucked it in her sash. "For later," she told him, so as to not hurt his feelings.

"Are you gonna' be okay to keep goin'?"

She looked up at him, unsure of how to really articulate what she wanted. She wanted to continue. She wanted to confront that man. She wanted to get revenge. She wanted to lay down and cry. She wanted to go home.

She wanted her sister.

"Yeah," she lied. "I'm feeling better now."

Bluecorp was a large building in downtown, easily three floors, all of them owned by the same man. The receptionist on the ground floor didn't seem to appreciate a large man and a girl in handcuffs walking in to her very nice place of employment, judging by the drawn sneer she gave Maya.

"We're here to see White-san." Maya wasn't going to afford anyone in this place any courtesy past mere formality. They didn't deserve it. "It's about his employee, April May."

"What has Miss May done?" The receptionist talked past Maya right to Detective Gumshoe.

"Been arrested."

Detective Gumshoe stepped between her and the receptionist, physically pushing her back a bit. "Nothin' too bad. She's just waitin' to be tried is all. Miss Maya wanted to talk to her boss about, uh..."

Maya felt his hesitation. "His involvement with the crime."

"Yeah, that!"

The receptionist looked Detective Gumshoe up and down, eyes catching on Maya, then examined her nails. "Mister White is busy at the moment, unfortunately. I can pen you in for sometime in the next week, if you like."

Phoenix, who had been watching the proceedings, finally spoke up. "Use your family name."

Right. "Tell him a Fey is here for him."

That gave the receptionist pause. She pursed her lips, then pressed a button on the internal line. "Mister White?"

"Proceed!"

"There's a...Fey here for you." The way the receptionist enunciated her family name made it sound almost like a slur. Maya grimaced.

A long pause devoured the air in the reception area. Then he spoke again. "She may enter posthumously!"

"After...death?" Phoenix stared at the internal line as if the man on the other side would explain himself.

The receptionist waited for her employer to hang up the line before she bothered addressing the people in the room with her. "You're allowed up. Third floor. Do behave."

"Will do." Detective Gumshoe, thoroughly baffled, looked to Maya but she was already walking into the elevator. "Hey, wait, hold up pal!"

It wasn't as if she was going to move on without him. He was her guard—keeping her from running away, keeping her in line—but he was also there to guard her. She felt safe with Detective Gumshoe around. She trusted him and wanted him there for the confrontation that was to come.

"Why did he let you in by name?" Detective Gumshoe didn't press himself against the wall this time. It seemed like he remembered what she said in the Gatewater and took it to heart. "Does it have somethin' to do with what you said to that Grossberg fella?"

"Something like that." How much did Maya let him in on? He was working for Prosecutor Edgeworth, after all, but...he was nice to her. He comforted her.

"Your call." Phoenix floated upward quickly enough to keep inside the elevator.

The large detective didn't press her for details, even if he could tell she was withholding information.

The elevator opened up to a short hallway and a large set of double doors with Redd White's name across them in cast-metal script, fancy swooping letters a gaudy reminder of the ego of its occupant. Maya didn't even give pause as she raised her cuffed hands and tore them open.

The room Redd White called an 'office' was the size of a large hotel suite. It was furnished in a similar fashion to Grossberg's own: all costly items to show off his wealth, all uncomfortable and impractical to use for their intended purposes. Between the gold-plated desk whose legs were burly men supporting the ugly surface of the thing and the large, ugly painting taking up a large portion of the wall, every inch of the place was gaudy and stank of overcompensation. Even the large, smiling man sitting in the dead center of the room, waiting for them.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visitationing, little girl?" Redd White's words sent shivers of anger down Maya's spine. She grit her teeth and stared at the man, trying to keep her expression as flat as possible. "I was under the impression you were interred."

"Didn't your receptionist say? Mayoi Fey, at your service White-san." Maya bowed, deep, sarcastically. "I came to talk to you about your employee and my sister."

"And why should I while away my time in your suspicious presence?" Redd White examined his nails, idly pretending as if Maya—or Detective Gumshoe—weren't there. "What my employee does with her spare time doesn't reflect on my workings in the slightest. Not legally, that is."

"No." He was right, judging by the dismissive noise Phoenix made. "Not legally. But someone from the court is going to come by for a chat."

"And?"

"He's pleasant." Phoenix was looking carefully at the painting on the back wall.

Detective Gumshoe remained silent, unsure of how to even engage with this conversation—even if his posture indicated that he wasn't going to let it go as south as her talk with Grossberg did.

"And?" Maya tried her best to remain calm. "You are going to be served a subpoena. You are going to be in court tomorrow, testifying! We have proof you were with April May when she committed her felonious wiretapping and when she witnessed the moment my sister was killed. You are obligated to come into court and talk about what happened and—"

"Little girl." Redd White stood up, towering over her. Maya found herself frozen stiff beneath his long shadow. "Do you know who I am?"

"You're Redd White." She fought the quiver in her voice. "Of Bluecorp."

"So why do you think that I would in any way be 'obligated' to do anything? A person of my magnamosity does not 'have' to do anything!" He took a step closer to her.

"You will! It's the law!" The words were hardly out of her mouth when Redd White's ringed hand cracked across her cheek, blasting her vision with white spots. Her hearing rang and she clutched at her face in surprise and pain.

"Allow me to repeat myself: I am not 'obligated' to do anything. That's a lesson your tenacious sister failed to understand." Even though he wasn't speaking loudly, she felt pinned and assaulted by his growling, grinning words.

"Hey now pal!" Maya's vision was eclipsed by the olive green of Detective Gumshoe's jacket as he stood between Redd White and her, shielding her from him. "You can't do that!"

"And what is your personage, unkept man?" Redd White leaned back a little and adjusted the lapels of his suit, straightening his outfit and flashing a bright, insincere smile. The rings that cut into Maya's skin glittered in the fluorescent light of his office.

"Detective Dick Gumshoe, homicide division, current guard of Miss Maya, sir!" Even with his deference to Redd White, Detective Gumshoe's posture didn't change one bit. He remained defensively between Maya and Redd White, arms outstretched as if to take the next blow for her.

(Unseen to anyone but her, Phoenix hovered near her injured cheek, not touching it but observing the wound, furiously cursing the man under his breath.)

"So you're nobody then." Redd White's posture remained lax, uncaring. "Just some detective. If you continue to impede me in this manner, I will be having words with the Chief of Police about your continued employment with them."

Detective Gumshoe sputtered. His arms fell as he folded beneath the uncaring glare of Redd White. While he didn't step aside so much as wilt enough that Redd White could fix Maya with his cold gaze once more, his protection faltered.

Maya blinked angry and pained tears out of her eyes.

"Was that so hard?" Redd White sat back down in his chair and crossed one leg over the other as casually as could be. "The little girl keeps her mouth shut, the big man keeps his hands to himself, and my effervescent self remains unaffected, happy as always. Everyone wins."

"Not everyone." Phoenix's string of swears and worried concern parted for a moment, a single clear thought surfaces in an ocean of unbroken noise.

Maya grabbed ahold of that thought as a lifesaver. Not everyone wins in this case. Only Redd White. Detective Gumshoe tried to protect her. He was on her side. She could push a little more. And she was in the detention center instead of her home. All Redd White could do while she was incarcerated was hit her again. A little pain would be worth the truth, worth stroking the flame of justice in her chest.

"You bought information from Marvin Grossberg fifteen years ago." Maya's accusation was clear and direct. No room for misinterpretation.

Redd White tilted his head to look down his nose at her. "And?"

"Classified information about a case being handled by an attorney working for his office." These were facts.

"Again: and? Time is money and you're currently wasting mine."

"I introduced myself as Mayoi Fey when I came in. Your receptionist buzzed me in as a Fey." The kicker. "You bought information from Grossberg about my mother, Misty Fey's, classified involvement with a case and leaked it to the press. And, until the moment of her death, my sister was trying to prove that fact."

"What of it?" He seemed largely unfazed, even as Phoenix latched onto every word she said like it was all important.

He seemed to understand the point she was making. "Grossberg...the lawsuit she was preparing for...the Thinker. That's why!"

"That's why you killed her! She had proof and you stole it!" Even as she shouted and pointed an accusatory finger at him, it felt different than when she was arguing in court. In court, she found, the back and forth between lawyer and witness or lawyer and lawyer was a game between the two parties on a level playing field. Here she was firing volleys at a man in a fortress, knowing full well he had an artillery at the ready. It was a siege she was going to lose. Even so, she wouldn't be giving up. She couldn't.

"So?" The room fell still and silent. Redd White idly polished his rings against his jacket.

"S-so?! So you're not denying it?!" How brazen could he be!

"Why should I?" He leaned forward in his chair and gave Maya a self-assured, predatory smile. "Who will believe you?"

"Detective Gumshoe is—"

"He is one detective. I am in no way threatened by his presentice." Redd White waved idly at Detective Gumshoe as he leaned back again. "And he knows what will happen if he goes against me." The threat about getting him fired.

"You can't possibly think you can just get away with this!" The pain in her cheek forgotten, Maya pushed past Detective Gumshoe to get closer to Redd White so she could shout at him.

"You said earlier that my company, Bluecorp, bought information off of one Grossberg fifteen years ago. That is because I trade in information. So why do you think one poultry testimony against my grand self would carry any weight in comparison?"

"Because this isn't the press, it's the court! The court relies on evidence, not intangible information!"

"And what is more evidence than money and power? What is more likely to sway the judge, the gallery, the prosecution, than information? Is evidence not information?" Redd White's tone was self-assured and completely unbothered by her accusations in the slightest. In fact, he almost seemed amused by her attempt. "The only people who would fight for you are dead. You've lost before you even began. Why would you fight so hard?"

"Because I know you did it. And I'm going to see you in court tomorrow. I will prove it to everyone and you won't be able to worm your way out of it."

Again, a flash of bright light and sharp sound. Again, a brilliant streak of pain. This time he drew blood. Maya blinked tears from her eyes and sneered at Redd White as he leaned over her.

"You want me in court so bad? Wish granted. I look forward to testamenting on the stand tomorrow." Redd White waved a hand—the same one he had just backhanded her with—for her to leave. "Now get out of my office."

Maya didn't break eye-contact as she backed her way to the doors. Detective Gumshoe eventually turned to herd her out the office, keeping himself between the two of them, even as he looked defeated. Phoenix floated behind him, casting glances back at the wall behind Redd White.

Only once the double doors leading into Redd White's office swung closed did Maya finally turn away and let everything catch up with her at once.

'The only people who would fight for you are dead.' That wasn't false but it hurt almost as much as where he struck her. Phoenix was on her side, actively fighting with her and he was a ghost. Mia would have fought for her and she was dead and gone.

Gumshoe was trying his best.

Her face hurt. Maya could feel something trickling down her cheek. Tears? Blood? Both, probably.

She couldn't bring it in herself to move. Her legs had locked up, her breathing seized, and she began to shake. The adrenaline and anger that had been keeping her going for as long as it had was finally flushing itself out of her system and all that was left was exhaustion and terror.

Maya barely felt it when Gumshoe scooped her up and carried her into the elevator, nor did she notice much of the trip out of the building. Only when he found a bench outside and put her down on it, gently wiping blood away from her face with tissues, did she finally come back to herself. Her senses returned in waves, muffled at first but slowly clearing.

Gumshoe was quietly apologizing to her as he dabbed at the second place where Redd White had struck her. "Sorry, pal. I wish I could've done more but..."

"You tried though." He jumped when she spoke up, as if he hadn't expected to hear her again so soon. "I appreciate it."

"He hit you." Gumshoe pointed out. "Twice. And I let him."

"Your job wasn't to protect me, but to keep an eye on me. And I wouldn't want you to lose your job over...him." It's not as if she hadn't provoked him in the first place. And, like was said, she had nobody living to rely on. Gumshoe was the closest thing she had. She didn't want to lose that. "Plus you're taking care of me now. That's enough."

"It's just...this isn't the first time I've seen things like...this." Gumshoe frowned and fished an adhesive bandage out of his jacket pockets, carefully opening it and peeling the backing off to apply it to her face. "And you're young. It's...you didn't do it."

Now, confronted with the truth, he believed her. He was reasonable. He was kind.

"I didn't do it."

Gumshoe carefully applied the large adhesive bandage to her cheek and smoothed it out under his calloused fingers. "And he—Mister Edgeworth—won't do what he says. I know he won't! He won't be so easily bought!"

"If you say so." Maya didn't believe him. "But it doesn't matter. I've got him."

"He said he got the judge—"

"I've got him on the stand." This was the important thing. She had him where she wanted him, where she could prove he was involved.

"He said—"

"Gumshoe!" The larger man startled like a frightened animal but she gave him her most reassuring smile. "It's fine. Thank you for trying to help me. Don't put your job on the line though. I'm the one on the block and I'm going to do my best to put him there in my place." What else could she do but try? It's not like Redd White coming to court would change the fact that she was on trial for Mia's murder.

Gumshoe fell silent. Phoenix sat on the other side of Maya, equally quiet. The air was cold and sharp against her struck cheek and tear-streaked eyes. It bit at her throat and lungs, grounding her.

"You done for the day?" Gumshoe eventually asked.

"...yeah." Where else could she go?

"You like ramen?" He stood up and offered her his hand so she didn't have to try and stand on her own. She took it, appreciative of his assistance as her wobbly legs nearly buckled under her own weight.

"I won't say no to any type of food, if you couldn't tell." He didn't seem to understand she was making a joke at her expense because he gave her a blinding smile of sheer delight and excitement.

"Then do I got a treat for you, pal! As an apology, of a sort..." He began to walk down the street, her hand in his still. "This place is the best around, been runnin' for generations even! My old boss took me and I'll take you because, frankly pal, I heard the detention center food isn't that good." It super wasn't, for what little she had consumed.

"If it's the ramen stand I'm thinking of, you're in for a good meal." It was the first thing that Phoenix had said since they left Bluecorp. He had gone so silent that Maya had felt the absence of his constant chatter like a missing tooth. And now that he was back, she was surprised at how much she missed him.

(How quickly he had become a comforting and grounding presence in her life.)

"...thanks." What else could she say?

"Any time, pal."

It was, as Phoenix said, some of the best ramen she'd ever had. Stomach full and warm, Maya soon forgot about the pain and humiliation of being smacked around and yelled at. By the time that she was taken back to the detention center, sleep was ravenously nipping at her heels.

Gumshoe, true to his word, made sure she had a copy of the transcript of the court and pictures and prints of the evidence in a plain folder for her to review at her leisure. She didn't have the energy to do it now, of course, but she had them. She had them.

"You can't do things like that, Maya." Maya looked up from where she was laying on her cot, lollipop in mouth.

"Huh?"

"Aggravating dangerous people. Running your mouth like that. Starting fights." Phoenix was reclined floating, eyebrows pinched and furrowed, sharply accenting his concern on his face. "You were hurt." His voice caught, peaking with unshed tears and frustration.

Maya sat up so she could be eye-level with him again, rolling the lollipop in her mouth so she could speak better. "Phoenix..."

"Don't 'Phoenix' me! I can't do anything like this! It was such a good thing Gumshoe was there! Otherwise..." His eyes swam, worried, imagining what could have happened. Probably imagining a second murder at the hands of Redd White.

"I—" He was right, however. He was right. Maya slumped back down. "Yeah..." Her cheek, the one under the bandage Gumshoe had given her, throbbed with the memory of the blow. What else could she say to that?

"Maya, please promise me you'll be careful." Something in Phoenix's face drew her attention. Something...personal and agonized. Something more than just the memory of Mia's death at Redd White's hands. "I— promise me."

Could she promise that without lying to him? Could she reasonably say she wouldn't be chasing the truth down at the expense of her well-being? Probably not, so she was going to have to be a liar for a little bit longer. "I promise." She curled up on the cot and turned so her back was to Phoenix. She didn't want him to see her face as she fought with her emotions.

Lying to the first person who believed in her, the one person who was consistently on her side. It would all be worth it in the end, if only to see Redd White in jail but...

It still didn't feel good.

[sanguinesmi1e]

A Round Door Like a Porthole, Lazarus Green Pt. 1 Pt. 2 (you're here) Pt. 3 Pt. 4

Art of LBM

Danny was still lying under the Specter Speeder, mind reeling as the words “they opened this portal with a child sacrifice, and bound his death and all the lost life potential to their bloody machine to create a perpetual gateway to the Infinite Realms” ran in a loop through his head. Could that really be true? Is his death attached to the portal, forever lodged in the doorway, preventing it from closing?

The guy clearly knew what he was talking about. The bit about why his ghost friends and frenemies caused so much chaos as they unleashed their obsessions on Amity Park made so much sense. It would certainly explain a lot of his interactions with ghosts after he died. 

 Danny silently cursed himself for not destroying everything in the lab before they got here. He and Jazz hadn't worried about the portal schematics, because they honestly didn't have any way to open a portal, only cycle energy in a recursive loop that shouldn’t have done anything. No one, not he and Jazz, not their parents, not Tucker or Technus, had been able to figure out why it had worked when Danny was inside. But if the machine was able to sustain a portal that was already opened. . . He wondered idly if he could light a fire that looked accidental and would both destroy the lab and leave the two men enough time to escape. It’d probably be too risky. And who knew what destroying the portal would do to him. Fully kill him? Destroy him completely and shatter his core? It might be worth it to prevent anyone from gaining this knowledge. 

No wonder Lex Luthor was interested in this business. A child was murdered in this basement, and for all Tim knew, the child’s soul could still be trapped here fueling a Lazarus Pit that connected the world of the living to the afterlife. What Luthor could do with an interdimensional portal or even a single sample of Lazarus water. . . Tim shuddered to think.

On the one hand, he was grateful that Wayne Enterprises secured the business before Luthor had the chance. On the other hand, he felt rather ill to think his family had directly enriched mad scientists who performed child sacrifices. At least he had full faith that between him and Oracle, they’d hunt the Fentons down and make sure justice was served.

“What is to be done for the child?” Tim asked Constantine. “Is his soul tied to that machine?”

“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it’s just his death.” 

“You’re gonna have to explain the difference to me, ‘cause I’m not sure I see the distinction.” Tim said wryly. 

“I guess. . . Hm. You could think of it as the moment of transition drawn out endlessly like a plucked string whose note never stops vibrating. Like life is the anchor point of one end of the string, and the afterlife is at the other end, and the child’s death is the note created when his soul crosses from one side to the other. The soul is the bow causing reverberations, but the reverberations are the actual death itself. The effect of the soul’s passage. And in this case, the portal is amplifying the death so it doesn’t end like a normal death ‘note’ would.” Constantine leaned in to examine some of the runes that were part of the array. “Not a perfect metaphor, obviously, since you bow perpendicular rather than parallel to the string, and death and souls are nothing like music, but you get the idea, right?”

Tim was still caught on John Constantine saying the words “death note” together unironically in a sentence. He was going to have to share that with Steph later. Maybe with the whole family group chat, even. “Yeah, the metaphor makes sense, as much as any of this occult stuff does to me.”

“Whatever. As for whether there’s anything we can do for the child, I think we’ll have to try and summon him if we can.” The Brit started pulling items out of his trenchcoat’s inner pockets. “We need to ask what the spirit wants done, before we go messing with things we don’t understand.”

“Alright, need anything from me?”

“Yeah, move this stuff out of the way so I can draw a circle.” Constantine directed Tim to shove aside a few stacks of boxes, something called a Fenton Ghost Weasel, and together they shifted a coffin-shaped iron maiden that for some reason was labeled Fenton Stockades. Then he set to work chalking a circle and runes on the ground.

Finally he sat back and dusted chalk off his hands. “That should do it.”

“Will this be bright too?” Tim asked warily.

“Eh, might be? Shouldn’t be too bad.”

Tim grabbed an auto-darkening welding helmet with a green “Fenton” sticker on it off the workbench and slipped it on.

“Alright, here goes.” Constantine began the summoning ritual.

While Danny debated arson, the other two had finished clearing a space and chalked some kind of circle onto the floor. He tuned back into the conversation when he heard the trenchcoat guy begin a traditional incantation for a summoning. Were they trying to summon him? Danny really hoped it wouldn’t work. 

When people tried to summon the Ghost King he could almost always ignore the pull. This pull, however, was very strong and immediate. It seemed proximity made a difference, or this guy was just better at summonings than the average cultist. Before Danny could accept the inevitable, he was pulled bodily — literally! — out from under the vehicle and across the floor, still flat on his back on the Fenton Under Car Creeper, with the Specter Speeder’s ecto-engine hugged tightly to his chest. The wheels of the Fenton Creeper (not to be mistaken with the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick) sped him straight to the summoning circle. Still very much in human form. 

This was his first real look at the guy called Constantine, and he couldn’t help a horrified yelp. “Eugh!! What the fuck is wrong with you, dude!?!!” 

His lapse in attention made him lose the battle with the summoning spell, and it gripped him, pulling him through the convolutions of the spellwork even though he was already lying half across the circle, and forcing him to change into Phantom in the process. It was such a disgusting sensation, like he was one of those squishy water filled tube snake toys that look like a fleshlight, and someone squeezed really hard and abruptly so he turned inside out and went flying to go splat against a wall (or in this case, against the ground inside the circle of chalk). He tried and failed not to retch.

The younger man in the crisp suit whom he’d already identified as Mr. CEO-Timothy-Drake-Wayne looked at him in startled bafflement, while the older blond, still smoking his cigarette, (gross, and was that thing never ending?) was probably looking at him. Maybe. It was really difficult to tell, because he was a frankly vile sight. Danny winced and swallowed down nausea. “What have you done to your soul?”

“I — what?”

“Trypophobia central, man! Ugh that’s gotta be the grossest thing I’ve ever seen. Can’t you cover it up?”

“Who are you?” Timothy Drake-Wayne interjected.

“I’m the dead guy? You literally just summoned me.”

“Constantine said you were a child”

“I mean, I was?” Danny looked down at his obviously twenty-something year-old self and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been a while since I was fourteen though. These things happen.”

“Not typically, no. The dead tend to be pretty unaging.” Constantine said. 

“Dude I’m not having a conversation with you while your soul looks like Escher’s swiss cheese nightmare. Anyways, some of us do. Heck, I know a guy who constantly shifts from infant to old man and every stage in between. It’s pretty distracting when you’re trying to get him to let you fix the timeline again.” Danny continued to look anywhere but at the blond man. “But if it’s so important to you, I can —” He got an abstracted look, and slowly de-aged himself until the two men stood over a fourteen year old boy with snow white hair and glowing green eyes.

“That does not help. No.” The guy whose soul looked somewhat like a bleeding tooth fungus said. He turned away and started doing something magical. Danny hoped it would mask his soul in some way, but so far all it did was make Danny feel like he needed to pop his ears.

He also felt particularly uncharitable, so he didn’t revert to his natural age, and instead tried to see how young and cute he could make himself appear.

“So are you just haunting this basement? Seems hazardous, given the former proprietors.” Timothy tried to redirect the conversation. He didn’t seem nearly as distressed to see the ghost of a child, but his eyes darted surreptitiously to the Lichtenberg figure Danny used to always hide under gloves.

“Nah, haven’t been back here in years. I mostly live in my Infinite Realms haunt these days.”

“You . . . live? Is that just a figure of speech?”

“It’s rude to ask about a ghost’s nonliving status, you know. Highly taboo to ask how a ghost died or poke into the circumstances of our deaths without permission.” Danny admonished. Making himself younger than fourteen took more effort than he expected.

“Alright, I’m sorry,” Timothy raised his hands placatingly to the boy who now looked younger than Damian. “What brings you back to Amity Park?”

“Uh, you summoned me? Are we still not clear on that?”

Tim looked pointedly at the Fenton Creeper and the engine Danny still held. He’d shrunk down to the size of a four year old, and the engine really should be crushing him given it was bigger than his torso now. He quickly set it aside, and turned his biggest puppy dog eyes on Tim.

“You were in here already, and you looked pretty alive for a moment there.”

“I can look lots of ways!” Danny focused really hard on looking as cute, small, and nonthreatening as possible. He thought it was working when all of a sudden there was a pop! and he was smaller than he’d ever managed before. 

Timothy Drake-Wayne looked like a giant. The other guy, who had thankfully managed to put away his soul somehow, wore scuffed oxfords bigger than Danny. Hell, he could probably fit his entire self into one of Constantine’s shoes if that wasn’t a bizarre thing to do, and they weren’t already full of stinky feet. Holy shit what happened to him!?

Tim blinked down at the cat? Snake? Ghost. . . thing at his feet. What the fuck. A moment ago he was talking to an adult man whom he’s pretty sure was dead and he’s very sure was trolling them. Now his interlocutor had turned into an adorable creature with soft white paws, a long twisting tail, big pointed ears that swiveled like a cats, and a humanoid face that should’ve been creepy but was actually eliciting cute-aggression in him. Tim blinked again. The little baby ghost creature blinked enormous green eyes back at him. Then it yawned, revealing three rows of needle sharp teeth that looked like a cross between what you’d find in the mouth of a shark and a cat. Yikes.

“Does that mean the interview is over?” Tim asked him.

The creature just blinked up at him again, then zeroed in on his shoelaces, pupils expanding until only a narrow band of green ringed them.

Yup. The interview was over. Those paws hid some wicked claws which could apparently slice through leather with ease. Oh, Tim really hoped ghost scratch fever wasn’t a thing. At least the ghost looked sufficiently contrite after he yelped, and it waited while he removed a shoelace to sacrifice as a toy.

If Damian ever met him, there would be a new member of the family. Maybe he should name the creature preemptively so they didn’t have a cat-snake named Bat-Ghost in Wayne manor. 

“Do you have a name, little baby cat-snake ghost? Little baby ghost man?” He cooed as the miniature monster dashed back and forth, intent on shredding his shoelace.

The ghost paused long enough to chirp, “Li’l baby man!” before launching himself at the string. Even shocked, Tim’s reflexes had him whisking the toy out of the way, and the ghost went careening under a cabinet.

He wedged himself in the gap, landing face first in a dust bunny, and quickly wriggled backwards with an indignant squall. His wordless protestations cut off as he fell into a violent sneezing fit that thankfully dislodged him from beneath the cabinet.

Tim suppressed his laugh, and asked, “Little Baby Man? Is that what you want to be called?”

The ghost pawed most of the dust away from his nose, but spider webs covered his face and a big dust bunny perched atop his head like a fascinator with a cobweb lace veil. He looked Tim right in the eyes and nodded, dislodging the dust in his hair and setting off more sneezes.

“Li’l Baby Man” he confirmed. He placed a paw on Tim’s shoe and chirped, “Tim!” Then he pointed his tail at Constantine and said, “Gross!” with narrowed eyes.

[paranormal-peri]

Not enough Peri angst? Fuck it, I’ll do it myself.

Welcome to the Paranormal Peri blog!

Paranormal Peri is an FOPANW Angst/Whump fanfic. Read AO3 tags for CW.

Peri wakes up and discovers he has been captured and brought to a paranormal investigation facility. His wand confiscated, his wings broken, his sanity actively decreasing, and his kid nowhere to be found. He tries to remember how this all happened and find a way to escape. All while being poked and prodded by curious and heartless humans. If he doesn't find his wand and escape soon, he might as well just explode into confetti.

OR:

Peri is captured and brought to a paranormal investigation facility. Lots of whump and angst shit happens.

(Post Best of Luck, Pre-Season Finale)

READ FIC HERE

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NEW CHAPTERS MONDAYS! (AO3)

I'll be posting updates, art, sneak peeks, and rebloging any fanart on this Tumblr blog.

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Fic FANART BLOG: @paranormal-peri-fanart

Fic SPOTIFY PLAYLIST

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Author socials:

Main art account: @foxflamingo

Angst/Whump account: @unconsciousnonhuman

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[kittenofdoomage]

Let me take you back...

.... to when this happened:

I'm still not over it. Naturally, I wrote something for it. It's below the cut. Happy Friday! 😘

Carnal

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x fem!reader

Word Count: 1651

Warnings: smut, blow jobs/oral sex, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, drunk!Sherlock, dirty talk, slight breeding kink, slight cockwarming, unbeta’d (we die like heroes)

You had been surprised to open the door to Enola and a very drunk Sherlock when you’d not been expecting either of them. Getting him up the stairs had been a challenge; Sherlock weighed about the same as a small elephant, and you had to hold your giggles at Enola’s repeated remarks about his ridiculous size. Once he was inside the apartment, he managed to move under his own power - just about - refusing assistance when it came to removing his coat and allowing it to hit the floor with an ungracious thud. He quickly landed on the chaise longue with one arm slung over his face, mouth half-agape as he got himself comfortable.

“You can sleep in the guest room,” you whispered to Enola. “I’ll deal with him.”

“Are you certain?” the younger girl asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m certain,” you replied, shooing her off, well aware she probably hadn’t slept in a proper bed for weeks, and you knew Sherlock wouldn’t actually mind. Despite his outward exasperation at his little sister, he adored her, and wouldn’t deny her one night of comfortable sleep. Enola smiled and headed off, content to leave her big brother in your capable hands.

Sherlock grunted as you unlaced his shoes, pulling them off one by one, offering no resistance but no assistance either. As you moved further up, going for the buttons on his waistcoat, he grabbed at your wrist, lifting his arm from his face to shoot you the most inebriated grin you had ever seen. “You should buy me a drink first,” he slurred, and you smirked at him.

“I think you had enough to drink,” you scolded. “Now let me get you out of this before you fall asleep and strangle yourself with your tie.”

He pursed his lips, blowing out a puff of air in irritation, but his grip on your wrist loosened, allowing you to pluck the buttons of his waistcoat undone, yet he gave no indication he was going to move for you to actually get it off of him. You clicked your tongue in impatience, lifting your hands to get his tie undone, only to find your fingers encased in his much larger ones.

“Sherlock -”

“You’re so gentle with me, my lady,” he murmured, kissing your fingertips. “Why do you take such good care of me?”

You smiled despite his intoxication. “Because someone has to,” you chided gently, attempting to pull away. “And you know very well why that someone is me.”

“Mmm, yes,” he chuckled, “because you love me.”

“Yes, dear. Now will you let me get -” His lips brushed your palm, and lidded lust-drink eyes flitted up to you. “Sherlock -” He grinned again, pulling your hand down to cover the bulge in his pants, and you sucked in a breath, glancing towards the door to make sure you were alone. “You’re incorrigible.”

A low chuckle greeted the slight, but you were already kneeling beside him. “Yet you remain,” he breathed, releasing your hand. “Let me feel that pretty mouth on my cock, sweetling.”

You glanced backwards again, letting your fingers find the fastenings on his trousers; he was already achingly hard underneath the material, springing into your palm as soon as it was free. Sherlock moaned when you stroked him, clinging to the low back of the chaise as he closed his eyes in bliss. “You are a bad influence, Sherlock Holmes,” you hissed.

“As I recall,” he mumbled, “you did not require much influencing.”

With a scowl, you leaned in, swiping your tongue across the thick tip, tasting the first beads of his essence, and when you looked up at his face, his teeth were buried in his bottom lip, an expression of pure ecstasy covering his handsome features. Once upon a time, you had believed such carnal indulgences belonged only in brothels, or at a stretch, in the wedded bed chamber - this was neither, but you’d quickly found that there was pleasure to be had in someone else’s enjoyment. The sound he made when you took him into your mouth was enough to prompt a rush of warmth between your thighs.

“Yes,” he groaned, hips undulating as you began to take him deeper, letting your saliva ease his path. One large hand came up, resting against the side of your head, guiding without pressure, and you moaned around him, squeezing your legs together to try and stem the throb growing there. “Don’t stop,” Sherlock hummed, arching on the chaise. “Mmm, your mouth feels perfect…”

Your neck was beginning to ache with the odd angle and the height of the furniture, so you pulled off of him to adjust yourself, only to find yourself pulled up and onto the chaise longue with him, manhandled until you were straddling him, skirts bunched around your hips. He grinned up at you, clearly still inebriated, though you didn’t protest when his large hands made their way underneath your skirt to the thin fabric hiding your skin.

“Too many layers,” he grumbled, tugging at the material, and you yelped as he gathered it in both hands and pulled hard, smirking up at you when the satisfying tear followed. Your protest at the loss of another set of undergarments was lost when his thick fingers prodded at your sex, and you gripped the back of the chaise as you slumped forward, gasping in surprise. “That’s better,” Sherlock muttered, arching up to kiss you suddenly.

A single digit sought out your entrance, finding you already wet, and you whined into his mouth as he used one hand to torment you, using the other to make the hole in your clothing bigger. His cock was trapped underneath your bottom, twitching and hard enough for you to feel it through the layers; you tore away from his mouth to breath, and he moved again, lifting you easily to force two thick fingers into your slick channel. The penetration knocked the breath out of you, and you bit your lip to stop yourself screaming and disturbing anyone else - the last thing you needed was to be caught in such a compromising position.

“That’s it,” Sherlock grunted, watching your face with a satisfied grin as he worked his fingers inside you, coaxing out your arousal until your body began to tremble. You couldn’t stop the way your hips worked against him, your traitorous body seeking out more friction, and you closed your eyes as you felt your walls clench around him, unwilling to see the smug look on his face.

Your orgasm was slow, a shudder that ran through you over and over. Sherlock murmured his approval, withdrawing his fingers, manhandling you until you were poised with the thick tip of his cock at your entrance. No amount of protesting would stay his enthusiasm, and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself crying out as he pulled you down, splitting you open in one hard stroke. He paused then, chest heaving, clothing disheveled, that one unruly curl falling into his eyes as he allowed you a moment to adjust. You shivered as you forced yourself to relax, feeling him press deep, almost missing the smile spreading across his lips.

“What?” you whispered, self-conscious under his heated gaze.

“This may not be the best place for this,” he muttered, reaching up to grope your chest through your dress. “I should conduct myself better.”

You smiled shyly. “Would you like to move? Perhaps to the bed?”

“No,” he exhaled, pulling you down to kiss you. “I shan’t.”

His free hand snuck back underneath your skirts, cupping your bottom through the ruined fabric of your undergarments, and you moaned into his mouth as he began to force your hips back and forth, creating the smallest amount of delicious friction inside you. Fresh moisture coated his cock, allowing him to increase the movements, and you found yourself panting when you pulled back, held in place by his hands.

“We must be quiet,” you whimpered, pressing your cheek into the palm of his hand.

“Mmm,” he agreed, staring up at you hungrily. “Yes, you should be quiet.” His hand moved, covering your mouth, and your eyes went wide at the rush of heat that filled you. “That’s it, sweetling -” A grunt followed the affectionate term and his face twisted in pleasure just as your pussy began to tighten around him. You could barely keep your eyes open, silenced and forced to breathe through your nose by the hand covering your mouth, unable to move more than he allowed by the hand on your rump. It took embarrassingly little to wring the pleasure from your body, and all you could do was gasp into his palm and quiver around him.

He didn’t slow even when you went a little slack, using his superior strength to manipulate your body on top of his, spearing up into you over and over. Usually, he would withdraw before the crucial moment, but this time he didn’t stop, and you found yourself suddenly craving it, falling into a final climax of your own as he spilled into you, warmth filling your insides and leaking out around him. Even when he was done and he pulled you down into a last kiss, he didn’t seem to care for the consequences of what you had done - his eyes fluttered shut, a ghost of a smile on his lips as his cock continued to twitch inside you.

“Sherlock…” You tapped his face lightly, and his eyes opened with a second of bewilderment before he smiled at you. “You finished… you… inside…” The heat in your face was unbearable, but he kept on smiling, closing his eyes again, apparently unconcerned that he was still buried inside you.

“Oh dear,” he drawled, sounding anything but upset at what he’d done, sighing happily as he wrapped his arms around you. “Then perhaps I shall make an honest woman of you.”

It would be remiss of me not to tag @deandoesthingstome (though I don't know if you even read Sherlock, I just don't wanna get yelled at for not tagging you 😅)

[fentoaster]

Dead On Your Feet

Happy Ecto-Implosion everybody!

I was fortunate enough to be paired with the lovely and extremely talented @probably-dead for this first year of @ecto-implosion!!! My dear friend and I cannot overstate how excited we are to share what we've been working on, and I hope you all check it out!

Summary:

Danny returns home from a ghost fight, sick, hurt, and exhausted. Thankfully, he's got two best friends to pick him up and get him back on his feet - or even better, into his bed.

[dremiruu]

ok ive seen like five posts here about not finding enough eah chatfics so here we go

eah chatfic masterpost

(these are all the fics i could find on ao3 - if you ever find one thats not on here dm me and ill add it)

• "Grimm is a bitchass motherfucker" by Karmahatesme

• "Be Gay Do Crime" by JooDeeLee

• "Ever After High Text Chain" by YuquisLeftEarlobe

• "These Fairytales are MONSTROUS!" by Emixion | mh/eah crossover

• "Operarion: Apple" by DarlingTheLesbian

• "wonderlanders are absolutely unhinged" by mysolareyesgrowpolarized

• "Kitty Ruins Everything" by DaisyDoo

• "you've reached your destiGAYtion" by curious_chimera (orphan account)

• "It's Not The Chat Fic We Wanted, and We Didn't Need This Shit To Begin With" by Shipping_Sushi

• "HeexTok" by nuclearspiders | mh/eah crossover

• "Monster Ever After" by nuclearspiders | mh/eah crossover

• "gays, homosexuals, gays" by M1NTCHoCoK1tty

• "Chatlog of a Toaster on Fire" by The_Lavender_Creator

• "Ever After Monsters" by urfavtransrat | mh/eah crossover

• "Villainy, in a General Sense" by young_authoress

• "Not really anonymous" by ShyLittle_Frog

• "The 'End the Pining' Project" by MessOfContradictions

• "the words of the prophets are written in gay teenage groupchats" by cherryhibiscus

• "No Hetero" by MangoQueen

• "EVENT PLANNING COMMITTEE" by orphan account

(id tag allthe blogs that asked for this here but i already forgot which ones which so im counting on tags, reblogs, the small size of the fandom and the universe to direct this to them lmao)

heres who i remember has been asking: @smileyfacemojisworld @lionmythflower

[renae-the-turtle]

Art for my fanfic, Charmy and the Dad Talk; I did the drawing and line art, and @alcadanon did the colours using alcohol markers!

Link to the fic here:

[nightshadedumplings]

Blessing/Curse: Chapter 1

Summary: A nun is tricked by a demon into believing that it's an angel, and convinces her to carry its brood. Later, the rest of the nuns volunteer to carry their own set of "holy" children, before realizing too late that something is very amiss.

Story contains: horror elements, rapid pregnancy, demon pregnancy, lactation, breastfeeding, hyperpregnancy, dubcon, coerced sex, labor, and birth.

--

While dressing herself for the day, Agatha was interrupted by a voice in her ear. She was startled, but didn't lose her composure.

"Sister Agatha. Be not afraid. Listen to my words; you have been given a divine purpose."

She didn't answer, keeping still and raptly attentive.

"The number of angels has dwindled, since many have fallen and been cast out. Your purity and devotion have been seen in the eyes of the lord, and you have been chosen to become a mother of angels."

Her brow furrowed, as she attempted to grasp what she was being told. The angel didn't speak more after a few moments, and she hesitantly responded.

"A mother of... what does this mean? I don't understand."

"You will carry and birth angels for the lord. Your virtue will remain."

"You mean..." her hand absently touched her lower belly, slim and flat beneath her habit. "But... why does he need me?"

"Do not question the will of your creator. This is a holy task, one not to be taken lightly, nor for granted. Another, more pious woman will happily carry out this destiny, if not yourself."

"No, no! I..." Agatha never wanted children, and the idea of pregnancy had always horrified and even disgusted her. It was part of why she joined the convent. Of course, she was also devout, but never having to marry and be used as a broodmare had made it all the more appealing. Now it was her own god who wanted to use her for her womb. Her eyes closed tightly and she balled her hands into tight fists, thinking hard about her answer.

"I'll do it," she said breathlessly, her faith winning out.

"It is decided," said the voice, sounding eerily pleased. "Lay back and spread your legs. Accept his holy light."

Taking a deep breath, Agatha shakily did as she was told, laying prone on the hard, stone floor. Suddenly, she felt her skirts being lifted, and her undergarments pulled aside. "Oh!" she gasped as she felt as if her legs were being held, and something hard and warm was pushing inside of her. As it entered her, she began to see the angel mounting her. It looked like nothing she could ever imagine, and its divine beauty was so immense, she quite forgot that it was impregnating her.

There was no pain, despite how large the shaft pumping inside of her seemed to be. She gasped and moaned as the angel thrust into her, over and over again, pounding her virginal cunt. The pleasure was so much that she nearly took the lord's name in vain.

The angel gripped her thighs, holding them in its tight grip as it released a fluid inside of her. It was hot, and she could feel it shooting into her womb. Despite everything, she felt a pang of regret and dread, like she'd just made a very big mistake.

Just as quickly as it appeared, the angel was gone. Looking around, Agatha scrambled to her feet and fix her habit. Her hand absently touched her abdomen, and she couldn't help but wonder if anything that had just transpired was even real.

As the moments went by, she felt a warmth in the pit of her belly. It began to feel as if something was pressing out from the inside, like something was... growing, inside of her. She gently pressed her hand to the area, and as she touched it, she gasped, feeling it slowly push out.

It was morning, and she couldn't stay alone in her room all day. What would the other sisters think if they saw her with a swollen belly? Would they even believe her if she told them what happened? Or would she be shunned and excommunicated?

Breathing shallowly, she leaned her back against the door and slowly looked down at herself. Her breasts were sore, and her belly was feeling heavier by the second. It wasn't visible through her habit yet, but when she pressed and smoothed it down, she could see a small bump forming.

"Sister Agatha? It's time for morning prayer," a voice preceded by a knock at her door called, giving Agatha a start.

"Coming!" she answered, feeling her voice come out as tight and shrill. She straightened out her dress, making sure her belly wasn't visible, though she knew it couldn't be, at this size. With great apprehension, she opened the door, attempting to smile warmly at the sister standing there, but she felt it came off as forced and tense. However, if it was, it went unnoticed, and the sister turned to head towards the chapel. Agatha sighed quietly and followed, resisting the urge to feel her belly.

With each step, she felt as though her belly were growing. She hadn't expected it to grow so quickly. Frankly, she hadn't really grasped what she'd been agreeing to at all. It had all happened so fast. It still felt more like a dream than reality. Maybe it was, and she was imagining the swelling in her belly. Desperately, she hoped that to be true.

Quietly taking her place among the sisters, Agatha began her prayers, but her mind wandered. She could feel her belly growing, and her breath caught in her throat as she felt soft twitching from inside of her. A cold bead of sweat ran down her temple, and she tried her best to steady her breathing. It felt like she was completely breathless, as if she'd just run across the convent.

Minutes past, but they felt so much longer. After prayer was mass, and after mass was breakfast. Would her belly have grown so large by then that everyone would see it, its round, heavy girth jutting out from beneath her black habit, announcing to everyone that she was heavy and swollen with child?

Shuddering at the thought, she gasped softly, feeling her belly brush against her dress. Glancing around, no one seemed to be paying her any attention, but how much time did she have before she was so huge, it was impossible to look at anything else?

She prayed to end her pregnancy, to take it back. She knew it must be a sin to pray for something like that, but she couldn't do it. She never should have accepted this task, but it happened so quickly, and it didn't feel like she had much of a choice.

Still, she could feel her skin stretching as the young in her womb grew. Her chest felt tender and swollen, growing larger alongside her pregnant belly. The urge to touch and feel her burgeoning mass was becoming unbearable, but she couldn't draw attention to herself like that.

But hadn't the angel said she would carry angels? She had thought it meant that she would have to go through this multiple times, but what if it had meant that she was carrying more than one?

Agatha realized that she was sweating and breathing shakily and tried to steady herself. Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed that she could get back to her cell without anyone noticing her belly. She couldn't think of anything more humiliating than the entire convent staring at her big, swollen pregnant belly.

Suddenly, the other sisters were moving. Prayer had ended without Agatha noticing. She went with the group, trying to position herself so that no one could see her belly, which, when she looked down, was sticking out enough to be noticeable. As she walked, she slowly realized that she was walking oddly, trying to hunch over to hide the mass of her baby bump. It was difficult to walk this way, and her belly seemed to be weighing her down, too. Softly grunting, she bit her lip to try and stifle any more noise that may come out as she waddled along.

Almost out of no where, she felt a sharp kick from inside her belly, so startling that she couldn't stop herself from crying out and grabbing her belly. Every woman around her stopped in her tracks, all of them turning to stare at her, the sound of gasps and shocked exclamations filling the air as they saw Sister Agatha standing there, clutching at her big, obviously pregnant belly.

The murmurs didn't die down, but only increased, a few of the sisters crying out in fear as they saw that Agatha's belly was still growing.

"What is this...?! What's happened to you?!" one of the older sisters asked, coming to her side and holding her arm.

"A-an angel... visited me this morning," Agatha panted, unable to stop cradling her growing belly. Her belly button had popped out at some point, and was sticking out visibly under her habit.

"I-it said... it asked me to... if I would carry more angels... for the lord," she explained, feeling desperate, hoping she would be believed. At the very least, no one could think she had broken her vow of chastity and gotten herself pregnant the typical way, not with how she was growing so quickly.

The sisters looked dumbfounded, still shocked and horrified as they watched Agatha's belly swelling up before their eyes. She looked overdue, but the growth wasn't stopping.

"Let's get you lying down. Come," the sister at her side said, still holding her arm to help her down the hall. Agatha kept a hand near the bottom of her belly and waddled along, completely humiliated at the spectacle she'd become. She began breathing heavily just after a few steps, not used to the weight she was carrying inside of her, and it was only getting heavier.

As she waddled along, the sisters all followed, surrounding her and talking amongst themselves about her situation.

"She's huge!"

"Her belly is growing, look!"

"How many does she have in there?"

She already looked full term with twins, and needed to stop to rest. Leaning against another nun, Agatha groaned, rubbing her overburdened belly. She could feel little kicks from all over, and it slowly dawned on her that she was carrying multiples.

"Come, just a little further," one of the sisters to her side said, still holding her arm. Agatha moaned, slowly waddling along with her.

"She's getting really big..."

"Is she going into labor?"

There were no contractions, and her belly showed no signs of being done growing. She looked and felt so large, her heavy breasts bulging just on top of her full belly. Already, they had to stop for another rest, with Agatha looking heavy with a set of triplets. Desperately, she hoped the growth would finally stop, but she just kept swelling up, bigger and bigger, with each passing second. She couldn't help but cry out, watching herself becoming more and more gravid in front of everyone.

They kept on like this, with her heaving her massively pregnant belly along for several steps before having to stop to rest. It felt like an eternity, and her belly felt enormous. She was utterly huge, full to the brim with babies, and only getting larger. Her belly had the appearance of being full with five full term babies, making her cry out a little at the sight of herself.

"Almost there, come on, sister," the nun helping her along said, trying to encourage her to take a few more steps. The weight of her belly was becoming too much, and it was only getting heavier with each step she took.

As she waddled along slowly, she groaned, holding the sides of her active belly. Now, kicks could be seen from all over, her habit doing absolutely nothing to hide anything.

Quite suddenly, her belly began to grow even faster, making her cry out. The women around her did the same, shocked to see her swelling up so quickly. Her belly weighed her down, and Agatha felt her legs giving in just before she slid to the floor. Her back leaned against a wall and her legs had to be spread to make room for her swelling mommy belly.

Already unbelievably large, she was becoming impossibly huge. All she could see was her growing belly, and the rest of the sisters all surrounding and standing over her as she ballooned up.

The movement was so strong and frequent, it made her groan with how the babies kicked and pushed against her skin from the inside. As the litter inside of her grew to term, her belly cramped, painfully squeezing its inhabitants. "Oh...!" Agatha cried, shocked and pained by the feeling. Still she grew, and the pain kept coming back, stronger each time.

"Ohhh, please...! It hurts...!" she cried.

"She's going into labor!"

"She's going to give birth now!"

The commentary from the sisters around her furthered Agatha's humiliation. Why had god given her such a task? It felt more like a punishment.

Wailing as the most painful contraction yet seized her belly, a torrent of fluid gushed from between her spread legs.

"Her water's broken. She's going to need to push soon," one of the sisters said, hidden behind Agatha's incredibly swollen baby belly. Someone was lifting her skirt, uncovering the stretched mass of her overfull belly, exposing it to everyone. She could hear the sisters marveling at the size of her, staring as the babies inside kicked and squirmed beneath her stretched, brown skin.

Gasping, she felt fingers moving aside her undergarments and feeling inside of her. "It's time. Get ready to push, sister," the same sister from before said, her other hand on the wide expanse of Agatha's underbelly. "Now, Agatha. Push!"

On command, she pushed, shouting as she felt something round and heavy moving through her. It felt as though she were being pulled in half from the inside, the massive head of her first angel baby nearly splitting her.

As if she weren't uncomfortable enough, her breasts felt painfully full, as if they could burst at any moment. "Breathe, sister, breathe. You're going to have to push again in a moment. That's it. Alright, get ready, it's nearly time to push. Now, sister, push now!"

Agatha wailed as she bore down, feeling the head move just slightly down her canal. "That's it, keep pushing! Just like that. Push, push! It's coming!"

As she pushed, she suddenly felt a small release of pressure in her breasts, and something warm and wet spread over the front of her habit. Looking down, she gasped, seeing two dark spots forming, only barely visible on the black fabric. She was lactating.

"There's the head! Keep pushing, sister!"

It felt as though a gust of wind passed through at that moment, and Agatha felt a shift in the air, not unlike what happened when the angel visited earlier. Then, suddenly towering over her from just behind her belly was the angel. The other nuns began to panic, and as Agatha looked around, she gasped, seeing there were angels everywhere.

"Be not afraid," the one who visited her said, and the sisters began to quiet.

Agatha couldn't see everything that was happening, with her giant pregnant belly blocking most of her view, but to her side she could see one of the angels was kissing one of the sisters, and just past them, another angel and sister were doing the same.

Another contraction made Agatha scream and push, feeling the huge angel baby moving down her birth canal. Panting, she tried to look over her belly to see the sister who had been helping her deliver, but she was much too large to see anything. "What do I... - oh...! Ohhh, it's coming! I have to... have to push!" she whined as her body forced her to bear down.

Coming down for the brief reprieve between contractions, Agatha began to notice the sisters around her were moaning in pleasure. Struggling to see anything past her squirming belly, she saw to her right another sister being mounted by an angel. To her left, she saw more of the same, and by the sound of it, every woman in the convent must have been taken by an angel. All of them had leapt at the opportunity to fulfill a grand, divine purpose.

"Oh...! It hurts...! H-help me...! Don't... aahhahh...!" she moaned and shouted as she pushed, struggling to birth the first enormous baby of the litter planted in her belly.

Slowly coming into view from above, apparently standing over her from between her legs, was the angel responsible for her current condition. "Breathe, Sister Agatha. Let them come. Accept the pain; it is a worthwhile sacrifice." It knelt between her legs, just in front of her incredibly swollen belly. Its height was so impressive, that she could still see its glorious face gazing down upon her, wearing an expression she found difficult to identify. Perhaps a mix of pride and satisfaction. No, it couldn't be pride, but she struggled to think of a better word, and her thoughts were quickly interrupted by the unbearable urge to push.

"Push, Sister. You've made the perfect broodmare. So heavy with my children."

Agatha wailed and pushed, feeling the head slowly bulge her cunt. Had it called her a broodmare? The sound of it turned her stomach. This wasn't what she wanted to be. This wasn't how she wanted to serve god. Something about it felt terribly, terribly wrong.

The moans surrounding her were coming to a crescendo, and suddenly, the progenitor of the many babies kicking around inside of her was at her side, squeezing her huge, swollen tit.

"Oh!" she moaned as milk sprayed out, further dampening her dress. The angel took a single clawed finger and hooked it on the center of her hem, gently tugging and forming a tear between her breasts. She gasped, seeing her now more than ample cleavage exposed. It pulled the fabric aside, revealing both huge mommy milkers, with big, darkened nipples, completely transformed into the perfect nursing tits for feeding her babies. "Mm," she heard it murmur just before latching tightly and suckling.

"S-... ohh..." she tried to protest, but the unbearable pressure in her teat began to subside as she fed the creature that impregnated her so thoroughly. Gritting her teeth, she groaned and held her active belly as her babies kicked, struggling against the contraction squeezing and compressing them inside the already tight space of her overcrowded womb.

She pushed with everything she had, feeling a horrible burn in her pussy as the head stretched her wider and wider as it began to finally crown. However, the moment she stopped pushing, she felt the head receding back into her. "No...! G-get out...!" she groaned.

As she attempted to catch her breath, Agatha heard gasps and moans from the nuns around her. Craning her head for another look, she saw one of them seated on the hard floor holding her hands to a small belly that she hadn't had just minutes ago. On her other side, Agatha saw another with a similar little bump. They were all pregnant.

Another angel came to her side, wordlessly laying next to her as it held her leaking breast in its large hand. It squeezed, and milk squirted high into the air as Agatha moaned. The angel grinned, taking her tit into its mouth and gulping down her plentiful milk. In the midst of this, her belly contracted, forcing her to push. The entire scene felt like some kind of sordid fever dream, with two angels ravenously breastfeeding from her heavily engorged mommy milkers that she hadn't had this morning, while she vainly struggled to deliver the first massive child of the huge litter she was suddenly stuck carrying.

The angels had their hands on her heavy belly, feeling where the babies kicked and rolled around inside of her. She felt so huge, like a massive cow, used just for breeding and milking.

Pushing with all of her might, the head again stretched her painfully wide, its mass bulging out of her obscenely. One of the angels rubbed the wide swell of her underbelly, while its other hand held her breast and pumped more milk into its mouth.

"Keep pushing, Sister. Don't stop! It's crowning now, push hard! The head is nearly out!" The sister that was helping her before suddenly seemed to be back. Agatha couldn't see her, but she was certain she must have been accepting the gift from the angels into her womb. She did as she was told, screaming through grit teeth as she pushed as hard as she could for as long as she could stand to.

The other sisters seemed to be observing the birth again, only now they all had hands on their own growing bellies. Still, it felt humiliating having them all stand over her, with her enormous pregnant belly, swollen with big, active babies, bare and exposed, and her legs spread with a huge baby's head stretching her pussy wide. Worse still, some of the sisters were touching and feeling her big belly now, talking amongst themselves about it.

"What a big belly!"

"They're kicking so much. Feel there."

"She's just so pregnant. Will we all get that huge?"

The moment she had stopped pushing, her progress was once again erased. "It's too big!" she whined, frantically rubbing the sides of her impossibly distended belly, futilely attempting to ease her discomfort.

"It's alright, Sister. The lord never gives us more than we can handle. Breathe and rest for a moment. I want you to push hard, and for as long as you can when you feel the next contraction. Alright, get ready. Now, push now! Long hard push for me, Sister! That's it, keep pushing!"

Agatha wailed as she pushed, and pushed, and pushed. Even when she began to feel as though she couldn't stand it any longer, she kept pushing, feeling as though the massive head coming out of her would split her in half.

"Yes, keep going! It's coming now! Push, Agatha, push!"

"I'm puuushiiiing...!" Agatha screamed as the head finally burst free from her stretched cunt with a huge splash of amniotic fluids. Gasping and panting, she tried to catch her breath as she felt the child turning in her canal.

The amount of sensation overwhelmed her senses - the angels aggressively suckling from her massive teats, the sisters all feeling her overactive mommy belly, the painful contractions, and the enormous baby stretching her nethers impossible wide.

The sisters around her were gasping and moaning softly, and as she looked, she saw they had swelled up considerably, sporting what looked like nearly full term bellies. However, if her own body was anything to judge by, they all still had quite a bit of growing to do.

"Good, Agatha! The head is out. It looks... it's..." the sister delivering her babies trailed off as she got a good look at the baby sticking out of her.

"What? What is it- ohhh...!" she yelped, her laboring body compelling her to push again, the wide set shoulders of her inhuman offspring swelling out of her stretched pussy.

There was a murmur growing around her as the other nuns gathered to stare at her half-birthed baby. Some of the women gasped and shrieked at the sight of it, making Agatha's blood run cold. What exactly was she giving birth to? Her suspicions from earlier mounted, and her forehead beaded with sweat from the ordeal of giving birth and the fear of what exactly was growing inside of her.

"Just... keep pushing, Sister," her voluntary midwife said, her voice obviously shaken. Some of the other women seemed to be panicking, holding their swelling bellies in terror, frantically searching in vain for a way to stop the growth.

"What, what is it?! What's coming out of meee...?!" Agatha screamed as she pushed, monstrous shoulders splashing out of her, followed directly by the arms. The scene around her was becoming increasingly chaotic as nuns waddled hurriedly, as if trying to escape their own growing bellies, and others prayed desperately, begging forgiveness.

The "angels" nursing from her looked into her eyes with smug satisfaction, pumping her big motherly tits for more milk. The fear that had been lurking in the back of her mind since this the beginning was setting in in earnest, and she began to shriek in terror and pain as she pushed, finally expelling the first infant from her womb. In a few seconds, it was wailing, sounding almost just like a typical human baby, but something was off, something that she couldn't identify.

Some of the sisters were seated on the floor now, their bellies huge and cumbersome and growing bigger still, their legs splayed and hands pressed to the swollen sides of their distended middles, crying out in fear. Agatha still hadn't seen her baby, the thing that had triggered this shift. Could it look so different from its father? The "angels", or whatever they were, were terrifying, just like it was said in the scripture. What could be so much worse that it incited such horror? What had she given birth to?

[caspira-writes-fanfiction]

Moonlit Confessions

(ao3 link in title)

Blitzø visits Stolas in the hospital, but only when he thinks Stolas doesn't know.

The room was warm despite the evident starlight coming through the draped windows that usually signaled that Stolas should be chilly. He’d been in and out of sleep for the past several days, waking only long enough to eat if prompted or make a few observations about his surroundings. He had been able to relatively consistently remember that daylight=warm. Moonlight=cold, but if asked what day it was or even where he was, Stolas would likely be unable to answer without help. He wasn’t even sure he could answer if asked, he hadn’t spoken aloud in ages.

The magic he had used during the full moon had exhausted him of all his energy. He didn’t fight the sleep when it came, he knew his role right now was to rest: it was the only way he would heal. He also hadn’t tried to fight himself into wakefulness too often. Usually he awoke only to reposition himself or fix the arrangement of his blankets. This time as he awoke, however, Stolas found that he had a much more difficult time moving. There was something in his arms.

With just one eye squinting itself open, only able to see a blur of red with black and white stripes, Stolas reasoned that he was clutching to Impy, his unfortunately named beloved childhood stuffed doll. He still had the doll tucked away with his other possessions. He came out of storage on rare occasions when Stolas needed extra comfort, such as periods of illness. Curious, he thought. Nobody had come to bring him anything, he hadn’t remembered Impy being among his possessions while in hospital. It was with a movement of his good hand up to the imp’s head that he realized he was touching flesh and not fabric. Two more of the prince’s eyes blink open. With increased cognizance, Stolas realized that he could feel the rise and fall of the other’s chest as he breathed. When his eyes adjusted, he recognized the brand mark from the imp circus, tucked carefully under the Goetia’s chin. Blitzy was here.

It almost felt like a dream and Stolas was happy to convince himself of that, but the smell of booze that became apparent as Stolas became more awake settled him into reality. A disorienting reality, one he didn’t entirely know how to make sense of, but one that Stolas couldn’t help but take comfort from in this moment. Blitzy was here, all of the other details were negligible.

Stolas was warm, he realized, because Blitz had pulled the blanket up over them when he’d snuck into bed. He was having trouble moving because Blitz’s tail was wrapped around the two of them twice over. His face was buried in Stolas’s chest feathers and his arms were wrapped under Stolas’s, clutching to his back. While Stolas woke thinking he was holding onto something, he now realized that he was the object that was being held onto. Stolas tried to move, only slightly, but was stopped when he heard Blitz shift protectively and grumble in his sleep.

“No” It wasn’t an angry or upset no. It was quiet, a bit playful, concerned. “Shh, no jus’….no. Don’ move.”

Blitz was still very much asleep. Stolas found the concern that Blitz showed in his unconscious state endearing. He could feel his heart swell, there was no doubt he was blushing. Blitzy cared for him, even if it was just a quiet shushing in his sleep. How could Stolas do anything but oblige?

“Alright.” Stolas’s voice was no more than a whisper. His good hand rested atop Blitz’s head, scratching gently between his horns. He pressed his lips to the other’s forehead and kept them there in a prolonged, tender kiss. Stolas found it quite easy to drift back into sleep with Blitz tangled up in his arms.

Stolas awoke again hours later when the sun was starting to rise. Blitz was trying to sneak out of bed, and doing so rather successfully until he fell out of it. Stolas was still rather disoriented, he decided to stay laying still. He could hear Bliz standing up, he could hear him grumble and brush himself off, then silence for several moments.

“You’re still fucking sleeping” Blitzø’s voice was quiet, and just slightly fuzzy around the edges. Stolas wondered how much Blitz drank before breaking in here to still be inebriated in the morning. He wondered how much time had actually passed.

Blitz stumbled, he sighed. “You should’ve woken up to that. Or this. You should be awake right now going ~Oh Blitzy~ with your big stupid fucking eyes. You’re not supposed to….You shouldn’t...You’re not…” His voice almost cracked, but he stopped and swallowed before allowing that to happen. It was a few moments before he spoke again. “I didn’t know you could get hurt.”

Blitzø didn’t outright apologize, but Stolas understood what he was trying to say. The air hung heavy in the room, the silence clinging to both of them uncomfortably. Blitz’s breath hitched and Stolas could feel all of the air from his lungs leave as his chest crushed in on itself. Blitzy was crying. This was exactly the moment that Stolas wanted to reach out and pull Blitzø back into his arms and hold him, but he knew this was exactly the sort of moment Blitz would never let anyone else see. He knew Blitz would run the moment Stolas showed him affection. Stolas stayed as still as he could, he remembered his breathing, he remained “sleeping” while Blitz regained his composure.

“You look like shit, Birdie.” Blitz sniffed, Stolas imagined he was wiping away tears before they fell. Blitzy never let anyone see him show such vulnerability. Stolas wanted to believe that these emotions were fueled by more than whatever Blitz had taken before coming here. Stolas felt the blanket over him move. Careful hands pulled the blanket back up around him and tucked him in. “You can’t fucking die, okay? That’s an order.” Stolas could feel something hover over his face. He couldn’t tell if it was Blitzø’s hand or his lips. He never learned, nothing ever made contact.

Blitz’s boots click towards the exit. “If you do I’ll….I’ll kill you again.” Three more clicks. “Fuck!” His voice is a whisper, the boots clicked on down the hall. Stolas didn’t hear any more from Blitz.

Stolas didn’t sleep very well the rest of the day. His chest ached in a way he didn’t know how to categorize. He stayed tearful, he couldn’t decide if his tears were happy or sad. Both, he supposed. More of one than the other at times. Stolas had never been more conflicted in his life. How had he gotten here? He knew the answer, it was a reality of his own making, but that didn’t make it any less confusing.

He may not know how things would play out between him and Blitzø, but knew one thing: he was going to stay alive. He had to, Blitz had asked him to.

[thefandomcassandra]

hallowed be thy unknown Ch2: Haunted Turnabout 2: Bugloss, Baby's Breath, and Lavender

Waking up for a second time in a holding cell in the metropolitan detention center was a markedly different experience than the first. Having slept instead of passing out meant that her body didn't hurt as much, even if her head ached. Crying a lot dehydrated her and she didn't drink anything but cocoa the day before. Maya rolled off the cot and fumbled for her phone. Thankfully, along with the wiretap and the autopsy report shoved in her sash, she hadn't dropped or broken it.

She has kept it in her grasp the whole time she was out, like a teddy-bear or some other comfort item.

"Battery is fine, from what I could see." Maya jumped and let out a strangled noise. She had forgotten Phoenix was here. Judging by how he was smirking at her, not even disguising his laughter, he was banking on that.

"Don't do that to me!" Maya rubbed at her eyes with the ball of her hand, the pressure alleviating the dull pain in the back of her eye sockets. "I almost threw my phone at you."

"Please don't do that. It's evidence."

Maya sighed through her teeth. "What time is it?"

"I...think it's maybe eight? Nine?" Phoenix hummed as he floated lazily on his back. His scarf brushed the ground, the ends phasing gently through the cell floor, making him look a little like some kind of strange mushroom. "The trial is supposed to start sometime around ten, so we have an hour at the least to prepare."

"Let me get a drink first." Maya shoved her phone in her sash and padded to the sink in the corner of her cell. After taking a few sips of water out of her cupped hands, she splashed her face and shook her hands dry. Then she started undoing her hair.

"Trying to look presentable?"

"I'd rather not look like a murderer when I have to argue that I'm not actually a murderer." Maya combed her fingers through the full length of her hair, wincing as she caught on a few snags. "Besides...it's soothing."

"I'll bet. All I ever had to do was gel mine." He did look like his hair was a simple affair. His morning routine must've been quick.

After a few minutes of combing her hair, Maya spoke up again. The water she drank did wonders to soothe her hoarse throat and lift her spirits. "So, let's prepare. What do I need to know?" Busy hands, busy mind. She was doing her best to not give herself space to sink into the mire of grief that was waiting to swallow her whole.

"General or specifics?"

"Start with general, then narrow it down." Putting her hair up was a time-consuming thing but it was a daily ritual she was used to. Any sense of normality helped right now. "What can I expect in a trial like this?"

"Well it's a murder trial. Probably open gallery, probably meant to be solved quickly, or that's what the prosecution is banking on."

"You mean Prosecutor Edgeworth? He's going to want this to be over with?" She sneered, deft hands pulling her hair up as she talked.

"Even Edgeworth doesn't want to be at court before noon. Preparing for a trial is an hour or more's worth of effort and ten am is a real early hour, let alone nine or eight. Are you a morning person?" Phoenix looked over at Maya, who rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I thought so. Anyway, uh, trial...trial...trial..."

Maya finished working on her hair and leaned back a bit, resting on her hands. "Open court, early trial, in and out."

"Man I miss burgers," Phoenix whined.

"Shut up about burgers." Her stomach growled at the thought.

"Trial, right..." He seemed to find his train of thought from before and hopped back on. "You're looking to appeal to the judge using evidence and facts to get the ruling you want. Pointing out contradictions in testimonies, connecting evidence to each other, and arguing your point using logic is the whole deal."

That sounded easy enough. Maya was halfway decent at puzzles so it couldn't be any more difficult than doing a word-search or sudoku. Just...publicly. In front of people who wanted her to go to jail for life. No pressure.

"Sometimes you want to get a little...creative to prove a point, but that's the basis of a trial. You just need to know the law, the evidence, and the flaw in the witness' testimony."

"Creative? Like lying?" Wasn't lying in court a crime? She was pretty sure that was perjury.

"No, no!" Phoenix laughed. "More like...coloring outside the lines? Suggesting the sky is red to prove it was sunset, not midday. Nothing quite like lying."

"I don't know exactly what you're suggesting but I'll bet I can figure it out as I go."

"Yeah, it won't be that hard. It's a little like improv."

"I know nothing about theater."

"Nobody's perfect."

"Specifics, then, since I think we've covered the basics of this case." Maya quickly changed the subject.

"One last bit of general knowledge: there's a chance we will get more than one day out of this trial. Barring the occasional recess, we have three days and a handful of hours to make our case. We have to be deft with our arguments. No messing about, even if you want to bite the witness' head off." Was he warning her about April May? Did he think she was incapable of controlling herself?

Considering how aggressive she got with Prosecutor Edgeworth in questioning, that was actually a fair worry to have.

"Now...specifics. You have the autopsy report still, right?"

"Right." Maya fished it out of her sash and unfolded it. Mia's name, age, and death stared her in the face in dark black print. She winced and folded it back up again, shoving it out of sight once more.

"The wiretap and your phone are our secret weapons. Don't pull them out or mention them unless we're in a bind and have nothing else." Phoenix looked surprisingly stern about that. "But the autopsy report is a piece of evidence we have access to immediately. That's free game. Use that."

"Use it how?"

"Odds are that during the trial, more evidence will be added to the court record over time. That evidence is, in accordance with evidence law, legal and fair use for both sides. The autopsy report is one of those pieces of evidence. They'll likely add a floorplan of the office as well, if only for tracking the victim and killers movements. Also anything found at the scene of the crime that might be relevant, like the receipt with your name on it or the glass from the light stand. We have to start building our defense based around that."

"We know who actually did it though!" Maya reached for her phone.

Phoenix's smile strained, twisted with sorrow, and Maya stayed her hand. "We can't prove it. Not yet." He was right and she hated it. "But we can, if we're careful and smart, prove May tapped the office. That will discredit her as a witness and buy us another day to gather evidence and testimony. Maybe we can even get her to give up her boss."

Maya's fingernails bit into her palms as she squeezed her hands into tight fists. "Okay. Okay. And all I need to do is listen to what you tell me and argue like my life depends on it?"

"Not quite 'argue', but yes. Like your life depends on it, because it does." Phoenix gave Maya one last lazy grin and righted himself in midair. "You got this, Maya. Remember what I told you."

"Imitate Mia." She took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled slowly. "Right. Thanks, Phoenix."

"You're welcome! Now, chin up, here comes the cavalry!" Maya stood up as he said that and turned to face the door to her holding cell. Two of the faceless cops were there to take her to the courthouse, fighting the stubborn cell lock.

When the door opened, one of them walked in while the other remained outside her cell. "Miss Maya Fey," one of them called out. Maya stepped forward and offered her hands. The officer cuffed her and motioned for her to follow them.

"Have you eaten?" The cop in front of her asked. Maya frowned, unsure of what they were after.

"No?"

"There should be snacks in the defendant's lobby. Detective Gumshoe asked we prepare them for you."

Oh. "That's...kind."

"That's Detective Gumshoe for you!" The cop sounded delighted just talking about the large man. "He's a real sweetheart. One time he brought a baker's dozen variety box for everyone working a rough shift. I almost cried."

"I did cry," the other cop added.

"Detective Gumshoe sure seems like he's beloved." Phoenix whistled in awe. He was walking in lockstep with Maya, half-in half-out the wall next to her. "That's something to consider. Nice of Lana to let us borrow such a good man."

Detective Gumshoe...he was one of the more kind people Maya had to interact with yesterday. If it wasn't for the fact that he seemed to worship the ground Prosecutor Edgeworth walked on, he might even be her friend. But he did, so he wasn't.

The rest of the walk to Defendant Lobby No.1 was moderately silent. Even Phoenix was deep in thought, worrying the ends of his scarf as he floated. Maya, too, was thinking a lot.

Thoughts about evidence and arguing and who really killed Mia. Thoughts about Prosecutor Edgeworth and April May. Thoughts about all the people in the gallery who would be watching her, judging her. The short, chubby girl in weird traditional clothing who was being accused of killing her sister. They'd think she deserved the verdict being handed to her, that she was a weird little cultist or something.

Maya took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled. Be like Mia. What would Mia do? She'd ignore the whispers. She'd hold her head high.

The inside of the defendant's lobby was nice and, like the cops had said, there were snacks. Bottled water, a bagel with a single serving of cream cheese, and a small orange. A halfway decent breakfast, actually.

"That's really nice of Gumshoe, actually. Wow."

Maya didn't bother responding, just immediately smeared the inside of the bagel with cream cheese using a plastic knife from a package of disposable utensils. Then she took a huge bite and washed it down with water. It was the best bagel she'd ever had.

It sat a little heavy in her stomach but that might've been her nerves.

"Remember: be professional. Be like Mia. Don't talk out of turn without objecting first. Don't push too hard. Watch your language and your tone. Don't get too emotional." Phoenix coached from where he was floating near the door to the courtroom.

Maya took another bite out of the bagel, her handcuffs rattling a bit as she did. "Be calm, be like Mia. Be calm, be like Mia." She accidentally inhaled bagel crumbs and coughed for a couple moments. Water fixed the issue but it put her off food for a second so she idly peeled the orange to kill time.

"Please don't die." Maya had the feeling Phoenix wasn't joking when he asked her that.

"No dying before my trial." She ate an orange slice. Juice dripped down her fingers and she frowned. "I wonder if I can clean my hands before I enter..."

"Wipe down using the water and a napkin before your fingers get sticky," Phoenix advised.

Maya scrubbed her fingers clean. With a full stomach, she felt better about her chances. Now she just needed to get the cuffs off and she'd feel way better about her chances.

Being uncuffed did nothing to calm Maya's nerves, it turned out. She just had full range of motion with her arms now. Yay.

The courtroom looked enormous and intimidating from her place on the witness stand. The judge—an older bearded man with a stern face—was sitting feet above everyone else, peering down his nose at both benches and the witness stand. The gallery was filled with murmuring masses at about the same level as the judge. On either side of the witness stand, forming parentheticals when viewed from high-up, were the prosecution and defense's benches.

The only unoccupied parts of the courtroom were the defendant's seat and the defense's bench—both of which should be filled by Maya, but she was too busy sweating bullets at the stand. Well, actually, Phoenix was standing behind the defense's bench but he was visible only to Maya, so it looked empty to everyone else.

"Stating the case, checking to make sure both sides are ready, opening statement from the prosecution, then the first witness." Phoenix laid out the starting part of the trial for her as he stood at the ready. This was the most professional she'd ever seen him, his posture rigid, his face stern and a little unreadable, and his feet firmly on the ground. He was taking this seriously. She should too.

Opposite him, Prosecutor Edgeworth looked as clean-pressed and as cold as he was the day before. Nothing about him had changed and that made Maya a little frustrated.

Couldn't he at least pretend to feel guilty about pinning her with a murder charge? Even a little bit?

The judge banged his little hammer—gavel?—on his podium and the idle chatter of the gallery faded to silence. "Court is now in session for the trial of Maya Fey. Am I to understand that the defendant will be representing herself?" The judge's voice, while it did betray his age, was firm and carried well through the vaulted hall.

"The judge is 'Your Honor'," Phoenix supplied.

Maya straightened up and tilted her chin, trying her best to imitate Mia as she spoke. "Yes, Your Honor."

"Is there any reason why?"

Phoenix shrugged at her. "Can't hurt to be honest?"

"I was unable to find a lawyer willing to push for full acquittal and have been studying law in my spare time." It's not technically perjury, right? Only half of that statement was untrue.

Prosecutor Edgeworth snorted derisively. "Please. Do you really think that you can hold your own here? Let alone overturn the charges against you?"

"I believe that the truth will prevail. I didn't kill Mia. That is the truth." Maya didn't even need to pretend to be Mia then. The frustration she felt at being talked down to was enough to banish her nerves.

"Very well," the judge sighed and gestured for her to take her place at the bench, "Let us begin."

"The defense is ready," Phoenix offered.

Maya repeated with gusto. "The defense is ready, Your Honor."

"The prosecution is ready, Your Honor." Prosecutor Edgeworth was playing this by the books, it seemed.

"Your opening statement?" The judge prompted.

An opening statement, Maya remembered, was a way for the prosecution to summarize their case against the defendant. The cliffnotes version of all their paperwork, as it were. If they still used juries in trials, the opening statement would be the hook to entice the jurors' attention and sway their ruling.

"Your Honor, the defendant was found unconscious at the scene of the crime on the night of the murder. An eyewitness account places her there during the act, as the perpetrator and the prosecution has decisive evidence that points to her as well." Prosecutor Edgeworth tapped the stack of papers in his hand on his bench, settling them and putting them down as a show that he was done recounting the facts of the matter. "While she vehemently insists she is innocent, there is no doubt in our mind she is guilty of manslaughter, if not outright murder."

"A bold but understandable claim." He won over the judge easily, it seemed. Maya bit back a frown.

"Thank you, Your Honor." Prosecutor Edgeworth gave a little bow. It made Maya's blood boil. She wanted to clonk him on the back of the head with the Thinker. Asshole. "The prosecution calls its first witness, Detective Gumshoe, to the stand."

From beside her, Phoenix let out a held breath. "Listen closely. The court stenographer will provide you with typed versions of any and all witness testimonies as they occur but hearing how things are said are just as important as hearing what is being said."

Maya nodded and turned her attention away from smug-ass Prosecutor Edgeworth and to the enormous man taking to the witness stand.

"Witness, please state your name and occupation." Like the judge, Prosecutor Edgeworth spoke with authority and force. Maybe there was a trick to talking like that. Maybe she should ask Phoenix what it was.

"Dick Gumshoe, homicide detective for the local precinct, sir!" Detective Gumshoe looked tense, even as he saluted.

"Tell us about the investigation," Prosecutor Edgeworth commanded.

Detective Gumshoe nodded and began. "The victim, Miss Mia Fey, was found dead at about ten pm on the fifth. Her body was leanin' against the wall beneath the window of her office. She'd been struck once by a blunt object and that's what killed her."

"The murder weapon?"

"He's getting evidence added," Phoenix explained.

"This statue of the Thinker." Detective Gumshoe reached into his jacket pocket and pulled a labeled bag out. Inside was the murder weapon, the so-called 'statue'.

"It's been processed. See the label there?" Phoenix pointed at the laminated label on the bag. "That has the casefile, identification, time of recovery, verification date, and supplementary information on it. If we need to get a closer look, we can request to see it or I can just float over and take a peek so you don't have to put on gloves."

You probably would need gloves to handle evidence, wouldn't you.

Maya suddenly realized something, pulled the autopsy report out of her sash, and unfolded it, trying to smooth the creases out of it against the bench. This was going to be important soon enough.

"Now, continue your testimony." Prosecutor Edgeworth didn't even give Detective Gumshoe a second to rest, immediately demanding he keep talking. No wonder he was starved for praise. "You arrested the defendant at the scene, in spite of her being unconscious, correct? Explain yourself."

"Well, see, we had decisive evidence she did it, sir. That's why me and the boys clapped the unconscious defendant and dropped her in the center." Prosecutor Edgeworth raised a singular eyebrow. Detective Gumshoe swallowed and started to speak again, spurred on by whatever emotion that stirred in him. "I was one of the first to arrive on the scene. Got there about five minutes after the call came in. There was the body of the victim layin' there but so was the defendant. She was out cold and that was worryin' and all, but she was breathing. After checkin' she was good, we picked Miss Maya up. The whole reason we even grabbed her is coz the eyewitness said she did it, which is pretty damning. Anyway, I stayed behind while she was bein' processed so I could help with the investigation and found some hard evidence."

"Defense?" The judge turned to look at Maya. She straightened up and made direct eye-contact with him.

"Yes, Your Honor?"

"Your cross-examination?" Oh. He was prompting her. How kind.

"Of course. Thank you, Your Honor." Maya looked at the papers the stenographer handed her.

Each line of Detective Gumshoe's testimony was typed out with immaculate accuracy. Maya was impressed with the quality. Court stenographers were to be feared.

Still...Detective Gumshoe's testimony wasn't openly incorrect. Mia had been dead when the police arrived. Maya had already passed out, too, so she was unable to explain herself. April May said she did it so Detective Gumshoe was telling the truth by quoting her as the reason they arrested her.

She must've been making a face because Phoenix clicked his tongue in amusement. "Remember when I said sometimes you need to say the sky is red to prove the sun was setting?" Maya barely nodded at him but he seemed to pick up on it anyway. "This is similar. When you can't find an immediate problem with a testimony—like this one—press every statement. The witness is bound to slip up eventually, accidentally undoing their entire testimony with one misplaced word."

"Alright." Maya turned to face Detective Gumshoe, the transcript in her hand, and began her cross-examination by starting from the beginning.

"You said you arrived first on the scene, about five minutes after the police were called?" Maya locked eyes with the detective.

He gave her an asymmetrical and very sincere grin. "Well, yeah! The motto of the precinct this month is 'fast response'!"

"They've had less complaints, that's for sure," Phoenix noted.

"And the witness, April May, is the one who called you from her room in the Gatewater?" Maya wondered if he had any exploitable opinions about her.

"Yeah." The smile on Detective Gumshoe's face faltered a little, but didn't disappear entirely. "But you already knew that, didn't you, pal?"

"He's got you there."

"True." Maya swallowed a flash of shame and continued. "I just wanted to make sure of that fact."

"Please refrain from wasting the court's time with pointless questions," Prosecutor Edgeworth added. Maya's grip on the transcript tightened. She had to force herself to loosen her fist so she could read it again.

"Of course." Turning back to Detective Gumshoe, Maya scanned down the transcript a bit.

"Ask about why they arrested you, an unconscious minor." When Maya shot Phoenix an accusatory glare, he rolled his eyes. "I know, but maybe you can get an extra mile out of your age. No harm in trying."

"So you found a dead woman and an unconscious minor and simply arrested the latter?" Maya tried her best to sound neutral but she was pretty sure that she just came off as irritated.

"Objection!" Prosecutor Edgeworth shouted from across the court. The sound of his hand against the desk startled Maya and she dropped the transcript. "The defendant's age does not matter in this regard due to, quote, 'hard evidence', unquote, given to the investigative team on their way to the crime scene."

"Counter: your age means processing you for arrest should be handled differently than an adult."

"Objection!" Maya did her best to shout back with gusto. She felt a little silly. "As I am underage and not legally an adult, aren't there different ways to process my arrest?"

"Is that a concern, Miss Fey?" Prosecutor Edgeworth snidely asked. "Detention without notifying your guardian?"

Maya gritted her teeth and steadier herself. "No, Prosecutor Edgeworth. I am simply pointing out that, with regards to my arrest, I believe it was mishandled."

"Then the prosecutor's office will take that up with law enforcement at a later date. It has no bearing on this case or the charges against you." Cool as a cucumber, the prosecutor waved a hand at her, dismissing her concerns.

"Objection sustained," the judge banged his gavel and that was that.

Maya's cheeks were hot with embarrassment.

"Chin up. That was a long-shot anyway." Phoenix wrapped and unwrapped the end of his scarf around his hand as he thought. "Damning evidence is vague and Edgeworth called it 'hard evidence' before so I think Gumshoe is adjusting his wording on the stand. Try that."

"Detective Gumshoe, you arrested me due to an eyewitness account, correct?" Simple sentences meant she had less space to trip over her words. Direct and to the point would be better overall.

"Yeah?" Detective Gumshoe looked confused. To be fair, it was a strange start to a line of questioning but she had an idea on how to approach this.

"What made you and your, quote, 'boys', unquote, decide to blindly believe her? This so-called 'hard evidence'?" Pointed words, pointed questions. She was trying her best to find a chink in his armor.

"Well, like you said Miss Maya: we had hard evidence."

"There we go." Phoenix was grinning. "Assume the evidence was the testimony. That will discredit him on that front."

It felt bad to attack Detective Gumshoe like this but...life or death. Her life or death. "In what world is what some pink voyeur's opinion considered 'hard evidence'?"

"Whoops. Watch how you say stuff."

"Hey!" Detective Gumshoe frowned at her, upset either by her choice of words or her accusation. "When did I say Miss May's statement was the 'hard evidence'?"

"You certainly didn't say what 'hard evidence' you did have." Prosecutor Edgeworth wagged his pointer finger at the detective. "It's not a stretch to assume you meant her statement as opposed to anything else."

"W-well yeah, no!" Detective Gumshoe backpedaled. "That's not what I meant though! Miss May's testimony is a whole different thing! The evidence is, uh..." He rifled through his pockets again and pulled out another evidence bag—smaller and flat. "Here we go!"

"There it is." Phoenix's expression became grim. He stared at the new evidence.

"What is this?" The judge asked.

"This is the 'hard evidence' that I said called for Miss Maya's arrest. It's got her name on it in the victim's blood." He sounded so proud of himself.

Across the courtroom, Prosecutor Edgeworth looked smug and satisfied. It took everything Maya had to not gnash her teeth and scream in frustration.

"...how would she have even had time to write your name?" That...was a good question. She just had to find an opening.

"Detective!" Detective Gumshoe jumped to attention. "Testify to the acquisition of this evidence."

"Yes sir!" Once again, the detective began his testimony. Hopefully this one would be easier to disprove. "The blood is a positive match to the victims. In addition, we found blood under the fingernail of her right index finger. This points to her having written the name of her killer! That is, unfortunately, the defendant."

"Mia is right-handed so asking about the finger would be pointless because they'd assume anyways. We can't contest the blood test because it is a positive match. But why would the killer try and frame you?"

"You may now cross-examine the witness," the judge prompted. Maya gave him a polite half-bow and quickly scanned the new transcript handed to her. She was steadily accruing a pile of papers. It made her wish for a manilla folder or some kind of binder to hold them all.

"Detective, you said that the v— that Mia wrote my name on this paper in her own blood." Deep breaths. Deep, deep breaths. "What makes you think that the name she wrote down is that of her killer?"

"Well isn't that how it always goes?"

The courtroom fell silent. Even Phoenix, who had been rather laid back to this point, looked befuddled. "Does - does he think that this is a movie?"

"Detective Gumshoe," Prosecutor Edgeworth spoke through his teeth, low and controlled, "You're telling us that you not only based your arrest on a singular witness but also a piece of evidence that is more common in fiction than in real life?"

To his credit, the detective did seem to realize he was being chastised. He flinched and began fiddling with the lining of his jacket, averting his eyes away from the prosecutor's bench. "Well, I mean, uh...why else would she have written it? It's her blood, usin' her finger, on a piece of paper she had lyin' around in her office and all. Who else could've done it?"

"The killer perhaps?" Maya tried to keep her indignation from showing. It wasn't his fault he watched too many action-and-or-mystery films.

"Right, right, the autopsy report. That's a huge contradiction!" Phoenix almost lifted off the ground with excitement. Maya nodded and turned back to Detective Gumshoe.

"You say that Mia wrote my name down with her own blood to prove I was the killer, correct?" How to go about wording this. What would Mia say?

"Yeah. In movies, victims write their killer's names down all the time."

"That's clearly impossible!" It felt good to have an excuse to yell in court. It felt good to have an excuse to yell in general. "According to the autopsy report I was given, her recorded cause of death was: blunt force trauma, instentaneous." Detective Gumshoe stared at her, confused. Time to deliver the final blow. "There's no way that she could have written my name in her own blood if she died instantly!"

Phoenix whooped from next to her. "There we go! That's a wonderful contradiction you've found! That should throw the prosecution off their game."

And yet...Prosecutor Edgeworth seemed unbothered by her accusation. In fact, he seemed also amused. He chuckled and waggled his finger at Maya. "Aren't you getting ahead of yourself Miss Fey?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"When did you get this autopsy report of yours?"

Why was he asking that? What did the time she got the report even matter? An autopsy report was an autopsy report! It was a record. You don't just change records!

"Yesterday, during my investigation." If he was surprised she was allowed to investigate despite being under arrest, he didn't show it.

Instead, he just laughed and clucked his tongue at her. "Now, now, Miss Fey. I'm afraid that information you have is out of date."

"What?" Maya looked over at Phoenix. He shrugged at her, as confused as she was.

"On my orders, the coroners inspected the victim again and we have more accurate information about her death. As it is: she did not die instantaneously. There is a possibility that she was alive for a few minutes after she was struck, giving her plenty of time to write down her killer's name for the authorities to find." Prosecutor Edgeworth produced the new autopsy report. A copy of it was handed to Maya.

She seethed as she stared at the new information, the paper crumpling in her grip.

Victim: Mia Fey (27, Female) Time of Death: 9/5 at 9:00PM Cause: Single blunt force trauma. May have lived for a few minutes after being hit.

May have lived for a few minutes after being hit. May have lived for a few minutes. Well wasn't that convenient.

"That's...underhanded." Phoenix frowned at Prosecutor Edgeworth. He seemed more bothered at his tactics than the actual fact of the matter. "It's not unheard of for an updated autopsy report to be requested, but usually it's with good reason. I don't know what reason Edgeworth might have had for requesting a re-examination but it's certainly put our one good point out to pasture. I guess we can only wait to tear into May, right?"

"Right..." Maya hissed through her teeth.

"Do you still believe you have a leg to stand on with regards to her dying message, Miss Fey, or do the facts no longer support your supposition?" Prosecutor Edgeworth smirked at her from across the courtroom. "Do we need to continue to bother the detective or shall we let him remove himself from the stand now that he's said his piece?"

"I don't think we should put poor Gumshoe through any more. He looks like he's going to cry." True to Phoenix's word, the detective was hunched over, his eyes shining as he looked at the floor. "Let's let this go for now."

"I hate him," Maya muttered. She took a deep breath and straightened up, then exhaled. "Your Honor, I am done with my cross-examination of this witness."

Prosecutor Edgeworth bowed to the judge and the gallery. "Thank you, Miss Fey. The prosecution will now call its second witness to the stand."

April May. Maya was not looking forward to seeing her again.

Detective Gumshoe left the stand and went to stand somewhere on the side of the prosecution while one of the bailiffs walked April May into the courtroom. The gallery erupted in noise. The judge banged his gavel in an attempt to wrangle everyone into silence.

"Order! Order!"

Maya glared daggers at April May, whose sweet perfume permeated the courtroom long before she did. The woman, however, paid Maya no mind and just leaned forward so her shirt showed off more of her cleavage while she winked at the judge.

"The witness will refrain from wanton winking." The judge scolded as he banged his gavel again, trying to quell the gallery. Maya suddenly had so much respect for the old man. He wasn't entertaining her nonsense.

"Witness, your name and occupation?" Prosecutor Edgeworth prompted.

April May pursed her lips, then spoke as if she had to dig deep to remember anything important. "April May. I'm a professional."

Phoenix grimaced. "A professional what? Liar? Seductress?"

"You claim to have witnessed the crime and can identify the killer, correct?" Like the judge, Prosecutor Edgeworth was not rising to her bait. Maya was less impressed by his stoicism. She would have paid money to see him trip ass over teakettle because April May decided she wanted to get her claws in him.

"Uh, yeah?" April May pressed a manicured finger to her lips as she thought. "I was in my hotel room at the time, but I saw everything. Obviously it was the defendant, right?"

"Hey!" Maya wanted to tear her a new one but Phoenix stopped her before she could continue.

"Don't. Wait for cross-examination. If we misstep you might be found in contempt of court and your defense will be thrown out." Maya took a deep breath at his insistence and straightened herself up. "Remember: we have the wiretap, we have the recording of your call with Mia. We can find a contradiction in her testimony easier than Gumshoe's because we know she's lying."

"What, am I wrong, little miss killer?" April May sneered at Maya, then went back to making doe-eyes at Prosecutor Edgeworth. "I'd recognize her anywhere! Even at the distance I was at. I could tell it was her as clear as day, Mister Prosecutor."

"Your testimony then, Miss May." For the first time since this trial started, Maya was glad that Prosecutor Edgeworth was curt. It meant that April May wasn't going to get away with much.

"Okay!" April May leaned forward again and began to speak. "So at nine pm that night I was looking out my hotel room window. The view is super pretty up there, you know? Across the street I saw one of the rooms was lit up and the silhouette of someone was in it. Two someones, really. There was this person with long hair being attacked by the defendant. The lady dodged to the right and tried to run but she couldn't escape. The little killer smacked her on the head and she slumped out of sight and never got again, I promise. That's when I called the cops, coz I'm such a good citizen and all..." She leaned over the witness stand and kicked her leg up, staring piteously up at the judge, who was unmoved by her brazen display.

"What a crock." Phoenix was immediately unhappy with April May's testimony, not that Maya was any happier. "Between her way of saying what she saw and her supposed luck in noticing something going down across the street, it's not as if we don't have a lot of places to pick apart. The important thing though...that's her description of you. When we were in her hotel room, how good of a view did she have of the office window?"

"Not a very good one," Maya muttered. "She shouldn't have been...able...to notice...details..." That was what was important.

"As you can see," Prosecutor Edgeworth was saying, a smug air about him, "airtight proof that the defendant is the one who assaulted the victim. The prosecution rests, Your Honor."

"Well," the judge mused, "That certainly is a rather decisive testimony, like the detective said."

"The prosecution did not want to waste the court's time, Your Honor. That is why we brought forward Miss April May so soon." What was Prosecutor Edgeworth even playing at? Did he expect her to just roll over?

"Well, let's start pushing."

Maya grinned at April May as she was handed a transcript of her testimony. "My cross-examination, Your Honor?"

"Is that truly necessary?" She glared at Prosecutor Edgeworth as he wagged a finger at her, almost scolding her. "I am well aware of your sister's...proclivity for dragging a case out long past its prime. Have you also learned that cowardly tactic?"

What was he on about?

"He's hoping to intimidate you into stepping back." Phoenix seemed upset by this. "I don't know why he had to bring Mia into it though."

Jokes on him. "It is my right, as the defense, to cross-examine every witness, right?"

"That's correct." The judge was on her side here.

"I am exercising that right and nothing the prosecution could say will dissuade me." Maya sneered at Prosecutor Edgeworth, all teeth and malice. "Unless he is worried I might uncover inconsistencies in Miss May's testimony?"

"By all means," Prosecutor Edgeworth bowed at her, his sarcasm obvious, "examine away Miss Fey."

"You may begin, defense."

Maya turned her ire to April May and immediately found the part of her testimony that felt the weakest. "April May, you said that you saw...Mia and myself in the office that night from your hotel room, right?"

"Yep." She popped the end of her word, idly examining her nails. If she was hoping the cold shoulder might make Maya back off, she was wrong.

"I visited your hotel room yesterday to see how good of a view you might have had. While you can see the office without issue, I do think you couldn't have been able to identify myself or Mia at that distance, let alone if we were backlit."

"Oh?" That got April May's attention. Her pupils narrowed and she bared her teeth at Maya. "Maybe you should get your eyes checked, little killer. I could see perfectly well. Your sister was this slender lady with long hair and you were short and kinda fat. Hard to miss."

Phoenix frowned. "Why did she choose your silhouette to pick on?"

"Was that all you noticed about my sister and I? Our height and build?" Maya had a vague idea what was bothering Phoenix but she wanted to make April May do all the heavy lifting.

"Aside from you fighting, isn't that all that matters? You're not memorable." Well that was a blatant lie.

Maya smirked. Got her. "I think you're wrong, April May. Any other person wouldn't have been focused on how short or fat I was. The first thing most people notice about me is my clothes." She stood in a way that showed the judge her traditional clothing.

"Your clothes are distinctive," the judge nodded at her. "Where are they from?"

"Why does it matter?" April May interjected. She was unhappy about losing control of the narrative but that didn't matter. Maya had already started chipping apart her cutesy persona.

"I'm from a small mountain village called Kurain. We're pretty traditional like this, though we've recently had more modern touches to our homes like phones and televisions."

"And how, pray tell, does any of this have to do with Miss May's testimony or its accuracy?" Prosecutor Edgeworth seemed somewhere between bored and irritated.

"If she can't be trusted with details, how can we be certain she saw everything clearly?!" Maya was riding the high of the judge's approval a little.

"I just didn't think that all those trifling little details even mattered!" April May pouted and batted her eyelashes at Prosecutor Edgeworth. He seemed unmoved. "I saw all of them, of course, but if you need them in my testimony I can put them back in, like how I saw the defendant kill her only sister with that clock."

"Oh!" Phoenix leaned forward across the bench. "Wait! Isn't it..." He walked to where the Thinker was being held and read the label. "Yeah! It's still marked as a statue! Maya, object to her statement. Use the transcript where Gumshoe added the evidence in."

The wiretap. Maya leaned forward and slammed her hands on the bench as hard as she could. "Objection!"

April May, Prosecutor Edgeworth, and the judge looked at her in confusion.

"April May, you said that the murder weapon was a clock, correct?" Maya shuffled through the pages of the transcript until she found the part she was looking for.

"Uh, yeah?" April May seemed unconcerned.

Maya smirked. "However, there's no way you should know that. The Thinker was submitted as a statue, not a clock."

April May hissed, not unlike an angry cat. "Wh-what do you mean?!"

"April May, there is no way you should logically know that this heavy object is a clock." Maya gestured to the evidence in its little bag. "So why did you?"

"Uh, um...I heard it, that's right!" She was grasping at straws. "It says the time when you turn its head, right?"

"True, if the clock wasn't hollow right now." Phoenix was grinning with Maya, his eyes focused on April May as if he was a predator watching his prey. "Keep going. You've got her."

"While it is a clock, I doubt you'd be able to hear it from where your hotel room is. Also, it's not as if the clock was working that night."

"Objection! How would you know it was a clock, Miss Fey?" Edgeworth leaned forward as he asked, clearly unhappy with how out of hand things had gotten. "You were in Kurain until the day of the murder, correct? That item was a gift given to the victim but a few days before she was killed."

"Now it's time for the phone call." Phoenix seemed unbothered by the pushback. "You can prove your knowledge and disprove May's claim at the same time."

"My sister called me the day of, remember? She asked me to take care of the clock, which she had emptied of its mechanical parts."

"Are we supposed to take you at your word?" Prosecutor Edgeworth sneered at her.

"I don't expect you to." Time to put him in his place. "That's why I have proof."

As Prosecutor Edgeworth staggered from the force of her words, the gallery erupted into noise. The judge banged his gavel. "Order! Order in the court! What do you mean by this, defense?"

"The police confiscated my phone when they placed me in the detention center. While they had it, they checked my call history as well as my messages. What they didn't check was my recorded calls." Maya pulled her phone out and quickly navigated the menus. "If the court would listen to this, I'm sure all will become clear."

The recording played, the courtroom silent as everyone listened to two sisters happily talk about seeing one another. Maya watched Prosecutor Edgeworth as it finally got to the point where Mia admitted to hollowing out the Thinker—a clock—and storing documents in it. He was grimacing, clutching at his arm as he listened.

April May, on the other hand, looked plain furious.

"As you can see, Your Honor," Maya put her phone down on the bench in plain sight, "while I knew the Thinker was a clock—and a broken one at that—April May should not have!"

"W-well it's not like this is a particularly special clock," April May tried to recover her position. "I've probably seen it before, in one of those novelty stores in the mall."

"That's a complete lie." Phoenix looked almost surprised by how brazen she was being. Maya didn't understand why though. "Larry made that. There's only two of them in existence and one is evidence for a prior murder case." Oh. Alright then.

"Objection!" She didn't have to do that but something about loudly objecting to what April May was saying felt good. "There is no way you could have seen this in a store, novelty or otherwise."

"What are you saying?" April May sneered at Maya. "Everything is in stores and if it's not, it's online. Just because you live in the mountains where you have to barter clothes for chickens—"

"You wouldn't be able to find this in a store because it's handmade, April May. There's only two of these in the entire world: this one and the one in an evidence locker in the precinct." That was where cops put evidence after cases were done with, right? Evidence lockers? If she was wrong, nobody was refuting her.

"What?!"

"Mia didn't tell me much about work but I do know that during the last case my sister took, a Thinker clock—the sibling to this one, in fact—was used in a similar fashion. It's not left police custody since, so to speak. You should have no way to know this is a clock!" Maya slammed her hands on the bench and gave April May a fierce smile.

The woman bared her teeth and clutched at the witness stand. "How—?"

"Objection!" Before she could get any further, Prosecutor Edgeworth interrupted her. He was trying to regain control of the trial. "Miss May could have easily been present at said trial, which is why she knew the murder weapon was a clock."

"Unlikely. Time to pull our other trump card, Maya." Phoenix turned his full attention to her, his blank eyes somehow sparkling. "Time to prove April May was tapping the office phone."

"Objection! From the very start of this trial, April May has been lying about a crucial detail and that is her knowledge of the crime. There is no way she could have the information she does—such as my relationship with the victim or the true nature of the murder weapon—without having heard it firsthand." April May had, in fact, said that Mia and Maya were sisters. That wasn't something that had been said in her presence before that moment.

"Just what are you suggesting?" It was going to feel so good, taking Prosecutor Edgeworth down a peg.

"I'm suggesting that April May was tapping the Fey & Co. Law Offices."

The judge quelled the gallery's surprise. "Order! Order! What are you saying, defense? I hope you have evidence to substantiate your accusation."

"I do." Maya pulled the wiretap from her sash and presented it to the judge. "As you can see here, Your Honor, this is a wiretapping device. I found this inside the dresser of April May's hotel room, alongside the screwdriver she used to retrieve it the night of the murder."

Again, the gallery exploded with surprise and shock. Again, the judge slammed down his gavel. "Order in the court! Are you saying you stole this from the witness' hotel room?"

"Bring up how loose the phone base was. Try and use Gumshoe to corroborate that." Phoenix looked as on-edge as Maya felt.

"When I was examining the crime scene, I noticed the base of the office phone was loose, as if someone had sloppily put it back together." April May glared daggers at Maya but she didn't care. "If you need to, you can confirm that with Detective Gumshoe."

Prosecutor Edgeworth was glaring at the detective, who seemed to be mumbling something to him. Then he turned to face the judge. "I have been informed that yes, the office phone seems to have been disassembled and yes, the defendant didn't touch anything at the crime scene so she could not have been the one to tamper with it." Ha ha.

"Having seen that, I figured that maybe someone tapped her phone. In the witness' hotel room, a screwdriver was poking out of the dresser drawer and that piqued my interest. That's where I found the wiretap."

"I was under the impression your investigation was under strict supervision as a probationary act." The judge frowned at her but Maya couldn't even pretend to feel bad for stealing evidence. "Am I wrong?"

"Take the penalty."

"I take full responsibility for my actions."

The judge shook his head at her. "Consider this your first ever penalty in court. It will not happen again, understood?"

"Of course, Your Honor." Maya gave him a half-bow, unwilling to show him how much she was grinning. She was so close to an actual result. She was so close to buying an extra day. Now all she had to do was drag April May's employer out of her.

"Good. Now, Miss May, did you wiretap the victim's phone?" The judge turned his stern gaze to April May.

The woman looked furious, like a snarling beast. Her nails dug into the witness stand, her pupils slits, and she was baring her teeth at Maya. When the judge asked her that, she took a breath and smoothed down her hair, pulling her fake cuteness around her once more. "Um...why does that matter?"

"'Why does that matter?' That's a felony!" Phoenix was taken aback at her attitude. "If she keeps this up, we can get her whole testimony thrown out."

"Because, Miss April May, wiretapping is a serious offense that you will be charged on when we are done with your testimony." Prosecutor Edgeworth's voice was tense and monotone. If Maya had to take a guess as to what was bothering him, she'd say it was how she had the upper hand now—even if she didn't have definitive proof to finger the real culprit. "Be honest."

"For once in your life," Maya muttered under her breath.

"I mean, the trial isn't even about that, is it? It's about murder and I know that little brat murdered her!" Riding the line between saccharine and cutting, April May glared daggers at Maya, who returned the favor. "What harm does a little tippity-tapping even do?"

"Aside from calling your entire testimony into question: implicating you as the true killer!" If Maya sounded a little smug, it's because she felt smug. They had her on the ropes and Maya had done almost all of the legwork. What a rush! "You had to have retrieved the wiretap between when Mia called me and when the office was locked down as a crime scene. That gives you plenty of time to have entered the office, killed my sister, removed the wiretap, left the office, and then called the police."

April May hissed and clutched at the witness stand, her fingernails gouging out lines in the wood. "You can't be serious?"

"Like a murder charge."

"I didn't kill her! I was in my hotel room!" She was cornered.

"Where's your proof then?" And that is when Maya got a little too cocky.

Something changed in April May's posture and she smiled oh-so-sweetly once more. "Coffee."

"Huh?"

"I had iced coffee at nine pm on the dot." She laughed, high-pitched and sugar-coated. "It was delivered by room service. The bellboy can prove I couldn't have left my room at the time of the murder."

Phoenix was shocked by her sudden change. "She has an alibi? Was that coffee ordered on purpose? It had to have been. I know I saw more than one name on the guest book when we were there but I can't remember if she had someone rooming with her."

"Shall we get the bellboy to corroborate her alibi?" Prosecutor Edgeworth asked the judge.

The judge nodded at him. "Fetch the bellboy of the Gatewater Hotel."

"As it stands, the prosecution already subpoenaed the bellboy when questioning the current witness revealed the existence of  her alibi." Prosecutor Edgeworth smiled at Maya, almost daring her to object. "He is in the prosecution's lounge as we speak, politely waiting his turn. Is this amicable to the defense?"

"Huh?" Maya didn't understand what he was asking.

"Do you really want to waste your time trying to prove Miss April May could be the true culprit by cross-examining the bellboy or are you willing to admit defeat and take my gracious offer?" His gracious offer of a manslaughter charge.

"Looks like May isn't the only one being catty right now." Phoenix laughed at his own joke. "But in all seriousness, take the chance. We might be able to prove her boss was there and that's more important."

"The defense believes that, in spite of what the prosecution might say, the wiretapping is relevant to the murder and, as I stated at the very beginning, I stand by my original goal of a full acquittal. I didn't kill Mia and the wiretapping proves I wasn't the only one who knew where she was going to be at the time of the murder." Trying to remember all the fancy lawyer words as she got emotional was hard but she was managing. Maybe when all this was done, she'd get her hands on a word-a-day calendar or something. Expand her vocabulary.

Prosecutor Edgeworth clicked his tongue in disappointment and wagged his finger at her. "If that's how you wish to proceed, so be it. The prosecution only has one request."

"And that is?" The judge asked.

"If the bellboy's testimony reveals nothing of value, then the trial will end and the defense will stop trying to drag things out."

Phoenix sighed. "I don't know why he's being so aggressive. This is just a murder case and he and Mia weren't even friends! He's taking this so personally."

"Deal." Maya didn't even hesitate. If Phoenix had seen someone's name with April May's in the guest book, then the coffee had to have been an intended alibi. She stared Prosecutor Edgeworth in the eyes, unwavering. His cold gaze seemed to slide right off of her.

"Then by all means, have at it." He bowed to her. She did her best to swallow her anger and simply rolled her eyes.

April May was arrested and led away while the bellboy was brought forward to the stand—still carrying a tray with tea on it, of all things. He looked pleased as punch to be standing on a witness stand for a murder trial.

Maya wasn't too fond of him on virtue of he'd already been rude to her, but his slight glory-chasing made her like him even less.

"Your name and occupation?" Prosecutor Edgeworth prompted.

"I am but a humble bellboy, sir." That wasn't the answer he wanted but that was the only answer he was going to get it seemed.

"You work at the Gatewater Hotel, do you not?"

Phoenix nodded in surprise. "Edgeworth is doing a great job leading his witness."

"Can't I object to that?" Maya hissed to him.

"Not any more you can't. Used to be able to though." Phoenix did not elaborate.

"I do, sir! Fourth generation bellboy! I say that this scandal will drive traffic up, up, up!" The bellboy laughed, a sound like the ringing of bells.

"I see...and the night of the murder, the fifth, Miss April May ordered room service?" Prosecutor Edgeworth didn't bother straying from his intended questions. Maya got the feeling that he wouldn't let her get away with as much faffing about as he did earlier. She'd have to be careful when cross-examining this one.

"Indeed I was." The bellboy blushed a bit. "I remember it well."

"Your testimony then."

The bellboy nodded and shifted the tray on his hand. "Of course, sir. That night, at nine pm on the dot, I delivered to Miss May room service. She answered the door, of course, and paid for her drinks, then I went on my way. That is all I saw."

"That's...hm." Phoenix stared at the bellboy. "His testimony is pretty nothing."

"Press?" Maya whispered.

"That sounds good."

"Defense?" The judge prompted.

"Thank you, Your Honor." Maya took the transcript from the stenographer and looked it over before she started her cross-examination. "You say she ordered room service at nine on the dot? Are all your room service requests so specific?"

"It depends, really. Miss May's was very punctual but sometimes we are asked for by name, so it's not an wholly unusual request." He seemed nonplussed by her asking this.

"Hm." Maya read some more, trying to find the weak link. "April May ordered drinks, plural?" That seemed odd. "She said she ordered an iced coffee."

"There were two drinks, yes ma'am." The bellboy was surprisingly forthcoming. "Eighteen dollar total, really. Plus tip." He blushed at that.

"That's an expensive coffee," Maya frowned. "But could she have drank two iced coffees before they both melted? Especially if she had called the police over a murder?"

"Are you asking the witness this?" Prosecutor Edgeworth looked bored. Maya wanted to throw her phone at his head.

"Oh, uh, no. Sorry. Just thinking aloud. Although...," she had touched on something interesting, "did you go back to get their dishes?"

"That was handed by housekeeping, ma'am. I simply tend to customers' needs as they arise." The bellboy shook his head, blushing lightly.

Wait. "You said April May gave you a tip?"

"Yes she did. It was quite shocking, considering, but she gave me an embrasser as payment for services rendered." The bellboy was beet red.

Maya blinked at him in confusion. "A what?"

"That is French for 'embrace', is it not?" Prosecutor Edgeworth supplied.

"Yes it is, sir. A kiss, as it were, sir. On the cheek, no less. I shan't forget it for years, I think. It was an exhilarating experience, considering." Oh, he was just flustered because she was attractive to him. Hm.

"What a cheap tip." Even Phoenix was unimpressed.

"As the defense can see: while Miss April May might be guilty of wiretapping, it has no bearing on this murder case and her alibi remains rock solid." Prosecutor Edgeworth looked dead at Maya as if he was daring her to keep fighting. "Shall we end this farce and get to the resolution so we can all get home?"

"Not yet!" Maya let all of her carefully crafted professionalism slip away in the wake of the terror she felt at the thought of failing after getting so far. "The - the defense would like to ask the current witness one more thing!"

"Just one more," the judge warned, "and if nothing comes of it, I will come to my conclusion. Are we clear?"

"Of course, Your Honor!" Maya furiously tore through her transcripts. "Thank you."

"Tick tock, Miss Fey." Prosecutor Edgeworth had never looked more smug or more punchable than in this moment. "Pick your question carefully."

"The check-in." Phoenix gasped. "I don't remember if she had someone with her but we can figure it out if we ask about the check-in. Edgeworth likes to keep his witness testimonies controlled. If we ask anything out of what he was told to talk about, we might get something."

Maya nodded. "Mister bellboy—"

"No need for the formality, ma'am."

"Witness, then." She didn't have time for his quibbles. "When did April May check in to the Gatewater?"

If Prosecutor Edgeworth had any concerns about the relevancy of her question, he didn't raise an objection. Instead, the bellboy gave it some thought before responding, "Well she checked in some time before the incident, ma'am. It's not as if she had only been staying for a day or anything like that. Still, I wouldn't forget her any time soon. She's my type, you see, and it was such a disappointment after all."

Wait. "What was a disappointment?" Please let this be what she thinks it is.

"She checked in with her lover, ma'am." It was. Maya was so excited she could almost cry but the trial wasn't over.

"Objection!" Now the demon prosecutor had a problem? Too late.

"Objection overruled." The judge was as interested as Maya was in what the bellboy meant. "This seems to be a pertinent line of questioning. Witness!"

"Ah, uh, yes sir." The bellboy flushed again. "Rather, uh, what is it?"

"Why didn't you mention that she was sharing the room before?" Maya was pretty sure she knew the answer.

"You didn't ask, ma'am." The bellboy gestured towards Prosecutor Edgeworth with the tray. "The gentleman over there instructed me to not offer information unless I was asked so..."

"And yet..." Prosecutor Edgeworth was sweating bullets. It was nice to see him put on blast.

"It's not technically illegal to coach your witnesses like that. It's just...scummy." Phoenix frowned again. "I suppose since I told you to do something similar in questioning, I've got no leg to stand on."

Maya was finally ready to claw her way to victory. "Witness, the man who checked in with April May, did you see him when you brought up the coffee?"

"Objection! How is that relevant?"

"Objection! April May has an alibi for the murder  but she was wiretapping Fey & Co. Law Offices so she had access to sensitive information such as when my sister would be alone, waiting to hand off evidence for an upcoming case to my care. Evidence, I'll point out, that is missing as of right now." That wasn't relevant at the moment but she needed to say it aloud so there was record of her acknowledging it for later. "However, the man who checked in with her had access to the same information through her. If her alibi stands and he doesn't have one, it stands to reason that he must be the killer!"

"Objection sustained. Witness?" The judge watched the bellboy intently.

"I, uh...I don't believe I saw him, Your Honor."

The court exploded with noise as the gallery roared. Maya leaned back, hands on her hips, and smirked at Prosecutor Edgeworth. The man was leaning against his bench, eyebrow twitching as he grimaced.

"Order in the court! Order now!" The judge banged his gavel a few times and the chatter died down. "So you are suggesting that Miss May's so-called 'lover' could be the true killer of this trial?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Do you truly think one wayward lover is enough to acquit you of sororicide?" Prosecutor Edgeworth tried to recover ground but Maya was ready.

"Let's not forget that you are the one who coached the witness to hide the existence of this man. The act of concealing him makes him suspicious enough, never mind April May's illicit activities that night." She stared him down, unwilling to let him try and undo all her hard work. "I hold fast to my belief that, if he is not the true killer, this mysterious man has some ties to the crime and we cannot continue without finding and serving him."

The judge banged his gavel. "The defense raises a good point. While we cannot prove that this man is anything more than a red herring, the evidence brought before the court indicates he must have some relevance. We will reconvene court the following day after law enforcement and the prosecution look into this man." And, just like that, she had done it.

One more day and the possibility of getting the true culprit in court so they could prove her innocence. Now all they had to do was track him down and force him into court.

Victory has never tasted so bittersweet.

[camsthisky]

okay, 24 with any of the brothers, leo , and draxum please? your writing style is great! but no pressure <3

24. "Help them! Please!"

ao3

Leo is not Baron Draxum’s biggest fan. In fact, if Draxum was involved in any normal situation, Leo would make sure he was at least an entire borough away from the yokai who’d dropped him off of a roof. Preferably an entire city away, if possible.

As it is, this is not a normal situation.

Leo has Mikey cradled in one arm, his other wrapped around Donnie, only keeping his twin standing by his grip on the lip of the battleshell. He’s so beyond stressed right now that when Draxum answers his frantic kicks to the front door, Leo can’t help but blurt out, “Help them. Please.”

To his credit, Draxum is only taken aback for a second—a second far too long in Leo’s opinion, but he knows he probably wouldn’t begrudge anyone else that second of bafflement, and he forces his habitual aggression to the side in favor of focusing on the reason for showing up on the guy’s doorstep.

Mikey’s breath is labored where he curls himself under Leo’s chin, arms slack around Leo’s neck. Donnie is dazed, hardly holding himself up. Leo doesn’t have a free hand and none of their gear is working and it’s all Leo can do not to panic as Draxum recovers from his second-too-long bout of shock and ushers Leo into the apartment. 

Leo drags Donnie over to the couch, lightly pushing his twin onto the couch, where he slumps over onto his side with a groan. Leo’s never been more grateful to hear his brother make a noise. He promises after this he’ll never try to run away from Donatello on a hyperfixation lecture warpath. At least for the next month, or two.

“What happened?” Draxum demands, crouching down next to the couch by Donnie’s head.

Leo grits his teeth, carefully setting his youngest brother onto the orange bean bag chair in the corner of the room, proof that Mikey will always be the kindest of them by miles. The way Mikey’s weight sinks into the bag keeps him sitting somewhat upright. Easier on his shell than laying flat. Not very supportive. It’ll have to do.

“Something—I don’t know—triggered Mikey?” Leo says, undwinding tape to wrap his fingers around his baby brother’s wrist. The scars on his arms are faint now, and Leo avoids them with practiced ease. It’s been over six months since they’d even really been a problem he’d needed to work around.

“Triggered?” Draxum asks, sounding more baffled by the second. Leo’s irritation rises a degree. “Michelangelo did this?”

“Yes? No?” Leo hedges. “I don’t know. I wasn’t exactly right at the center of it, otherwise I’d probably be down for the count, too.”

“Did you see anything?”

“A flash of light. I felt something weird, like static electricity, maybe? Donnie yelled and I ran over in time to watch them both pass out.”

Draxum’s brow furrows. He’s inspecting Donnie, who seems awake enough to realize that Draxum is in front of him. Leo’s purple-banded brother bares his teeth and growls, “If you touch me, I will throw you off the roof.”

“Relax, Don-tron,” Leo says, trying his hardest to inject at least a bit of levity in his voice, even though he knows he fails immensely, too distracted by the way Mikey still isn’t waking up. But it’s the only way Donnie won’t try to fight Draxum, and as much as Leo hates it, Draxum is a genius when it comes to mysticism and the like. They need him.

He also tries to pretend that Donnie’s grudge against Draxum for dropping Leo doesn’t make his heart warm. Not a great time to be sappy, but it’s a stark reminder that no matter what, Don’ll always be on Team Leo against anybody who tries to hurt him.

Still, now isn’t really the time.

Mikey’s pulse is racing underneath Leo’s fingers, but despite his third check in fifteen minutes—once the moment he’d gotten to both Donnie and Leo, barely saving Donnie from spilling to the ground and regrettably missing his baby brother by inches; once halfway to Draxum’s when Donnie woke up dazed and confused and Mikey didn’t—there doesn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with him. Mikey, for all intents and purposes, should have a clean bill of health.

“How’d we end up here?” Don grumbles, even as he hesitantly lets Draxum check him over, probably taking Leo’s failed attempt at lightening the mood as a cue to cooperate. “Thought we were getting pizza.”

“That was before Mikey decided he was gonna throw a mystic rave, invite only. Congrats on being the only one to make the guest list, Don.”

“You’ll be fine,” Draxum says, interrupting Donnie before he can snap back at Leo. 

(So Leo is stressed. Humor is how he copes. Riling up Donnie is a good distraction from the fear Leo is desperately trying to sidestep at the moment. Sue him.)

“You’re not a doctor,” Donnie tells Draxum matter-of-factly.

“I’m the leading expert in the mystic arts,” Draxum tells him, frowning in a put out way that has Leo wanting to snicker. He would if his baby brother’s pulse wasn’t still pounding away under his skin like his heart is trying to escape his body. “I think I would know if you were affected by your brother’s backlash. The symptoms are temporary. Just a minor shock.”

“Hate to see what a major shock would be,” Leo says under his breath, and then louder, “If Donnie’s fine, can you get over here and help me?”

Draxum stands and crosses over to the bean bag chair. From the corner of his eye, Leo sees Donnie gingerly sit up, tapping at his bracer. Tough luck on that one, bro. Mikey’s rave had wiped out all of their tech and then some.

Draxum settles on Mikey’s other side. He draws a symbol in the air, hands glowing dimly with power as he lays a hand on Mikey’s head. Leo keeps his grip on Mikey’s wrist and watches. 

The next minute is one of the longest in Leo’s whole damn life. Leo counts Mikey’s heartbeats, and Donnie finally moves over to sit next to him when he hits eighty-three. 

The glow fades from Draxum’s hands, and Leo leans forward. 

Draxum runs a hand over his face and sighs. Leo’s practically nonexistent patience snaps.

“Well?!” he demands, only relenting at the soft nudge Donnie sends his way. Donnie’s probably still orienting himself, and still he’s reigning Leo in. So much for Team Leo. Although, both Leo and Donnie have come to an understanding that when it comes to teams, Mikey’s takes precedence over any of theirs.

Mikey will never have to go without his big brothers’ support. Perks of being the babiest brother.

Draxum sighs. “I’m not exactly sure what he was trying to do, but it looks like he’s just exhausted himself. He’s running on empty and most likely strained his body, but it seems like nothing rest can’t fix.”

Leo sags forward, burying his face in the bean bag, a muffled, “Oh thank the pizza supreme in the sky,” making its way out his mouth involuntarily. 

All of the adrenaline leaves Leo in a rush, and after a few quiet moments of regathering the broken pieces of his facade, he shifts just enough that he can see Draxum. 

“Thanks,” he says, quietly, not quite ready to start putting the mask back up. “For, ya know, being here.”

Draxum nods, looking as awkward as Leo feels. “We’re not on the best of terms, but I would never turn you away if you’re in need of help.”

“I know,” Leo says, both grateful and resentful of how true the statement rings. “That’s why I came.”

[grasslandgirl]

SUBSTRATE

[Fig/Gorgug. modern/no magic restaurant au. 27k. tw for discussions of alcohol/drug abuse, sobriety, and recovery]

SUBSTRATE (n) 1. an underlying substance or layer. 2. the surface or material on or from which an organism lives, grows, or obtains its nourishment. 3. the material on which a process is conducted. --- “Do you miss it?” Gorgug asks. Ice leaks into Fig’s stomach. “Miss what?” Drinking? Drugs? The burn of tequila down the back of her throat? The smoky-sweet haze settling under her skin until she feels liquid and calm? The buzz at the back of her head, but one she can control; one she can ride out like a surfer on a ten foot wave? Feeling human and likable and electric and real? Yeah. She misses it. “Performing,” Gorgug clarifies. --- or; gorgug, fig, and sobriety

as always, all my love to darling carnation boy and fellow figgorgug warrior jamie @gilears without whom this wouldn't exist <33 also so much love to my bestie @uwusillygirl for also agreeing to help beta and edit this so it's fucking legible !!! this fic is very personal and full of a lot of projection, but also deals heavily with discussions of sobriety and alcoholism/addiction, so please heed the tags, warnings, and author's notes appropriately and keep yourself safe <333

happy junior year!!

YOU CAN READ IT HERE ON AO3

[fairyniceyeah]

⏳🐿️ Spelling Colour with a "U"

Title from Playing with Paint (Mayfly Rap Unit)

Summary: Hongjoong struggles with differentiating between being ATEEZ strong captain and just being human. The Mayfly rap-unit and his members help him find balance again - especially as his food intolerances get in the way.

CW: emeto, insecurity

Whumpee/Sickie: Hongjoong

Caretaker: Minhyuk (BtoB) + Bang Chan (SKZ) + Changbin (SKZ) + HAN (SKZ) + Seonghwa

Whumpees: Yunho + San + Jongho

Caretaker: Hongjoong + Seonghwa

tumblr won't let me post the chapters here for some reason - until I can fix it, please be content with the ao3 link!

Spelling Colour with a "U" - ao3

[naffeclipse]

Chapter 3: Pink Water

FNAF Detective!Sun & Detective!Moon & Bounty Hunter!Eclipse x Vigilante!Reader (SFW)

Splotches of cardinal red stain the white porcelain sink, dripping from his fingertips. Eclipse turns the cold bridge faucet and the water runs, stained pink as it swirls with your blood before washing away. Gone. He slides his long, dark fingers under the cold water, sensors sparking as he cleans out the coagulated bits from between the joints of his knuckles.

Word Count: 1,800~ Warnings: Blood, injury, and obsessive behavior.

A/N: Sun and Eclipse have one-on-one time, and you're there, unconscious during it all. Sun wants to make something very clear. Eclipse cleans up, somewhat.