#The Theme Park SL

[the-yellow-birdy]

I come at this hour, only for you (part. II)

AN: Hi, here's part 2! Hope you will enjoy and as always any feedback is appreciated lt<3 <Don't hesitate to message me, if you wish to be on the taglist:)>

L.O.L - Yellow bird

// 18+ audience only! - Sexual Themes - Dom!LarissaWeems x Sub!FemReader - Heavy dom/sub dynamics - BDSM - Power dynamics/Power play - consensual manipulation - Implied cunnilingus - fingering- guided masturbation - Lesbian yearning - All characters are above the age of 18\\

“Crawl”, she had said.

The night took a different turn after that single, horrifyingly, arousing word was flung out into the room. You only remember a few sequences from the nights endeavors, for your mind had slowed and been drugged with the heaviest substance of them all.

Slick arousal, heels, musky sweetness, blue, pleasure.

The line had been crossed. There was no turning back from her sweetened wicked ways. You know you shouldn’t have, and even if you wanted to think she did too, you knew she didn’t. The undeniable attraction you had was stronger than any will you would ever be able to muster. You couldn't get enough and you didn’t want enough. 

It had been a week since the night of your unspoken commitment and you were beyond confusion. Had you been imagining the whole thing? No! Definitely not imagining, perhaps hallucinating? 

There hadn’t been any late night messages requiring you by her side, morning greetings as she passed your desk or even the faintest of a smile presented to you. It seemed as if you were invisible to her. A mere day-player in her everyday life, not even worthy of a glance. And frankly you didn’t know whether to be fuming or saddened by her behavior. Maybe you were just a thing for her to have her fun with, and once she was done, you would be cast out, becoming a part of the unimportant world around her.

You couldn’t take it. All you wished was for her to notice you, tell you how good you were doing, have you drive to Jericho to fetch her coffee, make you pour her tea, or even make you sit half naked in front of her, eating her out till the dawn of morning.

Anything.

Only one thing kept you from completely putting out the fire within you.

There had been this one encounter between you, which had you feeling all sorts of emotions inside yourself you couldn't explain. 

It was a particularly late night a few days ago, when you had stayed later than usual. Numerous papers and documents Ms. Weems couldn’t catch up with, had been passed on to you with an…

“I expect them to be filled out by tonight.”, she said, and with a hasty look into your eyes she was gone. Sauntering back to her office in her beige cocktail dress and black stilettos, you couldn’t help but let your eyes linger on her swaying hips and meaty backside as she swayed them flawlessly.

You had delivered the papers to her and as she retrieved them without any recognition of your presents, you left. Again your heart ached and longed for the thing you couldn’t even admit.

It wasn’t until you ran through the rain down to the parking lot that the most peculiar thing happened. As you opened the car door you felt a strange sensation within you. You looked upon the majestic building of the school, heavy rain ensnaring your ability to hear. It got cold, yet, just as you were about to get in the car, you spotted the lovely headmaster standing in the office window, surveying you. You couldn’t see her face, the dark night casting a shadow on it, only a silhouette of yellow glow shone around her, caused by the fireplace. She saw that you had caught her in the act, yet she did nothing to withdraw from your view.

Leaving so soon, sweet mouse?

You stood in the rain, having absolutely no care for your wet toes or damp hair, gazing up at the headmistress. Still she kept looking at you, it felt eerie and comforting at the same time. A few moments went by between you, even if you were separated by vast space you felt it. 

What does she want?

Suddenly, she raised her right slender arm that crossed over her stomach and gave you a small wave, her fingers wiggling in the cool air of the spacious room. It was the first time she had gifted you any attention other than curtsies and basic work formalities in days or weeks, you couldn’t tell any longer.

You waved back at her. 

Don’t turn around, don’t turn around

As she lowered her arm and turned back disappearing in the dim lit office you got in your car, soaked and tired, yet a spark of hope remained in the back of your mind as you drove back to your apartment.

However, that was days ago and right now it was time you clocked out, you were exhausted and couldn’t bear to think about this excruciating situation any longer. Seven had already struck and all your work was finished. As you had stuffed all your personal belongings in your bag and put your coat on after organizing your desk for tomorrow, you made your way towards the headmistresses office. 

Just get it over with. 

You knocked twice, feeling melancholic at the emptiness within you, knowing your interactions would be limited and strained.

“Enter.”, you heard her enchanting voice echo through her office.

You opened the door and stepped inside, not closing it behind you.

Just for good measure.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, “Goodnight Principal Weems, I’m off for today…”

She looked up from her screen, the glasses on the tip of her nose looked as if they would fall off were she to bend her head further down to look at you.

The enchanting woman was looking at you with curiosity or was it skepticism? Surely she wouldn’t be doubting your promise of your work being finished, you would never lie to her! Did she not know that? Of course she did, you’re just being ridiculous.

You couldn’t help but consider the observing of Ms. Weems a privilege. The woman had an astounding facade. Elegant, fierce, charming with a tint of something wicked, only to be noticed in the corners of her lips or glints in her eyes. Something dark laid beneath and you were quit sure, you were the only one knowing. Everyone else, blinded by the tall beauty and her toothy smiles. A siren is what she is, an enchantress having a new prey in sight. Unfortunately, as enlightened as you were, you didn’t look away.

But her. The way she licks the envelope before sealing it, a tiny lipstick stain now and then. How her demeanor changes from principal Weems to Larissa at the end of a shift, bidding you a good night. How she bends over you ever so slightly to show you something on the school system, purring directions in your ear, as her hand is laid on your back, soothing the tensions in your spine from her close proximity. Oh you could just keep going, her accent, the expensive smell of prada perfume, the wine red lipstick, her movements, moans oh.

Her moans were sweet and almost put you in a coma the first time you heard them. The only time you heard them. 

How do you make it stop? This improper infatuation was a dead end, you had to clear your mind, think rationally as you usually did.

“I see.”, she husked.

She reached for the metal hinges of her glasses, taking them off and putting them silently down on the desk. A moment of silence fell and before you knew, she arose from her leather chair, it squeaked from the movement. She stood to her full astounding six feet and however many inches height. The light gray knee dress she wore looked impeccable on her as it hugged her meaty features perfectly, even more so with the pendant around her waist, accentuating her figure and the aura of her expensive living. She stood a short second by her desk, fingers pressed on the smooth surface, before sauntering in your direction. 

Nononono 

You didn’t know whether to run or to stay. Hell, you didn’t even know which of the two you most desired. You loathed the way she made you feel. The claiming of your body without even touching it, simply being in her presence had your skin crawl with excitement and hairs on the back of your neck spike. Only one question left on your mind.

What’s her next move?

She halted in her steps, looking down on you with an expressionless face, the once sky blue eyes had turned a dark ocean blue. Her hand gripped the wooden door, the other one placed on her hip, trapping you in her space even if the hall was free to escape through right behind you.

She seemed to enjoy the helplessness your body language involuntarily showed, when a tiny smile appear on her face. 

No, you wouldn’t be played with like this. You are a grown woman, capable of confronting your demons. Even if the demon was a neck breaking tall celestial goddess with eyes carved of the finest diamond known to mankind.

With no care for where you were standing, she slowly closed the door, giving you enough time to move. You felt lightheaded by the unexpected action and didn't know what to do other than complying with her actions, moving to the side as the door closed in with a small clink.

So much for an escape plan

Your heartbeat picked up, “stop”, you said, turning your head. The tension was so evident you could taste it, smell it, cut it right open and let it flow around the room and not just in the few centimeters between you.

She is so close.

You could feel the scented bodily heat radiating off of her, by how close you were standing and it gave you a bad case of vertigo.

You looked at the ground, certain that if you even caught a glimpse of her you would bend and fall, hard and painful. She observed the features of your face, her eyes focusing on your half open lips, looking as if she cared little to none for your request.

She let two fingers guide your chin so that your eyes no longer lingered on the floors, but at her.

“With what, my sweet?”

Tell me, tell me dear. 

She was so close, yet the feeling of her being further away than ever perceived your mind. Why did she have to be so damn beautiful, especially with the moonlight hitting the side of her face from the early october nights glow. 

A beautiful manipulator was definitely not what you needed in your life, no, not what you wanted in your life. Rational, think rational god damn it.

Breathe. 1… 2 … 3 .. J- Just breat…

With no care for her or yourself, you lunged forward, smashing your lips against her plumb red pillows. Your faces melted with each others, heads turning with vigor as your mouths molded together in sync. Your eyes fell shut in bliss. It was the first time you tasted them and even if you had tasted her lower set of lips as well, this was just as addictive. The juices are more watery and different in taste. She tasted of chocolates and cosmetics from her lipstick. 

She had a sweet tooth

It was pure heaven, pure hell, pure her. 

Other than forcing her tongue deeper into your mouth, Larissa did nothing, she simply stood her ground, not touching, not moving, nothing. The only thing she yielded to was the saccharine taste of your mouth. Your spit. It made her want to drink it, make you drink hers. She wanted every last single bit of you devoured by her mouth. The only thing she needed was to make you crave it so dearly, not even god herself could hold you back.

Finally, after what felt like years of laying on the burning surface of the sun, she took a hold of your cheeks with one of her hands, the other still glued to her hip and backed away from your mouth. She looked down at you with hooded eyes, head held high, emphasizing her true role after your little display of disregard.

“What a naughty girl you are, kissing your superior like that, hmm.”, her warm, heavy breath hit your face as she squeezed your cheeks harder and wrinkled her nose, the purring of her voice slick and firm. She looked into your doe eyes that were hazed and blinded by arousal. You were irresistible and if you did not stop pliably watching her with that needy look on your face, it would be the death of her. You would be the death of her.

“Have you no manners?”, you hear her words, the condescending meaning of them, but the grin on her lips tells you otherwise. 

She lets go of your face, taking a step back and folding her hands in front of her, taking on the role as Principal Weems once again.

“I bid you a good night, Ms. L/n. I trust you can find your way out.”, she sang, still a bit out of breath. She gave you a curt smile, not one of friendliness, no, one of something you couldn’t quite distinguish just yet.

You were on the verge of tears. How could this woman treat you so cruelly? 

“But -But I didn…”

“Goodnight. Ms. L/n.”

You straightened your body from against the wall. Your bag had been discarded to the floor, unbeknownst to you in the midst of the heated activities. You picked your belongings up from the floor and took ahold of the doorknob.

“I expect you here tomorrow night at nine, I do hope Saturday evening has no occupations keeping you.”

You were shocked, has this woman no empathy? Why are you not saying anything? You had never been so ashamed of your malleable behavior. And then again, no one has ever brought that specific side out of you like she ever before.

“Yes, Ms. Weems.”

—-

You were crazy.

Absolutely insane.

As you stood in front of the great wooden door once more, you looked down at the time.

8:57

Should you wait. Maybe, just a minute. You definitely didn’t drive a little faster just so you wouldn’t be late, no of course not. It was just, the make-up you applied earlier took a bit longer than usual, nothing else. Your breath had become a tad ragged from the fast pace of your walking and as always the running wasn’t the only thing making your heart beat at an abnormal fast pace.

You imagined her sitting in her office chair as usual, tapping away at her computer. Or maybe she was signing some documents of yours, that you had finished earlier, in her admirable handwriting. 

It was laughable to think about the many times you had stood beside her, as her long slender fingers moved the pen over the white sheet and flexed after a particularly long sentence. It had been small catches of the eye at first, but soon they had turned into deep stares of the womans dainty hands. If she had ever caught your prolonged gazes, she never let you know, simply giving you back the papers, her fingertips brushing yours.

You never knew it could feel so sweet. And how come you had never experienced it like this before? Other partners or flings had simply passed as sand slipping through your fingers. You didn’t really care much for it if you were being honest. Noone ever really sparked a burning interest within you, but neither had anyone made you want to run for the hills faster than you knew your feet would take you, like her. It excited you, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

Time struck 8:58. 

You knocked carefully at the door, announcing yourself with a bit of courage you had been able to muster, “Principal Weems, it’s Y/n, you wished to see me.”

She called upon you, “yes, enter.”

You did as instructed and slowly swung the heavy door open, met by a peculiar sight. You stopped in your tracks as the image of the headmistress sitting behind her mahogany desk-piece fully immersed in her work, didn’t perceive your vision.

You stood in the door, leaving it to close on its own as you let go of it. You looked around. She must be in here. You just heard her, unless you’ve gone completely bonkers she had to be here.

With a disturbance in the corner of your eye you directed your gaze towards the fireplace and what a sight to see. The principal was sitting in the Victorian sculptured chaise, her signature heels discarded next to it with a grand bottle to the side. From your line of vision, you could only see her hand dangling off the armrest, accompanied by a glass of what must’ve been red wine. The top of her updo she never failed to style just perfectly. And lastly her foam white shins, crossing just where her ankles meet. You swallowed some excess saliva from your mouth and fiddled with your fingers.

“Go ahead and strip Y/n, I wish you bare.”, her voice rang into the room.

The shirt of which you wore was quickly becoming too tight, almost too tight to breathe. 

Strip.

Bare.

You had never been so terrified and titillated in your life. Your armpits felt warm and soaked mimicking the parts between your legs.

Larissa never let down a fight. Ever since she herself was a student at Nevermore Academy would she never bow to conquer, always eyes on the price. Especially when a certain Addams was to be her appointed opponent, was she a force to be reckoned with, just like now. Except this time of course, her opponent is very much more favorable to her, and far more enjoyable at that. Oh, she just couldn’t wait to have you admit defeat.

As your body had been frozen and your heart skipping several beats, Larissa got impatient and cleared her throat.

It had been a good minute with no evident sound of clothes dropping to the floor. She turned her head just a small angle, yet enough for you to catch her poised side profile as it lit up from the fiery background. Hypnotic.

“Shall I have to repeat myself, girl?”, the words fell from her lips and you saw her delicious tongue forming them as she spoke.

Just as if in a trance once more, every border was let down. You slowly pulled the shirt over your head. You dropped it to the floor, still looking towards her. You started grabbing the back of your bra to snap it open, freeing you perked breasts. 

“No, Ms. Weems.”

She drove her sight back to the dancing fires, “Good.”

As your tits met the chilling air, your nipples almost immediately hardened, even more than they already were from your involuntary arousal.

As the material of your clothes grazed your skin, she heard the whooshing sound and the desire to turn around and watch as you undressed was gradually growing more and more insufferable. She didn’t of course. It had taken the headmistress many moons and suns to learn the importance of patience, especially with you here now. She couldn’t just throw all care out of the window this early.

 All things good come to those who wait.

You removed your own heels putting them aside. Then your socks, left and right, putting them in the open space of your left behind stilettos.

The wooden floors had icicles spike up through the skin of the padded area of your soles. The only carpet in the room was in front of the fireplace, as of right now laid right under the awaiting woman's own nylon covered feet. 

The rigid air in the room was closing in on you. 

How on earth are you supposed to go through with this? Your face was hot and red. Stomach turning and bubbling in excitement. Your head dizzy and light. Dear god, why did she have to wear that awful perfume that let your better judgments get lost in the cravings of tasting it on your lips, licking it right from the source of her skin.

You unbuttoned the last of your slacks restraints. With your underwear, they glided over your flesh protected hips and quietly fell to the floor in a pool around your feet. Your cold, red, bare feet, on the brink of running in every direction away and towards the scarily quiet woman. 

You could still stop it, you could!

“Come to me.”, she calmly said and raised the wine glass in her hand and gulped down a big sip of the silky red substance. Her lipstick had laid a mark on the brim of the glass.

Maybe she would let you lick it off.

What? No. 

Your heartbeat felt heavy and as if your heart was threatening you, that with each timid step you would take, it was further on its journey to pop out of your chest. Fall to the ground in a splattering of blackened red blood, only for her to come by your limp side as your heart was still beating on the floor next to you, piercing right through it with her sharp, plastic heels.

You took a step towards her, but a cold voice made you stop and the feeling of utter exposure finally hit you.

“Not like that.” 

A moment of silence pierced the temperature of the room. Fright strangled you and left you behind with a ragged breath. You knew what she was asking, from the moment you took a step you already knew that deep down it wasn’t enough. Could you really bring yourself to do it, you already had.

Yes.

Like a subject bowing for the reign, a believer kneeling in front of the holy cross, you did what you knew was required of you.

You got onto your hands and knees. Still not having made it to the fluffy carpet, the cold floor embraced you and reminded you of what was to come. What you were.

She couldn’t believe it. The pride she had for you in this very moment seethed through her bones, for she knew where you were, what you had done. You were perfect, absolutely and completely made for her. There was no doubt in her mind.

The fear of the loss of your dignity that once had you in a chokehold had faded into the abyss, and even if a heavy blanket of shame couldn’t help but cover your mind given the position you found yourself in, exposed, sweaty and obedient, it simply was of insignificance to you, for the only thing that was kept in your mind and had been for this entire encounter since you entered the door was…

I want to see your face.

You crawled along the floor. The only sound in the room came from the spectacle the woman herself was watching, the crackling of burning wood as the fire slowly turned its flesh from a beautiful brown to a black and gray surface, slowly transforming it into ashes like the former blocks beneath them.

You were suddenly met with the white, soft carpet underneath you. Your hands and knees had gotten slightly red from the hard ground and the carpet was a comfortable contrast to it, almost soothing the soreness. 

You moved on hands and knees up beside her. Your mind was cramped with thoughts you didn’t know what to do or how to cope with.

What if she thinks a fool of you. 

Did you make a mistake? Assuming the wrong thing.

Is your body to her liking?

You know you’re leaning more towards the plaine look rather than a great beauty such as herself, would she mind?

Are you doing good?

Is she satisfied with you?

Is she happy?

Larissa turned her head to look down at your form. She couldn’t hold back the ragged breath she had held within her. One glance at your naked body next to her and she knew there was no telling of the heads and heels any longer. She adored the eagerness in you to be near her, be with her. The compliance you showed melted something in the older woman she wouldn’t be showing this early on, but it was certainly still there.

You were a beauty, a true and utter pretty girl, all for her. All for her to see and touch and feel.

“Sit up, my darling.”

You sat back onto your heels. You looked up at her and you swore the look of reassurance and calm in her face made you want to burst into tears, for it melted every last bit of doubt within you away.

She couldn’t help but observe your uncovered flesh and visible bone outlinings of your body as you straightened your back. Your breasts were just above average in size, they bounced deliciously on your ribcage as you moved. Your nipples had become soft again, they now presented themselves as a heavier contrasting pink on your smooth skin. 

Larissa felt a slow throbbing in her underwear. How on earth she managed to catch such sweet innocence under her hand was a mystery to her, but a blessing nonetheless. And of course a pad on the back, if you were to ask her.

She looked into your eyes. Your wide, glazed eyes filled with arcour and need. You were both holding your breaths once more. The connection of your bodies pulled you to almost grasp for the other, even if you had not shared a single touch yet. Your freckled face had never before looked upon her as it did now. How wonderful.

Still gazing at you, she took the wine in her other hand and let the other stretch itself towards your face. She caressed your cheek with the back of her fingers. It had been so long.

So long, so long, so long

Too long, without the sweet tingling of her touch. Her skin felt cool to the one on your face. It calmed you more than you cared to admit, Yet your body deceived you when your eyes fell lightly shut.

“How has your day been, sweet girl?”, she moved her hand to the top of your head, scraping the stray hairs down your hairline out of your face and behind your ears.

You opened your eyes, “It was okay. Ms. Weems.”

She removed her hand. You felt empty once more. She looked at you for a moment, seemingly captured in a thought stream. With a graceful movement of her other hand, she presented you with the half filled glass, prodding you to take it. After a moment of confusion, you tentatively did.

“Hmm, I'm certainly hoping the answer will change to one with a bit more enthusiasm by the end of tonight”, she lifted her eyebrow with an adoring smile to her lips.

“Drink.”

If you had any knickers on, they would have been submerged with the slick forming between your thighs.

Gods no. What if you're making a mess on her rug?

You took a glance at the red liquid, bringing it closer to your face and revealed in its earthy aroma. After a little investigating, you brought it to your lips and began to slowly drink. It was expensive, that much you were able to tell. The taste was more intense and flavors more complex than the cheap ones in your own fridge at home. Halfway through you wanted to lower the glass, not able to drink anymore. But as soon as you tried to pry away the glass, the woman above you moved with elegant hast.

“No darling, drink up. I would hate the thought of not having clenched your thirst.”, she purred in her heavy British accent and gave you a sinister smile. She put a finger under the stem of the glass forcing you to keep consuming the beverage. 

Your mouth was filled to the brim with bitter sweet alcohol and you had to squint your eyes to concentrate on swallowing it without choking. You felt as the wine slipped passed your lips and dripped onto your chin, your neck, chest. You felt dirty and sticky, ashamed of the degenerate behavior she forced upon you.

As the glass emptied, she removed her finger and sat back on the chaise. You lowered the glass a bit out of breath and simply looked up at her.

“Tsk, you have made quite the mess, haven’t you?.”, she tutted and by an inch only, tilted her head to the side. 

With her hand again, she reached for your lips. She held onto your chin gently as she, not so gently, cleaned your lips from the fruity wine. She halted when they were no longer dripping with fluids, still holding your face.

“Did you put this lipstick on for me?”

“Perhaps.”, you said it more nonchalantly than you intended to. 

You made eye contact.

“Cheeky today, aren’t we? Can’t possibly be the wine already.”

She flowingly glided her sight back to your mouth. Suddenly she drove her thumb over your lips once more, only this time it wasn’t an act of assistance.

She pressed hard onto your soft pillows and slid onto the skin around them. You knew by the adhesive feeling on your chin that she was smearing your lipstick around your mouth.

You felt a drop of arousal slip onto your inner thigh, not to mention the aching of your sweet places, as she abused your lips.

With no forewarning she pushed two of her long manicured fingers past your lips. 

Her mouth fell slightly agape as the sight of your mouth enclosed around her fingers settled in her mind. You didn’t push her away or turn your head, you complied with a muffled squeak as you felt her pointer and index finger press down onto your tongue.

“That’s it, suck.”

You didn’t know if it was the effect of the alcohol or your complete devotion to her, probably both, but an urge to satisfy her took over you.

You gently grabbed her hand. You licked between her fingers and sucked the pads of them with your teeth biting softly at their tip. You began to suck her fingers with a desire to please, it showed.  

Brave.

You started sucking harder, sloppier. Your eyebrows knit together and a whine escaped your throat when she started rocking them back and forth, parading the ministrations that would usually take place further south.

Oh please. More! I can't much longer!

You were lost in her trance and you never wanted to wake. You looked up at her and the sight could have killed you. Her eyes were black, only a rim of turquoise surrounding them and they looked as if she saw right into the atoms of your bones. Your soul. Her mouth took deep open breaths, her bottom lip getting trapped by her teeth and tongue.

She pulled her fingers from your mouth and cupped your face with both of her hands. After a drawn out thirst filled look, she collided her lips with yours. You dropped the empty glass in your hands and it collided with the carpet right in front of you, hurriedly gripping her muscular biceps. Once more you got to taste her flavors. But this time, she tasted of the finest wine and the simple, divine taste her own saliva had to offer. She devoured your mouth with her much bigger one. She sucked and loved and bit and claimed it as no one else could.

She pulled your face up, hinting you to stand up from your sitting position. The possessiveness her tongue showed had you crying into the deep sloppy kisses, as you went to stand. The task was found to be harder than expected.

As soon as your legs tried to show strength and hold your weight they gave under from the missing blood in your calves, caused by the cut blood circulation. 

“Hmph!” you exclaimed into your lovers mouth as your knees hit the ground again with a harsh thud.

Ms. Weems pulled back to look at you with a faint smirk, “Already weak in the knees I see, and all from a kiss?”

“How utterly pitiful, my dear”

“I’m sorry Ms. Weems I-I can’t see…”

“Don’t worry dear,”, she took ahold of the underside of your arms steadying you, as you for a second time tried to stand. You succeeded, the hold of her strong hands being your biggest support.

“I’ll take care of you now, sweetings. Come here,”, She patted her lap, prodding you to take a seat. She guided you around the chaise until you stood right in front of  her. 

An owner and her devoted pet.

She turned your limping form around and placed her hands on the curve of your hips. Her touch on your hips felt like the dirtiest of sins, yet it was so gentle and tender, so how could this feeling within you ever be considered a transgression of the godly?

She pulled you down onto her thick soft thighs, half exposed by the tight gray skirt that attached itself to her dress. You leaned back against her and as your head collided with her shoulder, your legs on either side of hers, the full weight of your body trusting her with the most sacred and intimate parts of yourself. There were no longer any restraints strong enough to hold Larissa back.

She buried her nose in your long, loose hair. It cascaded on, now, both of your shoulders, and she inhaled the flowery scent of your shampoo, the tint of your own skins smell evident as well. 

She glided her left hand up your sticky, red torso and found its way towards your breast, her other hand still firmly holding the meat of your hips. 

“Oh, oh please.”, you pleaded with closed eyes and a scrunched face as your head rested on her shoulder. Half dizzy of her, half dizzy of the alcohol filled beverage.

She took a look at your form from underneath her. Her eyes found the way down the heaving valley of your breasts, over your soft stomach and navel, all the way down to the black mound of curly hairs between your cream thighs. 

She pinched your now fully erect nipples, purposely making you twist and writhe above her. 

“Touch me, I need your touch please!”, You had abandoned all propperness and decorum. 

Make me feel you, please please please

“Oh but I am, silly girl.” grabbing the entirety of your ample flesh, she groped and violated your breast with vigor.

“I n-need more- oh - more.”

She starts moving her hand on your hip to a slow pace, rutting you against her thighs.

“How greedy you have become, hmm,” She snaked the hand once on your breast up to hold onto your neck. Your chest rose and arched away from her while your head continued to rest on her shoulder.

“P-Please”, you slurred as the delirious feeling of her hand on your throat tightened. You definitely noticed the effect of the alcohol, but in some strange way it made your sensations spur and the tingles of fire in your skin lit up as if gasoline had been cast over them.

Her other hand made its way from the guiding of your hips to the faint showing muscle of your stomach. 

Lower

Lower

Lower

Low… Oh!

Cold fingers circled your tight and tension filled bud. You let a single gasp out, but quickly it turned into mewls and moans of pleadings and joy.

“Like this? Is this what you want, darling. Tell me, tell me it’s the pleasurable touch of my hands you crave.”

“Y-Yes! It’s you - it’s you I c-crave Ms.Weems.”

She had gathered some slick from your, as well sticky, entrance and had pinched your clitoris. She chuckled  into your hair as you squealed in white pain and red desire from her doings. 

She then traveled further, further than ever before. Two fingers began to massage the outer muscles of your vagina. She started to nip at your neck, just a simple few nips here and there, slowly becoming kisses that traveled from the back of your ear to the base of your neck, as she slowly sank her fingers deeper and deeper into your womanhood.

“Well done, lamb, there you go. look at me”, she began to pump her fingers. Your mind saw nothing but a cheshire grin as you prepared yourself to open your eyes. You looked up at her as if you gazed upon divinity.

The pace of her fingers quickened and the feeling of her sliding in and out of you were something you couldn’t put into words. Maybe the best way to describe it was death, yes death. That would be it.

She started whispering things into your ear. Like a siren she sang her songs to you and hypnotized you to see stars align.

That's it, dear

Mine now

You’re perfect, Y/n

Ah, such a good girl

Louder Y/N

Who owns you?

Harder? Oh but I’ll break you, dear

Let go for me

And you did. 

You had never experienced more energy consuming acts of the mind and body before, resulting in your spent body slumping against her and tears rolling down your face.

“Ah, sh sh.” she cooed.

The headmistress turned your body so her arm rested behind your neck and the rest of your body supported by the softly cushioned chaise. The flames of the fire warmed your numb skin. The hold of your lover warmed you even more. 

Larissa tenderly sweeped the wet hairs away from your forehead and gave it a kiss.

“Sleep my girl. My sweet Y/n.”, and you did.

----------------------------

Taglist:

@ladybathoryy

[juststoriesintheend]

I. Crossroads

Series Pairing: eventual Master Sol x Reader

Chapter Content: force visions, implied stalking

i suggest looking over the full list of content warnings on the masterlist page as this fic contains some darker themes

《 [series masterlist] 》

The Ushruu City Spaceport is less crowded than Helios would have anticipated, being that it serves as the main travel hub for the entire planet and the nearby hyperspace lanes. He would have liked to have a bit more cover, but there is only so much he can plan for. As it stands, he fits in better than on any other planet he’s visited recently - the population seems to be mostly human scattered with a handful of insectoid Surronians and pachydermic Aki-Aki.

He glides between disembarking passengers, his hood pulled up over his head. There is a thread that runs through this planet to the heart of him, damp and trembling like morning dew on a spider’s web. It hums when he plucks at it, sending out ripples in the Force that sound like a child’s nightmare or an adult’s scream - it’s the purest concentration of fear he’s ever felt. The Enchantress’ temple. He’s sure of it.

Encouraged, Helios cleaves through the crowd with renewed fervor and comes stumbling out of the spaceport into the multi-layered suburbia of the city. Sprawled across the valley floor are countless rows of stone and wood buildings, damp with the lingering remnants of the last monsoon. There’s enough light left from the waning twilight that Helios can make out a trail of lights leading from the city to the outskirts, somewhere in the foothills and encroaching slopes of the surrounding mountains and their impenetrable forests. When he focuses again, he’s rewarded with a subtle confirmation through the Force.

Fear is a powerful tool. He’s learned it well these past years, learned to accept its fury and its righteousness, learned how to stand strong against its current when it batters him against the short of his heart, and he knows now how to use it, to bend it to his will. So, when he pulls at that string again, he chases its responding cry and lets the sound drip down his spine to pool in his gut. But the string, he finds, doesn’t lead him to the chasm that sits at the edge of the valley, carved by water and the steady passing of time. It leads him to an apartment crowded beneath the canopy of a great tree.

Helios frowns. This is… not the temple of the Enchantress. He surveys the line of parked speeders and the clothesline strung from a branch to a window on the second floor, then the thinning streaks of paint on the front door - wood, oddly enough - and he wonders if he has finally lost himself to old age and idiocy. But no, no he hasn’t. Up on the second floor, behind the window, he feels a ripple in the Force, a cry that comes from within the mind rather than the mouth.

Sparing only a moment to ensure no one is around to watch, he closes his eyes and simply feels, his arm outstretched, his fingers curling around empty air. The Force shows him what he cannot see, it speaks to him in the voice he’s been hearing, the voice crying for mercy from a dream that cannot be eluded. A figure lies behind the window, curled up on a threadbare mattress and trembling in a thick fog of fear.

This is the string he had pulled, the dampness of your sweat slicking the web of fate as you fell further and further into your own despair. Helios marvels at the strength of it. No living Jedi or Sith should be capable of this much strength and vibrancy in the Force, not enough to entirely derail his focus and eclipse the signature of a vergence, but it might be possible if you were drawing upon the vergence. He knows first hand the sort of magic that can manifest itself in the wake of a vergence, intentionally or not.

The wooden door gives way easily to his persuasion, and the security chain on the inside hangs loose when he enters the apartment. A holoscreen on the far wall is playing something that looks vaguely Mandalorian and a figure sleeps on the sofa below, bathed in its light, but it isn’t you. He takes the stairs two at a time and steps into your room with hardly a sound beyond the gentle whisper of his cloak, and is rewarded with the image of you in your bed, your mouth and brows deeply furrowed as you twitch through your dreams.

A cursory glance is all he needs to view them. Terror and confusion go hand in hand here, elevated above a cascading wall of water that means to drown you. Helios hears a voice in the water, too distorted to fully discern but the pity reads loud and clear, accompanied by flashes of people and places that he can only assume are your own memories. It’s too much, too loud, too suffocating, and he stumbles out of your mind with enough force to drop himself to one knee.

It feels like twenty years pass in the recesses of his mind, twenty years of cycling through that awful day, the day that everything changed. He sees a mother’s face and her daughter’s eyes, and he very nearly suffocates under the weight of it, but he comes to in the end, breathless and crying and so very weak, but planted firmly in reality once more. Helios blinks. Then he blinks again.

You’re incredibly strong. Vergence or not, your sensitivity to the Force is enough to trigger his own memories. He studies you, letting his breath come back to him as he picks you apart like a puzzle he doesn’t have the capacity to solve. The Jedi should have found you as a child, yet you remain on Ushruu, unmapped and unknown like the very vergence he came here to find, and something deep inside him thrills at that realization.

Nearly twenty years worth of forgotten dreams flood his senses in a single instant. Things he thought he’d grown beyond, things he thought no longer served him, they call to him now in the light of your strength. The Force brought him here. It had to have done that for a reason. And suddenly, the pieces of his life tainted and marred by impulsivity and a broken desire for something more, they all come screaming into place.

Stumbling back onto two legs with all the grace of a drunken Devaronian, Helios understands now what he must do. He tries to sort out the fractured images of your soul that you branded upon him as he casts his eyes about your room, cataloging each printed holopic, streak of paint, and paper book he sees. He wants to make a map of you and connect the points between your bleeding heart and Force-fueled terror, and he hopes - more than anything - that he’ll find himself caught at one of your many crossroads.

The shop is quiet when you enter. The market outside continues to squabble and barter, of course, but here it feels faint and far away. The familiar scent of incense and freshly carved bark hits your nostrils as you drop down from one step to the next, steadily lowering yourself further into the heart of the room.

“Morning, Dada.”

The Aki-Aki glances up at the sound of her name, but quickly drops her head back to her work. “You’re annoyingly chipper. What’s wrong with you?”

“Saw your beautiful face and all my problems melted away.”

This time, when she looks up, her eyes stay fixed on you. “Don’t try your charm on me today, kijana.” She wags her wrench in your direction, thoroughly unimpressed. “You’re late again.”

A glance at the wall chrono confirms as much. It’s embarrassing, honestly, but explaining why will just make you sound even crazier than Dada already thinks you are. “I know,” you groan as you squeeze behind the counter. “I’m sorry. I’ll be early tomorrow, I promise.”

The datacenter beeps when it scans your comm, and its intercom clicks, stalls, then reboots before finally processing. “Daily shift: started. You are twelve minutes late.”

“Yeah, thanks, I know.”

Dada just shakes her head. She’s a kriffing saint for putting up with you for so long, but you’re not planning to ask her why she does just in case she changes her mind and fires you. “Deliveries are on the back step. You’ll have to stop by the old fishery.”

You’ve already meandered into the back room by then, but the mention of your destination already has you curling your lip. Just thinking about that place sends shivers up and down your spine, let alone actually having to go inside… There’s nothing you can do about it now except grin and bear it.

The screen door whines when you swing it open, which mercifully covers your frustrated mumbling. “Or you could just not sell to that old kook and then I wouldn’t have to go there, but that’s a silly idea, isn’t it?”

She doesn’t hear you, which is for the best, really. Dada needs the money as much as you do; she’ll sell to anyone with credits, doesn’t matter who, where, or what they are. It’s not her fault that place makes you want to crawl out of your skin and die.

Your speeder’s packed up several minutes later, the little hoverbox attached to the back filled almost to the point of overflow as it always is at the first of the month. A nicely patterned kerchief strapped in place over the top gives you enough confidence that nothing will be falling out along the way, and, with a final farewell and a promise to be back before sundown, you’re off.

It’s just late enough in the morning that most merchants have already opened their shops and formed their own tiny flocks of customers, but the crowd thins out the further you travel from Dada’s apothecary. When you come to the trickling edges of the city about an hour later, there’s hardly anyone around. It’s just you, the trees, and the fishery that waits for you at the end of a little dirt path, beaten down by the weight and wear of time and footsteps too numerous to count.

It’s just your imagination. That’s what you tell yourself every time you come here. The horrible, inky darkness that consumes your heart when you deliver old Brijul’s medicine, it’s just your mind playing tricks on you, summoning demons where there are none. The images that swirl behind your eyes, always bloody and violent and so, so dark, they’re nothing but the result of an overactive imagination, unchecked anxiety, and the generations worth of stories passed down from mother to child.

So why does your skin still crawl when the fishery comes rolling into view? Why do you look over your shoulder, terrified you’ll find something wicked and dark breathing down your neck? Why do you feel like you’re drowning every time you pass under its shadow?

Brijul’s a sweet old man. His hearing went long ago and so did the majority of his teeth, but he always greets you with a smile and an extra credit for your troubles. You tell him you hope he feels better soon, and he gestures his thanks, and then you speed out of there like the darkest depths of hell itself are biting at your heels, but the fishery and its shadowy, spindled fingers dig into your mind long after you’ve gone.

You pull over into the nearest unfenced yard and clamber off your speeder gracelessly, palms digging into your eyes as if you could claw yourself free of the voices, the watery deep, the faces of men long dead that rise each night to haunt you. You’re distantly aware of your knees hitting earth and the brush of grass on your face, but the sensations are muted in comparison with the visions, these hallucinations you’ve been cursed to endure. Over and over again, you see things you wouldn’t wish on any other soul - fire-streaked eyes that glow unnaturally in the dark, a faceless man with a blade of white-hot fire in his hands, the cold abyss that lies at the bottom of the river, calling you by name.

Make it stop, make it stop, please!

Something touches you and you scream, and the darkness fills your vision before suddenly flashing white. Your body catapults forward. There’s nothing for a very long moment, just the pounding of your pulse and the rush of blood in your ears, and the vaguely shaped idea of a world around you, bits of blue and a cacophony of green. And brown. Not the reddish-brown of the earth, but the coco-colored warmth of a hearth in the winter, streaked with soot. You blink, and then you realize it’s not a hearth at all, but a man.

“Are you alright?”

The streak of brown you’d seen a moment ago is his cloak. It looks far too big on him, like the billowing sleeves and large hood were made for someone of a greater stature. The soot marking his frame are his eyes and the shoulder-length bit of hair, dark as charcoal. How had you managed to confuse yourself so badly on the basics of the human form? The world spins around you as the man helps you to your feet, and you find yourself blanching in horror at just how lost you feel. It’s never been this bad before, not in your waking hours.

The man gently clasps your shoulder, and the pressure from his fingertips jolts you back into reality. He repeats the question, slower and with a lower intonation, as his eyes survey you.

“I-I’m fine. I’m fine, thank you.” You politely wave away his concerned expression. “I’m sorry. Was this, um, your yard that I crashed into? I can pay you back if I damaged anything.”

It’s not much of a crash seeing as your speeder’s still hovering in place exactly where it ought to be, but what else can you call it? A ‘day-terror induced panic attack’?

“Just passing by,” the man says after a minute. His hand is still settled on your shoulder. “Are you hurt? You screamed when I touched you.”

This is awful. It’s agonizing, feeling so exposed and awkward in front of a total stranger because of some stupid anxiety attack that you can’t even control. Your discomfort manifests first as a grimace, then morphs into something smile adjacent. “No, I’m okay. I think something might’ve stung me, that’s all.” And it’s the worst lie you’ve ever told.

The man narrows his eyes, not exactly suspiciously, but he’s clearly unfazed and unimpressed by your lie. He looks like he wants to say something, and you’re about to pry yourself out of his hands and book it, when a shout comes from across the yard. It’s the woman who lives here.

“Are ya alright?” she shouts from the stoop. “Ya took quite a tumble!”

Bless this woman, she’s kind and she’s the perfect distraction to tear yourself out of this stranger’s grasp. “Just fine, ma’am, thank you! I’ll be out of your hair in just a sec.” To the stranger you offer a nod of thanks. “I appreciate your help, sir, but I have to get back to work. Have a nice day, okay?”

He doesn’t say anything else, but his eyes linger. You feel them on your back until the road bends and takes you out of sight.

Discontent pools in your belly. This is turning out to be one of the worst days you’ve had in years.

taglist: @wolffegirlsunite @thatlittlered @evyiione @padawancat97

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Monday Lovely fandom. Not a ton in these episodes for them. Gonna combine these two. Thank you for idea D ❤️ These are my least fav of the season. Not gonna lie whenever I reach the Simone eps in a rewatch I skip around her stuff LOL Never resonated with me. So it’s funny the first ep is called Simone and I won’t really be covering her much at all. Probably be a shorter one with some crumbs. Let’s get going though shall we?

4x19 Simone/4x20 Enervo

We start off with an actual bang. John and Lucy respond to a suspicious activity call. It's near a power station in Griffith Park. They find a bomb and get out just in time but not before they’re thrown to the ground by the blast. They get thrown pretty damn far and are fairly banged up. It's insane how much damage they took even clearing the building.

Tim shows up to the scene and does a worried husband look I love. Checking in on her by doing a once over once he makes it to them. Does a silent check in as he reports it’ll take 12 hours to fix the damaged power station. The silent check in is everything. Once again it’s the little things I cherish especially in low content episodes. It's subtle but noticeable once you know it's there. Trying to contain his concern with her all banged up. It’s ok love your wifey is fine hehe

I love these two shots for quite a few reasons. One you know I love the tall/smol shots. I wish I could put into words why I love it so very much. It’s just aesthetically pleasing is one of the reasons I suppose. All I know is I’m a sucker for it. Second how in-sync they are in their movements and how they mirror one another in the second one.

Third the lack of personal space. Especially in that first gif. Theme of this season I adore so much. Always that gravitational pull of theirs. Lastly look at them. They’re gorgeous just standing next to one another. Also it is unfair Lucy is covered in dirt and soot and looks amazing still. Not fair haha

Oh right there’s a SL too LOL Not me just gawking at them haha The feds show up because this is a terrorist attack. They ask Nolan and Lucy about what they remember about the bomb. Nolan of course is no help. Smh Lucy is able to describe little better for them. FBI says they’re taking over from here. Grey fights it since John and Lucy were almost killed discovering the bomb. Garza concedes and they’re able to work together on this one.

We rejoin our ship headed towards National Guard Armory. They’ve deduced this guys real target was this. Reason he shut down the power was to gain access inside there. They’re en-route to catch him. They find out he’s already on the move and they’ve gotta catch him. Which leads us to this car chase. First off let’s note Lucy getting to drive in this intense moment. It is more common these days for them. I just love seeing Tim trust her so implicitly nowadays. That this is new normal for them. *heart clutch*

Control freak in him has eased up quite a bit with her at least. Maybe not with anyone else LOL Once again it's the little things to love. The spurts of growth. They make me happy. Anyways dude stole a friggin Humvee so taking him down will not be easy. Nolan says they need to stop this guy. No shit John...What do you think the purpose of this chase is? To have fun at a high speeds in a shop for kicks?

Sometimes the words out of his mouth floor me..and not in a good way. Tim is using his military experience in this moment. (Yum) Explains why that’s not going to be easy. He’s basically encased himself in a mini tank. Their usual pit maneuver isn’t going to work on this guy. Nolan offering up another solution. I adore the silent communication and the look. That automatic instinct to check in with each other. I'll never be over it. I love watching them in the field so very much. Just a well oiled machine. Tim is considering Nolan’s suggestion then checking in with wifey before executing it. Love it.

Tim explains their plan to Nolan while Lucy listens in. Tim advices they both hit the doors. Tells them it has to be at the same time though. To avoid the wheels at all costs. Lucy needing to know the why of course. Asks why they can’t hit the tires? Tim explains they’ll die and be a cautionary tale for future rookies LOL Gotta love Lucy questioning why they can't in the middle of a high speed chase. I'm sure she wasn't expecting that to be his answer ha.

Her comment about her mom cracks me up. Anything to prove to her mother she’s wrong and she is right about being a cop. Her first thought not being she’ll die. No it’ll be about her mother being right about her career choice. Lmao Oh Lucy Chen I love you. Also I relate to this train of thought all too well sadly. I do love her saying they’ll be disgraced together. Be more married please.

Tim doesn’t even fight her on this thought. Lucy basically saying if I’m going down you’re coming with. Tim isn’t fighting her at all. His silence is saying lead the way. They’re in this together and I love that so very much. Being a literal ride or die right now in this moment.

I love me some crumbs in a low content ep. Also only they could banter during a high pressure situation and still get the job done. I love them so much. They are successful but find out the driver isn’t their guy but a decoy. Wah Wah.

They regroup at the station after their chase. Nolan asking Lucy if she got any sleep? She then calls out Tim for getting some. Not only does she call him out but nicknames him 'Sleeping beauty.' Looking directly at him the entire time. Making sure he know she is talking about him and only him. All aboard the flirt train Nolan is an unwilling participant in the matter haha

Such blatant flirty flirts. Tim fires back a sassy reply to her jab. Just openly flirting and doing heart eyes out in the open. Ain’t no thang this season lol Shoots back not to be jealous he was allowed to sleep and she hasn’t. Lucy’s reaction is the best. That fond exasperation they’ve had all season long. So used to her husband antics at this point but has to let him know she’s annoyed at him. Damnit I love them sfm.

They end up finding his base of operations. Lucy of course breaking the case. Cause she’s brilliant finds a word he’s written down by doing an etching off a wall he used. ‘Enervo’ Garza telling them it means 'To deprive of power.' John asks Tim what the military’s first target is? I love watching Tim flex his military background again. It’s sexy af. Seriously gets me hot and bothered *fans self* Tim and Lucy cracking this case right open. You’re welcome everyone haha That’s it for this one. Low content one since it was meant to launch rookie feds. Next one has even less so this is why we’re combining them.

~~~

Side notes-Non Chenford

I do love when Nyla and Angela work together. Two bad ass woman just doing their jobs like confident BAMFS.

4x20 Enervo.

We find out he’s rented U-Haul’s and it’s going to take out the biggest roads with them. Crippling the city and killing thousands. They can't get a warrant right away to track them so everyone is in on the hunt. As always I love watching them in action in the field. That second gif their cop eyes have been activated. You can see them combing the street together. They’re so in-sync as they search the streets for one of the five U-Haul’s. I could go on and on about how much I love their work dynamic I really could. But I'll stop there ha

The trucks are divided up into states. Cause well that’s U-haul haha if you’ve ever driven one you’d know. Always got graphics or other states on them. One has already exploded unfortunately so they're down to 4 trucks that need to be found. Lucy and Tim spot ‘Florida’ and are in pursuit of it. I love how calm they look. They’re chasing down a bomb and look determined af. Like I said before well oiled machine. The gifs above represent that. They are poetry in motion in the field. What made 5x22 battle scene so epic. Was that on steroids ha

That’s kinda it for them in this one. I can add this last lovely gif of them in the field. Seeing how they move in motion together. It is impressive to see how in-sync they always are. Shared brain thing I love so much. I’m sorry there isn’t more. I mean it’s not my fault but I’m still sorry LOL

We shouldn’t hit this again. Even the light one in S5 is really good and would fill a review well so this will be the last scant ep for them. Probably won’t combine them again ha

~~~

Side notes-non chenford

Smitty reporting in he got ‘Utah’ Grey being ecstatic and saying he took back every negative thing ever said about him. Poor Smitty is all sad ‘You’ve said negative things about me?’ LMAO

Thank you as always for those who like, comment and reblog these reviews. You’re all amazing and I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know. Shall see you all in 4x21 :)

[desultory-novice]

Why do I see Magolor using his ship to look into other timelines, to which he ends up stumbling upon the timeline where Adeleine and Noir end up fusing into that... thing and ultimately die. (Or any alternate timeline of Apologies really, they're all despressing and messed up!)

He probably turned the screen off pretty fast.

[Requiem For a Mask]

-

Magolor:  "Heheheh... Kirby and friends will be SO surprised when they see these masks!" (And I'm giving them a two for one deal! Am I generous with my genius or what?)

Magolor:  "But what to do for Adeleine? No offense, but from what I've seen, she's pretty boring--...I MEAN! She's a good girl with a stable head on her shoulders!" (...No one heard me say that right??)

Magolor:  "But that makes it hard to imagine a good alternate mask for her. Maybe she gets more interesting in another timeline? Lor...? Do me a favor and search her dimensional signature for me!"

-

BZZT KSSH

Adeleine:"...You're not allowed to leave, Noir." Noir:"...I don't want to leave you either..."

-

Magolor:  "...Hmm? This looks different. ...I'd heard she had a brother, long, long ago. Is that what he looked like before he got turned into...?" (...You know what? I'm not ready to go there...)

-

King Dedede: "Hey, I think these two are still alive...!" Waddle Dee: "But...what are they...?" Meta Knight: "They don't look like anyone else alive on this planet." "Frozen remains of an extinct species?" "But how are they the only ones who..." King Dedede: "What they are is kids in need of help, obviously!" Meta Knight: "...Well, Kirby? It's your decision." (Hey, don't go above me! I'm the king here...!) Kirby: "I say we help them!"

-

Magolor:  "Ahh, yes, yes. And they get rescued! Happily ever after~! Just what I expected from Kirby and friends! ...Only difference I can see with her here is that she's not wearing that hat. Boy! Does that girl have a forehead you could park the Lor on or what? Heh he--"

-

Noir:"Adeleine...!! What did you DO to her?!" Dee Child: "We didn't do anything! We just asked if...!" Dee Child 2: "The ground!! It's turning to snow...?" Adeleine: "N...No...ir..." Dee Child: "Is that...her doing...?" Noir: "Don't TOUCH HER! Stay back...!" "...Stay away...from BOTH of us...!!"

-

Magolor:  "...Hmm? What's happening to...?" "O-Oh... Ohh Stars......."

-

""Is ts He un rk tr sa MD oe rm ea TS he ah nT Jo ut sn tI Mg yn Hi eh at ry tr .e Iv tE He ug rn tu sl IP no MT yt Sn oa uW lI""

-

Magolor:  "......Shut it off, Lor. Back out. Cancel the stream. Now."

- King Dedede: "Don'tcha hear them screamin' in there?!" Meta Knight: "...Of course I can! Which is exactly why we nee--!"

-

BZZT KSHOO

-

Magolor:  "................"

Magolor:  "...Boring is good, I think."

-

Magolor:  "Let's stick to boring."

-

-

-

-

Zero III's dialogue reads: "It hurts more than just my heart. It hurts in my Soul." "I want to plunge everything into the same Darkness."

-

Since we're here, I just wanted to take this moment to regale how hair-pulling it is to write Zero III's dialogue!

It starts with thinking up something somewhat fitting for both siblings to say (Adeleine's dialogue always leaning towards sad or naive, Noir's always leaning towards rage or guilt) then stretching and twisting and trimming till they are the exact same number of characters, which generally means making a good guess, finally flipping Noir's backwards and painstakingly inserting each letter after Adeleine's, one by one, until I realize I was off by ONE letter and have to start the WHOLE PROCESS over again!

This happens about three times per attempt. All to come up with a dialogue quirk that NO ONE can read and that I have to spoil what they say at the bottom of the post anyway! XD

-

Also, Magolor's feelings on Adeleine do not reflect my own!! I think she is a good girl (/genuine) and I apologize for writing up a bunch of timelines where awful things happen to her! (...Looking at my Marx, Magolor, DMK and others, that's kind of a theme with me, isn't it? ^^;;)

And while the sadness will continue for a while longer, I can assure you that Apologies DOES end with Adeleine, Noir, and the rest of their new family both safe and content!

[brunette-barbie4562]

Uncharted (Duff McKagan X OC)

Summary: Unsure of her next steps in life, Carreen Joy "CJ" Thompson finds herself taking a job working under the Guns N' Roses bassist Duff McKagan during the Not in the Lifetime... Tour. She faces the fast-paced and foreign world of rock n' roll, touring, and groupies, as well as blossoming taboo feelings for her boss.

-

Trigger warnings: Mentions of alcoholism and sexual themes.

-

9

May 2017

Estadio San Mames / Bilbao, Spain

The day of the concert, CJ had mimicked her routine that she had during the day of the Ireland show. Duff had decided to hit the gym while she stayed behind in the room, making sure all of his things were packed. She coordinated with staff to load his trunks to head to the stadium and then went to change to head over herself. She had seen little of Duff, other than to bring him his coffee earlier that morning. She figured she’d catch up with him later that day. Unlike the venue in Ireland, the stadium was a five-minute drive from the hotel, and it was a quick and easy ride for CJ.

All of Duff’s things were in his room backstage when she arrived, ready to be sorted through. Instead of beginning to unpack everything, CJ was caught up looking at herself in her new outfit in the mirror. She had so many new choices that it had taken her some time to decide. She had settled on something comfy but cute; a pair of form fitting dark red suede long pants that flared at the bottom of each leg. On top, she wore a matching halter crop top that had a deep plunging neckline. She had even bought a matching pair of suede ballet flats decorated with gold studs. She had accessorized it with a simple gold necklace and gold hoop earrings. After fighting with her thick curls, she had styled her long hair up into a high ponytail. Surprisingly, she had enjoyed the process of dressing up more than she had anticipated. She could definitely get used to it. Looking good felt good.

CJ noticed the clock on the wall behind her in the mirror and saw that it was getting close to the time that Duff would arrive, and she needed to get moving. She turned away from her reflection and began to unpack.

-

Duff got into one of the SUVs to head over to the stadium. It had been a good morning. CJ had brought him coffee, he ordered breakfast through room service, and then he had hit the gym before showering, spending some time talking to Grace and Mae, and getting dressed to head to the stadium.

To his surprise, the door on the other side of the car opened and in slid Vanessa, a black bag slung over her shoulder. His posture immediately stiffened. He had largely been able to avoid her so far on this leg of the tour. She smiled at him, hoisting her bag into her lap and shutting the car door.

“I forgot a few things and had to come back for them,” she said, referring to the bag full of photography equipment. “Thought I’d catch a ride.” Duff just nodded, unsure how to respond to her. The car left the parking lot, heading towards the stadium.

“Where’s your little assistant?” she asked.

“Waiting for me at the stadium,” he said. Vanessa pushed the bag down to her feet

“You could send her on a little errand when we get there,” she said, scooting a little closer to him. Duff had to confront it sooner rather than later. Although he thought he already had back in March. Despite it being clear from the beginning that their involvement was only sexual and nothing more, Vanessa had wanted more from him and gotten clingy. He had ended any involvement with her just before the last leg of the tour ended. The entirety of their intimacy had been during the tour through Asia, from January 2017 to March 2017.

“It’s not happening Vanessa,” he said, “We talked about this in March.” Her face fell into a scowl.

Duff had lightly dated a few women on and off since his divorce, but it was hard with his schedule to keep a consistent relationship going. He wasn’t entirely proud of the fact that there were times he had found a groupie or two to sleep with to scratch an itch.

Duff had carefully curated his image for years. Even during his younger years prior to sobriety, he had been lucid enough to have some forethought about his actions and how they might be perceived. While Slash, Axl, Steven, Matt, and Izzy had vocally torn up the town, he had tried to keep his less than desirable activities quiet, despite being intoxicated the majority of the time. There were a few times he had screwed up that he preferred not to think about. But most of these shenanigans had also taken place prior to the internet, which had helped immensely. He still occasionally became nervous at the thought of some of the details about what had gone on in the early 90’s at the wild and massive (usually naked) parties at his old Los Angeles house coming out. By the time he had truly and completely stopped caring about anything, including his image or his future, he had not had the energy or desire to act out anymore due to his failing mental and physical health. He was also in his second marriage with a fellow addict, meaning he didn’t have to leave his house to go find drugs and get high.

Duff had always had a deep desire to be a family man and settle down. It was a dream he’d been chasing his whole life. He had achieved it to a point, at least for 16 years. Since his divorce, there was the slight but constant underlying feeling of being unsettled. He attributed this feeling to seeing his own parents’ marriage fall apart literally in front of his eyes as a child and his subconscious desire to “fix” it. He knew it was maladaptive and probably related to the trauma of walking in on his own father cheating on his mother. But that feeling had remained in the back of his mind.

The SUV pulled up to the entrance door of the backstage area of the stadium and he felt relief wash over him. Before he could get out, Vanessa made one last remark.

“You’re crazy to think there’s even a shred of a possibility that that little girl would be interested in you. If that’s what’s stopping you from doing this,” she gestured between the two of them, “then you’re wasting your time.” He glared back at her in anger.

“Don’t talk about CJ,” he said. Before she could respond, he got out and shut the door behind him.

A security guard led him into the backstage building and then brought him to his room. Aggravated by his conversation with Vanessa, he opened the door with some force, only to walk in to find CJ, bent over a black stage bag, moving things around inside. She stood up to face him, smiling.

“Hey,” she said, “What’s up? You look pissed.” The anger left his body, and he released his tight grip on the doorknob when he saw her standing there, looking at him. She wore what he assumed was a new dark red two-piece outfit that she had picked up the other day with Meegan. However, anything else about the outfit went unnoticed. He instantly zeroed in on her chest. The top she was wearing made her already massive tits look insane. He corrected himself immediately and looked back at her face, feeling flustered. He was not that guy. He was not a pervert. But he had always been a “boobs guy.” It almost felt like some big joke, cooked up by Axl or Slash to get a rise out of him. Put Mindy’s smoking hot niece dangling in front of him and see how long he could go without cracking. CJ did not appear to notice and was still looking at him questioningly, that soft smile on her face. She took a step towards him, and he resisted the urge to take a step back and press himself up against the door.

“Are you feeling ok?”she asked with concern. So fucking sweet and innocent.

“Ya,” he said, clearing his throat. “I just need a bit of down time before we do soundcheck.”

“If you need anything, I’ll be on stage setting up.” She picked up the stage bag before moving past him to the door. Once she had left, he let out a breath of air that he realized he had been holding since he walked into the room and saw her.

Duff sat down on the couch, trying to settle himself down. Before he had the chance, a knock on the door made him groan in frustration. The door opened and he turned to see who would come in uninvited. His defenses were lowered when Mark Lanegan walked in, and a smile broke out on his face.

“Hey Mark!” He stood up to give his friend a quick hug. He hadn’t seen him in some time. Another fellow-Washingtonite and musician, Duff had known Mark since the 1990’s. They had collaborated on work together and shared a stage in the past. Mark had also struggled with addiction. Duff had managed to get sober before him and when Mark left rehab in the late 90’s, Duff had enlisted him to watch his house to give him something to do and stay clean. Mark and his band would be opening for Guns N’ Roses that day and for a few future shows, and it had slipped Duff’s mind in the last hour.

“Hey man,” said Mark, “It’s so good to see you!” They stepped back out of their hug. “We just got here, I had to come find you. How’ve you been? How’s the new leg of the tour going?”

“It’s been interesting,” said Duff, sitting back down on the couch heavily. Mark joined him on the other side.

“Interesting?” asked Mark. They were interrupted when the door opened unexpectedly again. CJ re-appeared.

“Hey, sorry I forgot my phone.” She paused, seeing Mark sitting there. “Oh, sorry if I interrupted, I can come back.” She turned to leave.

“No, you’re good,” said Duff. “Mark this is my new assistant, CJ. CJ, this is my good friend Mark. He will be doing the opening act today.” Mark stood up and CJ moved forward to shake his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said with a smile.

“Likewise,” said Mark, sitting back down. “How are you enjoying your time with all of the elderly?” CJ laughed at him.

“It’s been amazing so far,” she said. “I am very grateful to be here.”

“Duff and I were just catching up before I go get ready to play,” said Mark. “We’ve known each other a very long time. But he didn’t tell me he had a lovely new assistant.” CJ smiled and her face slightly reddened.

“Thank you,” said CJ. There was a moment of awkward silence and Duff wanted to tell CJ to stay, knowing Mark would harass him once they were alone again.

“Well, I’m gonna get back to it,” said CJ, breaking the silence. “I’ll see you both in a bit.” She grabbed her phone off the side table and left the room. As he expected, once CJ shut the door Mark instantly turned to him with a smirk.

“You’re an old tom cat,” he said.

“I know how it looks-” began Duff.

“Oh, it’s definitely how it looks,” said Mark, with a laugh.

“It’s not that way, I swear. I asked Axl to find me an assistant and he hired her on. She’s his old friend’s niece. It was not my choice to have a 20-something year old girl as my assistant Mark.” He didn’t respond but instead gave Duff a look, the smirk still plastered all over his face.

“You don’t think I know how this looks?” said Duff, gesturing towards himself in frustration and leaning over. “I’m just waiting to see something online about it. I didn’t know she was a woman until the day she arrived in Ireland, I assumed it was a man. I couldn’t turn her away.”

“Ok, ok I believe you,” said Mark, still amused.

“She does a good job and she’s so eager and happy to be here. I can’t be an asshole and send her back to California.” Duff did not want to admit he also greatly enjoyed CJ’s company beyond the parameters of her employment. Mark had pulled out his phone and appeared to be scrolling.

“What are you doing?” asked Duff, slightly annoyed.

“Hold on a sec,” said Mark, still scrolling. After a moment he looked back up at Duff.

“I don’t see anything online about it, at least on social media,” he said.

“I’ve been avoiding social media,” said Duff, “I’m waiting for one of my girls to send me some gross tweet or tabloid article about it.”

“Well, you are one of the few rockstars who isn’t married to a woman 20 to 30 years younger than him.” Duff detested being called a rockstar, but coming from Mark, he’d let it go.

“I don’t want to be that guy,” said Duff.

“Hey, no judgement from me man, either way,” said Mark. “If its consensual there’s nothing wrong with it. She’s an adult, she’s not underage.”  

“It’s not and won’t be like that,” said Duff, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees while holding his face in his hands, looking towards to the wall.

“Relax,” said Mark, “The people who matter know the truth. You also don’t have those scary, rabid-type fans like Axl does to worry about. You know, nobody that’ll try to bust her kneecap or anything.”

“I have a few,” said Duff, raising his eyebrows at the thought of Vanessa and a couple of the women he’d come into contact with over the past several years.

“Relax, man, it’ll be fine,” said Mark reassuringly. Duff didn’t feel reassured, the thoughts in his head still swirling.

-

CJ sat in her designated side position on the stage. Duff and the others were ready to go on in about 20 minutes and she had decided to spend her free time watching the end of Mark’s opening act. Unlike Slane Castle, the San Mamés Stadium was partially indoors, with the huge ceiling open to the air. The crowd had filled in, anticipating Guns N’ Roses’ arrival on the stage.

CJ felt the presence of someone behind her. She tiled her head to see Duff standing there, hidden from the crowd by a barrier. His face looked down at her, upside down from her position.

“He puts on a great show!” she said. Duff couldn’t hear her over the music and leaned down so he could hear her speak. “Great show!” she said, repeating herself for him.

“He’ll be with us for the next few shows,” said Duff. He stood back up straight and watched the show for a few more minutes before heading backstage.

Mark and his band wrapped up their show and exited the stage and the lights dimmed down. It wouldn’t be long now. She pulled out her phone to scroll mindlessly for a bit.

“Hey, are you looking for a gig buddy?” She looked up to see Meegan take a seat next to her, holding two glasses of wine.

“Always,” said CJ smiling. Meegan handed her one of the glasses of wine. “But aren’t you sitting on the other side?”

“Not tonight,” said Meegan, “I’m gonna come sit with you, Slash will survive one show without me over there.” CJ took a sip of the wine, noting that it was a white wine. “I remembered that you prefer white, I brought a bottle of it along.” said Meegan. “We don’t usually have alcohol around at shows, but I thought one bottle for you and me to share together as a little celebration to kick off the beginning of your first tour would be nice.”

“Is Duff ok with it? Do you think I should ask him?” said CJ nervously, not wanting to seem like she was drinking on the job.

“I already did,” said Meegan, “He’s said it was fine.”

“Thanks!” she said, feeling grateful for Meegan’s companionship.

CJ had had friends before. As a child, she had been a bit of a loner, feeling very alienated from the other children given her trauma. But going on to middle school, high school, and then college, she had learned to develop friends. She had had a solid group of friends in college. But after graduation, people had understandably moved away, become parents, gotten married, or become wrapped up in a new career. CJ had struggled to maintain adult friendships, especially being a natural introvert. It also didn’t help that she had attended California State in Sacramento, which was about 3 hours from Redding, making it difficult to physically see people that had lived close to the campus after she had moved back home. However, there was one friend she kept in frequent contact with. While most of her college friends had fallen off the radar, Jess Timmer had stayed. They spoke on the phone at least three times a month and texted weekly. CJ had gone to visit Jess in Portland, Oregon last year, where she lived.

Jess and CJ had met in their sophomore year of college and become fast friends, bonding over their love of The Office and hiking. They had a few classes together and made a group of mutual friends. During the day, on the weekends, they spent time outside in nature, away from the city. The nights were spent partying in dorm rooms or at local bars. CJ spent Freshman year shy and searching for a solid social connection. Sophomore year, she had finally found the social connection when she met Jess. Things took a turn downward in her junior year, when she met her most recent ex-boyfriend, which had led to a tumultuous relationship that had ended in her senior year. Through all of it, Jess had been a supportive friend. They could go weeks without speaking and still pick up right where they left off. CJ made a mental note to text Jess at some point later to catch up. Things had happened so quickly she hadn’t had time to reach out and let her know about her new employment.

“I love this outfit,” said Meegan, looking her up and down. “I remember you trying this on in the store.”

“Ya, it’s very comfy too,” said CJ, running her hands over the soft suede material of the pants. As ridiculous as it was, a weird part of her had wished Duff had said something to her about it, a small compliment or even acknowledgment.

The lights dimmed even further and the backdrop graphics lit up, similar to how they had back in Slane. The crowd began to cheer deafeningly as they waited for the band to appear. CJ’s heart pounded, feeling her adrenaline pump. She wondered if that feeling would go away with the more shows she worked.

Duff came out, strumming the opening of It’s So Easy. He quickly glanced at her and Meegan sitting side stage and then walked out to his mic on the right side of the stage. Meegan nudged her and handed her a setlist. CJ had glanced at it earlier, only to see when Duff would be changing his wardrobe, and she would be needed. Meegan pointed to a song title that was down the middle of the page. She leaned closely to CJ’s ear to speak over the music.

“Attitude, that’s the song Duff covers. He’s always covered it, even back in the 90’s.” CJ enjoyed Axl’s performance and vocals but was eager to hear more of Duff sing.

The band breezed through the first several songs before CJ got up to help Duff do a quick wardrobe change. Like before, she tried to stay focused when he tore his shirt off and she handed him the new one. It was one of the same shirts he had worn during the show in Slane. CJ looked back at the table and realized most of what she had set out for him to change into was the same clothing from the previous show.

“Do you only wear like the same five shirts?” she said playfully.

“Maybe,” he said with a smile, yanking the fresh shirt down over his head. He turned away and took his bass back from the tech. CJ looked at the setlist again and saw that Attitude would be next. She quickly took her seat again next to Meegan.

When she heard the first few moments of the song it sounded vaguely familiar. Perhaps, something Mindy may have played in the house when she was a kid. CJ pulled out her phone and recorded for about 30 seconds before sending the video to Jess, without typing an explanation. She wanted to see her reaction. Jess was a big music lover and CJ knew the video would excite her, especially since it was taken from stage level, behind the band. CJ slid her phone back in her pocket, watching the rest of Duff’s performance. It was a quick song, but CJ thoroughly enjoyed it, standing up to clap when Duff finished. He turned and met her gaze with a smile, before turning back to the cheering crowd.

-

The band had lingered for a bit, Duff taking more time to talk to Mark and the others spending time catching their breath before heading back to the hotel. With her need to be a responsible employee over, CJ had allowed Meegan to refill her glass along with her own. It had been awhile since she had had more than one drink of anything and she had always been a bit of a lightweight.

By the time it was time to go, CJ had finished the second glass, and she was a little tipsy.

She got into the SUV and noticed Duff laughing at her as he got in next to her.

“What’s so funny?” she said.

“You,” he said. “How many glasses did you have?”

“Two,” she said.

“Two?!”

“Yes two, why is that so funny?” she said.

“You, getting tipsy on two glasses of wine.”

“I am not tipsy,” she said.

“Yes, you are.”

“How do you know?” she said defensively.

“Because I know,” he said, “Trust me.”

“Well then, why don’t you join me.”

“Because I can’t drink, I was-, well I AM an alcoholic.” The seriousness of his statement suddenly sobered her up and she was horrified.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she said, “I didn’t know.”

“You’re fine,” he said, “It doesn’t bother me when other people are drinking around me. I’ve been sober from alcohol for 23 years, almost as long as you’ve been alive.” His reassurances didn’t make her feel any less like a piece of shit. She should have known. Meegan’s statement about alcohol not being around at shows suddenly made sense.

“Hey, you’re fine, I promise,” he said, more sternly, seeing her disturbed expression. “You couldn’t have known. You didn’t trigger me or anything.”

“Ya, but-” Suddenly the car took a hard right, their driver letting out a slew of angry words in Spanish. He had turned the car sharply to the right to avoid hitting a careless driver coming into their lane. Having forgotten to buckle herself in, CJ let out a yelp of surprise as she was thrown to the other side of the car, landing face down across Duff’s lap. Now ten times more mortified than before, she quickly sat back up and scooted back to her seat.

“Sorry,” was all she could muster, trying to smooth out her disheveled outfit and hair, all sense of intoxication having left her body to be replaced with embarrassment.

“Seatbelt,” he said, reaching across her and grabbing it, pulling it down across her and clicking it into place. “Remember, your aunt will kill me.”

They were silent for the rest of the short car ride. When they got back to the hotel, they quickly made their way upstairs, trying to avoid any after-show crowds waiting for him. The painful silence continued in the elevator and CJ needed to say something, anything.

“The song you sang tonight,” she said, “sounded familiar.”

“Oh, ya,” he said. Her statement appeared to bring him out of deep thought. “It’s one of my favorites, originally by The Misfits.” CJ recognized the band name as one that Mindy enjoyed.

“I’ve heard it before,” said CJ, “I’m pretty sure Mindy played it more than once when I was a kid.”

“You know, despite our differences, your aunt and I always had similar taste in music,” said Duff. The pair stepped out of the elevator and walked down the hallway towards their rooms. He walked her to her door, and she paused, wanting to say more to him, not wanting the night to end so awkwardly. But she couldn’t think of anything. Instead, she could only turn to him and say,

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

-

After dropping CJ off at her room, Duff had made his way down to the ground floor. He usually had room service bring him food after a show, not wanting to leave his room. But he needed to go on a walk to clear his head and try to get some energy out. He was always exhausted after shows. He’d eat, ice his legs, shower, and go to sleep. But tonight, he was very awake. His mind wouldn’t let him forget the feeling of CJ splaying across his lap in the car. Her exhale of surprise blowing on a small area of his bare skin, exposed between his shirt and pants, only a few inches from his cock. The way she looked when she sat back up, taking a moment to re-adjust those tits in her shirt. Her face had been flushed from the wine and her hair had been a wild mess, how he imagined it would look after a round of rough sex.

Duff approached an employee standing behind the bar. The employee must have recognized him, his eyes widening when he looked up and saw Duff standing there. The restaurants were typically closed by the time they got back to the hotel, but they always saved food for the band in the back.

“Hey, I’m here to pick up food,” he said, “I’m with Guns N’ Roses.”

The employee nodded and quickly disappeared into the kitchen. As Duff leaned against the bar, he heard someone approach him on his right side. He looked up to see a blonde woman, probably slightly younger than him. She was standing there, looking at him and he vaguely recognized her. She was one that followed the band around and was always on the rail. A groupie.

“Duff,” she said, looking up at him from underneath her eyelashes. “Great show tonight.” She was calm and collected, very different from other fans who approached him with excited energy.

“Thanks,” he said, “Glad you enjoyed it.”

He knew what she wanted. It felt wrong, but a part of him wanted it too. The other part of him knew it was a poor idea. Every time he had hooked up with a groupie on this tour he had regretted it. But tonight, his mind and body were so wound up from the incident with CJ in the car, it was clouding his judgement. Just go back to your room and jerk off. Walk away.

The employee came back and placed his boxed-up food on the counter. He grabbed it and turned to the woman. He got a better look at her, as she continued to look up at him from underneath her lashes. She was his type, and he needed a distraction. As much as a part of him was telling him to stop, fucking someone else might take his mind off CJ.

“Let’s go,” he said.

-

March 2018

Mindy’s House / Redding, California 

CJ pulled a knit sweater over her head and immediately turned to look at her side profile. It had been a week since her doctor’s appointment and every day she had checked for changes, feeling paranoid. Nothing yet. She was hoping to find a place to rent before the weather got warm and any bump she would develop would no longer be hide-able. There was a sharp knock at her bedroom door.

“Hey, you ready to go?” It was Mindy, waiting for her to head to work. They took the same vehicle, with no need to take two.

“Ya, coming!” She quickly grabbed her backpack. Going back to work, eating more, and re-joining society had had an immediate positive effect on her wellbeing. The color had returned to her skin, most of her bruising had faded, and she could think more clearly. It did suck to have to do work mostly one-handed. The cast would be off in a few weeks, and she’d be doing physical therapy and be good as new.

CJ opened the door and made her way into the kitchen. Mindy was waiting by the door, distracted and typing on her phone. CJ grabbed a breakfast bar off the counter and followed Mindy out the front door. The cold winter air woke her up a bit as she slid into the passenger seat of Mindy’s car. Michelle was already gone, having left for the veterinary clinic hours ago.

They made their usual morning Starbucks coffee run, something that CJ had been declining the past few days to avoid the caffeine.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” asked Mindy, pulling into the drive through lane.

“No, I’m good, I’ll stick with the water.” Mindy raised an eyebrow at her, perplexed with CJ’s rejection of coffee.

“Are you on a new health kick or something?” asked Mindy.

“I am actually,” said CJ, not meeting Mindy’s questioning gaze. “I’m trying to take care of myself and cut out caffeine.” Mindy let it go and didn’t press for a longer explanation, just happy her niece was out and about again.

-

CJ’s office area was in a small room attached to Mindy’s much larger office. There were other employees around that she interacted with during the day, but she spent most of her time in her office or running errands for Mindy.

Fridays were always slow and with not as much to do she found herself Googling, looking at different psychology graduate school programs. If she went back to school, she could work towards her goal of becoming a therapist and better herself for the baby. She had always had a dream of attending Stanford University, with its doctoral program being so highly regarded. However, she was unsure if going back to school with a newborn was a good idea. She’d give birth in August and have to go straight into classes when the semester started if she applied for fall of 2018. There were no graduate psychology programs anywhere near Redding. Online schools were hit or miss, and she preferred on ground learning. Moving somewhere for school would put her in a position where she would have no nearby support and have to search for a new job. Childcare was ridiculously expensive, more than she could afford.

Frustrated, CJ exited out of the browser, telling herself she’d return to the dilemma later. She went to open her work email inbox and accidentally clicked onto her personal inbox. There was one unread email and ironically, it was from her alma mater, advertising an alumni day. She quickly opened it to mark it as read and then exited out. But it made her mind drift to her college days and eventually, back to Jess.

She hadn’t spoken to Jess since the end of the tour, shutting her out with the rest of the world. She had received a few concerned texts and calls from Jess, but they had gone unanswered. She felt bad about it, having unintentionally cut out her longest standing friend.

CJ pulled out her phone and stared at it, wondering how Jess would respond if she texted her now. Would she be angry? Maybe not if CJ explained things. She opened her contacts list and clicked on Jess’ number. What could she say. She sat for a moment and then began to type.

Hey, we need to talk.

[millibee]

hey! i'm not usually one to write or anything so this will probably not come to fruition but i've spent the last few days coming up with a prequel to aa1 centring mia fey as she finds her feet establishing her own law firm and moving on from all the stuff with diego and dahlia and misty.

this also would hypothetically be a lanamia thing with lana as the main prosecutor! also phoenix is the designated weird girl and it would kinda show his transition from how he is in turnabout memories to how he is in aa1.

i've ironed out what some of the plot points and crime scenes would be (e.g one at a picnic in the park, one at a sports stadium, one in kurain village etc), with themes of family (as mia's parents left her and she left maya to be a lawyer in the big city) and a tension between her and lana as this is post sl-9 and lana is all cold and quiet and not like she used to be when they were students together (but would warm up to mia again as it goes on)

but yeah i'd love to put a few polls up here for you guys to help decide a few things i'm completely stumped about - and if anyone has any ideas or wants to contribute or anything feel free to put it in tags or send me an ask or anything and i'll try to reply if i still have the motivation to continue with this !! i'm very artsy but not really a storyteller so i feel out of my depth even putting this out there

also i know there have been plenty of similar fan cases too about mia but idk i fancied having a go myself

anyways here's the first question - since phoenix is gonna be assisting every other case would it be boring to have him also in the tutorial case? or would it make more logical sense as then mia can explain the gameplay mechanics to someone (although no one reading this will not already have played an ace attorney case) or would grossberg be a better fit just for case 1 like in turnabout memories? or maybe someone different like maya or mia could even go solo idk

[thecourtscorkboard]

Rise From the Ashes (1-5: Part One)

2005 was a landmark year. North Korea announced it had nuclear weapons, the Xbox 360 was released, and Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney was given a new case—Rise from the Ashes.

Rise From the Ashes (1-5) is the grand finale to Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney: a mystery that revolves around a grand conspiracy, a culture of unabashed corruption, and a climax two years in the making. Phoenix is called to defend Lana Skye, a chief prosecutor arrested for a murder that she has confessed to!

Interestingly, Rise From the Ashes was not in the original Japanese releases of the game. It came out alongside the English translations. Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney closes on one of my favorite pieces of fiction ever written, no joke. Let's jump right into it!

THE CORE CAST:

Phoenix Wright: Four trials in and already proven to be an incredibly gifted lawyer, Phoenix's sudden hiatus after Maya's departure is finally broken.

Ema Skye: A high school student with a vested interest in forensic investigation, Ema takes Maya's place as Phoenix's assistant and co-counsel. (she's also my favorite character in the series :3)

Miles Edgeworth: 1-3, 1-4, and 1-5 make up a trilogy of incredibly important character growth for Miles, and he's at his best here: his cold veneer is broken, with his need for the truth finally at the forefront, but two paths equally parallel laid before him.

Dick Gumshoe: Dick once again returns as our resident gumshoe, serving as one of the detectives on this case and a vital ally.

THE MAIN CAST:

Lana Skye: The case's defendant and a chief prosecutor. Notably not the Chief Prosecutor and notably cold and callous towards anyone... including her own sister.

Damon Gant: Chief of Police. Veteran detective. Swimming enthusiast. A key character in this case, Damon Gant is the police's poster boy for efficient investigation and operations as well as Gumshoe's boss's boss.

Jake Marshall: A patrolman who has taken control of the investigation through raw Texan power. Has the best theme song in the entire game and a penchant for thinking he's in 1901.

Angel Starr: A key witness with an uncertain connection to Lana. A food truck owner and operator who specializes in boxed lunches and polyamorous relationships.

THE SECONDARY CAST:

Mike Meekins: A police officer who later proves to be an important figure in discovering the truth. Annoying as all Hell, but it's hard not to smile at his passion.

Bruce Goodman: A detective and the victim of this case, found stabbed to death in the trunk of a car in the Prosecutor's Office parking lot. A great detective and a good man.

Neil Marshall: A former prosecutor who was killed at the hands of Joe Darke in the SL-9 Incident. The elder brother of Jake Marshall.

Joe Darke: A spree killer and former businessman executed for the murders of 5 people, including Prosecutor Neil Marshall, in 2014.

A BRIEF RECAP

A thunderclap. The skyline of Los Angeles rushes past the camera, rain falling down in sheets. A person raises a knife and brings it down: and suddenly the camera shifts! Two people are stabbing two other people at two separate locations at the same time? What's going on here?!

Perhaps one of the coolest opening cinematics in the entire series.

Investigation, Day One

It's been two months since 1-4. In those two months, Phoenix hasn't taken a single case: Maya's leaving has affected him that much, it seems. Poor guy. He's still returning to the office every day, and today's no exception. Except... there's somebody here before us!

...and somebody who's getting her news a year late, apparently.

Meet the myth, the legend, the wonderfully AuDHD (SHE JUST LIKE ME FR), Ema Skye! Oh, Ema, my beloved! She'll be our main assistant for this case, but right now, she's just requesting our services. Phoenix moves to say "no" as always, but when Ema brings up her sister, he can't help but think of Maya. Reluctantly, Phoenix agrees to hear her out. Talking with Ema, we get to learn the basics of the case: her sister has been arrested for murder. We also learn that she's a scientific investigator! Or, er, will be. In three years. Right now, she's just a junior. (We also get some 2-4 foreshadowing; if you investigate the window, Phoenix says that the Gatewater Hotel is planning to open up a new branch outside Los Angeles!)

Ema tells us that her sister was seen by a witness stabbing somebody with a knife. Greeeeeat. Welp. Remember 1-4? We've worked with less. We also get to learn Ema's backstory: her parents died in a car accident when she was still young, with Lana being the only family she still has. Agreeing to go to the detention center to talk to her sister, we go there and meet this case's defendant.

Lana Skye, chief prosecutor. No, not Chief Prosecutor, silly; that's Blaise Debe- er... Excelsius Winner. There's chief prosecutors and the Chief Prosecutor. Get it? Got it? Good.* Anyways, Lana has told Ema not to come nor to get her a lawyer: was she planning to take the state-assigned one? Maybe she really did do it.

*My headcanoned explanation for this is that Lana is the chief prosecutor of the district while Excelsius/Blaise is the Chief Prosecutor for the entire State of California.

She's rather adamant about her guilt...

It took place yesterday at 5:15. The witness saw her stabbing the victim very clearly, and it took place in the underground parking lot of the Prosecutor's Office: in the trunk of a subordinate's car, no less. The victim was a detective, stabbed once in the stomach. The victim being a detective... it will be considered a matter of pride for the police department to convict her. They'll go to any lengths... oh, man.

As a chief prosecutor, she oversees every single trial handled in the district. No wonder she's heard of Phoenix! Raising her hand to her chest, Ema notices a bandage: Lana says that she cut her hand open when she stabbed the victim. Greaaaaaaat. So not only is there a witness, there's evidence on her fuckin' body. Moving onto Lana's relationship with Mia, which Ema brought up earlier, Lana gives us a rather frank overview of their relationship.

"Intellectually attracted" my ass.

Lana tells us the facts: she is admitting her guilt. There's no way we can take this case, right? Ema lashes out at Lana, saying that she's being selfish; she's adamant that Lana isn't the killer, lamenting that without Lana she'd be left alone and going as far to say that she hates her sister. Lana turns around, telling us to leave, but not without telling us that it's in our hands now. We're officially on the case! Something definitely doesn't fit, and we're gonna figure out what that something is.

Ema tells us that Lana's changed over the years: she used to be far kinder. What's going on, exactly? In any case, we move on to the underground parking lot. Yep. This is the scene of a murder. White tape and all! We also get to meet our third character of the case: Officer Jake Marshall!

Cue Gunsmoke!

Gah, I love this guy. Officer Marshall seems to be in charge of the investigation; he tells us to leave, but we take a look around. The first thing that pops out is a wallet on the ground. Ema tells us to put it in our pocket. We do, and we take a closer look at it: in this case's first gimmick, 3D investigation! We open up the wallet and see who it belongs to. Sergeant Bruce Goodman, a detective with the police department. Could he be our victim? Trying to investigate the scene a bit closer, we get stopped by Marshall. We get to ask him a question, though. Who owns that car (apparently a Mustang)? Well, he tells us. The car belongs to somebody in the Prosecutor's Office: whoever is in Room 1202. Marshall tells us to stay away, so we do just that, but not before being stopped by... a lunchlady. Huh. A lunchlady calling herself the "Cough-Up Queen", no less. And she has clearance? Apparently she's connected to the case. The images are burned into her eyes; oh, she's the witness! Welp, that's Angel Starr for you.

Angel tells us that yesterday a prosecutor was awarded a "King of Prosecutors" trophy. She has a massive grudge against prosecutors, it seems: just our luck that our client is a prosecutor. Apparently, whoever they awarded the trophy to is the owner of the car; the most "evil prosecutor of all". But von Karma's in prison. No...

Angel tells us what she witnessed: Lana Skye undeniably had a knife and stabbed the victim and Angel saw it happen firsthand. Apparently she even has a personal connection to Lana! Hmm. Something is going on here... asking about Angel, she comes here every day to serve boxed lunches. Her boyfriend works as the security guard, apparently. Her vendetta against prosecutors is pretty deep; wonder if she got into trouble. Anyways, we've expended our talking options, so we head up to Room 1202. Wonder who it belongs to-

Oh!

Apparently Ema knows who Edgeworth is; and has a bit of a crush on him. Don't blame her. The body was indeed found in, in Ema's words, a "nasty bright red sports car"... that happens to be Edgeworth's. Can I just say that I love how much fun Edgeworth is having in this scene? He's very clearly having a blast teasing Ema with her constant slip-ups and I love that for him. In the "that would be my car" line I like to imagine he's trying really hard not to laugh. We get to talking with Edgeworth about the case: he's the prosecutor for this case, and he has to prove her guilt! Edgeworth says that he's surprised he's still in the Prosecutor's Office. After all, rumors have surrounded him for years. Phony evidence, false confessions... the Demon Prosecutor, even though DL-6 is over, still lives. Edgeworth is innocent of both murders; but what about this murder?

Edgeworth was given the King of Prosecutors trophy yesterday, it seems. Edgeworth and Lana apparently worked on a case two years ago: his first big one. It looks like they don't have a good relationship, though. After all... the victim was stabbed in his car with his knife. Man. This winter has been harsh for Edgeworth, huh? The King of Prosecutors trophy is sent to the best prosecutor every year: it doesn't seem like he's a big fan of it, though. I wonder why- actually, nevermind. We know why.

Talking a bit more about the King of Prosecutor's Trophy, Edgeworth tells us he had to go all the way to the Police Department to receive it. He received it yesterday, so we talk about yesterday; it was "cleaning day", when evidence for solved cases is sorted and filed to make room for new cases. He got back at 5:12, only three minutes before the murder. After talking to Edgeworth, we're interrupted by a police officer. He's here at the request of the "Chief", apparently, to give Edgeworth a report. Edgeworth turns him away after learning there's no evidence against Lana in the report, taking his name: Officer Mike Meekins. Edgeworth tells us to leave, so we do.

The Police Department has some weird... thing in front of it. Right: the "Blue Badger", the new mascot of the police force. Ema seems to know about the Blue Badger. Someone's dancing next to it. Running up to us, it's... Gumshoe! Talking to him, we get a little bit more information on the case: he tells us not to defend Lana. Well, about that. At the very least, we do get confirmation that the victim is the card's owner, Bruce Goodman. That's not important, though. Gumshoe's been kicked out of Criminal Affairs! Only the highest-rank people are allowed in the Police Department: the lowest-ranking member is the Chief of Detectives, and the Chief of Police is directing the investigation itself! Is it just me, or does something smell besides the Butz?

Apparently, Goodman wasn't at the police department yesterday. He was assigned to evidence transferal... for a case two years ago. That's rather familiar, isn't it? Apparently, Lana called him out to the parking lot. That's the theory, at least. All the rumors about Edgeworth really kicked up after the murder of Robert Hammond. People are, naturally, suspicious of a nearly-perfect prosecutor. There's a rumor that he's taking the prosecution solely to take Lana's position for himself! Before we leave, Gumshoe tells us something. Officer Marshall was assigned to this case by the Chief of Police himself. Aw, man. Gumshoe gives us a letter of introduction, letting us investigate the crime scene! We give it to Marshall and he lets us investigate! Yay!

We're given the autopsy report: Bruce Goodman was stabbed with a knife once, dying within an hour and a half of 4 PM (so anywhere between 4:00 to 5:30). Yep, that lines up. Sliding on over to the scene of the crime, we find a phone on the ground. Turns out...

This places her at the scene of the crime when the victim was murdered... great.

She tried to call someone. Our phone rang when we pressed re-dial... did Lana try to call us? Nope. Turns out it was just a wrong number. Prrrrrobably. Hopefully. Checking out Edgeworth's trunk, we find a piece of paper: "6-7S 12/2", on Goodman's own stationery. Huh. Weird. As we're leaving, we press the re-dial button on Lana's phone. The Steel Samurai theme starts playing. It was Ema's phone, not ours! The last person Lana called was Ema; why did she hide this from us? Lana hung up right after calling Ema at 5:18. Well... what a way to end our first day of investigation.

Trial, Day Two

We meet Lana in the Defendant's Lobby. She tells us the exact opposite of what Mia told us: to never believe in our clients. We tell Lana that she reminds us of Mia. Edgeworth calls Angel Starr to the stand, running a food truck for her job. We're told that, until two years ago, Ms. Starr was actually a detective! Two years ago... again? What happened two years ago?

Angel tells us that the parking lot is divided into two blocks: A Block, for prosecutors and staff, and B Block, for visitors. She gives her first testimony, stating that she saw Lana stab Goodman in the chest with her right hand. Pressing Angel a bit further, she says that she felt it in the air; apparently her bias against prosecutors comes from her being fired as a detective! Well, doesn't that mean she's biased against the defendant, who's the chief prosecutor? Not with the photo she took of the crime scene!

You, uh... have a stain.

Now, now. Isn't that interesting? After all, I can't see a knife anywhere in this photo. Edgeworth responds with a very simple "Objection." The photo was taken after the stabbing. Starr said that she took the picture the moment she saw the crime, though: but this contradiction isn't much. She just misremembered! Adamant and spiteful, Angel claims that the murder was premediated due to Lana's wearing gloves. Presenting the knife, the courtroom starts murmuring once we reinforce that it is Edgeworth's. Speaking of that knife: if the murder was premeditated, why would she not bring her own knife? "When you plan a murder, you don't forget the weapon!"

Edgeworth is pretty quick to counter, though. After all, it's not his theory. It's solely Angel's. She's very adamant about it being planned, though! Why does she care so much? Angel says that Lana stabbed Goodman over and over, even though the autopsy report only says that he was stabbed once. Wait, Edgeworth takes over our objection! Asshole. Starr says that she just mistook something else for blood, thinking that was from Lana stabbing Goodman; her red muffler.

But she's not wearing a muffler in that picture, is she? Edgeworth takes over our objection. Angel Starr is apparently convinced that there was something red: she's forced to testify about when she apprehended Lana. Lana mentioned the muffler when she was arrested. That's where her confusion came from? Really?

There are a few issues with this testimony. Why would Lana run to the partition? What did she say about the muffler, actually? Well, we don't know exactly, but Angel does tell us that she was on her phone: the phone on the wall doesn't work, remember? And there's our next contradiction. How did Angel know that Lana tried to use the phone? You can't see the phone from B Block: it's behind that partition! She's been lying about her testimony this entire time? But why? Because... she wasn't in B Block at all, was she?! She was in A Block: specifically, the security room overlooking it. Remember that she brought a lunch to her boyfriend, the security guard?

Angel concedes: she was lying! But why? Why would she risk perjury over this kind of detail? Well... the Security Room is inside the building. Remember: what she saw isn't the problem. It's where she saw it! Angel concedes: this is, indeed, where she saw it from. She had to run down the stairs, but the door to Block A was locked. She had to run all the way across to B Block and then run over the chain-link fence separating A Block and B Block. It took her five minutes?! That's a long time for something like this! What in the world would Lana be doing in those five minutes? Why didn't she run away? Angel's testimony seems to be over for the day: alongside court.

Knew it wouldn't be that easy.

Angel brings up Detective Goodman's shoe. Two types of blood were found on it: Goodman's and Lana's. Remember when she said she cut her hand open? Edgeworth says he can't accept the shoe as evidence, claiming it's against evidence law! Rule One: No evidence shall be shown without the approval of the police department! Edgeworth says that her evidence is illegal on that basis!

Angel counters. It was approved by the police apartment today! Aww, man. Edgeworth goes from pretty happy to utterly defeated. Cross-examining Angel, we ask for more information on the shoe. We have a problem with the shoe, though. Not just a problem, actually: a full-fledged contradiction! After all, there's blood on the sole! Why is this a problem? Well, in the crime scene photo, there's no bloody footprints on the ground! Edgeworth reminds us that Angel testified earlier that Lana kicked over an oil drum: those oil drums are filled with water! Trial nearly comes to an end, but Angel pulls out yet another piece of evidence! A photo of the crime scene; complete with Goodman's body, complete with water on the ground! Darn! This really puts us in a tight spot.

There's just one thing we can do; point out a piece of... something in the muffler. Wait! The muffler...? The car muffler! Remember what Angel said earlier, about hearing Lana say something about the muffler? That's a vital piece of evidence we need to review! His Honor agrees; trial is suspended for a thirty-minute recess.

Howdy, pardner!

During the recess, we're greeted by Jake Marshall! Marshall tells us that he's stopped by to watch the proceedings, telling us that Lana absolutely had her muffler on that day; she always did, and she had it on at the awards ceremony. So then what, exactly, is going on?

Court is back in session and Edgeworth. Is. Pissed. He is absolutely livid at something. During the recess, His Honor charged Edgeworth with investigating something; Edgeworth shouts out that whatever his investigation led to was "unacceptable": and somebody interrupts the proceedings...

Remember when people thought he was Apollo's dad?

Everybody, meet the second best character to come out of this case (after Ema, of course): Damon Gant, the Chief of Police! This must be why Edgeworth was freaking out. Gant hasn't visited the courtroom in two years (again...?), and he's dropped by because of Edgeworth. He's bringing in Lana's muffler: it was stuffed in that exhaust pipe! Furthermore, inside of the muffler is a switchblade! Edgeworth remains livid, pissed at Gant: he's blaming his investigators for missing such a vital piece of evidence. He tells Edgeworth to wait, which Edgeworth doesn't do, and then he tells Edgeworth to wait. After all, Edgeworth was in charge of the investigation. He's silent: Gant knows how to shut people up.

We open up the knife (but not before looking at the knife's tag; "SL-9 2"? Hmmm.). The tip is broken and the broken part is bloody; and it was found wrapped in Lana's muffler...? Gant is asked to testify about the knife, and he happily does, saying that the knife has nothing to do with the tape. Unless there's evidence that would connect the knife with Goodman, he can't give us anything. He does say that another detective was killed at the police department at 5:15. Scary coincidence, eh? After all, 5:15 was the exact same time that Goodman was killed! Two murders at once? What's going on?! We decide to exercise our right to cross-examine Gant. Well, what we need to find is a connection between the knife in the muffler (henceforth the SL-9 Knife) and the case at hand. Well... remember that scrap of paper we found? "6-7S"? What if it's upside down? It's not "6-7S 12/2", it's "SL-9 2/21": and SL-9 is on the knife's tag! Where did we find that note? In Edgeworth's car; the crime scene!

Gant is impressed. These two cases were connected: we get a new piece of testimony. The knife was evidence in this "SL-9 case" and stolen from the Police Department's Evidence Room. Well, that's where the detective was killed, right? Not the Evidence Room, but the Police Department itself. A suspect was arrested in the Police Department murder (let's call it Murder 2), but there's still a lot of questions that haven't been answered. We ask for a quid-pro-quo: we'll help out Gant in his case, answering some of his questions, and he'll help us out in ours, giving us information on his own. Accepting our offer, we get to ask Gant one thing and one thing only. We ask him where the victim was found. The... Evidence Room. The Evidence Room?! Wait, that's where the SL-9 Knife came from!

Quid-pro-quos, blank checks... why does this feel like a political thriller?

Phoenix argues that the two cases have a proven connection! In an understatedly cool section Gant points out that it took Edgeworth and Phoenix maybe 20 minutes tops to figure it out when it took the police two days. Edgeworth requests that Gant releases the victim's information: he can't, however, because the crime isn't public. We can get some information, though, under the table. We can't get the victim's name. That's his red line. Well, we can get the victim's ID number, right? The victim's ID number, Gant tells us, is 5842189.

...Wait.

That's Bruce Goodman's ID number! The victim in Murder 1 and Murder 2 were the same person?! What the Hell is going on?! Edgeworth is blows his lid again ('emotionally stable' does not apply to Edgeworth in this case, it seems), absolutely incensed about not being told about this! Gant tells him to wait. After all, the oversight in this case... it's not Gant's fault. It's Edgeworth's. Meekins dropped by to give him the report, after all. Edgeworth tries to argue that Gant could've submitted the report this morning as evidence, but Gant says "no". After all, that'd break evidence law! As the Chief of Police he can personally approve evidence, sure, but there's a second part to that law. Evidence submitted without prior approval must be relevant to the case at hand. And since this file wasn't on the list of evidence provided to the court before trial... there was no way it couldn't have been submitted. There wasn't a connection until Wright pointed out Goodman was killed in two places at once.

With Edgeworth's position on the line and questions raised, trial comes to a close for the day. Edgeworth is given an extra day to investigate (which means that we are, too!) and answer a whole host of questions. How was Goodman killed in two places at once? What was the SL-9 case and how does it relate to this case? What's Gant's angle? If it wasn't Goodman... then who died in the Prosecutor's Office Parking Lot?

With those questions still in the air... court is adjourned.

Investigation, Day Two

Enjoy this silly frame of Ema I paused on.

Ema asks a good question: "what's going on?" Well, Ema, I don't really know myself. Bruce Goodman apparently died in two places at once, even though the two crime scenes are thirty minutes away. We immediately go down to the crime scene to do a bit more digging: and Ema gives us a secret tool! Luminol! This is a magic little chemical that can detect blood stains. Donning Ema's bright pink glasses (that are... apparently red), we find a few stains on the ground where Goodman was stabbed. Isn't this kind of weird, though? Why isn't there more blood? Think of how much blood is on Goodman's shoe: it's more like he stepped in a puddle of the stuff. As Ema's talking about the stuff, we get interrupted by Angel Starr: she's surprisingly cordial with us, explaining that she lied because it "wouldn't sound convincing enough". In any case, Angel still saw what she saw: Lana stabbing a man. We talk with Angel a bit more, and we learn why she was fired: a case called the "SL-9 Incident".

Apparently, SL-9's evidence was due for transference on the day Goodman was killed. After talking about the knife and the crime photo Angel tell us about it: it was apparently this incident that convinced her prosecutors view detectives as disposable tools. Two years ago, something happened: it was a big case, and the police was desperate for evidence. Despite the criminal being caught, convicted, and executed, the police didn't have any truly decisive evidence. Angel has a suspicion that it was forged. Well... who else worked on a big case two years ago? There's Jake Marshall, who Angel is trying to lead us in the direction of (by giving us a Salisbury steak to give to him), but maybe we should also talk with Edgeworth about this.

Angel Starr: detective, lunchlady, webspinner.

Jake and Angel worked together on SL-9, and Ema asks if he and Angel have become an item. Angel denies this, but Ema seems worried: does she have some connection to Jake outside of Lana working on SL-9? If you talk to her a bit more we get to learn that these "boyfriends" of hers are allies: people who still trust her, respect her, and are helping her and Jake in their secret investigation of SL-9.

Now that we've talked to Angel, there's really only one place to go: the Police Department, both to see Jake and see if we can investigate the murder that happened here. The second murder of Bruce Goodman! Gumshoe is in front of the Police Department, wailing about his lack of lunch and running off. He tells us that "he" is having a good cry at the Detention Center now that he's out of questioning: perhaps our suspect in the Evidence Room murder. When we head up to the guard station, Jake Marshall isn't there: guess we're going to the Detention Center! Who's the suspect in the Evidence Room murder? Why, it's...

Poor guy.

Officer Mike Meekins? He's their suspect? Meekins tell us that he went to the Evidence Room: the guard station (Jake's!) was empty. There was a suspicious person in the Evidence Room, and Meekins blacked out; when he woke up, he was in the detention center. Meekins has a bandaged hand, just like Lana. What's up with that? One more similarity between the two murders. Meekins tells us that the detective in the Evidence Room pointed a knife at him before he went unconscious. When he came to, he was alone; Detective Goodman was gone after he cut his hand open! The victim's body apparently disappeared: Meekins insists that he's not the perpetrator, though. So who was...? He tells us that he didn't know Goodman: Meekins works in a small department, devoid of life and other creature comforts. He doesn't know any detectives at all!

Something really weird is going on, but what exactly is it? If it was Goodman in the Evidence Room, then would his ID card trigger Meekin's memory? Meekins says this is "it". When he approached Goodman, he asked for his ID card. Goodman then cut his hand open with a knife and the two started fighting! Well... there's something there. Ema points it out: Meekins didn't see the man's ID card. The body disappeared, as well! There's not just no proof that the man was Goodman. There's no proof that there was a murder in the Evidence Room at all! Apparently, the police are pretty sure that it was Goodman. After all, it's on video. There goes Ema's theory.

We go back to the Police Department, planning to walk into the Evidence Room to check it out. There's somebody already there, though...

So... what's up with his tie? Is it like a bowtie mixed with a necktie, or...

Gant is consulting with the Chief of Detectives, talking about looking through "his" belongings. Probably Meekins. We take the time to talk with Gant. Apparently, Edgeworth's subject to an official inquiry. His reputation's already down the drain... and his own mentor was not only found guilty of the murder of Gregory Edgeworth, but also forging evidence (presumably concealing the DL-6 bullet and destroying the DL-6 evidence). Depending on what the committee decides Edgeworth's career could be in jeopardy. Man.

We also talk with Gant about the murder in the evidence room. "Goodman was stabbed in two locations at the same time": that's what the evidence is saying, according to Gant. It turns out, according to the Chief of Detectives, they were checking out Goodman's belongings: the only thing he left was a half-written lost item report, written the day of murder. Apparently, it can only be submitted to the Chief himself.

Speaking of the Chief, we ask him if we can at least investigate the evidence room. He's a very generous man: hell, he'd give us $50 if we asked! He lets us into the evidence room, giving us a special ID card for guests. We try to go in, but the card reader is turned off. It ain't workin'! Jake comes back to his post. He lets us into the crime scene now that we have a card. Well, now that he's here... we might as well give him his lunch.

We talk with Jake a bit more after he's done eating. We talk about Meekins's not seeing him: Jake says that he's lost his passion for police work after his demotion in the aftermath of SL-9. He doesn't see much need to be a guard; the security cameras do a good enough job for him. Ema asks him about SL-9, but Jake tells her that some things are better off not knowing. Hm. It almost sounds like he's being protective.

Jake doesn't really know what the machines in this room actually do, but he knows about the security cameras. Every six hours, if nothing happens on them, the data is wiped. You need an ID card to enter the evidence room, as well, and that leaves a record. As luck has it, he's got us a list. "5842189", i.e. Detective Goodman, entered the room at 5:14...

...alongside "4989596", presumably Meekins.

Jake says he can't tell us anything else. We show him Goodman's card, though, and Jake tells us that there's only one copy of each ID card in the world! He agrees to give us the ID Card Record as evidence. We go into the Evidence Room and run into a ghost! Nope, it's just Gumshoe. Turns out that he's been put in charge of the investigation for the day! He gives us the floor plans to the evidence room and tells us that they're gonna use the evidence from yesterday to prepare for Meekins's trial: turns out that Gumshoe's just been kicked out of the investigation. He also tells us that only detectives can open their own lockers and that each one is locked behind a detective's own fingerprint. Neat! Some people don't even know they exist, apparently.

Well, since Gumshoe's here, we might as well talk about his boss. Edgeworth is still with the inquiry committee, and Gumshoe tells us that SL-9 was "the beginning of the end" for him. Hmm. Taking a look around, we see the metal detector and fishing pole from 1-4! Neat! We also see a bug detector; remember this one! We also see a bloody handprint on one of the lockers. Wait, that was Gumshoe's locker! Huh... there might be more bloodstains around the room! Before we look around more, though, there's another evidence locker that's been opened. Some ceramic shards are on the floor: they're SL-9 evidence, apparently. Putting the shards back together, it turns out to be a broken jar; but one of the pieces is missing. Weird. There's also another piece of SL-9 evidence hanging on police tape: a glove.

Well! Time to see if there's any more blood. We look around and find a handprint: or a partial one, anyways. It's from the first locker—the one with a piece of cloth hanging out of it. It can't be the murderer's handprint, since they wouldn't be facing this way if they were running out the room. So... what's going on?

Curiouser and curiouser...

Going over to the other side, there's a lot of blood on the floor at the crime scene. Somebody was definitely killed here. The handprint we find on Gumshoe's locker is also somebody's right hand, not their left. Speaking of the Evidence Room murder, we show Gumshoe the ID list. The second number freaks him out: it's Edgeworth's?! Edgeworth came into the evidence room at 4:40 PM and the victim died within an hour and a half of 4 PM... how strange.

In any case, we present some of the SL-9 evidence to Gumshoe and he agrees to tell us about it. Edgeworth was the prosecutor on his face. That was his "big case"! Gumshoe thinks there might be some loose ends. SL-9 was an incredibly bloody case: a serial killing. Edgeworth built his case around a mistake the killer made. This case both shot Edgeworth into stardom and started the rumors around him. It was the last job Goodman ever did. He was in charge of SL-9... so does this mean he took the knife out himself? Gumshoe runs off. Edgeworth's inquiry committee is letting out soon. Maybe we should also go see him.

When we get there, the bellboy from 1-2 appears out of nowhere. Guess he works here now. Edgeworth is in: he's staring out the window, very very peeved, and says our name without seeing us. Either he's good at recognizing voices or he did that five times and got everybody's name wrong. He got Gumshoe's memo but apparently neglected to flip it over. He's not alright, is he?

Edgeworth's inquiry committee went... not bad. He didn't conceal evidence, they said, there was just a communication error. An official warning was given: "you got lucky... again." Man. Edgeworth is still showing up for trial tomorrow, but control over the investigation was given over to the police department. Any more investigation will be directed by Gant himself. Speaking of the Chief, Edgeworth was told by him to go into the evidence room the day of the murder to transfer evidence from a case solved half a year ago. (A blue screwdriver... half a year ago... I wonder if that screwdriver is from 1-2?) Wonder what that's about: if the evidence was already filed, then why would Gant want it? Weird.

If you spray around Edgeworth's room with luminol, you can find some blood on the floor. Looks like somebody had a bloody nose. Anyways, we talk about SL-9 a bit more with him: Goodman was in charge, but the overall head of the investigation was the Deputy Chief of Police, Damon Gant.

I call ageism, Phoenix!

Phoenix asks a good question: why was the Deputy Chief of Police on an investigation? Edgeworth admits that the methods he used were extreme: he believed that if the murderer was let go, the blood would be on his hands. He denies forging evidence, though. Edgeworth says that he has a code that he follows faithfully: does this mean he didn't forge the autopsy report in 1-2? Anyways, as we're about to leave, Edgeworth asks Ema if she's still studying forensic science. He gives her some aluminum powder for fingerprints! Woot woot! Thanks, Edgeworth. (between you and me, fingerprinting in real life is a lot of fun: take a forensics class!)

We go back to the locker room to look at those handprints. Maybe there's some fingerprints we could lift there? We go, but the fingerprint we lift from Gumshoe's locker is completely blacked out. Whoever left this handprint was wearing gloves! Drat. Looks like there's another fingerprint on the locker besides the bloody hand, though. To nobody's surprise... it's Gumshoe's. Welp, how about we check out that other fingerprint? It's probably just Meekins's, remember he cut his hand open-

Jake Marshall?!

Now why would Marshall's bloody fingerprints be here? Did he commit this murder? That's a question we'll have to answer tomorrow: investigation comes to an end on a very juicy cliffhanger!

Trial, Day Three

So. The victim was murdered in two places at the same time and two people were arrested for the same crime. Lana in the parking lot and Meekins in the evidence room... she tells us that the police are absolutely clueless. Lana tells us that she's struck a plea bargain: if she tells them the truth, they won't seek the death penalty. Fortunately for us, Lana is just as clueless as the rest of us. Unfortunately for us, Lana is just as clueless as the rest of us. We tell Lana about Jake's fingerprints in the evidence room. The signs are pointing to Mr. Marshall being Bruce Goodman's murderer...

Edgeworth starts off pretty strong. It takes 30 minutes to get from the Prosecutor's Office to the Police Department by car and vice versa, yet Goodman was killed at the same time in both places? Impossible. Edgeworth's case for today is going to be around the Evidence Room murder. Edgeworth calls his first witness: the suspect of the Evidence Room murder, Mike Meekins!

Meekins testifies that he was supposed to guard the evidence room that day. He spotted a suspicious man and the two of them fought, with Meekins saying that he "did it". After that, he fainted. A very vague testimony, huh? Pressing Meekins, his job was not just protecting the security office but also protecting the Blue Badger during the transferal process. He had to relocate it to the evidence room. We keep pressing him, and the court comes to a conclusion: it's pretty hard to say if the victim in the Evidence Room was Goodman at all. At least, it would be if Meekins didn't have a video tape!

Apparently, Meekins was given it by the Chief himself. Edgeworth says that he was told that no such tape existed! We take a look at the tape...

Five Nights at Court

Well... someone's in the way. We do see Goodman walking past and opening his locker, with something falling out. Meekins is sneaking up behind him, and we see Goodman cut his hand open and the two of them get in a fight: from the video, though, it looks more like Goodman killed Meekins and then disappeared! What the Hell happened? Edgeworth wants to ignore the footage. It clearly doesn't show much.

Meekins testifies again, saying that there's no question in his mind that it was Goodman. After all, he opened up Goodman's locker, which requires his fingerprints. This is a strong point: each locker can only be opened by the detective it is assigned to. But what if the locker was already opened? The indicator light is open above Detective Goodman's locker! The locker was already open!

The lock wasn't engaged on the locker. This is weird: Edgeworth tells us that the lock is automatically engaged once the door shuts. Ema has a neat idea, though. What if something jammed the sensor? This something would have to be an insulator, since the sensor is electronic. Well... the glove we found earlier is made of rubber, and if you look at the tape you can clearly see something fall out of Goodman's locker!

There's only one conclusion. The person in the tape opened Goodman's locker without any fingerprints. We never see his face. He attacked Meekins when he was asked for his ID card: this man wasn't Detective Goodman! Edgeworth objects. The only thing we have raised the possibility that this man wasn't Bruce Goodman. Edgeworth asks Meekins to testify once more.

Well, here's the thing, Meekins says. Bruce Goodman had to use his ID card to get in. There's only one ID card given to each member of the force, and we know for a fact we know he used his card because of the record. His Honor has a good question: hundreds of pieces of evidence were due for transferal on the 21st. So why was this room so empty? Edgeworth clarifies that this room was used to store evidence from "special cases": extremely violent ones involving members of law enforcement. I guess that means SL-9 falls under that umbrella: which makes sense, given that Gant himself was involved in leading the investigation.

Well, there's already a pretty significant issue. Goodman issued a lost item report, remember? On said item report, he couldn't remember his ID number. What if Goodman lost his ID card and was writing out his report, misremembering his own number? This raises a very key possibility: somebody else stole Goodman's ID card and walked into the evidence room masquerading as him. That would explain the clothes as well!

Somebody's confident...

Edgeworth summarizes are argument. On 5:15, a man disguised as Bruce Goodman was approached by Mike Meekins. This is because the locker in the evidence room was open and Bruce Goodman lost his ID card. There's only one conclusion to be drawn: there was no murder in the evidence room. Make sense so far?

...Wait.

That means the murder that Angel Starr saw in the parking lot was the real one! Lana stabbed Bruce Goodman! We've just argued for our own client's guilt! "Never interrupt your enemy while he's making a mistake," and all that. Oh, but only if it were that simple! Remember when we were checking out the Evidence Room and found that pool of blood? A murder did happen at the Evidence Room: the video tape just didn't show it. Edgeworth is out of options. He considered the Evidence Room murder unrelated. We finally have the upper hand! We know exactly who this "Goodman" was, and we call him to the stand! No rhyme intended.

Edgeworth agrees to our request. We keep the true reason for calling him secret, though. The court agrees for a 30 minute recess for Jake to be subpoena'd.

Here's hoping he can answer some of our questions.

During the recess, Lana says that we've figured "everything" out: even though we haven't really figured out anything. Ema asks Lana why she's not telling us everything. Lana says nothing, though. Gumshoe bursts in and leaves in embarrassment before we call him back. Apparently, he was called here by Lana using our name. He's brought files on the SL-9 Incident of all things! Apparently Lana was a witness in SL-9. There's one more thing, though. Why is Ema's name in here? The rest of the world called SL-9 the "Joe Darke Killings": a distraught Ema storms out of the room. Jake Marshall, Angel Starr, Damon Gant, Miles Edgeworth, Lana Skye, Ema Skye... everybody in this case was involved in SL-9.

Trial reconvenes. It's just us and Edgeworth: we're all alone here. We take the time to go over the SL-9 files.

The perpetrator's name, rather fittingly, was Joe Darke. He was sentenced to death for the serial murders of 6 people; Edward Jones, Jason Knight, Edith Kirby, Rachael Moss, Jeb Bates, and Neil... Marshall. The lead prosecutor was Miles Edgeworth and the witnesses were Lana and Ema Skye. The executive investigators on the case were Damon Gant and Lana Skye; the head investigator was Bruce Goodman; and the secondary investigators were Jake Marshall and Angel Starr. That's all the file tells us.

Anyways, Marshall comes to the stand. He's here to testify about the security room; he says that he was across the street when the "murder" in the Evidence Room happened. We know that's impossible, though. After all, his bloody fingerprints were found inside! Marshall argues that the murderer just touched a place where his fingerprints were: the murderer was wearing gloves, after all.

Pressing his new testimony, Marshall eventually strengthens his argument. We can't see who the person in the tape is. We're openly claiming that it was him now, though, and we have proof inside of the tape itself. There's a white cloth in the leftmost locker that suddenly appears: and he said earlier that was his locker. The locker wasn't already opened, and it only opens with his fingerprints! Marshall didn't know about the fingerprint sensor. That was his mistake! He was in the evidence room during the crime. He was "Bruce Goodman"!

Our first breakdown of the case!

Meekins saw his face, yes, but Meekins did not know who Bruce Goodman was! That's why Marshall attacked him: if he showed Meekins his ID card, then he'd be caught instantly! Marshall stills calls our evidence circumstantial. There's no proof that he dressed up as Bruce Goodman. Ah, but we graduated from the school of Mia Fey with a degree in Thinking Crazy! We don't need proof that he was disguised. We need proof that only exists because he was disguised!

The answer is rather simple. He didn't plan to open his locker; he had to. Why? Because Meekins's blood got on his disguise! That's what the 'cloth' is: it's his jacket! Marshall gives up; we've beaten him.

Marshall confesses everything in one last testimony. He had to do it on that day because of the evidence transferal: he was, and is, still trying to solve SL-9 with Angel. He stole Goodman's ID and a spare set of his clothes, knocking out Meekins and escaping the room by hiding in the camera's blind spots. There wasn't a murder in the evidence room at 5:15. Jake went into the evidence room to steal the SL-9 evidence and investigate it on his own terms; but the evidence was already gone when he looked for it and is still missing. After pressing his testimony more, he says he can't forget about SL-9 for a rather simple reason: the death of Neil Marshall.

It's all starting to fall into place...

...and the killer comes to light.

Neil Marshall was a prosecutor. He was assigned to SL-9 before his death, at which case it transferred into Edgeworth's hands. Neil was ostensibly killed by Darke, but Jake doesn't believe it: nobody could beat Neil in a fight. It was the first time Darke left behind evidence: it was all the court needed, apparently, and the court found him guilty based on Neil Marshall's murder.

His entire personal war against the system was to avenge his brother: he blames not just the police department but also Edgeworth. The Evidence Room murder is solved; there was no murder there, just theft and assault. This, of course, means that Lana had to have murdered Goodman in the parking lot. There's no way that this is a coincidence, though! Lana is in an incredibly tight spot: the only reason she wasn't convicted yesterday was the "murder" at the Police Department. Is it finally over...?

No! It can't be. Ema runs into the courtroom right before His Honor is about to give his verdict: she ran to the Evidence Room to look at the crime scene, but unfortunately didn't find anything. Ema's putting our full faith in us: there has to be one last contradiction here somewhere! Only one question remains. Is there any reasonable doubt? A bloody handprint was discovered at the crime scene. Is there a problem with this?

Well... there's one. Something is missing from the floor plan. The biggest part of the security footage, hiding in plain sight. Where's the Blue Badger? If the Blue Badger was there during Jake's break-in... then how could he leave a handprint there?! After all, it was right in front of the locker! He would've left a bloody handprint on the Blue Badger!

But what does this mean? The only reasonable conclusion is that the blood mark had to have been left before Jake's attack. After all, after that, the Blue Badger was there all day. That means...

...That... means...

Boom.

Goodman wasn't stabbed at 5:15! He was stabbed earlier: remember that giant pool of blood we found? A murder did happen. It happened before Jake, or even Meekins with the Blue Badger, came in! We get an awesome back and forth between Phoenix and Edgeworth here: objection-objection-objection. There's one undeniable fact. Goodman's murder had to have happened before 5:15. After all, it happened in the Evidence Room, and the ID card record proves that nobody came in after Meekins was assaulted!

Edgeworth is suspected for a second by His Honor and Jake, but he quickly shoots down that hypothesis. The killer has to have been whoever owns the "777777" number: but we don't know who it belongs to. It belongs to somebody with a clearance level Captain or higher. The only way to know for sure is if we launch an official investigation against this "executive officer". That means... well, I think we might know who our murderer is. Goodman walked in with 7777777!

Marshall asks Lana a question. He's not about to ask about her ID number. He's asking her about SL-9: in the trial, did she use legitimate evidence?! Edgeworth asks her himself, given that he was in charge of the investigation. Lana skirts around the question, but eventually gets to the point. In the SL-9 trial, two years ago... she fabricated evidence to get Joe Darke convicted.

A nightmare come true...

Edgeworth is distraught. The courtroom is in chaos. The courtroom simply will not calm down. Trial is forced to be adjourned with so many questions still in the air! What will happen to Edgeworth now? How and why exactly did Lana forge evidence? Who owns 7777777: and why did they kill Bruce Goodman?

This day comes to an incredibly bittersweet close. We now have a lead on who the true killer is, but at the cost of jeopardizing Edgeworth and Lana's careers...

Investigation, Day Three

Ema tells us what she had to do with the SL-9 Incident. On the night that Neil was murdered, Darke tried to kill Ema. Neil saved Ema's life, but Darke killed him: a terrible storm came through that night, and Ema saw Darke raise his knife Neil when the lightning lit up the room. This must be why Lana forged the evidence: Ema being attacked sent her over the edge. The question remains. Did Edgeworth know that the evidence was faulty? The answer is probably—hopefully—not. After SL-9, Lana became cold and distant: it affected her that much.

Ema fell unconscious after seeing Darke attack Neil: when she woke up Lana was holding her in he arms. Darke had been taken in for questioning when Ema was attacked: he tried to run away during the interview, running into Lana's office after getting into the elevator. After all, the elevator was right in front of the detective's office. Before Lana was a chief prosecutor, she was a detective! We go to visit her at the Detention Center.

Part Two can be found here.

[kirric-the-fan]

Precure Memories (one of my fancure series):

Been thinkin more on this lately, and made several developments: one being that Cure Signet (who was also cure special, and some several other cure names before) is now Cure Royale, leader of the older team of Cure Royales, who team up with the Memory Cures to make a regular post-season mega-team of Precure Memory Royale.

She is also alone and bereft of her team through most of the Memories season, the enemy having trapped the others in some way or taken their power and/or fairies. She ends up at odds with the memory cures for a little while because she wants to take the sapphire clock, the source of their cure powers, and travel back in time to undo what had happened to save her team. They (rightfully in the situation) talk her out of it. Thanks to the enemy's curses, she struggles to remember everything of her past, but eventually rediscovers and faces it with the help of the memory cures. We learn that she is responsible for managing to restrict the enemy to Kurogawa City (Cures hometown), although this has prevented other cures from entering the city too. Cure Flower in particular, avoids the place.

(Sl edited version of Cure Royale (sorted her hair out):

Talking about enemies, they have been working in the city unopposed for a while now, and have created a dark creature, the Fester, that lives under the city and grows off misery and dispair. It works to suck the joy out of the people of the city, cutting off their happiness before it happens. The Memory cures have to fight manifested chunks of this darkness, which the enemy generals call up and cut off to make into monsters, and they can only purify them with similar creatures of their own, this time created from happy memories.

So for example, going to the theme park they could generate a dragon-like roller-coaster creature from their memories of riding the roller coaster, which would dive into the Fester and purify it that way. Or, it could be a rain of their favourite food, or something someone important to them made. It varies quite a bit between depending on the cures and the situation, although there are one or two repeating versions: Cure Memory will use a base memory of a glade of trees with their leaves rustling in the wind. Cure Express will use the dancing mechanical toy she once made. that her dad danced with. Cure Connect evokes the calming sea and the waves. Some of the definitions of happy can be quite subtle, but anything that brings them joy or happiness would work.

Cure Reverie is slightly unusual as she is the only one who can conjure up creatures from potential happiness: possibilities that haven't quite happened yet. But again, this tends to be more subtle, and is much more vulnerable to failing if anyone around doesn't fully believe in the dreams.

Cure Memory is able to evoke other people's happy memories: for example, in an all stars setting she could evoke Cure Black and Cure White's memories of the blackboard duster dance to create a giant pair of blackboard dusters that smackdown the Fester of the week with their pads. And magic.

Later on the Memory Cures use the made-up curesona of Kazumi's (Cure Serene) little sister, Cure Joy, as the focus for their powered up team purification attack.

[twistedshipper]

Did you share anything about "Burning Till You're Cold"? Because if not, I want to hear! :)

Thank you, Jacquelyn! I'm so excited that you asked me about this fic, as it's one that's been simmering in the back of my mind for a long time now (and one I hope to focus on once I finish SL).

The idea for the fic is actually older than SL and, unlike the other wips I have, is set in the verse of spn but without anything overtly supernatural; it's just the characters facing their real world struggles.

The fic is about Dean in his early twenties trying to look out after Sam and himself after the difficult upbringing they've had under John's roof since their mother died.

I'm not sure about much of the plot but I have the first chapter written. In it Dean takes a drive out of Lawrence to clear his head and winds up at a dive called Harvelle's (which is located closer to Lawrence than in the show), where he meets Jo, who likewise, has her own fair share of struggles (similar to the show she dropped out of school because she didn't belong there and is helping her mom out at the bar), and the two hit it off.

Other things about the fic is that Sam (like in s7) is a psych ward patient (and is inpatient at the start of the fic), going in and out of the hospital ever since his first psychotic break while he was away at school at Stanford (which I'm very attached to as an idea as it's inspired from the show as much as my own experiences).

There's also this dark undercurrent in the fic that deals with themes of abuse which would be a major spoiler to share here so I won't. Instead I'll leave some snippets from the first chapter:

It was his first time getting wasted (publicly, that was, and without company) and it was his first time at this bar, located at the outskirts of his hometown of Lawrence, Kansas, dead set in the middle of the U.S. Why he came here as opposed to his usual haunts, he didn’t really know, other than that creeping feeling on his skin that told him he wanted the hell out of home and anything that reminded him of the stench and stain of that old house, its memories: the good, the bad, and the ugly, all of it.  He so desperately wanted out, that in a flash of recklessness, one would call impulse, he stole his father’s keys as he lay passed out on the couch senseless and took his wheels, telling himself to keep on driving until he crossed the city limits.

Well, he didn’t get that far. He saw the flickering neon lights beckoning out to him from the roadside and on another whim, thought he’d pull in for a drink. He certainly deserved one after the last few days, even though a part of him felt guilty for the indulgence, knowing full well that his kid brother wasn’t flying so high and free.

Not that Dean was either; if anything, he was running, running from his family, his problems, his responsibilities, that weight he carried inside himself, pressing hazardously into his chest. Was it too much to ask for one night just to lose himself?  Like all those nights his father lost himself in drink?  A part of him felt hesitant, afraid even to become the man, but well, these were desperate times, times that called for desperate measures.  So going on nothing but gut, as he ever did, he pulled into the lot, parked, and pushed his way through the double doors into a haze of smoke and sorrows potentially worse than his own.

And here's an interaction between Dean and Jo (because I love them so much):

“What about you?” she asked after a pause.  “Why are you here on a cold Thursday night in November?”

“Ahh,” he began fumbling for words.  “You really don’t want to know.”

“Try me,” she said. 

He bit his lip.  “Well, it’s a tough situation,” he said, repeating her choice of word.  “You see my brother…” he suddenly stopped himself, shook his head.  “I don’t know if I should tell you this, but, um, he’s…” he turned away then, scared that he might just break down and cry in front of her, this girl he only just met.  He had to gather himself and quickly. 

“He’s okay, right?” he heard her ask, from where she stood, huddled in his jacket that dwarfed her.

“Yeah,” he said turning back to face her.  “Of course, he’s fine.  Totally.  But you know, it’s my responsibility to look out for him, and sometimes that’s hard.”

He stopped himself and caught her watching him with a look all her own.  “What?” he said.

“It’s nothing,” she said.  “Just…”

She was about to speak when suddenly an old pickup pulled up, bathing the two of them with its headlights. 

“Is that…?” she asked instead.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Dean said with an awkward wave towards Bobby who looked miffed in the driver’s seat. 

“Here, let me give you this back,” she said quickly, taking off the jacket and handing it to him.

He took it from her gently and she went back to crossing her arms, to protect herself from the cold.  “Thanks,” he said.  “You better get back inside.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling slightly, “and you better not keep him waiting.”

“Right,” he said, and turned to hop in the passenger seat.

“Oh, and Dean?”

He dropped his hand from the latch, turning back to face her.  “Yeah?”

“Take care of yourself, won’t you?”

He nodded.  In the moment it was all that he could do.

Bobby beeped the horn.

And the moment, whatever it was between them, was over.  He opened the truck door and shuffled in, and in the span of time it took him to fasten his seatbelt, she was already slipping through the front doors of the bar, as a pair of men came stumbling out.  A part of him, however drunk and senseless, hoped she would turn back and wave at him, but the door shut behind her and she was safe inside and warm.

So much for that, he thought.  Now it was time to face the situation at hand and he expected Bobby to smack him upside the head and yell at him for taking his dad’s car all the way out in the middle of nowhere only to get smashed stupid.

But Bobby didn’t speak right away as they pulled out of Harvelle’s Roadhouse and onto the road and that’s when Dean looking back at the old dive noticed that a light snow had begun to fall, each flake glittering under the streetlamps like a tiny iridescent star.

Thank you again for asking me about this fic. (I was hoping someone would.) You've reignited my interest in it and now I'm just craving to write it, haha. ❤

[life-series-losers-blog]

i can give you supplies to build that plus a full on theme Park

SL!Joel: Can you?

----

As Red is sadly unavalible technically right now, I can't really let supplies of that size go through. I can probably get away with just the supplies for the slide but not the whole park

[pinkdiamond0714]

My FNAF OC, Diane Dragon!!!

A little background on her, so she was originally from another restaurant, similar to Chica’s Party World, with this one having a fantasy theme, with Grey the Wolf, Batty the Bat, and Stanley the Unicorn. Diane was the dummer in the band and also was the fan favorite, she was added to the Fazbear crew when all the restaurants merged.

She is possessed, with the soul of Erin, who was part of the Missing Children’s Incident. A little info on Erin, she is one of the oldest in the group, and is one of the taller ones too. She is fairly tough and will stand and fight when needed.

In Security Breach, Diane is very easily distracted and has a very one track mind. She has an area in the Pizza Plex, called Diane’s Fantasy Fair, right next to west fazcade, which is a mini amusement park, with a zip line, a Farris wheel, carnival games, and a few small roller coasters. Like a dragon, she has small hoards of little items and trinkets she’s taken from areas like the gift shops, hidden everywhere from her room to the Fair. A change I made to the story is that Monty gets to keep his legs, since you use his claw upgrade, Diane’s legs are the upgrade, so she is now crawling. This gives Freddy a faster move speed, as well as a high jump to get into secret areas.

Where they are found (first 5 at least):

1: can come from either side

2: withered-right vent Toy: left vent

3: CAM 03

4:under the bed

SL: Funtime Auditorium on night 3 with Foxy

More information on each variant will be given in their individual posts, enjoy!!!

[meowizard]

tel me abt any cryptid au thoughts you’ve got please

YYAAAAAAAAAAA TY okie so :3c

theres no real rules here its very as they come so far I've just been taking cookies and evolving them like pokemon. there's some monsters, some creepypasta type shit, some corruption arcs and some rewrites you get it. anyway tw use of tumblr formatting features(<- /joke)

Cotton

the og girlie it all started with her!! i spoke about my vampire au before somewhere but its not looking like that fic is coming out any time soon so here's a rundown:

when frost queen offers sherbet a second chance at life, cotton accepts it on his behalf.

and frost queen turns him into a vampire.

frost vampire

whatever

so he's not the same as he was, both physically (his frostbite doesn't go away because no bloodflow, so his hands and feet are black and his joints are busted and he can't talk well) and mentally (he's...undead he's like. not . ,. human. he's kind of a shell honestly)

he attacks cotton as she's carrying him home

frost queen couldn't send them home because she was immediately disgusted at what she had done vis a vis the flow of nature

he attacks cotton as she's carrying him home, and she decides to hide him in his own home

she convinces the rest of the village sherbet's dead and to leave the house alone as a kind of memorial.

no one lives there anyway

shes not manipulative at all!! it just kind of...happens

plus she has to keep everyone safe, not only from sherbet, but from her! as it turns out, letting a vampire feed off you wrongly turns you into a vampire!

funny how that works out

so she turns into a vampire about a year into this when sherbet gets sloppy (you cant blame him he's basically a zombie at this point)

and she starts to feed off of sheep, and when people realise, she starts to feed off them too!!!

and then in one timeline there's a witch hunt that results in her and sherbet being burnt to death along with the house, and in another she succeeds in turning the whole village into vampires looking for unsuspecting travellers to consume! yahoo :)

Cream Unicorn

i mean they're kind of a cryptid on their own i didn't do much. idk if they're an actual wooden unicorn or not i guess so

the reason they can switch between forms is because they're a mascot!!

once upon a time, you could go to the theme park, buy lightsticks and headbands à la The Mouse, eat candyfloss in their palette, and most notably ride the cream unicorn on the carousel!!

as for their human form...... you ever heard of equestria girls?

Kevin Defunctlands voice: And then it went defunct. or whatever he says idk

the theme park lost all relevance and money and shut down

but what's this???? the animatronic(s) of the cream unicorn still exist and have become sentient!

cream unicorn has ball joints and his paint is chipped :(

Caramel Arrow

i've seen this a bunch of times and take no credit for it: she's part dragon! this one's a lot less fleshed out, feel free to add

she was brought to the citadel as a kiddo after being found wandering the wastelands!

classic little 'oh no! lost child' vs 'oh crap! where's my child'

(she lived with her dragon parent up until then. she was just exploring. she wasn't even lost. she just didn't know how to tell them this)

and then she learnt dragons are generally menaces to cookiekind and her parent was probably an exception

she has a tail and horns? although i don't know if i prefer the idea they're just jougwan (thank you fandom wiki) or disguised as such.

she has very very good perception and battle instincts as well, which aren't technically Dragon Traits but they sure as hell help.

lookie!!! she has a tail!

Alchemist

BOY OH BOY. I CANT BELIEVE I FORGOT HER :3c god i need to redraw this this is from a year ago

ZOMBIE!!! YAHOO!

by complete fucking coincidence she becomes immortal-ish at the same time as her brother

'at least i'll be free of him when i'm dead. FUCK."

she spilled a fucked-up chemical on herself 300 years ago

batman-villain style

she's slightly radioactive and you'll get woozy if you stay next to her for too long

but that effect will completely wear off after another 600 years dw

her hair is still green and vampire does it up for her every so often

naturally it's red. like his!

he's immune to radiation btw

'at least i'll be free of him when i'm toxic. FUCK.'

Mango

something something ferryman of the dead.

Captain Caviar

something something ghost ship

(something something davy jones cookie)

Squid Ink/Black Pearl

i mean. its self explanatory they're a fucking kraken aint they what do you want me to say

Chili Pepper

this includes red pepper but i'm not an ovenbreak player SORRY

magpie-ish!

she's a harpy. in appearance, sort of, kind of, at least

she covers up her feathers by wearing trench coats and big ass hats.

also her feathers look like chili flakes! i thought that would be fun

lives in a fucking tree probably

also ties in with :

Rye

has been sheriff for as long as anyone can remember..... because she's immortal! firework noises

she's like. a guardian of some kind

rye shoots and she farms and she defends and she tends.

she has the western movie mentality of 'this is my turf' ect but thats just canon

also this is why she's the only person with her accent

its a dialect from decades ago

also her skin is very dry and cracked. like shes made of stone!

i'm not sure of the reason she exists. maybe borne out of the rockeyst mountains as a savioer of its toment'd dwellers or some such

so there's no real coherence or rhyme to any of these, just a bunch of ideas i have. some (like alchemists) just my headcanons and dont count as an AU per se...? idk i have a whole lot of thoughts on a bunch of em!! let me know what you think or if there's anything i could add, anyone i could add.,.,. :Dc i'll draw some of em maybe.

[shahdevelopers]

Investing in a Shop for Sale in Sangli at SL Highstreet: A Long-Term Wealth Strategy

SL Highstreet, an upcoming commercial property for sale in Sangli provides an excellent long-term wealth opportunity for those who are contemplating investing in commercial properties. This upcoming project is developed by Shah Developers having an experience of 35 years in Sangli. This project incorporates modern technologies to ensure great business growth in every possible respect. Situated at the heart of Sangli along NH4, this location ensures very easy connectivity to Pune, Kolhapur, and Mumbai. Equally importantly, it has residential complexes, schools, hospitals, and colleges in close proximity to Old Tata Petrol Pump, thereby making it a prime place for either a shop or office.

Why SL Highstreet is a Smart Investment

Tax Benefits: Investing in SL Highstreet means tax benefits and thus saving money for the long term.

Diversification: Investing in SL Highstreet means diversification in an investment portfolio. Unlike stocks, property investment is less volatile and guarantees stable returns.

Inflation Hedge: Investing in SL Highstreet means hedging inflation as the value of th eproperty and rental yields increases with time.

Appreciation Potential: The location and design of SL Highstreet promises growth in value, hence bringing in high returns sometime in the future.

Lease Escalations: Commercial properties are usually sold with leases that provide for rent escalations. This means your rental income will increase year after year, hence providing a stable and growing cash flow.

Cash Flow: Steady rental return from a commercial property may give you a strong cash flow, thus reliable. Income: Owning a shop in SL Highstreet will let you be able to make money by running your own business or leasing the space to tenants.

Leverage: You are able to finance a part of the property, whereby you can invest with less money in advance and take full value of it at the same time.

Architecturally stunning with a green-themed interior, SL Highstreet boasts of excellent visibility, which is considered the major plus for any business. With office spaces and retail spaces, you get to grow your business in an environment that supports networking, collaboration, and unwinding. Amenities include modern Multi-DTH, complimentary Wi-Fi, state-of-the-art CCTV cameras, free parking space, electronically operated parking towers, and a reliable DG backup.

If you are considering investing in ashop for sale in Sangli, SL Highstreet offers the best location along with modern amenities and huge possibilities of financial growth.

[the-hatchetfield-chronicles]

6/9/20. Interview with Mayor Solomon Lauter. Mayor’s office. 10:30 A.M.

EM: Good morning, Mayor Lauter.

[They shake hands.]

SL: Good morning.

EM: It’s nice to meet you. My name is Elle Marden. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about your town?

SL: Of course. I’m happy to assist.

EM: Firstly, how long have you been the mayor of Hatchetfield?

SL: I was elected in 2012 and won reelection in 2016. I intend to win again this fall, so I trust that you will paint me in good light? This election is very important to me.

EM: Of course. I’m sure it is. Now I’d like to hear more about what you think of this town. What are the people here like?

SL: Oh they’re very friendly. Hatchetfield is full of kind, genuine people.

[Note from Elle: Something about his tone and his expression suggests that he might not be telling the full truth?]

EM: I love to hear that. What’s your favorite thing about Hatchetfield?

SL: I love the sense of community this town has. There is one thing we all can agree on, one thing that unites us all: we are Nighthawks.

EM: What kind of events take place in Hatchetfield? Are there any festivals of any kind?

SL: Yes, we hold the annual Honey Festival every summer. There are lots of different vendors, booths, and games. There’s live music, and boats you can rent for an optimal spot to view the fireworks show. And of course the main attraction is the Honey Queen Pageant. Every year the crown is given to whom the judges deem the sweetest woman in Hatchetfield. Most Honey Queens then move out of Hatchetfield and onto “bigger and better things,” although I don’t think it gets much better than Hatchetfield.

EM: That sounds like a lot of fun.

SL: We have a summer camp in the middle of the woods that takes place every year, focused on keeping our youth pure and chaste. In fact my daughter is there right now. I can’t have her doing anything that could tarnish my image.

EM: I didn’t know you had a daughter.

SL: Yes. She’s a good kid, but sometimes she just needs a little…redirecting.

EM: Are there any other fun places or events in the town?

SL: There’s a theme park on the edge of the island called Watcher World, known especially for The Tear-Jerker, the tallest rollercoaster in the midwest, as the musical extravaganza Blinky’s Watch Party. I do wish to emphasize that Blinky’s Watch Party is entirely a work of fiction, and Blinky is simply the park’s mascot.

[Note from Elle: It seems a bit strange that he had to emphasize that. I would have imagined that it was fiction. Is he trying to hide something?]

EM: That’s so cool.

SL: Indeed. This may be a tiny town, but we certainly have it all.

EM: Well, now that we’ve discussed some of the great things about this town, I’m interested to know: is there anything you dislike about it?

[He pauses.]

SL: I will say this: there is more to Hatchetfield than what meets the eye. There is some history that I discourage you from looking too far into.

EM: Okay…

SL: It was a pleasure speaking with you today.

EM: But I wasn’t—

SL: I hope you enjoy the rest of your visit.

[He escorts Elle to the door.]

[Note from Elle: That was strange. He was happy to talk about the good things this town had to offer, but once I tried to get into the less good things, he was eager to end the interview. I feel this is further evidence that Mayor Lauter is hiding something. Something sinister, perhaps? Either way, it’s very odd.]

[angelhummel]

🔥 Every Santana Lopez Outfit

3x11 Michael

[scottstiles]

i can’t remember what this music is and it’s fucking killing me that i can’t even ask u guys for help cuz i can’t just sing it for you and i CAN’T FIND IT IN MY BRAIN CATALOGUE shit it’s just so ITCHY