#i told him i wont speak without a lawyer present; then asked if i was being detained

[reallycoolsoup]

Why the cops knocking at my door at 9am?

[sly-merlin]

GOT PLAYED | JENO

Hello mam can I request a lawyer jeno scenario where reader (gender neutral so everyone can read) is a prosecutor and they are in the same court together

Lawyer Boyfriend jeno , gender neutral lawyer reader

Genre : fluff with nonsense bickering

Words: 1.5k

a/n: jeno is a big boi now! Happy jeno-ing!! Also the terms used are local to my country. It may vary in your state.

----

your butt was itching to dance out in the centre of the courtroom. Clicking your forefinger on the watch, you observed the lovely minute hand completing another circle, indicating the approaching end of the waiting time. The opposing party being a minute more late would mean nothing but good news for your client, resulting in another victory for you.

But when had you ever won anything without a little struggle! As the clock on the wall hit 11, the door of the room opened and across the room stood Jeno, breathing heavily like he had been running since hours. You rolled your eyes at his awful timing. He handed over his briefcase to his client and wore his blazer hurriedly while simultaneously bowing to the judge in deference and apology. The judge, disregarding his gesture with his hand called him to the front. You got up as well, in annoyance of course. You had very much hoped for his car to have punctured on its way but it seemed like he needed to get on your nerves even in the court as well. standing beside him, you couldn’t help but notice the wrinkles on the right side of his blazer. The oddity puzzled you at first but suddenly, with a subtle glare from his side, you were made aware of the reason behind his change of clothes. Not wearing the ones that you steam ironed last night was a show of anger towards you, even if it made him look like a fool in front of the whole chamber.

“a minute late and I’d have passed an interlocutory order against your client Mr.lee” breaking your trance, the judge warned him. He bowed again and mumbled a mannerly apology, the like of which you deserved too.

“today the hearing would start with the counter evidence of the defendant side, that is,” he sifted through the list of the evidence provided beforehand, “the bank records of both the parties. Please proceed advocate lee”

“yes, your honour. As I explained in a previous hearing, my client, mrs. Shin has been working as a manager of the Kwon industries since 14 years. On the other hand, mr. shin started a poker business with the money she used to save up for their only son’s future. All the transactions from her personal accounts to mr. shin’s were innocently carried out by her as she was kept under a false impression regarding the use of her money, which she never would have allowed in her right mind. The proof of these transfers is the evidence I’m going to present that is the receipts and annual reports.”

The urge to smack his tongue for the lies it told was uncontrollable but you breathed in. you inhaled all the bitterness back to your throat and stood there like an obedient child with a face ridden of any expressions.

After what felt like minutes, you snapped your head in his direction to notice the browsing he was doing in his briefcase. The questionable look on his face drew a smirk into your own as you understood the sensitiveness of the matter in hand. He forgot. The papers!

Throwing your charitable side out of the door, you turned towards the judge,

“it seems like the opposing counsel has nothing to produce, your honour.”

You felt his clenching jaw and irritated eyes.

“mr. lee, if you are unable to proceed then i’ll have to pass a maintenance order against your client.”

“no!” he interrupted, “that would be unfair to this poor lady sir. don’t penalise her for my negligence. The evidence can turn the course of this whole case. if you may, I’d request another date-

“he’s going to forget again. He forgets everything these days” before you could control, you spit out.

The judge didn’t seem to be impressed by your uncalled interruption so he warned you to speak only when allowed. But with a mouth as big as his, jeno never knew what resistance meant so he remarked,

“and my dear friend here forgets the ethics of a courtroom, disrespecting seniors like this! There is not much difference between us then I must say.”

Your lip twitched at the not so subtle mention of the fight you had in the morning, right before the breakfast. Now you were adamant on proving that no matter the place and circumstances, you were definitely not similar to him in any way.

“disrespecting and raising matters of importance are two varied things and my dear counsel should be reading those ethic rules for himself as he’s the one jeopardising the position of his client in the court due to his own manners. I request the court to grant mr. shin all the rights to his properties that mrs. Shin had seized years ago. He’s a disabled man and he cannot work by himself and the lack of evidence is a clear indication that the defendants are just trying to waste the time of the court. Along with the rights of the properties, a lawful possession of the house and maintenance charges are also requested. All the claims can be found on the page 15 of the-

“I object, your honour. I am accepting my mistake. This woman deserves a second chance. My junior was sick and since he has no near and dear in this town, I had to go and care for him. in the hurry, I forgot the papers at home. It was not delibra-

“what if you don’t remember this next time either? Until then my client is going to suffer in a small and stinky apartment and all because of your carelessness.”

“I’m not careless,” He whispered yelled.

“yes,” now facing him, you said, arms crossed in front of you torso, “a man who can’t even hold a mug properly shouldn’t be the one talking about-

“you started it by smashing the music box. It was a gift by jaemin. I bet you did it deliberately too!”

“I was sleep walking! I apologised already! There was no need to break my favourite mug you bit-

The sound of gavel reverberated in the small family courtroom, snapping both of you in the reality.

You gulped slightly, eyes boring into jeno’s but with unknown fear. In an instant, the worst consequences of blunder you both had knowingly-unknowingly committed flashed across your eyes and you both whirled around, backs bent like you both never knew what a straight spine ever looked like!

“keep your personal and professional life separate or choose the one most suitable. The court is adjourned for two days. You both shall be heavily fined for your inappropriate behaviour. Next time, I won’t be lenient. Collect your slips from the clerk.”

Apologising verbally, you took your leave.

Standing outside, you waited for the lunch time to pass so you could pay the fine. you were mad at jeno but more than him, you were furious with yourself for losing your direction. You had done exactly what you were trying to accuse jeno of in the court.

Your eyes were closed in regret when you felt soft lips on your forehead.

Smiling widely, jeno stood there as if he hadn’t been scolded for the unprofessionalism just a few hours ago.

“don’t talk to me.” You uttered, lowering your gaze.

“awww! Look how easy it is to rile you up. Thank you though”

unsure of what he said, you asked,

“for what?”

“for fighting with me! Your bickering saved my ass. The old man was going to decide the case but your cute brain worked at the wrong time! Now I have two days to turn all my lies into a living truth. All because of you my darling.”

“what the fuck I’m gonna ki-

“yeah yeah. kiss me all you want when we are home. Be professional here!” he breathed out. “how about I treat you to a nice meal to return the favour.”

Chest heaving up and down, you looked him dead in the eye, his revelations not sounding too amusing to your ears. Raising your hand up and waving the fine slip in front of him, you challenged,

“I dare you to repeat this again and I promise you wont get enough time to regret it!”

Not that you actually expected him to cry in front of you in intimidation, a hearty laugh from his body wasn’t anticipated either.

“what the fuck je-

You were once again cut off by his lips that met your cheek in a wet kiss, lasting too long for a public setting.

You hated the way he loved testing your patience.

Moving his soft lips from your cheek to your ear, he sighed before murmuring in an indecently low voice,

“you better get a new music box before jaemin visits me or I know how to make you regret your actions.”

Unmoved, you stared at him with doe eyes. He walked away before returning back only to snatch the paper slip from your hands.

“I’ll pay and sign. Go have lunch. Try to finish early today, I’ll be waiting for you.”

Innocently smiling, he left as if everything that had happened was nothing but delusion. And you hated the way he knew you like the back of his hand. But you were going to make sure he lost this one to you. Once and forever.

[fleckcmscott]

Home Early

Summary: Y/N has to attend a conference for work. Arthur misses her.

Warnings: Smut, swearing

Words: 3,746

A/N: A great request from @sweet-nothings04​! This was so much fun to write! Thank you! And a gracious thanks to @ithinkimawriter​ for beta-ing. Love you, ma’am!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

If you’ve sent me a request and I haven’t responded, it’s because I am working on it and will answer once it’s posted!

A mid-May business trip to Philadelphia was not what Y/N had planned. Phil, her new boss at Dube & Ellis, had decided it was great timing. She'd joined the law firm in April, just when a case involving Daggett Industries, a local chemical and pharmaceutical company, was moving forward. Her investigative skills could help, he told her, but she had to beef up her knowledge of labor statutes. Attending the annual employment and safety regulation conference would be a good opportunity.

The quality of her work being recognized so soon after her hiring pleased her - she'd always taken pride in it. And the idea of Arthur, a man who had never gotten a toe out of Gotham, traveling to a new city with her was charming. They'd be able to visit a historical site or two, explore the streets together, eventually settle at a comedy club so he could make notes. (Pogo's was a comforting familiarity, but there wasn't a lot of variety in the comedians.)

As soon as she asked if she could bring him with her, however, the notion was rejected. Phil merely pursed his lips, concluding with a slight shake of the head. When Y/N said she would, of course, pay for Arthur's half of the trip, he elaborated. "You're not married. It wouldn't look right." She gaped at him. "I know," he continued. "This is the eighties, we've come a long way, bra-burning and all that." Her eyebrow went higher with every syllable. "There are going to be a lot of other professionals there. You don't want a reputation."

It was such an archaic way of thinking. She managed to bite her tongue before spouting what was running through her head: that her sex life was none of their business. That her personal life had nothing to do with her competency. That she knew he meant the firm's reputation when he said "hers..."

She was still new. Her colleagues were learning how to take her brashness (not withstanding their appreciation of it during her interview), and she was in the process of becoming acquainted with them. She'd found a way to express herself, though, telling the man who was old enough to be her father, "You're showing your age, Phil." She thanked him for the chance to expand her expertise, accepted the registration form for the conference, and went to her desk.

Arthur was dour when he learned she had to leave, his annoyance clear in how his neck tightened, the tap of his fork on the table. Normally, his infrequent, mild petulance didn't bother her. A hug, a lame joke, and a kind word or two tended to bring him out of it. But the frustration at what her boss had said, the disrespect she'd felt, sat in her stomach. She kept her tone measured. "I'm not thrilled at the short notice, either. We'll have to go to the pier the next week." At his lack of verbal response, she put her hand on his and stopped its movements. "This isn't the last time this kind of thing is going to happen. Having your support is important to me."

Wincing, he let go of the utensil. "You do. I just..." His jaw clenched as he closed his eyes. "It's nice to have you. It's gotten easier for me to live here."

"I do enjoy seeing you strut around in your pajama bottoms again."

He gave a warm look, snickered softly, and grasped her palm. "I'll be okay."

On the eve of the trip, Arthur held her closer than usual. The embrace, albeit lovely, was making her too hot to sleep. And she had to get up extra early to catch the commuter train. Turning towards him, she ran her fingertips along his forearm trying to lift his spirits. There was reassurance in his deliberate cadence when he started speaking - for her and for himself. "I don't want you worrying about me. I'll keep myself busy."

She reached to tuck an unruly curl behind his ear. "I'll call you every night. You can tell me a joke. Like when we started dating."

His voice was soft, teasing when he answered. "Should I take a shower afterwards, too?"

Giggling, she pulled herself an inch or two from him and tucked herself in. His chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth, the nuzzling of her hair, carried her to sleep.

Now she was in her room at the hotel adjoined to the conference center. It wasn't bad. The twenty-four inch TV had cable. The bathroom was clean. The mattress was somewhat lumpy but adequate. Ready for bed, she rested against the headboard. Her mind was reeling from everything presented today. Statistics showing workplace injuries were on the rise where funding to regulators had been cut. An overview of changes to federal labor statutes over the past few years. The workshop on employment law basics she'd chosen to attend. While it had all been interesting, she needed to unwind.

She was sipping the nightcap she'd ordered at the hotel bar as her pondering went to Arthur. She had incorrectly assumed being engrossed in her work would distract her from missing him too much. But his absence caused an unexpected pang in her chest. Mornings, without the sound of his shaver when she passed by the bathroom, his arm slung around her as she poured the coffee he'd made, or his smoky breath when they'd share their first kiss of the day, were the hardest. She rolled her eyes at herself. It felt silly, being a forty year old woman and lovesick after a mere three days.

Arthur sounded like he was doing all right whenever they talked. She hoped he wasn't putting on a brave face for her, pasting on a smile as he was still wont to do. Each conversation went similarly. They asked about each other's day. She would prattle on about the material they'd covered while he would patiently listen. He'd tell her what he had for dinner, how any gigs had gone, try out a couple new jokes on her. Then he would get quiet. It was the same tonight. Finally, he sighed. "I wish it was Saturday already. It's hard to sleep alone again." The "again" tugged at her. "The bed's empty without you."

The poignancy tinging his words made her frown. "I'm empty without you," she said, trying to lighten the mood. His awkward, sweet chuckle was a balm. "I'll be home, getting on your nerves, before you know it."

Once they'd hung up, she flipped through the channels in an effort to relax. But the shopping networks were numerous, the talk shows contrived and ridiculous, and the sit-com reruns from the fifties. And the ache that had formed in her heart during her call with Arthur was getting heavier as the minutes passed, the more she wished he was laying by her side. Turning off the TV and finishing the rest of her drink, she forced herself to doze.

~~~~~

Due to scheduling conflicts, the last day and a half of the conference was solely for lawyers, not paralegals. All it took was a short call to Phil to get permission to head back to Gotham early. That meant she'd be home Thursday night instead of Saturday. She'd have to work Friday, but she'd be back with Arthur a whole thirty-six hours sooner than planned.

The train arrived only a few minutes late at the hub between Bowery and the financial district. She'd been able to catch the 7:45 PM subway to Burnley after a short sprint. The temperatures had been unseasonably high lately. In spite of the stifling heat and humidity in the car, with its broken air conditioning, the anticipation coursing through her made her smile. She hoped he would like the souvenir she got him, and patted her pencil skirt pocket to ensure it was safe.

The apartment was quiet when she opened the front door. All the lights were off, except for the one over the stove. Maybe Arthur had gotten to sleep already, which would be good, considering the trouble he'd said he'd been having. After sliding the locks into place and putting the keys on the counter, she slipped off her shoes. Silently, she went to the bedroom in her nylon-stockings. As she got closer, about a foot away, she heard Arthur's voice. It was too faint to make out any words. He was likely dreaming or talking to himself, as he often did when working on his material. The door was ajar, about an inch -  the warm glow of the bedside lamp shone through it. Not wanting to disturb him, she slowly opened the door halfway.

The sight in front of her froze her instantly.

Clad only in his briefs, Arthur was supine on her side of the mattress, his right forearm folded behind his head, which was tilted into the pillow beneath it. His forehead was furrowed, lips agape to allow ragged breaths to escape, punctuated by occasional, soft moans in his throat. Y/N's gaze roved lower, to his bare, heaving chest, then she followed the flexing muscles of his other arm. The fingers of his left hand were wrapped around his rigid shaft. Both legs were splayed, his right knee up and leaning to the side, while his left leg lay flat.

No one, not even her ex-husband, had ever done this in front of her. While she'd been curious, she'd never had the desire to actually watch someone pleasure themselves. His vulnerability struck her as she remembered Arthur hadn't intended to be seen doing this. Part of her thought she should step away, shut the door, and wait for him to finish. But it was getting harder to convince herself to walk away. Did he regularly do this before their nightly phone call? Would he be unsettled if he knew she was there?

Did he know how beautiful he was? Gulping, she studied the way he palmed himself, his grip stroking up and down as his hips slowly rocked into his fist. She hadn't expected to find this alluring. Her own breathing was getting heavier the longer she observed him, and she could feel her nipples tighten against the lace of her bra. Her fingers traveled to her breast, whispering over a stiff peak, fondling herself through the royal blue satin as she worried her bottom lip. She was growing desperate to join in. Then he grunted her name, and her breath hitched in response.

The flicks of his wrist increased as his forefinger and thumb moved to tease the swollen head. Compelled to step forward, she tip-toed in, opening the top three snaps of her blouse. Heat flared in her core as the pitch of his whimpers rose. She squeezed her legs together in an effort to sate it.

They were only three feet apart when she whined and gave herself away.

Arthur started and regarded her with confusion, which rapidly changed to shock. "Oh my god." The hue of his blush deepened from pink to beet red, as he scrambled to tuck himself into his briefs.

"It's all right. I-"

"Wh-What are you doing home?" he asked, grasping the corner of the gray sheet to cover his groin.

As he started to rise, Y/N rushed forward and sat beside him on the bed. "My schedule changed." She smoothed his hair back from his forehead, stray strands stuck in the sheen of his sweat. "I wanted to surprise you." The continued blush on his cheeks, his refusal to meet her eyes told her he was distressed. She kissed his hairline, brushing along his sideburn. "I shouldn't have barged in like that."

He shook his head slightly, long eyelashes resting on his cheekbones. She understood his reticence. That act was normally done alone. Though he hadn't talked about it much, she'd figured out privacy could be a sore spot for him. It made sense, given his history of living with Penny, how tiny their apartment had been. And if he'd come upon her in the same position, she would have been flustered, too. Y/N traced a laugh line. "Arthur, I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine." After a couple deep breaths, he blinked up at her. "How was your trip?"

She reclined next to him, snuggling his side and placing a hand on his chest. "It went well. But it would have been nicer if you'd been there." That coaxed a bashful smile out of him, which heartened her. "I learned a lot."

He leaned into her as she kissed his jaw. "Like what?"

"Well," she started, trying to think of a fun example. Arthur often asked her about her work, and she tried to use illustrations that would make sense to any layman. "If I hired a sexy comedian to do his set at a party-" Snorting, he rolled onto his side to face her. "It would be illegal to try to get out of paying him by sleeping with him." The pad of her thumb skimmed the lines at the corner of his eye. "I'd have to compensate him as agreed. Then I could romance him."

He ran his palm over her shoulder. "Good thing you never hired me." Then she felt the sear of his fingertips trailing her neck. "I think you would’ve broken the law."

"Definitely," she said, tracing the curve of his brow. He kissed her quickly, then met her gaze, his own filled with desire and a little uncertainty. Arthur had gained confidence since moving in three months ago, and uncertainty was the last thing she wanted for him to feel. In their home, in their room, and in their bed. It gave her pause. It might be best to simply address what had occurred. That had been her approach with him so far, and it hadn't failed her yet. "You don't have to be embarrassed." Grimacing, he ducked his chin. She caught it and bumped her nose to his. "Seeing you do that was...quite exciting."

His look was one of disbelief. "Really?" At the quick nod of her head, he huffed.

Gradually, allowing him plenty of time to stop her, she dragged her touch lower, playing across the lean muscles of his belly, along the waistband of his underwear. "What were you thinking about?"

He narrowed his eyes, holding her waist. "Y/N..."

She giggled, letting him guide her to straddle him. "Ah, so you were thinking about me."

Instead of speaking, he kissed her, his mouth groping messily at hers. The heat was enough to make her think she might melt into him. "I missed you," he murmured, arching up into her.

She met him and moaned softly, the grind of his hard-on making her core ache. "Four days without you was too long," she breathed. Her eyelids fluttered shut as his fiddled with her half-open top.

He held her hip, continuing the heady friction between them. "I want-." Even as need radiated from him, his pleas were spoken modestly. "I- I wanna make..."

Love, Y/N completed mentally. That was the phrase he, the romantic in their relationship, typically used. (She was usually blunter, sometimes vulgar, though it was lovemaking no matter what word was said.) It would be so easy to relinquish control, especially when she wanted to feel the stretch of him inside her so badly.

But not yet. Her blouse was peeled off her as she sat up, and she reached back to unhook her bra. He started to bunch her skirt around her hips until she wiggled out of his grasp. Sliding further down bed, her parted lips covered his sternum, leaving damp imprints in their wake. Her touch followed his v-lines, then dipped beneath the waistline of his briefs, pulling them off his narrow hips as she brushed her mouth along the dusting of hair starting at his navel.

Once his underwear was off, she grasped his erection. He jolted. "Wait, I won't last."

She planted a quick kiss right above his brown curls, earning a shiver from him. Barring the days he yearned to simply confirm the reality of their connection, he made sure she enjoyed herself in bed. He was good at reading her responses, and she never hesitated to say exactly what she needed. Now she had other ideas. "I took care of myself this morning. There's no way I could have paid attention, otherwise," she said, her voice taking on a slight rasp. "I couldn't stop thinking about you." A muffled laugh hitched in his throat, and he put his palm to his face, grinning at her.

She started to work him, her pumping motions steady yet gentle. He glanced at her hand on him, then let his head fall back into the pillow as his hips rose into her touch. Her brows knit together at the display before her, his handsomeness, his lithe frame, the delicious weight of his girth. She looked at his cock then and groaned. The prominent vein, the deep red of the glistening head, almost tinted purple with need... Her mouth watered, needing more of him. All of him.

Taking him between her lips, she closed her eyes as she savored the first taste of his arousal: salty with a bitter edge. A strangled sound left him, and he reached to loosely hold the back of her head. Licking across the slit, she bobbed slightly, enveloping him further. She brought her other hand between his thighs and cupped him, caressing the soft skin there. Then the tip of her tongue found the notch on the underside of the head and flicked against it.

His leg went around her, foot resting on her lower back as he whined, "Oh, fuck." That prompted her to smile around him. It wasn't often he cursed, usually when he was nervous or upset, not in casual conversation. When he did in the bedroom, she knew he was on the brink of losing control. She changed the angle of her head slightly, laving at him between fervent sucks, seeking to bring him off. The thigh against her arm tightened as the rolls of his pelvis sped up. Her own arousal bloomed as he got closer and closer to completion.

When he suddenly warned he was about to come, a craving captured her. One that astounded even as it thrilled her. She hadn't wanted to be marked by someone before, possessed by a person. The notion would have normally offended her sensibilities. But somehow her trust level with Arthur brought out that primal desire. The way he never talked down to or demeaned her, how he always treated her as his partner, allowed her to explore that side of herself. To realize she could enjoy it in this context.

At the first pulses in his length, her mouth left him. Keeping him in her grasp, she leaned forward until his cock brushed her chest. With a final, strained cry, he stiffened and thrust up towards her. She closed her eyes as he spilled onto her, gasping as she relished in the thin, warm lines of his essence hitting her breasts and catching on her nipple. A dull throbbing had begun in her center, and she rubbed herself languidly on the mattress as he grasped her shoulder.

He was still catching his breath when he opened his eyes and looked at her, at the marks he'd made across her torso. The tension in his face let her know he was unsure what to make of it. This wasn't something they had talked about. She kissed the crease of his thigh, and said the words that always soothed him. "I love you, Arthur."

The liquid on her chest was already cooling, and she crawled over him to grab a tissue from the box on the bedside stand. But he propped himself on his forearm and took it from her. He wiped at her tenderly, eyes softening as he went. "What was that?"

"Did you mind it?" At the instant shake of his head, she shrugged and bent closer to him, the sweetness in his care warming her heart. "I had an urge."

"Hm." While his dimples were slow to appear, the smirk he wore was sure. He crumpled the tissue and placed it by the base of the lamp, then pulled her on top of him. "You have some weird urges."

Chuckling, she pressed her forehead to his. "And they all involve you." His lips seized hers and he took her hand, squeezing it as he folded his fingers together. Their breaths mingled when they eventually parted. She rolled onto the bed and reached into her skirt pocket, hoping her gift hadn't broken in the heat of the moment. "Here, I got you something." She pulled out a black pen with the phrase "Philadelphia - The City of Love" printed on it in gold letters (she wouldn't tell him it meant brotherly love), with a heart at the end. "For your journal."

He took it slowly, then read the script on it, silently moving his lips. Beaming at her as if she'd given him the world instead of a cheap souvenir, he kissed her temple clumsily and got up. After pulling on his underwear and lounge pants, he left the bedroom. Y/N decided to finish undressing, threw on a tank top and pajama bottoms, and headed to the kitchen.

While she poured a glass of wine for them to share, he sat at his desk, scribbling quickly. She wondered what he was writing and asked a rare question: "May I take a peek?"

He could refuse her, of course, with no lingering resentment between them. But this time he didn't, waving her over. Him divulging the private thoughts he put in his journal was an infrequent treat, one she cherished. Holding the pages tightly, she assumed so they wouldn't flip to something he didn't want her to see, he showed her the simple note he'd written. "Y/N's back all ready and surprized me with this pen and more. She needs to learn to knock. Guess I better write some new jokes." She gazed at him, enjoying the contentment visible in his features.

After a peck to his cheek, he snaked an arm around her waist. She raked her hand through his hair and he smiled up at her. "It isn't late," she said. "I'll put a record on so we can catch up."

~~~~~

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[whatdoesshedotothem]

Saturday 14 March 1835: SH:7/ML/E/17/0180

7 ¾

11 ¾

No kiss -rainy morning - ready in ¾ hour. Nice little motion the first since Wednesday. F45° at 8 ¾ at which hour went down to Mark Hepworth who had brought his wood waggon to bring the remaining larches from Lee lane - Sent Charles and James H- with him to help him to loaden - then a little while with John Mann who will come in to speak to me this afternoon - Holt’s plans not good - this vent-pit money thrown away - said I knew that well enough - but I should say nothing and have it filled up - breakfast at 9 ¼ in ½ hour - skimming over Cabinet Lawyer then had Mr Washington ¼ hour till 10 ¾ - left him with A- he brought me plan of the value and brook from Mytholm to Stump X Inn - the Shibden Mill dam is 3 roads and the people can draw it off in 3 hours - told W- to give me his valuation of Wellroyde and Mytholm Stag’s head - skimming over Cabinet Lawyer till 11 10 raining till now about (11 10) - Off down the old bank to Halifax at 11 20 near ¾ hour at Mr Parker’s office - had heard that the old Duke public house at the bottom of Petticoat Lane might be to be sold - must he inquire about it - yes! and explained and bade him inquire at the Lower George and that cottage in Northgate belonging to Messrs. Wetherherd Bateman and c° - Mr Adam mentioned the Rose and Crown being to be sold - I feared that might be too large a purchase but begged it to be inquire about - they will try for the opening thro’ Rawson’s wood yard into my Northgate land - explained a little of my building plan - they seemed much pleased at the idea of the larger dining room with small tables to bolt together and colonnade and orchestra over one end of the room and 2 rows of single bedded rooms over the dining room - explained about my note of yesterday respecting Mr Jeremiah Dyson -a copy of it to be sent to Mr James Norris - and the act according to his answer - at any rate could post Mr JD- explained the sort of hand-bills I would put keeping myself very safe from all risk of libel - Mr P- seemed quite satisfied and so did Mr A- then to Whitley’s for a minute or two - then to Russell’s and got my maclean watch from cleaning - a good one but one old - he called 20 years old - long while there - he explained about watches - could get a good common one (with glass and silver hunting case over it) for £4 for George if I consider to give him one - returned up the old bank to John Bottomely’s - the water drift seems to answer now the 40 yards lead pipe are set  - a good and constant supply of water so far - then up the Whiskum road to look at Richard Woodhead’s railing of the Mark Town’s road - then to Walker pit - Nathan and John Pickells and the great hired lad shifting stuff for gin-race - then home about 2 1/2  - talking to A- till 3 then out with her in the walk till John Mann came and had him from 3 35 to 6 25 - Long preliminary talk and the large plan open before us - talk about R-‘s colliery - said not a word to let out my right  of being about Machan’s coal but just asked as if supposing R- had bought it how I should manage to look after his trespass on my coal in Marsh farm - no way but an authority from chancery to go down into R-‘s pits - Oh! Oh! thought I, and said nothing - that wont do - In fact I knew as much before and am determined to buy this coal if I can – Holt, JM- agrees, is as honest as any of them but not as clever - his plans about the coal here not good - the Tilley holm-vent pit of no use - consults with the Manns, and gives in - said I knew all this - and now began to plan for myself - but much obliged to JM- said I and attended much to what he said - I had no thought of going according to some of Holt’s plans - had now plans of my own but said nothing about some of them - it seems I might buy Joseph Wilkinson’s coal if I chose - no! said I - that would not do for me - JM- said ‘well! if you live, you’ll get it at last’ - Wilson will be in York castle before 6 months’ end and Norris will get the Engine - well! said I let him have it - I would not take it for noting if bound to work it - JM- said I could not get 4 acres a year till Swales moor coals were done - I said I thought I could before the 6 years’ end - well! said JM- the Swales moor coal will be done by them - he told me he was witness to the agreement (never named it to any one before) and R- gave Hinscliffe £150 for his ½ of the waste coals and £10 for the rails left in the workings - From the checker to R-‘s present engine-pit there are 12 yards of coal-drift

SH:7/ML/E/17/0181

so that get so far (as far as his engine pit) his engine has 12 yards to pump, but it both pumps the water and draws up the scoops or corves of coal to the engine pit where six at a time are yoked together to one galloway that pulls them out at Swan banks or bottom of Southowram bank as wanted - R- can get 25 yards more dip if he spends that level and pumps the water into the present level - (then he will have 12 + 25 yards = 37 yards to pump) - .:. if he can get 25 yards more dip, that is (for the coal dips one yard in 17)  breadth of 25x17 = 425 yards - so that he cannot get a breadth of 500 yards from his engine pit as Holt told .:. he cannot get so much as 25 acres of Samuel Halls’ coal - then talked of plan for my own coal, and drifts - JM- is afraid of the old upper bed water level - long talk - 1st to put the Engine pit on this side the brook - then even to get it up the top side of Pearson’s sown holme in a line with the present proposed water level - at some distance below the new footpath stile between Dolt and Sown holm then we saw the difficulties about the water channel to get the fall upon the wheel - then went back to having the Engine pit close to the coffin Lane bridge and but 4 or 5 yards on this side of the brook - the wheel will be 12 or 14 yards in diameter? - water goit that pours the water on to the wheel will be 4 yards above the present surface of the ground at coffin bridge end - that is I must have a building or planting to something 4 yards higher than the present surface to hide the outlet of the water upon the wheel - dinner at 6 ¾ in a hurry for Mr Jubb came - explained my aunt how to use the vapour bath he sent (and which John brought this morning) - then did up my wrist again - too weak to go without another bandage but doing well - explained about the castor oil taken on Wednesday - advised ½ the dose in future or quarters would I take a digestive pill of aloes and myrrh before dinner (it would just produce one solid stool) - said I disliked all medicines - would bathing the bottom of the back with salt and water or vinegar and water and having friction do good? yes! friction for 8 or 10 minutes (after a bathing of this kind) before a fire often did good to the bowels where medicines would not act - I am right to take so much exercise - mentioned my father’s bowels being formerly in the same sort of the way - I thought his water on the chest might be the result - he said this was probable - asked what he would call the sort of thing I complained of - constipation - the absorbents absorbed all the liquid and left the dry [οκύςαλον?] lumps, the scybalous matter - Mr Jubb went away at 7 ¾ then coffee - then looking over with A- the 15 plans SW sent her this afternoon by George - the plans are each comprehending as much land as lies together or nearly so - with my aunt from 9 ¾ to 10 - from then to 10 55 wrote all but the 1st 9 lines of today - fine day F48° now at 10 55 pm

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

Chapter Six: Flashback, one of two, and also Maya’s in it

[Beginning] [Chapter Masterlist]

“Hey, Chief, question: so murder’s murder even if it’s one of the Fair F -- the fae, who’s murdered.”

“Murder is murder when a person is killed, accounting for manslaughter, accidental death, and the like -- honestly, Phoenix, you just think a person doesn’t count?”

“No! I mean, like… It just surprises me, is all, that you would let a human court arbitrate it and not just…”

“Revenge ourselves on the suspected killer with our magics in our home realm?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s always a possibility -- but it’s far too messy. That sort of thing tends to drag others who are far outside of the disagreement into the fighting, by way of networks of alliances, and before you know it there’s a full war that began because of a stupid crime of passion in a human bar. Some time before me, our Courts decided that humans and your courts and laws are the closest to fair, neutral judgment available, and that we would abide by their verdicts. Oh, certainly humanity was not consulted, but it is to your benefit to investigate the killings of fae, so as the allies of the deceased will not strike a curse down on all who were in the vicinity. And besides, you don’t think that, if humanity agreed that fae deaths won’t be tried, that rule wouldn’t be abused? That any man might claim his neighbor was one of the Fair Folk and killing him does not ‘count’ -- that any mother might throw her child in a fire because it acted just the slightest bit strange and claim that its life was forfeit on her suspicion?”

“You say that humans are fair and then list out all that. Neutral, with our lying and biases and stupid foolhardy impulsive actions--”

“Other than lies, we have the same faults, but so often magnified. We are impulsive and petty and cruel, with bias bred into our bloodlines -- it is an imperfect decision, as we are imperfect, as you are imperfect, as I have found even your laws to be. We make do with our best. It is all we have, in the end.”

-

A cold iron stake through the heart will kill anyone, not just one of the fae.

The same, Phoenix thinks, would go for an iron bullet through the forehead.

It’s not that he doesn’t know what Magnifi was -- Zak told him that from the beginning, and Pearl’s gift confirms for him that he wasn’t lying. And even without it, he could still see the lingering traces that Zak was a witch -- once. Their powers fade quickly when their patron is gone. He knows that without asking.

If it should matter, though, there is no way to prove to anyone else what Magnifi was.

Fae corpses don’t leave evidence. If they leave a corpse at all -- most do, but not all, and those deaths by their nature are never judged but in the Courts of Kurain, if the dead has the allies to bring the matter forth -- it is indistinguishable from a human’s, a last residual enchantment to make sure they cannot be ignored or dismissed.

Or to fuck with those left behind, as Phoenix comes to understand of Magnifi.

The evidence of the trial made that much obvious: one shot to the forehead; you cannot refuse, and we both know the reason why. A final cruelty to impart on those whom he bargained with -- and why wouldn’t he? If he knew he was dying -- of age, a curse from another, whatever it was -- the Gramarye witches would outlast him. And even if his death would take their powers away, the fae never like to feel that they’ve been cheated. One last indignity: don’t forget what you lost forever to make a bargain with me.

There is a lot Phoenix does not know, answers he is still seeking, but this, he understands. The nature of the fae, he understands.

The Bar Association suspends his badge pending inquiry, the hearing scheduled for one short week after the trial. News travels fast about Phoenix, ever since von Karma, ever since Gant, two pillars of the legal system he brought crumbling down, and the prosecution already had done half of their inquiry for them, placing Drew Misham in the courtroom with a speed that made Phoenix’s head spin. His memories of the trial are patchy, direly so, when it comes to the diary page -- how he got it, why he didn’t find it too suspicious to present -- and that will be his own inquiry: who fooled him, and how. It probably wasn’t Zak; it very likely could have been Gavin, a prodigy looking to make a name for himself, with enough enchantments and glamours to make it happen. He is human at the core and nowhere else, but the old adage, foot in each world, doesn’t seem so true, not when he drapes himself in iron jewelry like he thinks it can ground him firmly on this side of the veil.

Phoenix doesn’t trust him -- Phoenix has five people whom he personally trusts -- but he can’t condemn him, not yet. Not without more evidence.

The first lead he chases down is the forger himself, Drew Misham. (No, not himself.) The forger is his daughter, Vera, a shy, sickly little girl, and a changeling besides. Drew seems to know, but he won’t say it outright -- Vera is “exceptionally talented”, “a genius”, and he never makes eye contact with Phoenix. She was the only one to see the client’s face, and whoever it was has done a good job of convincing her to clam up. A gentle smile, she says. Like an angel, but for the briefest of moments -- a slip in the upkeep of a glamour? -- Vera saw the devil.

Not exactly helpful, and definitely worrying when compounded with the secret charm that she won’t show, but she does tell him that she lays an enchantment on all of her forgeries -- not in those exact words. Phoenix isn’t even sure that she realizes what she is, that her powers are not human.

Valant is the second he speaks with, at the detention center where he has been interred for trying to pin the murder on Zak. Talking to him -- or maybe it’s that Phoenix retrieved the magatama to keep with him on this investigation -- brings one memory into sharper focus -- the girl, the little girl, Zak’s daughter, as human as her father but draped in magic even when it was fading from Magnifi’s two pupils. And that is definitely worrying, too; Phoenix has stumbled sightlessly into the dark, and something monstrous is lurking in it.

He nearly misses his hearing -- an unnecessary formality because there wasn’t one among them, except apparently Kristoph Gavin, who hadn’t decided that Phoenix’s badge would be gone at the end of it -- trying to track down Trucy. The Gramaryes were an elusive coven -- Valant tried to make a cursory protest on the terminology, “Troupe! We were not…”, and Phoenix broke the single lock by just staring him down until he rescinded his words -- who were never found by those desperate enough to seek them out, but instead would appear to them in the midst of their search. If they had a home base, Valant won’t say, and no one else in the world knows. Zak’s daughter, Trucy is her name, could be anywhere in the city, anywhere beyond the city, out to the mountains of Kurain, and Phoenix might never find her.

Getting an answer from her about who she received the diary page from would be a bonus; Phoenix is more concerned for her sake. He was only able to briefly See her, but he didn’t like the glimpse.

This is going to take some assistance.

The first thing he can unearth in his apartment that can make a circular shape is an extension cord; he drags it out to the kitchen and sets a cold half of a ground beef patty on a plate in the center. The fake candles are back at the office, but that is an unneeded trifle -- funny, but unnecessary. “Maya,” he says, stepping back from the circle and closing his eyes, “there is someone I need your help to find.”

A cold gust of wind batters against his face. When he opens his eyes, the room has filled with a slowly-dispersing purple mist, twisting in strands around the fae standing in the circle. She has gained an extra pair of eyes since he last saw her, smaller slits right along the browbone, all four glowing red. The remaining mist settles about her head like hair or the headdress of royalty, not quite blending with the void-black tendrils that frame her face. One of them extends, almost like an extra arm made of shadow, down to the floor, snatching up the burger and tossing it into her mouth. She grins, the truest cheshire smile Phoenix has ever seen, stretching literally from pointed ear to ear, displaying dozens of huge sharp fangs. “Hey Nick!”

Immediately she turns to face the refrigerator right behind her. “Are you holding out on me? That was a lame burger just now.”

“Cut me some slack. I just lost my badge. I’m trying not to burn my savings on food too quickly.”

She cocks her head, still staring at the fridge. The mist doesn’t move with her like something part of her should. “Where’d you have it last?” she asks. “If you lost it at the office, Sis will probably have it on your desk in the next couple days.”

Ah. Literalism. The main weapon and weakness both of the fae. “No, I mean -- I was disbarred. I am no longer allowed to work as a lawyer--”

He stops when he sees Maya’s face. She has finally looked at him and her expression, however hard to parse it can be, shifts rapidly, the briefest flash of something like horror that twists into fury, a contorted, monstrous rage. “Who did this to you?” she snarls, and he didn’t know he looked, physically, that bad, or that she knew how to read the depths of his exhaustion and despair from his aura. “You want my help to hunt them down and eat their hearts?”

“No! No, that’s not what I want!”

“Oh.” She frowns. “I would throw it in for free.”

“No!” He bends down to break the circle and stops. “On the condition of not eating any part of a person, I let you leave.”

“For the duration of this summoning, you have my word,” she replies. He could -- should -- argue that, try and make it a blanket deal for eternity, but he decides they can negotiate that some other time. For now, he has what he needs, and he unwinds the extension cord.

When Maya steps forth, the glamour settles over her in a wave, the mist hanging over her settling into glossy black hair, her two smallest eyes vanishing and the others whitening and gaining dark irises, her mouth shrinking, and the four small glowing orbs that drift lazily about her face sink down to become four large beads of a necklace. And then she looks like an ordinary girl, late teens or early twenties, her hair done up in a topknot and her smile small but still toothy and just a little too sharp. “So who is it that you want to find?” she asks. She frowns, but it seems like such a minute motion compared to moments ago. “Is your prosecutor in trouble again, too?”

“No; that was last month.”

And he leaves her hanging on that one and they sit at the kitchen table while he instead begins to explain his own case, his own worst situation, and the Gramaryes. She repeats Magnifi’s name to herself after he says it, again and again until her voice loses its human quality, sounding instead like the clatter of bells or a windchime, until suddenly she snaps back. “This fae you call Magnifi -- he was banished, many years ago, stripped of his power with his name and cursed to never return.”

“Why?”

“He strove for power and made those who had that power very mad,” she answers. “And so -- ouch.” She picks at some stain on the table and Phoenix winces, anticipating her leaving claw marks gouged into the wood. “He had a daughter. No other allies besides her -- she left with him, naturally.”

“Thalassa,” Phoenix says. Maya nods. “It was a far fall for him, huh, to end up where he did. Probably all he had left was the power trip over Zak and Valant, and all they had was pretending that they weren’t witches sworn to some bastard.”

“That’s the funny part of it, kinda,” Maya says. “They didn’t even credit him, when they were saying they can perform spells for whatever sorry suckers show up hoping for a miracle -- they were just like ‘yeah, no fae involved, ignore that guy, we won’t screw you out of a deal’. And they by being like that probably screwed him out of dozens more deals with sad desperate humans. No wonder he decided his death should be one last one-over on them.”

Sitting cross-legged in her chair, her hands in her lap, she leans it back to balance impossibly on two legs. She likes to cause the double-take, to force Edgeworth or Franziska or whoever else to look twice at the way she twists the world around her. “And you’re looking for his granddaughter?” she asks. “Not his daughter?”

“Thalassa is dead,” Phoenix says. “And Trucy isn’t, yet, so yes, I’m looking for Trucy.”

“I’m vaguely flattered that you think I’m powerful enough that I can just find her, just like that,” Maya says. She doesn’t wobble. “It’s not so easy, not here in this realm, not without knowing her true name.” “Trucy Enigmar,” Phoenix says. “Or Trucy Gramarye.” Maya rolls her eyes. “I need to know which, Nick.” Names have more power in the Twilight Realm. It’s why Mia, even trying to be human, stumbled on names that weren’t Phoenix, the human whose life she owned, and Dahlia, the fae she defeated. It’s why Iris only ever called him Feenie. It was the kindest gesture she could make. In the same fashion, Maya calls him Nick. They don’t own him, not entirely, though they could. “It’s only two choices. You can’t guess?” “No. I need to know.” Half of magic is certainty, Maya and Dahlia so certain they have the world at their fingertips, Iris so much meeker and weaker than her sister, Vera knowing little about herself but knowing that once instructed she can create anything and that is all she needs to know. And Valant, weaker, because he was so sure he was second-best, a self-fulfilling prophecy, the only kind of prophecy that Phoenix ever sees. A spell can’t be cast on a guess. “Is there anything you can do if you go back to the Twilight Realm?” Phoenix asks. “Hm.” Maya holds her hands up, palms facing each other, and a purple glow begins to form around them. Then she claps them together and the light vanishes, her eyes glinting red for a moment in the sterile light of his kitchen. “I’ll ask Sis for help, first.” It has started to rain when they leave Phoenix’s apartment. Biking in this weather is unfortunate enough, but Maya insists on balancing herself on the handlebars, right in Phoenix’s line of sight, and this would be the most embarrassing way for Phoenix to die after everything he has been through. They are both soaked through to the skin but only fell once by the time they arrive at the office. The lights are already on and the heat is blasting a literal warm welcome. “Hey, Sis!” Maya calls into the silence. No answer comes forth, of course, but the smile on Maya’s face is one that shows her to be more at ease than in a long time. “I could use some help! Nick’s trying to steal a kid.” “I’m trying to help her,” Phoenix objects. “Honestly, Maya.” “Yeah, yeah.” Maya twirls through the office and her hair doesn’t move like it is heavy with water, or even like it has the weight of that much hair. She stops at the shelves of law books that Phoenix has meant to read for two and a half years and never did, running her fingers down the spines but not stopping at any of them and proceeding on to the binders and file folders full of Mia’s case references and research materials that Phoenix hasn’t known how to sort and get rid of. “Somewhere here,” she mutters, “maybe there’s something.” Phoenix gives her a moment to offer one before he asks for an explanation. “After our mother left,” she says, “Sis at some point moved some of the royal records out of the Twilight Realm. I think she was worried about our aunt getting her hands on them.” The pages turn without Maya touching them. Her bangs and the hair framing her face sway as though there is a gentle wind to tousle them. “But… nope.” She stops on a page and squints down at it, only to resume flipping a few seconds later. “This Magnifi of yours, his true name – it wasn’t just taken, but erased. There’s not even an echo for me to work from.” The binder slams shut and is tossed over her shoulder without her moving her hand. “If these witches were well-enough known, how did people usually find them?” “They didn’t,” Phoenix says. “Anyone who went looking for them, they would eventually appear to.” “Huh,” Maya says. “Well, we’ve got two options, now!” Phoenix is already bracing himself to hear them. “We can go out and wander until I find us a likely trail, or you can put up some – uh, wanted posters.” “Wanted? For the Old West, maybe, but—” “Then, a ‘lost kid’ kinda thing. You do that, right? With the description, and the phone number, and the reward money.” “That’s for pets.” “It could be for kids. Don’t let your narrow-minded cultural assumptions box you in.” “Ah.” Sometimes, Phoenix has no idea what the hell she is talking about. “If we’ve got to make a grid search of the city, we’d better get started.” Maya hops up onto the couch and pushes the curtains aside to look out at the rain. “Maya, do you know how big Los Angeles is?” She looks back at him with her head cocked. “No,” she says. “How big?” Again they set out, on foot this time. “We’re helping her by stealing her,” Maya says, jumping squarely into a puddle and splashing muddy streetwater up Phoenix’s jeans. “It’s not either-or.” She tilts her head back, face to the clouds that are darkening from gray to black as night falls. “I bet Sis can save her, like she did you.”

Streetlamps flicker as they pass, and in those brief spurts of shadow, Maya’s shape flickers too.

She leads him down streets he didn’t know existed, past storefronts that look long-abandoned, with neon signs still glowing in the windows but not the puddles they should be reflected in. “You definitely were enchanted, by the way,” she adds. “I can still see the residue.”

“It’s been a week,” Phoenix says.

“Well, double-layered enchantments are harder to shake off and take longer to fade.” She shakes her head. “You were doomed as soon as you took that paper, without anyone to help you. You’re only human, after all.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I know.” A cheap, sad ball bounced back and forth between players of a game whose rules he doesn’t understand, then as in now, a pawn dragged to the other side of the board to be crowned a knight and turned back again.

“What did you say this coven called themselves, again?” Maya asks, when they’ve been out for a little more than an hour, Phoenix soaked through to the bone, Maya having given up the illusion that weather affects her the way it does mere mortals. Her skin does not shine wet in the light. Her hair still flutters like a ribbon with the breeze of passing cars.

“Gramarye.”

“The name itself might be an invocation,” she says.

“What, like ‘Bloody Mary’ three times in the mirror and she’ll--”

Maya squints at him. “I don’t know anyone who uses that moniker,” she says, very seriously. “Is that a meme?”

Phoenix regrets teaching her about memes, for many more reasons than this, but also specifically for this. “The -- the belief is that you say her name three times and she’ll appear behind you in the mirror.” He turns to his reflection, staring back at him out of the dark window of a closed-down ramen shop. “Gramarye,” he says firmly, despite feeling a little silly, and doubting that the reflection is even necessary. “Gramarye, Gramarye.”

“That’s not a mirror,” Maya says.

“I don’t wear makeup so I’m not going to just have one in my pocket--” Something flashes in the storefront window and Phoenix glances back. Something is glowing, a small pink light, and he figures that some neon sign in the shop has sputtered back to life until it moves, flitting about like a moth thumping up against a lamp. He looks back over his shoulder. There, down at the end of the block, the light is dancing up above the street. “Maya, look,” he says, nudging her, not even sure why he’s pointing it out but compelled to. “What’s that? We should go look—”

“Nope!” She grabs his arm and yanks him back. He hadn’t realized he ha started walking, toward it, until she stopped him. “What’d we just talk about, Nick?”

“Bloody Mary? Or that I’m only human?” The light pulses, brighter and softer, but never too bright that the glare is jarring in the dark and the rain.

“Yes! That without me you walk right into enchantments!”

“An enchantment?” He looks again at the light, really looks, but nothing about its shape or color changes and he takes another step forward. The edges of his vision are blurry, like he is staring through a sheet of falling water, and he should be able to see something—

He didn’t see anything suspicious about the diary page, either. Glancing over at Maya, his stomach momentarily turns over at the sight of the pale claws on his arm. “It’s trying to lead you astray,” she says, and even when she isn’t grinning, her full shark’s mouth of several rows of teeth is made visible, and she tugs at his arm again. “Back this way.”

The light bobs back and forth, sashaying forward as Phoenix moves away from it. “A will o’ the wisp?” he asks.

Maya nods. “A distraction,” she says, very seriously. “This is all very clever, actually.” One hand still closed around his upper arm -- he blinks and wills her claws to look like stubby nails and blunt fingertips again -- she pulls him back toward the storefront. “The doorway appears where there is a need, then the wisp distracts for the witch to step forth and seem to have just appeared from nowhere.” She reaches forward, touching a finger to the glass, and it wobbles and ripples like water, opening wider and wider a circle big enough to step through. “Because you can’t just teleport like that. There always has to be a door, but it adds to the illusion if it doesn’t look like there’s one.” Stepping to the side, she waves to usher Phoenix in first. He can see a stained wooden stairs descending, before they are swallowed up entirely by darkness. “Age before beauty!”

Even in the most human of her grins, he is reminded what she is.

Beneath his feet, the steps creak at every movement, the walls closing tighter and tighter as he descends, brushing against both of his shoulders at the same time. He fumbles forward, one hand stretched out groping blindly for an exit or a wall. Maya is prodding him in the back as they go -- “C’mon, Nick, you’re so slow!”

“I can’t see,” he protests, right as he walks straight into something solid, the impact of his hand against it jarring his entire body. “Ah.”

Maya’s hand brushes past his ear to reach over and tap the wall. With a loud scraping sound, a thin crack of light slowly spreads wider and wider, shifting aside to reveal the interior of a gaudy gilded room. It isn’t the decrepit shack he expected, no rats or exposed wires or broken furniture, but it still disgusts what slight aesthetic sense he has. Everything is gold, or red, or black, a collection of clashing decorative styles, Victorian-looking couches with abstract modernist tables and shelves, and a few implements that look like something from a circus, strange boxes and colorful flags and hula hoops.

Stage magic. Phoenix snorts.

Sitting on the couch, a blue plastic bowl in her hands, a spoonful of mac-and-cheese on its way to her mouth, is Zak’s daughter. “Oh!” she says brightly, through a mouthful of noodles. “Hi, Mr Lawyer! If I had known it was you I wouldn’t have let Mr Hat lead you away.”

Mr Hat? Phoenix mouths it at Maya, even though reasonably there is no way she will know what that means. She shrugs. “Hi Trucy,” he says, looking around for a place to sit and deciding he doesn’t trust anything in this place. “Your daddy hasn’t come back, has he?”

Her face falls. “No,” she says. “He hasn’t. But he told me I could trust you, Mr Lawyer!”

Why, Phoenix so desperately wants to ask, but he is trying to keep that trust and that question will not do him any good. “I did some digging to find out if you have any other family,” he says, trying to keep eye contact with her while also watching where he puts his feet. “And it didn’t seem like it, so I wondered if you wanted to stay with me for a little while -- until your daddy comes back.”

She nearly overturns her bowl trying to set it down. “So if I stay with you,” she says, “does that mean we’ll be family?”

“I, uh… I guess so?”

Maya is laughing quietly as she circles the room, plucking up the decorations on the mantles and setting them back down. “Who is she?” Trucy asks. “Will she be my new mommy?”

“Er -- no. No, no.”

Trucy’s face falls. “Oh,” she says. “Since my mommy disappeared years ago, I thought I might get a new one now too.”

“No,” Phoenix says, “she’s just -- a friend.” Sort of. As much as human and fae can ever be friends, without the tangle of deals and magic and curses that always litter those relationships. He’s heard of romantic couplings of fae and human -- ones genuinely built on love, he means -- but that was not his experience and he has no intention of repeating anything close to that situation.

“I’m Maya,” she says. “Nick and I have known each other for a few years now. You can trust him.” She grins. Trucy hasn’t recoiled from horror from her; it doesn’t appear that she has the Sight, and another quick glance over her confirms that. Phoenix hadn’t paid attention to that last time, distracted as he was by everything else that was going on, with her, and in general. Now he can see that her eyes don’t change, but marked around them is a teal glow, in the shape of a diamond, over each of her eyes like a variation on a domino mask. He can’t quite tell what it means; curses are always easier to read, a red slash across the throat only really meaning one thing.

In the meantime, until he can ask Maya out-of-earshot, he decides he should stop staring and instead deal directly with the situation he has invited upon himself. “Oh, Trucy? You don’t have to call me ‘Mr Wright’ or ‘Mr Lawyer’ or anything. You can just call me Nick if you want.” He scratches his head, as the depth of this is beginning to weigh on him. “Or even ‘Daddy’ someday, but not now if you don’t want to--”

“Okay, Daddy!”

Oh. Okay.

“I have to get my stuff, if I’m going to be living with you,” Trucy says. “I’ll be right back!”

She springs to her feet and runs off into the next room. Phoenix moves to follow her, not sure if this place won’t swallow them both up, never to be spat back out into the world. “It’s truth, if you’re wondering,” Maya says, opening an ancient-looking wooden cupboard and rifling around in it. “The blessing on her,” she adds, emerging with a pack of microwave mac-and-cheese that for some reason was stashed there, and tearing open the pack of cheese powder and shaking it into her mouth. “It probably doesn’t look quite the same as Pearly gave you, but I wouldn’t recommend lying to her.”

“I see,” he says.

“No, you didn’t See. You were wondering.” She grins again, and she swallows the package of pasta, plastic and all. Once she told him that she can unhinge her jaw like a snake to swallow anything as big as her head; he wishes that she could lie. He wishes that her sense of humor could extend beyond literalism into exaggerated falseholds.

He steps into the hall that Trucy disappeared down, just far enough to see her running from room to room, with the clattering of objects upended and tossed aside. “Do you need help carrying things?” he calls.

Trucy sticks her head back into the hall, beaming. “Nope!” she says proudly. “I have this!” She waves at him a huge pair of frilly pink bloomers, and part of him -- most of him -- does not want to ask, but he also does not want to trek back into this hideout when he finds out she didn’t bring any of her clothes. “My magic panties are better than any suitcase!”

“Can you… elaborate?”

She reaches in through the top of the bloomers and pulls forth a pink cape. “Oh,” he says, but she drops the cape in a heap on the floor and reaches again to bring out a t-shirt. “Okay, I see. Thank you.”

Maya has wandered into the kitchen area and is continuing to devour everything she can find in the cabinets. Phoenix decides against asking her to leave him some of it to bring home for him and Trucy now. “This really isn’t a liminal space, is it?” Phoenix asks. He would be able to see if it were, the way magic hangs in the very air in his office, the way Mia herself and the last traces of her life linger.

Maya shakes her head and sinks her teeth into three donuts stacked together like a hamburger. “Hidden by magic, but no closer to the Twilight Realm than anywhere else. She’d have at least a bit of the Sight if it were.” She leans up against the wall, watching Phoenix with eyes that glamour doesn’t quite have a hold over, flickering as they do to red. “But even then, she might still be too young to know to be afraid.”

[shikkearu]

Irreplaceable Part 14: Dull and dry

Wattpad AO3

- "How can two bad apples create someone so gentle and caring?"

Perona chuckled as she set up for a punch line. Hancock looked at her offended and Mihawk just shrugged.

- "Two negatives cancel each other out."

She laughed, Mihawk seemed amused and Hancock even chuckled a little. Her husband, Dragon, smiled seeing her loosen up a bit. They were visiting with Ace. December had started and they would be abroad for the rest of the year. Ace had insisted they visit so he could give Zoro his gift in person. It had been a stuffed tiger and Zoro had been extremely excited. He didn't quite know how to express his thanks to Ace, for he was too small, but Ace understood.

- "He's an idiot." He had said as he hugged Zoro.

The adults had talked while on looking their play, when the talk had trailed off towards her late husband. Perona found it funny how her husband had been so different from his parents. Hancock wasn't the most caring person, but she was out-going. And Mihawk was a lawyer which made him evil by default. Somehow they had given birth to the most perfect human she could imagine.

When Hancock, Dragon and Ace had left, Mihawk had looked weird. So Perona asked if something was bothering him.

- "He wasn't perfect. But he thought a lot about how other people felt around him. And made an effort to please others. He doubted himself a lot and was scared people might abandon him. It was painful at times to follow, how he tried hiding all his insecurities and flaws just so people would like him.." - "I know that." - "I don't know if you knew, but he had doubts about you too. He struggled constantly with the concept of you being a mother. Even after Zoro had been born, he was hesitant and needed me to confirm that you were in fact a good mother."

Perona had known he had issues with his mother and he had told her about his hesitation, but she thought they had solved all of them before Zoros birth.

----

- "She's amazing and yet I'm afraid. Afraid she is doing this just for me not because she wants to, but because I asked her to. I'm scared she'll leave like... mother." His voice was a mix of bitterness and regret.

- "Have you spoken to her of these fears?" Mihawk felt responsible that his son's image of motherhood and mothers had become so distorted.

- "Yes, and she insists she wants this too and I know she speaks the truth, but still there's a voice in the back of my head telling she'll leave as well." He sounded miserable. Mihawk wanted to talk in person, but again he was on a business trip. He wanted to be more with him, but also didn't want to intrude. He had the right to live his own life.

- "Your situation is completely different. You've had the time to live together and get to know each other... I wish I could get rid of these feelings for you."

- "It's alright, father. Just talking helps."

They ended the call soon after and Mihawk sighed. He knew that his son was going to call him again about this same issue.

----

Mihawk refrained from using the door bell, instead he send his son a text. Soon he was let inside by him. The fresh father quickly snuck back to the bedroom. Tough they had tried to avoid it, the door had woken up the child. He followed him to get a peek of the little one, not wanting to bother the child or the mother, but his son was carrying the baby to the living room.

- "Hush now. Daddy will do something about that loud door, don't you worry." He smiled a beaming smile at his father. "Here is Zoro, my little boy wonder."

He passed the baby onto Mihawk who gently smiled at the tiny little thing. He took great care to remember every detail. The tiny button nose, the little fingers, tufts of green hair, how the skin felt like the finest velvet. He was enamored by the small being, just like he had been years earlier holding his own little boy.

- "Sit down." His son seemed to overflow with pride. "You're not in rush, right?"

He wasn't. Son went to prepare something in the kitchen. Probably some formula for Zoro. Foot steps and a soft yawn, his small wife had arrived in the room.

- "I knew there were guests here. Good morning mr. Dracule"

Mihawk nodded back at her. She was barely wearing anything just a large dress shirt. She yawned again and went to kiss her husband a good morning.

- "Why are you doing that nasty stuff? You know Zoro hates it." - "I just thought you might want to sleep a bit longer." - "It's alright. I'll go feed him now."

She walked to Mihawk and stretched out her arms. He gently handed Zoro back to her. She was going to walk back into the bedroom when her husband stopped her.

- "Where are you going? You can do it right here, I'm sure father wont mind." - "Ah, well..."Perona looked uncomfortable. - "Really now. Don't be shy."

She looked flustered and didn't move. She looked down and then at Mihawk for help.

- "It's alright. You can go." Mihawk could see how uncomfortable she was and let her leave.

She sighed in relief and disappeared into the bedroom. His son sat next to him with two cups of coffee.

- "I really wanted you to see what a good mother she is," his voice was silent and sad. - "It's an intimate moment between a mother and a child. Some people are comfortable doing it in front of others and some need peace to do it. It would be wrong to force her. Were not exactly friends." - "You just don't know each other. Really she could have-" - "Son you don't need to prove me anything. She seems like a fine mother to me. Just stay open with her and it should be fine." - "Are you sure?" - "Yes, I know it's scary being a parent. Now that you are one, maybe you understand your own mother a bit better now."

His son looked at him silently. There was remorse, anger and most of all sadness in his eyes.

- "I should apologize to Perona. For doubting her all the time."

Mihawk smiled and petted his sons head. Even if he was a father now, he would still remain his little boy.

----

- "Of course we were both disappointed at ourselves. Zoro was a little bit early and my body wouldn't do it's job. People and media always praise breast feeding and how natural and powerful it is. No one warned us of how hard it could be. I felt like I had failed at the first steps. He dealt with it by joking all the time. We were terrified. Zoro was so small and fragile. I just wish he could have been more open with me. I had the same fears as he did."

She took a small breather. It hurt to talk about this. It felt like a taboo.

- "We were just two kids from broken families. All we wanted was ours to be normal. Look how that turned out." She laughed bitter.

- "I'm sorry." Mihawk sounded miserable. Like it had been his fault.

She started to feel angry. There wasn't a single thing he could have prevented. He couldn't have prevented Hancock from getting a depression. It wasn't his fault that it went unnoticed for so long. Back then talking about mental problems was considered a taboo. It wasn't his fault that he continued living when his son didn't need him as much anymore. It wasn't his fault she and Zoro had problems with feeding. It wasn't his fault her husband didn't fully trust her. It wasn't his fault that there wasn't a crossing at the right spot or that his son chose to jaywalk.

- "Not everything is your fault." - "I know."

But Perona knew that he didn't. He seemed to love suffering.

- "You're annoying." - "What?" - "Super annoying. Life is not a sentence you have to suffer through. You live it and try to be as happy as possible."

Mihawk looked at her. He was visibly upset. He rose up and left the room without a word. She was upset too. She was angry at how stubborn he could be. But soon he returned to the room. He still looked angry.

- "There's this office Christmas-party next Friday. Everyone expects me to show up, but I couldn't be bothered less. There's these annoying women always trying their luck with me and it's quite bothersome. And everyone there is bone dry and dull." - "What does this have to do with anything?" - "Go there with me. If you're there it will be completely different. And if were not having a good time there let's slip and do something else. A game hall, anything!"

Mihawks eyes seemed to sparkle and Perona looked at him dumbfounded. His conviction seemed to falter a little before her silence, but he continued.

- "Show me how to be happy." She was still silent. - "You and Zoro have been the only people in the longest while who have made me feel that happiness is something I can have. And we do not need Zoro to have a good time. You're almost like a daughter to me." - "Pappa?" Zoro looked at him from the ground. Hearing his name be said so loudly made him think he was being called, so he stopped playing with the tiger. - "Ah, it's nothing Zoro. Pappa is trying to convince Mommy. What do you say, Perona?" - "Pappa?" Zoro was grabbing onto his leg and standing up. He didn't understand what was going on. Pappa was acting so weird. - "Pappa was not calling you. Please continue your play." His conviction was now in shambles. He couldn't go on.

Perona started laughing. Mihawk felt like he had made a fool of himself and facepalmed.

- "Alright, I'll go with you. Let's show those boring oldies what fun is."

She went to hug Mihawk who tried pushing her away. - "Won't you give your daughter a hug old fool?" - "No." He was embarrassed. He wanted to disappear. - "This is part of living stupid. Loving your family."

Mihawk stilled and let her hug him. He slightly petted her head.

- "I can be a daughter to you, but you're not my father, ok? That place is reserved for Moria only." Suddenly her eyes sparked up. "By the way, where are we going to spend Christmas and New Year? Can we go to him? There's not a lot of lights so if we get fireworks they'll show up nicely." - "Fine." He was going to get a bed for Zoro as a present to Moria. No excuses.

She smiled and knelt down to Zoro who was all mixed up.

- "Don't worry about Pappa or Mommy. Were starting to move on and be happy."

Zoro didn't get it, but he smiled happily back at her. The people around him were weird, but they were his people.

----

- "You know father, we're running late."

Mihawk knew that. He had taken his sweet time getting ready and had driven extra slow, because he hated family dinners like these. You have to act to a bunch of strangers that you are interested in them and after it you'll hardly ever see them again. He did that enough at work. But his son had insisted. That it meant a great deal for him and his girlfriend. Girlfriend he seemed to adore above anything. So Mihawk had bent. What harm could it do? As long as he wasn't going to be doing this with every girl he could do it. And from the sounds of it this might be the only one for his son. Obsessive passionate love, that he had gotten from his mother.

They parked and started walking towards the restaurant. The headwaiter told them that part of their entourage had already arrived. His son took his coat and hat to take them to the coat rack while he had the joy of walking to the table by himself. It was easy to know which one was theirs. A very tall man was sitting in it wearing gothic fashion. Next to him a small girl with two pink ponytails. It was just two people which made Mihawk relieved, even though their attire seemed to draw attention. He was going to introduce himself, but didn't quite get to the table. He was stunned by the girl. She had stood up and was approaching her step so light she nearly floated. She was wearing a red dress with white shirt. It had frills and was modest, but still in that gothic lolita fashion his son had warned him about. She had white stockings and red shoes that shone. But what had truly captivated Mihawk was her smile. A smile that could only be described as pure love. And he was slightly jealous, because the smile wasn't meant for him, but to his son now standing next to him.

- "Hey father close your mouth. If you get into the game I won't stand a chance."

His son had quietly chuckled before being embraced by the girl. Mihawk wondered if he could have ever stood a chance, because the love in that girls face didn't seem like the type he could ever receive from anyone. But most of all he was happy that his son had found someone who loved him so much. His joy had been indescribable when they had announced their engagement.

----

- "I remember that dress."

Mihawk muttered when he saw her. Perona looked at him amused. It was her most delicate dress meant to impress people with how modest and elegant she was. And by Mihawks reaction she knew that it still worked. He had just returned from taking Zoro to Moria. Moria of course had been in seventh heaven when he had told him they would be spending Christmas and new year there. Zoro too had been happy to see his darling "Buu" again. They had painstakingly taught him to call Moria "Buu" instead of "Poopoo". And Moria loved being called that and wasn't angry anymore to loose his self-chosen title as Pappa, since Buu was more unique.

Mihawk was wearing simple black suit with intricately detailed red vest under it, and she was slightly sorry that no-one would get to see it. She took him by the arm and grinned at their reflection in the mirror. They looked nice and condescending together.

- "I still need to put my top coat on." Mihawk said as he shook her off. - "I thought cold doesn't bother you?" She sneered while putting on her own coat.

This December had been unusually cold. She felt it fitting since her husband was dead. The cold would get people to huddle together and appreciate each-other.  

- "I'm not going to let my pride get the better of me. Besides we might have to be outside for long periods of time, since I'm not going to take the car."

She frowned at him. Not taking the car meant that Mihawk was planning to drink and after what he had told her, his drinking had started to bother her even if he didn't drink so often anymore.

He saw her frown and defended himself:

- "It's only one or two glasses of wine. That is not enough to get me drunk senseless. You can drink too if you want." - "It's not the getting drunk part that worries me." - "This is not up to debate. If Shanks can deal with me drinking in moderation then so can you. Now, are we going or what?"

His voice and face were stern and she knew that he meant every word. She needed to be more careful with the topic in the future. Maybe try talk to Shanks about it. She shook the thought out of her head. It had to be with Mihawk. Going behind his back and she might loose his trust.

She sighed resigned and put on her delicate winter boots.

- "So we going by buss then? Get that fresh winter air?" - "God, no. Maybe after the party."

When they were in the taxi, Mihawk looked out of the window. It wasn't a rare treat for him, but he couldn't quite face Perona.

- "Sorry." His voice was shaky and hesitant. "It's unfair of me to expect the same from you as from Shanks. We grew up together so he knows things you don't." - "I understand. There are things that are hurtful so you can talk at your own pace. There are things I'm not comfortable talking with you too." Small pause and she added. "Yet."

He turned to her. - "I really do want to have a good time." - "So let's try to not dwell on the past even for one night." She punched his shoulder and grinned.

It was good to sometimes not think about anything and just have fun.

----

When Mihawk had said it would be dull and dry, he had meant it. People were dressed up in suits and black cocktail dresses. Few brave ones, like Perona, had some colour on them, but they got disapproving glances from the other guests. They were drinking champagne and other fine drinks. The music was classical and forgettable. If you didn't know these people you would have a horrible time. Mihawk helped off her jacket and took it with his to the coat rack. Though the clerk tried to convince him to give the hat too, he declined.

- "I like to keep it on since it drives some people crazy with disapproval." He said to her quietly. - "I guess there's hope for you yet." She chuckled.

They nearly got to the hall when Mihawk made her stop.

- "A mistletoe. Hope you're good at acting." - "Wha-"

Before she could finish he had taken his hat as cover and taken hold of the back of her neck not to have her move away. He was so near she had to squint her eyes shut. Their noses would have touched had he not positioned himself a bit sideways towards her. Small moment and he let her go. He wiped his mouth at the back of his hand and put his hat back on. She glared at him angrily with a deep blush on her face. But then she felt like a thousand of icy spikes hit her back and she turned slightly to see a group of women shooting daggers her way.

- "I think that was enough to make them let me be." Mihawk chuckled. Perona took him by the arm and as they walked off like an elegant couple she snarled at him. - "Never do that again," her voice was vicious, but the face was angelic. - "You're getting the hang of this rather quick." He had a sly smile. - "I will not follow your evil footsteps." She squeezed her nails into his arm.

And Mihawk laughed.

But the party was still dull. And she was getting bored. They were talking to a bunch of his bosses, scary men with even scarier titles. Especially the man called Akainu was extremely scary and angry looking. He berated Mihawk for wearing a hat, but he seemed mostly amused by it. This was probably who he was talking of earlier.

Perona sighed a little and excused herself. She went to the rest room. She didn't quite understand what part of his job Mihawk enjoyed so much that he would go on trips and endless meetings. But when she came to think about, he hadn't been so involved with his work this fall and he wasn't giving any hints that he would start longer days again. Even his work phone rang less often. He seemed to be more interested in being at home. And what she had looked this night he had only one glass of wine half empty just to keep in his hand.

It made her happy. She was so happy to think that Mihawk enjoyed her and Zoros company. It made even less sense now that they would move away. They needed him and he needed them. Everyone was benefiting. And she didn't feel as lonely, because she knew that he understood the hurt she was going through. The holidays, Zoros little achievements, time passing and the fear of forgetting. She didn't want to think what it would have been like without him.

She glanced at the mirror to see a woman looking at her amused. Perona turned and wiped her eyes a bit. - "I know these parties are absolutely dreadful. Did someone say something awful?" - "Nothing of the sort I'm just tired." Perona corrected her pose and stood proud. The woman smiled and laughed. - "You don't need to pretend. I can see that this is your first time to a party like this." - "Is it so obvious?" - "Yes. I'm Nico Robin, lawyer for the Baroque Works." - "Roronoa Perona, just Dracule Mihawks escort." - "Oh, I didn't think he'd actually ever get into a relationship again." - "No no no! We're just family." - "Hooh? What an odd thing to say." She snickered and Perona felt embarrassed. "Say, you don't mind me having a go then?" - "Of course I do!" She stammered a little. "Because he doesn't -uh- want to."

Robin just laughed. It was clear she wasn't convinced and who would be after that show under the mistletoe.

- "Hey, this might be a bit surprising, but you seem like the type of person who would enjoy a pug. It's a lovely breed and my employers dog just happens to be pregnant. Here's my card, call if you're interested. Have a goodnight." - "You too." Perona stuttered and held the card.

She was flustered. Mihawk worked with such strange people.

She returned to him to see his glass replaced with a full one. She felt slightly disappointed, but concealed it. Instead she got herself a glass of champagne and drank it rather quick getting his attention. She took hold of his arm and acted extremely tired. He leaned a bit for her to whisper in his ear that she's seen enough of the party. He then promptly excused them, Perona faking excessive fatigue. And when they were far enough from the party both of them burst into laughter. Both talked of how fake and business oriented it had been.

----

It was still rather early and they were at the heart of the city, so they decided it might be fun to checkout the local shopping center. It was crowded there. Christmas was the busiest season and it being Friday night didn't help. Perona grabbed Mihawks arm. He tried to shake her off, but her hold was firm.

- "What is it?" - "I don't want to loose you. You're harder to find in crowded areas than Moria." - "You're not a small child. If we get separated just call my phone. It's that simple." - "Let me hold your arm. It's comfy." She pressed her cheek against it.

Mihawk shook it a bit harder and she had to let go.

- "Killjoy."

He just glared at her in reply.

They looked around stalls and shops. Perona found an adorable winter outfit for Zoro and one of those Care-Kumas. Mihawk looked at it long.

- "Why did you choose the weirdest one? It looks like a priest." - "I like it." - "I think Zoro would appreciate this striped one more." He held one with a patchwork pattern and a lovely smile. - "It's the main character so he already has one." - "Ah, you're right. How about this one?" He held one pink with heart eyes and a wedding dress. - "You can buy it too, but I'm definitely getting this one." - "I'm pretty sure Zoro gets a bit scared every time he's on screen." - "Nonsense."

They got him both in the end.

They were going to eat something when Perona remembered seeing something of interest earlier. A booth where they sold fan stuff for a certain historical drama about twelve master swords and a couple going around the country collecting them. She left Mihawk to wait by the restaurant since she might get a gift for him there. She found it and uncertain she tried to describe Mihawks favorite character. Luckily the owner knew which she meant and showed what he got. There was a scarf with a stylish triangular pattern that was distinct for the character. But when she was going to return to Mihawk, she was grabbed and pinned against a wall.

- "Hello again." Trafalgar Law grinned. Perona was going to shout, but he silenced her quickly. - "Look I'm sorry I've been shitty. I was drunk the last time. I really need to talk to you. Will you listen?" She nodded, but looked at him angry. He gave her a bit space and she slapped him. - "Act like normal people! If you can't hold your liquor then don't drink." He held his cheek and glared at her. - "You deserved it." She puffed her cheeks and crossed her arms. - "Guess I did." He sighed. "It's really been rough without him. I miss him a lot."

Perona didn't reply, but her glare softened. - "I just need someone who knew him to talk to. We don't need to meet face to face."

Law looked miserable and Perona felt pity for him.

- "I'll think about it."

Once again he gave her his contact information and left. Perona squeezed the package with the scarf while breathing deeply. Maybe she shouldn't have promised him that, Law scared her a lot. She shook her head and hurried back to Mihawk who didn't seem worried at all. More than anything he was annoyed having to wait so long.

----

They were walking back home. The buss didn't drive all the way home, but it didn't really bother them. She was walking on a brick wall that had started low, but was picking up height as they walked.

- "So was I able to show you a good time?" Perona sneered. - "I believe so." His smile felt different, but she couldn't quite point out why. - "One lady said her boss has pug puppies coming up. Have you ever considered a dog?" - "Never. Son was begging one when he was young, but I wouldn't have been able to take care of it." He looked a bit dismayed. "I hope you didn't promise anything because we're not getting one." - "Aww." She chuckled. "Would have named it mini-Mihi."

They walked forward a bit, but Perona stopped when she realized the wall was too high to jump straight down.

- "Scary." Mihawk put the bags aside and opened his arms for her. - "I'll catch you." - "Really?" - "Yes. You're light as feather so it's ok."

She let out a couple of shaky horos, but she trusted him, so she nodded. He counted to three and then she dropped down. He caught her and took a few steps not to tumble. They both laughed, but when she backed away, she looked miserably at Mihawk.

- "When we talk about my and Zoros future, you always bring up moving out." - "That is one possibility. I want you to choose what's best for you two."

He looked at her weirdly. Where had this come from? Did she have to right now? After such a fun night, she would want to part ways? He didn't want that, but he wanted her to be happy.

- "Can one possibility be that we stay? Indefinitely. Forever if needed."

Yes! He wanted to shout it out loud, but refrained from doing so. He shouldn't be selfish. He thought for a moment what he should say. She was starting to take his silence as a no.

- "It's good for Zoro to have two adults in the same household. And we've gotten so happy. If it's about money I'll get a job. Anything just please..."

She was starting to panic. He must surely hate her now, but she stopped when she saw him gently smile. It was calming.

- "I want you to start studying again. You've lamented about not having the stomach to continue being a nurse anymore and I think you're smart and talented. There's a lot of schools to choose from in here so it wouldn't be impossible for you two to continue living with me. I want to support you if you let me."

She hugged him tightly burying her face against his chest. She sobbed and whimpered what he had wanted to say.

- "Yes. Yes. Yes. Thank you."

He felt a lump in his throat and answered her embrace holding her tightly. He kissed the top of her head and whispered something in a foreign language she didn't understand and couldn't quite hear.

- "Tack för din kärlek. Jag förtjänar den inte."

Whatever he had said, it must have been something sweet and caring. She hugged him a bit tighter before letting go. She took his hand and cheerfully said:

- "Let's go home."

[writing-in-riverdale]

say something | archie andrews x reader

request

written by: kelly

edited by: @jugheadxresderinyourhead

anonymous said: hi ! here’s your character and number(s) : archie andrews , 63,64,66,77 :)

prompt: 63- “you left without saying goodbye.. i hate you for that” 64- “i loved you and then you were gone.. and i knew i’d lost you” 66- “please say something” 77- “i can’t.. i can’t loose you”

chapter song: all about you / birdy

✘

the day that i was sent away was the hardest day of my life to date. a scared 16 year old girl, pregnant with the baby of riverdales small town hero. archie was my dream guy. 

he had always been the one boy that i had a crush on consistantly throughout my life. one day he showed some interest back and that was it.

 we were together and inseperable. 

the night that i lost my virginity to archie was the start of a snowball affect. it sealed our passion for one another and also left me pregnant.

did archie know? no, he didn’t. was i going to tell him? yes eventually. just not now. 

my parents were shocked when i told them, they were local lawyers and active members of the church so as you can imagine, they weren’t happy. the plan was to send me to a home for un-wed mothers. i made it clear that the baby was going to stay with me, and they respected that. 

on one term.

 i left for the duration of my pregnancy and when i returned, the baby would be made out to be my orphaned cousin who my parents “adopted”. 

and after a week of paprerwork, i was gone. i wasn’t allowed to talk to any of my friends, i wasn’t allowed to tell archie, i wasn’t allowed to even tell my older brother who was in college at the time. it was our own personal deep, dark secret.

✘

over the last 8 months, i’ve developed into a mother. i gave birth to my daughter a week ago, and i’ve never felt better. bettys sister polly was here too. she is pregnant at the moment with jasons baby. what a shame. shes been helping me with my little girl, she’s also been helping me figure out what im gonna say when i get home. 

“you know that betty will be a great babysitter.” polly stated, trimming the roses.

“betty will be a great mom one day.” i reply, smiling while i remember my best friend who i miss dearly.

the baby starts to fuss, so i sit down in the garden and begin to feed her. 

“does it hurt?” polly asked, curious about the breastfeeding.

“at first it does, butonce you get used to it its super natural and relaxing. shes getting what she needs from me.” i clarified.

there was a blissful silence in the garden. i loved being here with my little princess. 

“have you got a name for her yet?” 

“i have a few that i like, im not sure which one i want for her yet.” i answer, trying to think of a better excuse for not naming her yet. its just that i dont feel any of the names that have been suggested thus far arent good enough for her.

the moment of blissfulness was about to end. and so was my trail of lies.

from the courtyard, i catch a glimpse of betty and jughead. they were running past all of the nuns to get to the rose garden. it was comotion, people were shouting as the pair of them start calling out for polly. 

i knew they were looking for her but i didn’t think that it was going to ever lead to them being here, while im here. feeding my baby, that they don’t know exists.

i see betty hug polly, and that brings a massive smile to my face. and while they were having a sweet reunion, jughead looks over at me. his eyes almost pop right out of his head. he turns a ghostly shade of white. 

“betty..” juggie says, stepping back. 

“whats up-” she was stopped mid-sentence. she too, had the same deer in the headlights look. 

“y/n?” she says looking down, at the pink blanket draped over my shoulder.

“hi guys.” i mutter, smiling softly.

the tension could of been cut like butter. it was dead quiet, confusion and shock filling up the atmosphere around us. now it was time for me to explain.

✘

“so the baby is archies?” betty enquired, her arm around my shoulder.

“yes. 100 percent.” i reply, looking down at my little girl.

“and your parents took you here, so that people would think you had gone to live with your brother while they were adopting the baby?” jughead recalled while stroking her little hand with his thumb.

“again, yes. i wanted to leave this place at first but i love it here now.” i state, looking around at the old building with lush gardens and wild flowers.

“we need to get you home, the both of you.” betty insists, getting up and dusting her skirt off. 

and with that the plan was hatched. myself and polly were to pack our stuff and betty would pick us up at midnight. 

and so she did. she came in archies truck, which she borrowed and we drove off into the night. i was longing for him. 

✘

we arrived at bettys grandmas house. it usually sat empty because her grandma was always overseas. she had set it up for myself and polly to stay in while they where figuring out what to do next. 

betty has made us some tea, we were sitting on the sofa exhausted from the crazy escape.

“jugheads staying at archies.” she said quietly, pursing her lips as if the words were forbidden.

“he’s better off at the andrews’ house.” i insisted, pretending like i didn’t even care that she mentioned archies name. 

the night was coming to an end, i settled down in a spare room and i fell asleep.

  ✘

the next morning i had decided to do something completely and utterly stupid. i was going to go and see archie. i needed to tell him that i was back and that i was the mother of his child. 

i was always one to act on impulse, thats what led me to be where i am in my life.

i got into a pair of jeans and a loose white shirt, put my hair up into a ponytail and got a diaper bag ready for the baby. we were about to leave when betty see’s me heading out the door.

“where are you going?” she asks, leaning against the doorway.

“i need to do it today bets, i can’t be here and not see him.” 

“lets go then.” she expresses, grabbing her car keys and heading off in front of me. no questions asked. 

“betty, the baby?” i ask, holding heer car seat.

“bring her with, i’ll watch her while you speak to him.” she suggests.

what am i doing? is this really going to happen? i feel sick. 

✘

as i walk into the auditorium at riverdale high, i feel this urge to crack a smile. as much as i used to hate it here, i’ve missed this place. 

it was always nice coming in and being a kid. i’ve had to acknowledge that archie wont be happy to see me. i know him well enough to establish that the boy has issues with people leaving him. 

i walk into the football locker room and head straight to his locker. i can see him standing there, texting someone. i stand awkwardly trying to say something but its like my voice disapeared.

 i take a sharp breath, trying to get some more confidencence to talk but im just numb. he’s so beautiful and as i see him standing there i remember looking at my baby. she has his eyes. those beautiful eyes.

and then i see him put something back into his locker and he quickly glances over at me and looks back. then it was like reality had stopped, he stared into his locker, trying to comprehend if his brain was decieving him. 

it wasn’t.

i was there.

he looked back at me, this time for longer. he had scanned my body. he knew something was different, i could tell.

“hey arch.” i mutter. pressing my foot against the concrete.

he just continued to stare at me. not a peep. 

“please...say something..” i stutter, trying to comprehend what he is thinking. 

“thats the thing-” he says looking up at me.

“i don’t know what to say..” he continued, placing his left hand throigh his thick hair.

the silence was deadly. you could hear the white noise.

almost in the same moment that silence was shattered by him slamming his fist against the metal locker.

he was impulsive, like me.

“FUCK” he raged, scaring the shit out of me.

my breathing picks up, i close me eyes. i felt his pain. 

“what the fuck y/n? you leave and then..oh shit.” he sits down, overwhelemed by the situation. 

“arch i can explain..” i say walking over to him. 

“explain what? you left without saying goodbye..and i hate you for that.” he spits, looking at me dead in the eyes. 

and with that, it felt like my whole world had stopped. i was almost winded by that word. hate. had it really gone that far?

“i loved you so much too.” he continues. 

“like i had so much love for you and you didn’t take that seriously.” he sneered.

“i cant loose you..” i croaked.

“well you should of thought about that before you left me without saing anything. god, you really dont get it. i loved you and then you were gone.. and i knew that i had lost you.” he confessed.

“I didn’t leave because i wanted to, i had to.” i snapped.

“you left because you’re selfish.” he interupted.

“i left because i was pregnant.” i corrected him.

and then the white noise returned. he looks at me and all of a sudden it clicked in his mind. thats why i looked different. thats why i had changed and thats why i had left. he looks around the room, as if his reality was slipping. 

“you had a b-” he stops to breath.

the look on his face was priceless.

“you had a baby?” he stammered, obviously shocked.

“i had our baby. i had to leave arch, i didn’t have a choice and i couldn’t tell you.”

he uses his hands to rub his face, tears forming very slowly in his eyes.

“i’m not mad.” he admits, looking down at his feet.

“i know.” i answer.

“i’m hurt or i was hurt. i don’t know-” he was interupted by a cry.

i see betty rush into the locker room with the stroller.

“i think she’s hungry.” betty whispers, looking at a gobsmacked archie.

“she?” he asked looking up.

i go towards to stroller, grabbing the baby. and lifting her up. 

“i want to hold her.”  he stands up, marching towards me. 

i look down at her, she wasn’t hungry. she was fussy.

archie comes around and looks down at her face. i could feel him almost melt. 

“she is so beautiful.” he says in awe.

“she looks just like y/n.” betty mentions with a smile ever present on her face.

“she does.” he agrees.

“she has your eyes arch.” i smile, gushing over this gorgeous child that i had a part in creating.

i turn around and i hand the baby to archie, proudly.

“have you named her?” he asks, looking up at me.

“i have a name in mind.” i reply.

“and?” betty questions.

“well my grandma’s name was ivy and archies grandmas name was belle, so i was thinking-”

“ivy belle.” he says cutting me off abruptley.

“oh thats so sweet.” betty whines, pulling her bottom lip out. 

“ivy belle andrews.” i purred.

archie looked at me and without any hesitation,

“im her dad.” he smiles.

✘

and in a moment, a hostile environment can be turned into a memory forever fuelled by love. 

archie and i got married when he graduated high school. he was working with his dad, and also writing and producing music on the side.

we had little miss ivy belle, and shortly after our wedding we welcomed a little cheeky little ginger haired boy named freddie forsythe. 

the teenage girl who was once pregnant and scared is now happily married, a mother of two and a journalist at the riverdale register. i never thought that my pregancy would of lead to my happily ever after, but it did.

✘ 

tag list: @hauntedcherryblossombanana-blog @sadbreakfastclb @jugandbettsdetectiveagency @fragilefrances @onceuponagladerhead  @natalieroseg @mhysaofdrxgons @hiimalyssawriter @kindflowerwelove

[maxwellyjordan]

Ask the authors: An innovative approach to learning the court’s biggest cases

Textbooks of constitutional law have, for decades, followed a similar pattern in their quest to help law students synthesize a surfeit of Supreme Court decisions. In their new multimedia platform, “An Introduction to Constitutional Law: 100 Supreme Court Cases Everyone Should Know” (Wolters Kluwer, 2019), Professors Randy Barnett and Josh Blackman take a different approach.

Most of the cases covered in “100 Supreme Court Cases” are traditionally taught in law school. But some are not, and the book has a wider aim: to present an overview of the most significant decisions from our nation’s highest court, in a way accessible to law students and the general public alike. The accompanying 11-hour video library includes short clips for each case, which average about 10 minutes in length. These resources both complement the text and present a novel way of learning the material.

The authors were kind enough to answer questions about “100 Supreme Court Cases” for the blog. Welcome, Randy and Josh, and thank you for doing this.

***

Question: Can you tell us how this project came about?

Josh: In 2016, Randy invited me to be a co-author on his constitutional law casebook, “Constitutional Law: Cases in Context.” I accepted this opportunity of a lifetime, and — as I am wont to do — quickly proposed another project: to develop a series of videos to teach students about the most important cases in the constitutional canon. These films would incorporate photographs of the parties, as well as audio from oral arguments and opinion announcements. Students would even be able to binge watch a semester of constitutional law in a single sitting. Randy enthusiastically backed the project.

Randy: Once we were into the project of writing and producing the videos — which took two years to accomplish — we decided that we had something that was too important to confine to law students whose professors adopted our casebook. So the idea of a free-standing book was born to enable anyone to gain convenient access to the videos — as well as a written description of these cases that goes beyond what is in the videos.

  Question: Is the book intended as a new, stand-alone text for constitutional law students? As a study supplement? As a guide for the general reader?

Randy: The book and videos were originally conceived for law students to read when taking constitutional law from professors who used other casebooks. The narrative we present will enrich any course on constitutional structure or rights.

Josh: We also wrote the text and videos to make constitutional law accessible to college students, as well as advanced high-school students. In particular, we hope A.P. government and constitutional law classes adopt our book. Also, the book and video library will help develop an excellent home-school course on constitutional law. Finally, the general public will benefit from a single resource that can teach the entire canon of constitutional law in 300 pages.

  Question: Tell us about your process for picking cases. Was 100 always the goal, a framework in which you aimed to fit your selection? Or was the approach more organic?

Josh: Initially, it was not our goal to select 100 cases. Rather, we selected the cases from our casebook that we thought that all law students should learn. We soon realized that we had 103 cases. We recognize the marketing potential of having an even number like 100, so trimmed off a few.

Randy:  Our goal was to focus on the key cases that are said to be in the “constitutional canon” and “anti-canon” so people can understand how constitutional law came to be what it is today. It is our experience that current constitutional law doctrines are best understood as the result of a 200+ year process of decision-making by a single court: the Supreme Court of the United States. All constitutional lawyers — and all the justices — carry in their heads a narrative of how and why the law developed as it has. This narrative is more important than any single doctrine or rule. We think this narrative is best told as a narrative. And within it are the individual stories presented by each case. When we were done picking the cases, we thought we needed to tell the larger story, and it turned out there were 100 of them.

  Question: In the book’s foreword, Erwin Chemerinsky – dean of Berkeley Law and author of his own widely used constitutional law textbook – remarks that “although not every constitutional law class will cover each of these cases, [you] have included the most important cases that are covered in any constitutional law course.” In your book, did you intentionally include cases that you felt constitutional law professors have overlooked?

Randy: A few. For example, Buchanan v. Warley is a much-neglected 1917 case that complicates the received wisdom about the so-called Lochner-era court. In Buchanan, that court invalidated a racially restrictive zoning law in Louisville, Kentucky, that forbade whites from selling houses to blacks in white neighborhoods and vice-versa. For the court it was a straightforward “due process of law” case that unreasonably infringed upon property rights of both buyers and sellers, blacks and whites, without an adequate police-power rationale. But this case is, by far, the exception. With limited space (and budget), we generally confined ourselves to the cases most constitutional lawyers would know and students need to know.

Josh: We also added two cases students seldom study. In Hepburn v. Griswold, the Supreme Court held that Congress could not force people to accept paper money as “legal tender.” This 4-3 decision by Chief Justice Salmon Chase was an important decision that limited the scope of federal power. However, one year later, after two new appointments by President Ulysses Grant, the court reversed course. Knox v. Lee, split 5-4, upheld the federal Legal Tender Act. This decision adopted a broad understanding of implied powers that would presage the court’s post-1937 jurisprudence.

  A preview of Knox v. Lee. Previews are available at conlaw.us/cases, with the full videos available for purchase.

  Question: Tell us about your division of labor. What was it like to collaborate?

Josh: I would write the first drafts of each of the 63 scripts and storyboards we relied on. Randy would then revise and expand the drafts. Summarizing a complicated case in a few pages is no easy task. We spent countless hours debating about what should be included and excluded. And we didn’t always see eye to eye on prose. Randy likes longer sentences. I don’t mind starting sentences with “however.” But, in the end, we knew that any content that satisfied both of our meticulous standards was ready for primetime.

Randy: Over the course of two years, we spent nearly 60 hours at Trivision Studios in Chantilly, Virginia. After sitting through hair and makeup we took our position under the bright lights and in front of the green screen. The Trivision team skillfully manned the cameras, adjusted the lighting, positioned the microphone and rolled the teleprompter. Each of us monitored the delivery of the other to catch mistakes. Not infrequently we had to revise the script on the teleprompter in the studio because speaking the script out loud revealed errors we had missed when it was just in writing.

Josh: After we wrapped, Trivision produced first cuts of each video. At that point, Randy and I had to review each and every frame to ensure that the scripts and storyboards were faithfully followed. It could take three hours to review a 10-minute video. On average, each video required four or five rounds of edits. Eventually, we signed off on each of the 63 videos. They total nearly 11 hours in length. We are very proud of the project.

Randy: While I proofed all of the videos for errors, it was Josh alone who provided the storyboarding for the graphics and illustrations that make the story of constitutional law come alive. My decision to add him to my casebook was completely vindicated. I would never have conceived of this project — much less executed it — without him.

Josh:

  Question: In the years ahead, the Supreme Court will undoubtedly decide cases that deserve consideration among the 100 most important. And technological progress will make digital aids, like your accompanying videos, more and more advanced. What do you view as the future of this project?

Randy: The “canon” sometimes gets revised over time. If that happens, we will need to revisit some of our videos. But the great majority will hold up as accurate descriptions of how and why the cases were decided the way they were. This is one of the virtues of our casebook. As time goes by, you only need to extend the narrative with some new cases (and drop cases that no longer serve a pedagogical purpose). You don’t need to completely reorganize the book. So, yes, we will need to add additional cases. But this is an expensive process. Our 63 videos covering 100 cases cost about $100,000 to produce. Josh and I had to pay part of that expense out of our own pockets. (That’s why you cannot watch them for free on YouTube, which we would have preferred.) But if the book and videos are a commercial success, I think Wolters Kluwer will pay for some new ones to be added when we revise our casebook, which happens every three to four years. When we do, I know I can count on Josh to find more amazing pictures, audio and graphics to make these cases come alive to a modern audience.

Josh: I’m already planning a sequel: “100 Property Cases Everyone Should Know.”

Randy: Josh is exhausting.

The post Ask the authors: An innovative approach to learning the court’s biggest cases appeared first on SCOTUSblog.

from Law https://www.scotusblog.com/2019/10/ask-the-authors-an-innovative-approach-to-learning-the-courts-biggest-cases/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[poipoi1912]

Carisi-centric thoughts on Ep 18x19

For once, lol.

ALSO THERE’S A BARISI CORNER, AFTER 84 YEARS :D

Needless to say, LONG POST.

Overall Thoughts

I liked it? What?

It felt like an episode from a previous season. I checked, and it appears two of the “old” writers wrote it. One of whom also wrote Know It All and Great Expectations, namely some of the best least terrible (and more true to character) episodes of the season. I don’t think that’s a coincidence. When a writer knows the characters well, it shows.

Let me get one negative thought out of the way: just when I was enjoying the episode, what do you know, the rapist turned out to be sympathetic again! Good ol’ Season 18. I have to say, though, that in this particular instance, in this specific episode, this was probably done for the sake of the totally predictable twist. The message wasn’t “oh but he’s a nice guy,” it was “he’s a victim too,” and that’s a pretty classic SVU trope.

Still, I didn’t appreciate how the episode tried to equate the experience of the victim and the rapist, nor the fact the actual rape was practically glossed over (via that favorable-ish plea deal) in order to target the “real” bad guy. Again, SVU has done that before, many times, and the reverend sure was a bad guy, but I did not like that ending. The rapist was almost excused for his actions, and the reverend willingly sacrificed himself to keep all that money and continue to help the needy. Like, they are the criminals in this story. No need to make them so noble. At least they could have had the reverend weeping for his cash.

I did, however, like that the girl seemed okay in the end, she had accepted both what happened to her and who she was, and she seemed more free. Also, she didn’t totally renounce her faith, which I think was a nice touch.

Barba Thoughts

For once, the show managed to find the most interesting (legally) speaking aspect of a case, and stick with it. It was smart to use the first amendment to defend rape as an expression of religious beliefs. It was an (extreme but) interesting legal argument, even if the writing was a little bit murky on that. As mentioned, rape condoned by a religion is still rape by secular laws, but the real issue is consent. If the victim, even in retrospect (due to manipulation, in this case) were to say, “I consented,” that would be the end of this case. Fortunately, Liv was there to convince the victim to testify, as is her wont :D

But back to the law, and back to Barba. Barba cited actual cases! Multiple times! My word! And there was an entire scene of him and the defense attorney in the judge’s chambers, presenting intricate legal arguments! Like, there was an actual discussion of the law! What? I was pinching myself the entire time.

AND THEN WE SAW THE OPENING ARGUMENTS??? for like one minute but still, when was the last time that happened? AND THEN BARBA CROSS-EXAMINED THAT REVEREND AND GOT ALL LOUD AND RIGHTEOUS? AND THEN HE ACTUALLY CROSS-EXAMINED THE PERP LIKE A BADASS? WHAT? WHAT SHOW WAS I WATCHING?

Okay I'm sorry for all the capslocking but Barba was actualLY DOING HIS JOB?????!!!!!1

Speaking of spectacular, let’s get to Sonny :D

Sonny and Continuity

The show remembered Sonny is Catholic, and wanted to become a priest, and grew up in the Church. I appreciated that reference to his teen years, when he seemingly idolized the priests in his life. That’s consistent with what we learned in Unholiest Alliance (which, according to imdb, was written by the same writer who wrote this episode, so that would explain it).

But it’s also consistent with Sonny’s (prior) characterization. It’s one thing to say “my priest saved my life” (as Sonny said in the somewhat similar Duggars episode, last season), but to say “if a priest told me to jump, I’d only ask ‘how high?’” is very different.

We know Sonny has a tendency to get attached to the authority figures in his life (Liv, Barba), and we know he has a desire to impress them, to earn their approval. If you take that quality of an adult Sonny, and try to apply it to a teenage Sonny, with the added element of faith and God? Yeah, I can imagine how badly a younger Sonny would want to get God’s approval. That was an almost throwaway reference, but it really told us a lot about Sonny.

As did that final interrogation, with the reverend. Sonny knows how to hit them where it hurts, and he really handled that masterfully. But one detail I’d like to focus on was the way he casually accepted the fact that guy’s church had done some “good things.” It reminded me of his treatment of Rudnik. Sonny is able to perceive and acknowledge goodness, if and when it exists, even in the darkest of people. That’s classic Sonny.

Sonny and Religion

I also appreciated the confirmation that, while Sonny is faithful, he is not blind to the faults of the Church. Or to the misinterpretations of God’s will. Regrettably, there was a deleted scene which went into Sonny’s beliefs in depth (here), but we didn’t get to see it. Still, the script alone is enough to confirm everything I’ve always suspected about him and his faith.

“I don’t pretend to understand what God wants for me. But my take has always been, “Do unto others.” And I wouldn’t want anybody telling me who I could or couldn’t love.”

That’s the perfect encapsulation of Sonny’s attitude. No judgment, no presumptions, but also a healthy reverence for God’s will and the mystery it truly is, for those who are faithful. ‘Do unto others’ is truly Sonny Carisi in a nutshell. It’s both empathetic (because Sonny can easily put himself in someone else’s place) and open-minded (because Sonny believes everyone should get to choose for themselves).

And the reference to love, that’s important as well. A lot of people who grew up in a more strict religious setting can’t help internalizing some of the more conservative teachings. Even if they disagree as they get older, it can be hard to shake the beliefs they grew up with. Sonny seems to have succeeded in doing that. His take is defiant, and confident, and meaningful.

“Don’t tell me who I can love.” End of story. I truly wish we had gotten to see Sonny saying that, because I think it’s important to see a young macho (as of late) white guy expressing such kind-hearted and progressive views, but at least we did see him saying this:

“They’re kids. With normal sexual desires. But you made them feel they had the devil inside them.”

That needed to be said, and I’m happy Sonny was the one to say it.

The Barisi Corner

OH, HOW I’VE MISSED YOU, BARISI CORNER :’)

Perfection.

The Barisi Corner, Part 1

(yes there are 2 parts, one for each scene. don’t judge me, this was a long time coming)

I loved the first moment, at the precinct. The entire squad, plus Barba, were discussing the absurdity of using the first amendment as a justification for rape. Sonny had some thoughts on the subject, almost as a devil’s advocate (no pun intended), and he tried to express them, but of course Barba cut him off, because that entire theory is crazy. There’s no such thing as blanket consent. Even if the girl agreed in abstract that rape can be a “cure,” she would need to consent in the moment, and that consent could be withdrawn at all times, as Barba pointed out.

But.

Sonny kept on. Respectfully. Without yelling or getting mad. Sonny agreed with Barba, of course, but that wasn’t the point he was trying to make. That’s why he didn’t let Barba’s interruption stop him. He was, again, respectful, all “of course, but I’m just saying, hear me out,” etc., but he stuck to his guns. He showed the appropriate degree of deference to an experienced ADA like Barba, but he kept talking.

And Barba kept listening.

Sonny’s point was that the case was tricky, and the victim was confused and easily manipulated, so a good defense attorney (btw I love this defense attorney, I had missed him!) would “lather that up” into consent. What a great phrase, and what a Sonny Carisi phrase, frankly. Punctuated by the classic Sonny Carisi gesturing :D

Barba’s reaction to Sonny’s totally accurate (and prophetic) remark?

“…I agree.”

Simple as that. No snark, no sass. Barba was smizing the entire time, of course, but this was about work.

I mean, the fact they even spoke to each other was progress, but the fact they had a cordial conversation about the legal aspects of the case, and they came to an agreement? WE ARE BLESSED :’)

I always love it when the show remembers Sonny is a lawyer, and he can actually argue the specifics of a case (here, the strategy of the defense) with Barba, in a way the other cops can’t. That hadn’t happened in a long time. When Liv suggests something (like playing that tape, last week), it’s more intuitive and less strategic. More “this is the right thing to do,” and less “this is the smartest move for us right now.” Sonny thinks like a lawyer. Like Barba. And Barba knows and appreciates that.

This season has done away with any and all personal plots and characterization and interpersonal dynamics, but this one scene allowed me to fanwank it as progress. To pretend we didn’t just watch a boring scene about the law. Instead, we witnessed Sonny and Barba being totally professional, and in sync, and working together as equals. Analyzing a case, listening to each other’s points, and coming to an easy agreement. We basically witnessed an ideal working relationship :’)

The Barisi Corner, Part 2

I also loved how Sonny sat in on that meeting with Barba and Liv, when they spoke to the rapist and his attorney. There was no reason for Sonny (or Liv, lol) to even be there, technically, but that was less of a meeting and more of an interrogation, so Barba relied on his two most trusted police officers :D

I think Sonny was there because he could relate to the guy, having been raised in the faith. Barba (again in Unholiest Alliance, by the same writer) was clearly aware Sonny is a “good Catholic,” so I think he may have suggested it. Or Liv could have. Cozying up to a perp is the old Sonny’s go-to move, and this case demonstrated that perfectly. Sonny was the only SVU cop able to display a genuine understanding of the boy’s faith, but also his blind adherence to the reverend’s commands. That’s why Sonny mentioned his own relationship with the priests in his youth.

Sonny was in that room for that explicit purpose. That’s why he was sitting there, all sprawled out and sexy, ready to get up and pounce. He practically took over the interrogation, with Liv and Barba chiming in here and there. I think all three of them (BARSONISI ALERT) agreed that would be their best play, and they possibly even practiced it. The best way to get the kid to crack. To understand that, just like Sonny said, it’s not right to quote the Bible to justify a crime. I loved Sonny’s confidence, in that scene.

Speaking of confidence and Barisi, I LOVED it when Sonny got all sassy, saying, “let’s hit this guy where it hurts the most,” and Barba was smiling like “that’s mah boyfriend, I’ve taught him well!” I just loved that. We hadn’t gotten a real, solid friendly look between them in so long. I’m glad Sonny got to deliver the cocky line, for once, and I’m even more glad we got to see Barba’s amused-slash-approving reaction. Sonny has gotten significantly more confident through the seasons, and it’s always great to see Barba acknowledging that with delight.

Stray Thoughts

lol at Barba being all “omg we blew it, we lost the jurors, we’re done,” even though their case was still pretty solid.

Double lol because last week Barba was all “d’oh, it’s hypnotism! Which is totally real! What a slam dunk! I’m totally winning this case!” :D

I see Fin is still a detective, glad we cleared that up. You know, because Liv introduced him as such. Even if he’s “practicing his Sergeant skills,” which, how rude were Sonny and Amanda, by the way? Crack a smile, you guys, Fin was making a joke! to remind us he is kind of a Sergeant but not really! I wish Peter and Kelli had given legit deadpan looks, though, to make it even funnier. As it was, the scene was kind of awkward. Except Ice, who was hilarious.

Also, hey, remember how Fin’s son is gay? lol me neither also, hey, remember fin is a grandfather? lol no one does

When the friend said, “YOU WERE RAPED,” Liv’s face was like, “excuse you, honey, I’m the only one who’s allowed to scream that in a victim’s face.”

The actor playing the rapist was very good! So creepy. Almost robotic, until he cracked in the end. Very nice performance, he really made the episode. All the actors were great, in fact.

Liv’s colorblock jacket? Flawless.

I’m going to need all the gifs of Sonny sitting behind Barba, all sprawled out, please and thank you :’)

[iamashamedofmyfanfics]

Running [1]

Running (by iamashamedofmyfanfics)

Pairing: None, B.A.P ot6 Genre: Friendship Universe: Gang AU Rating: PG13 Length: Chaptered (ongoing) Warnings: crime, future violence, irresponsible kids and adult. Chapters: [Next/2]

Notes: I just want them to not be betrayed for once is that too much to ask?

[ao3 version]

Summary: It starts in high school. It starts with running away. It starts with a home. They should probably regret it, but they don’t.

It start’s in high school. Adults have too many ideas about what one should do with their life even without asking them what they want. Neither of them are happy with that, but Himchan probably would have continued on anyway. Though, it takes very little convincing to have both of them agreeing.

Why follow anyone else’s ideas?

Yongguk may be the one who presents the idea, offhand and jokingly. They should run off and start a life a crime. Just out of spite. But Himchan is the one who draws up plans and eventually get’s them on the same page.

While Yongguk sets fire the the college applications he’s supposed to fill out in front of his parents, Himchan leaves with no warning.

They should regret the choice, when stealing the survive and missing their families becomes their day to day. They don’t.

It start’s in high school. Though noisy, Youngjae and Daehyun are good kids. They get good grades, they do all their work. Neither are happy. Youngjae’s family is in too much debt, Daehyun’s family too absent to know what he wants. Colleges cost too much, they might not notice if he applies at all.

Daehyun jokingly gives the idea. They should run away and start a life of crime. Youngjae laughs at him, they’re not cut out for crime, besides there are too many known gangs close by for that to be a reasonable option.

Yet, when graduation comes and they’re forced to face their coming futures, they don’t bother to think about it. Pretend they know what they’re doing more than they really do and just… run.

They should regret the choice. When struggling to eat from day to day and running from bigger, stronger groups of people. Yet, they don’t.

It starts after high school. Himchan has gotten good at stealing things that look nice, Youngjae is freezing half to death. Daehyun is starving, Yongguk just happens to be talking about a restaurant when he passes by.

Himchan grabs Youngjae by the wrist, glares down at him like he’s personally insulted Himchan’s entire existence. Daehyun stumbles back, glances between the other three. Yongguk flips a lighter around in his hand, eyebrows raised.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I- just- I only would have taken spare change.” Youngjae holds his other hand up, trying to defend himself.

“Youngjae don’t admit that,” Daehyun whispers.

“Like he’d believe me if I said I wasn’t stealing?”

“Still.” Daehyun glances again at Yongguk, then at Himchan. “Please let him go, he’s stupid.”

“I get straight A’s!”

“You haven’t gotten a grade it two years.”

“Shut up.”

“How old are you?” Yongguk finally speaks, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Twenty.” Daehyun is the one to offer, swallowing his nervousness.

“Why are you stealing?”

“Who cares?” Youngjae scoffs, and immediately regrets it, wishing he could sink into the ground when Himchan glares at him again.

“Who cares?” Daehyun repeats, frowning, before muttering to himself. “My stomach cares.”

It starts over lunch. Youngjae and Daehyun eye the food in front of them suspiciously. Himchan and Yongguk watch them with just as much suspicion. It’s not pleasant.

“Look,” Youngjae starts, glancing at the exit before back to the two across from them. “I’m sorry I tried to steal from you, we- uh- desperate times call for desperate measures?”

“And you guys look well off.”

“Daehyun.”

“What? Those were your words.”

“They don’t need to know that!”

Himchan glances to Yongguk beside him, who shrugs.

“We aren’t.” Himchan draws their attention back to him.

“Sure,” Youngjae mutters.

“By the way,” Yongguk starts, ignoring the comment, “you take a good look at where the exit is?”

“Uh…”

“Because you’re gonna need to run.”

“I told you they were gonna kill us,” Daehyun whispers.

“We aren’t,” Himchan shakes his head, “but you might be arrested. We can’t pay for this.”

“What?!” Daehyun looks down at the food in front of him, back up at Himchan, then back down.

“Are you kidding me?!” Youngjae gasps.

“We’ve stolen everything we own.” Yongguk shrugs, leaning on the table to glance at the staff. “They’ll ask us about the bill soon.”

“We’re going to be arrested.” Youngjae buries his face in his hands. At the sound of fork hitting plate he looks past his hands at Daehyun, who is stuffing food into his mouth. “Daehyun.”

“First meal in weeks, maybe last as a free man, you can’t stop me.”

“...You have a point.” Youngjae follows suit. Himchan and Yongguk share another look.

Yongguk laughs. “If you don’t want this to be the last, be ready to run.”

“And to follow us.” Himchan adds.

A four man group is formed.

It starts in high school. It starts then, but nothing happens until college. Junhong is drowning in student loans, Jongup doesn’t even want to be there in the first place.

Junhong jokingly says they should just leave, start a life of crime. Jongup is the last person who would agree to such a thing. Jongup gets another message from his family, about how proud they’ll be when he’s a lawyer. Junhong gets another letter from the bank he’d taken his student loan from.

Jongup jokingly suggests they start a life of crime. Junhong agrees. Their school gets no warning.

They should regret it. When Jongup’s family reports him missing, when Junhong’s parents worriedly text him about his disappearance. They should regret leaving without saying anything, at least. They don’t.

It starts with an easy target. A well-off looking man bragging about his wealth over the phone. He’s so obliviously unguarded despite all his bragging, and it seems like an easy thing. He wont notice a few missing bills.

Jongup trips over Daehyun. Junhong crashes into Youngjae. They bump into the chair of the man, who has enough money to throw around to have all four kicked out of the restaurant.

“Look what you did!” Youngjae points accusingly.

“What I did?! This isn’t my fault! Right Jongup?” Junhong looks to Jongup who nods.

“Of course not. We were trying to- we were in the process of-”

“Stealing?” Daehyun offers.

“Ye- No. No of course not.”

“We aren’t crooks,” Junhong adds.

“We were trying to steal from him too.” Youngjae motions between himself and Daehyun. Sputtering, Jongup and Junhong look to each other for some sort of response.

“Youngjae you can’t just say that.” Daehyun makes a face.

“What are they gonna do? Turn us in? For the same thing they were doing? That’s like if we turned Himchan or Yongguk in.”

“Uh,” Junhong starts, interrupting them, “are you in a gang?”

“Yes.”

“Daehyun!”

“You basically admitted the same thing!”

“Can I join your gang?”

“Junhong!”

“What?” Junhong turns to Jongup, eyebrows raised. “It’s safer than how we have been.”

“I see your point but…”

It starts with Himchan and Yongguk staring down the two that Youngjae and Daehyun bring back with them.

“No.” Himchan’s blunt response has Jongup and Junhong stumbling over arguments.

“Aw, come on, give them a chance.” Daehyun put his hands on Jongup’s shoulders. “Look at this kid, don’t you trust him?”

“I don’t trust anyone.”

“What about us?” Youngjae ask, frowning.

“Especially you.”

“Rude.”

“I think we should give them a chance.” Yongguk shrugs at the shocked expression Himchan gives him. “We kept Daehyun.”

“Hey!”

“Exactly!” Youngjae’s agreement has Himchan sighing.

“Fine.”

“He’ll do anything if Yongguk thinks it’s a good idea,” Daehyun whispers. Or tries and fails too. Himchan glares, though it goes ignored.

“Is he the leader?” Junhong asks, looking between the four who he’s not familiar with yet.

“He doesn’t want to be, so Himchan is. But he really is.” Daehyun throws his arms over Junhong and Jongup’s shoulders. “Welcome to the team, kids.”

“I am not a child.”

“If you have to say that you probably are.”

It starts with running away from responsibilities. It starts with running away from home. It starts with running.

It starts with six. It starts with regret that they should all feel, but don’t.

It starts with a home.

[saxicoloushuman]

He Meets Your Parents For The First Time and He Gets Sick (Ravi)

Here is Ravi’s part! N’s can be found here, Leo’s here, Ken’s here, and Hongbin’s here

“You nervous?” you asked Wonshik as you walked up your mother’s drive. She was fairly well to do and had a beautiful house. The house was too big for just one person and occasionally a lover, but your mother loved to show her wealth. 

She was sophisticated and thought herself above most things. Things including Ravi. She didn’t like that he wasn’t a businessman or some sort of CEO or lawyer or something of that nature. You argued that he was in a way, with him making his own music and just going solo. She didn’t care. In her mind, he was always just a rapper who did drugs and cursed and degraded women, all of which you knew Wonshik didn’t do. 

He nodded his answer back. He had been loosing his voice after all the solo stages he had been doing and so he had decided not to talk all day so that when he finally met your witch of a mother, he could actually speak to her. 

“Me too.” You rung the doorbell, that had a fancy obnoxiously long melody, and waited for the inevitable. You weren’t sure how today was going to go. She agreed to be nice, so you could only hope for the best. 

The door opened to reveal your mother in a nice suit on, heels making her taller than normal. 

“Oh, joy. Your here.”

“Hello, Mother,” You said. “This is Wonshik, my boyfriend.”

“Yes, I am quite aware of who he is, thank you, Y/N.” She turned to look at him, glare ever-present on her face. He bowed as customary in Korea, but your mother did not seem to think it fit for the occasion. “Your in America, boy, start acting like it.” She turned entered the house without another word.

“I’m so sorry. I told you she was detestable,” you said, looking up to him.

Ravi opened his mouth to say something but no words came. Sounds of a strangled person came out instead. You stared at him in shock as he tired one more time. Again, the same result was produced.

“Oh no. Is your voice completely gone?” You asked as you both stepped in the entry way of the house and closed the front door. He nodded as you both started taking off your coats and scarves. “What are we going to do? She’s going to be pissed when finds out. She going to think you’re even more irresponsible now for not taking care of your voice as a singer. Which isn’t true. What are we going to do?” Ravi shrugged, the worry evident on his own face. He mimed writing with a pencil and use his hand as the thing he was writing on. “You want to write what you say. Okay. Maybe that’ll mull things over. Probably not, but oh well.” You were freaking out. Your mother was a monster. You had never truly stood up to her before, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to do so quite yet.  

“Are you two coming, or are you going to talk about me behind my back the whole night?” your mother asked from down the hall. Both of you tensed.

“Here goes nothing,” you said. Wonshik nodded and grabbed your hand reassuringly. He gave you a determined look. You nodded and led the way down the hall to the giant upgraded kitchen. 

The whole house was open concept and quite gorgeous. Ravi ogled at it as you entered the living area.

“Beautiful isn’t it,” your mother said, holding a glass of wine. She was standing behind the island sink, food in front of her.

Ravi nodded his answer. 

Your mother frowned. “For a rapper you don’t talk much do you.”

“He’s sick. He can’t talk right now. He just had his solo schedules and his voice is a little tired. He’s not used to doing all the singing alone just yet.” You answered. “If you’d like to here from him, would you mind giving him a writing utensil and something to write on?” you asked as politely as possible.

Your mother, as you had thought, did not look pleased. “You are a rapper no? Keep that up and you wont be for long.” She turned and walked down the hall toward the office for the pen and paper.

You two followed her down. “Mother . . . I-I thought we were being nice,” you said hesitantly.

“I am being nice, Y/N. I can show what it is like when I am not nice. I could ask you both to leave my house immediately and never come back unless you, Y/N have a man who is properly successful. Or I could ask you to break up with this man next to you, who claims he has a stable career that will last you both a life time even as he ages and abuses his voice, and help you myself to find a proper man. But I’m not, because you asked me to play nice.” She shoved the pencil and paper at Wonshik as if to prove the point of his “unstable” job and started to leave, but your blood was boiling at her insults to you and to Wonshik. You hated that he could not stand up for himself because you knew he would and you knew your mother would not wait for him to write a statement and she wouldn’t bother to read it, not now. So instead, your anger boiled over.

“Well maybe I’m done playing nice.” Your mother turned around and glared at you. “You don’t get to treat me this way, not my boyfriend. I am an adult. I get to chose what I want for my life, not you, and frankly, I’m done listening to how disappointed you are in me. It’s not your choice what I do with my life. And you don’t get to say a word about how Wonshik lives his. He’s not yours. Everyone has their own version of success and it doesn’t always involve being or marrying a lawyer or doctor. It just doesn’t. Insult me all you want, but leave Wonshik alone. I’m sorry . . . but I don’t think we can stay here any longer. Thank you for you hospitality as always. Goodbye.” You turned to Wonshik, offered your hand with a triumphant look and walked passed your mother and out the door when he took it with a smile. 

As soon as you were in the car, both elated, he wrote on the piece of paper how proud he was of you for standing up to your mother and how much he loved you. You smiled and kissed him.

“Let’s go take care of your throat at home, where we can cuddle . . . or do more victory dancing.” Ravi attempted a laugh and high-fived you. Never in your life had you ever felt so free.

[ddcassiere]

10 Tips for Hitchikers

Today we are going to talk about something that I thought it might be useful to alternative travellers. And not only, seeing that the general opinion in Europe about hithhiking is relatively ambiguous on how trustworthy is it for moving around and also on how safe is it for both travellers and drivers.

Before we continue I want to say a quick thing, that is: 

the least economically progressed is the country in which you travel, the more are the chances you actually get to meet new friends. Here it is: we discovered hot water! 

Joking apart, in terms of human interaction, I felt an incredible shift from Croatia - west-ward. 

For who doesnt know about my most recent experience in hitchhiking, I travelled from Iran to central Europe in a journey of two years. All by thumb for exception of one or two buses for minor movements.

Hitch Hiking with new friends in the south of Iran

The change of scenario that I experienced from the balcans to Croatia revealed itself in the matter of people being eloquently suspicious, scared and overall, in my humble opinion, nevrotic.

When I reached Poland, I couldnt stress enough this point with my friends, that what I was seeing, by just looking around after a year in the est of Europe and in middle east, looked to me like a horror movie.

People glazing jars of confecture like hypnotized at the supermarket, people reaching to their phone as soon as they were alone, people looking at my rugged clothes as if I had leprosis.. and so on.

For the first time in one year of travel I felt so self conscious about my appeareance  and my general behaviour. 

It was as if the power of dividing humans was not anymore a prerogative of money, but if people themselves had became money.

Never the less I remained in Europe for a while, just to live there and eventually to adapt and normalize myself, Till everything that now I see is normal, or just ok, or it doesnt matter anyway.

Saying this, I definetely love Bosnia Hercegovina, Albania, Kosovo, Montenegro.. I enjoyed my breathing and my being in flow as I rarely had before.

When the driver invites you home and you stay there for days. In the countryside of Banja Luka, Bosnia Hercegovina.

Paranoid is not an issue over there, yet. 

Or if it is, well, I can  tell that in central Europe the state of fear and diffidence toward the human being is much  worse.

Now my 10 tips for the good hitchiker. I hope you find them useful. 

I believe these tips are interesting not only for the traveller, but also for suspicious drivers, as they might realize that after all, its just human beings standing there on the side of the road. And that these human beings, more often than not, are as much as scared as the drivers themself. Of being kidnapped, cutted in piece, raped, eaten, dissolved.. not necessarily in the order.

Now, 

Heading to Albania from Kosovo

nr 1

If you are at your first experiences, I would plan a trip in countries where hitchiking is the normal thing, as diffused and accepted as bus drives. Then, once the confidence is boosted you can bring the Verb of the Thumb to other countries and spread the custom. Do it in the balcans or in Romania for example, where if you are lucky, you wont have to wait longer than few minutes for a ride. But remember that most drivers there expect a symbolic payment after the ride is over. That’s called hay tax, as the tradition roots back to long ago. This lead us to point number

2 

Always ask, before getting in the car, if the ride is for free. And if you dont want to pay, make it clear from the beginning. Otherwise, its not only unfair, but it can be troublesome. 

If you have been told it’s for free, dont let the driver scare you into paying. In hundreds of rides, this happened to me only once, but still it wont help you to show fear as this might easily lead you into being actually robbed.

3

Truck drivers are your best friends! They are definetely scary when you drive by them, but trust these words, there is seldom good people around as truck drivers. Their heart is huge. It would take me several pages to name all the good I have received from truck drivers! Shared meals, cigarettes, long talks, music, laughs, I have been even spontaneously donated money sometimes! If you learn some russian or slavic language this will definetely help in Europe as most truck drivers, at least in my experience, come from slavic countries and they are genuinely happy to have someone to talk to. Be nice, and...

Cool Uzbek truck driver in Turkey

4

Bring some food to share! Nuts, crackers, sweets.. anything that your new friend can grab a bit of. An old calabrian proverb says that you can call someone a friend only when you have shared meals enough to consume a ton of salt. Even though this proverb clearly states that you never know anyone unless you spend huge amount of  time together , this also says that you have to eat with a person to became friends. Or if not, just hand a cigarette, a little present.. anything that would actually show a bit of respect and gratitude.

5

Use Wikinomad! In there you will find the hitchhiking section, organized city by city. So for example, if you are in Prague and you want to go to Wroclaw, it tells you which spots are the hottest and it also contains the reports of previous hitch hikers who have used those spots, by even adding their average waiting time! 

For me this was definetely useful, not only for the directions, that anyway you can find them yourself on google map.. but more than anything for the sake of knowing that there is actually a community and a tradition of travellers .. and that you are not the only madhead.

6

Water is never enough. Especially in summers. If you go a long way and you find yourself stranded in the middle of nowhere, bring at least a 1.5 litres of water and a sleeping bag. 

7

Learn few words of native language. For me it wasnt always possible as sometimes I would cross three countries in a week and words would get all mixed up in my fucked-up brain. But still, try, because its mostly appreciated. And this is obviously valid also for non hitchikers. It sounds bad when you go somewhere and straight away you claim that they know english or worse, your native language. Ok, this might sound an advice for dummies, but I have seen a lot of backpackers approaching people in english as if they ought to understand.

And if you really cant remember few words, at least ask if they speak english before you assumingly start to speak in english.

7

If you are hitchiking in Iran, dont use the thumb up because over there it equals the middle finger of the west.  Wave your hand at waist hight and that will be enough. And make it clear that you dont want the driver to take you to a bus station and that you want to go together to wherever you are headed. 

It’s because mostly in Iran, local people dont know what hitch hiking is. Dont be shy! Just explain, if they speak english. And if they dont, just smile and say the place you are headed to. Ants communicate and they never speak!

more hitchiking in Iran

8

I have seen many backpackers writing their signs in very small cardboards, or worse, with unreadable calligraphy. It has to be at least an A4 carboard and you need to consider that it has to be spotted from far away. This means also that you never ever ever have to stand in a place where if a car stops, you cause an accident. 

I have seen experienced backpackers, and I did it myself once, positioned right after a curve with not enough space to pull the breaks and stop comfortably. Choose your spot carefully, even if it takes a long time or if the ones that you need are occupied. Move further along the street and come back if necessary. Of course you can be picked up anywhere but for the safety of everybody, choose the pitch with care.

9

Especially before your ride, stay away from paranoid people, the ones who have a problem for every solution. Of course you are going to deal with troubles.. but no more than a regular traveller will and with the main bonus that you are going to meet and talk with a lot of different individuals. And this adventure, without you even noticing, will boost your confidence about yourself and will add a huge window into your knowledge and acceptance of humankind. Your senses will be much sharper than the ones of who travels in the ordinary way. And if you do it long enough, surely you will meet new friends and its not rare that you will share also their house and meals and more than just a few hours in their car. You have absolutely nothing to loose by hitchiking, but all to gain for your heart and mind.

And dont fucking rush! If you are on hurry take a flight or a train! Just enjoy the ride, look out of the window and if he/she feels like, have a chat with whoever is the driver. 

cool lawyers with super clean car, pick up hobo with super mudded shoes and trousers - somewhere in Chech Republik

10

Many say: easy for you! You are a man! 

You would be shocked to know that most hitchikers I met where solitary attractive girls. 

Bring with you a chilli spray if that makes you feel safe. Or simply talk your way out of a driver that doesnt inspire you. You are not obliged to jump on anyone’s car and you still have your pepper spray.

I know lot of girls who travelled half world by hitchiking alone and they didnt have more issues than I myself had. 

Saying this, if you are a girl and dont feel confident enough you can still bring a girlfriend with you. Two pepper spray is better than one. 

I met Sam in Montenegro as he was hitch hiking north, then I visited him in Slovakia. Very scary guy as you can see.

This new post of Naked Songs is over. I really hope it comes handy for you, wheather you are a traveller, a curious or anything in between. 

If you have any questions regarding hitch hiking, or busking and general hobo life style, write me via tumblr.   I will be happy to anwer if this will motivate you in any way to follow your dreams and thirst of adventure.

Love and Openmindedness to everyone!

D.

[bigbirdgladiator]

Right church, wrong pew, as we Catholic types are wont to say.As I tried to explain in Thursday’s column, Rand Paul is wrong to insist that the Sixth Amendment’s confrontation clause demands that the so-called whistleblower be unmasked and publicly questioned. That does not mean, though, that Senator Paul’s general idea (that the “whistleblower” should testify) is wrong; nor does it mean that the Constitution’s guarantee of trial rights is irrelevant.The right to present a defense, also vouchsafed by the Sixth Amendment, is the guarantee on which Paul and the rest of the president’s supporters should focus.This comes with the same caveats elaborated on Thursday. The Constitution vests the House and Senate with plenary authority over their respective impeachment proceedings (the House to decide whether to file articles of impeachment, the Senate to try the case). No court has the power to make either legislative chamber afford a particular quantum of due process.That said, impeachment is inherently political. Here, it has been launched when we are less than a year out from an election in which the American people are supposed determine for themselves whether the president should keep his job. By the time impeachment has run its course, we could be just a few months from Election Day. Apparently, though, the political class is intent on end-running the sovereign, attempting to remove President Trump on its own. To pull that off, it will need to convince the country that (a) it has grounds so extraordinarily serious that Trump must be ousted forthwith and (b) the procedures under which it impeached were fundamentally fair.I don’t think they have a prayer of demonstrating the former, such that two-thirds of the GOP-controlled Senate would be spurred to remove the president. (Trump’s approval rating among Republicans is hovering around 90 percent.) As for the latter concern, due process, there must be some and it must be meaningful -- not because it is legally mandated, but because it is politically essential.This is why many of the more pragmatic Democrats knew impeachment was a bad idea. As a practical matter, they don’t have close to the votes to remove, so it’s doomed to fail. The public knows it’s doomed to fail and may well resent Democrats for gratuitously putting the country through it. If Trump is denied due process, the proceedings will look like a kangaroo court and Democrats will be blamed. And if Trump is afforded due process, the case he presents may damage Democrats come November.We do not have a ton of prior impeachment experience to go on, but the presidents in each episode were afforded the right to present a defense -- both in the House proceedings leading to articles of impeachment and in the Senate trial.The right to present a defense is importantly different from the right to confront the House Democrats’ case for impeachment.As I noted in Wednesday’s column, the confrontation right emphasized by Senator Paul only allows the accused to cross-examine whatever witnesses the prosecution chooses to call in making its case. It does not give the accused a right to cross-examine every source who may have provided accusatory information, even sources whom the prosecutor does not call. Consequently, if the Democrats believe (as they do) that they could establish their case for articles of impeachment without summoning the so-called whistleblower as a witness, the president and his Republican defenders would have no right to call the whistleblower merely to cross-examine him on the statements made in his hearsay complaint.By contrast, the right to present a defense is more extensive. Broadly speaking, it empowers an accused to do two things: (1) pointedly discredit the prosecution’s version of events, whether through cross-examination of the prosecution’s witnesses or presentation of the accused’s own witnesses, and (2) present the accused’s own witnesses and evidence in order to prove facts and theories that favor the accused and cast doubt on the worthiness of the prosecutor’s case.In most any criminal case, courts will give the accused a decent-sized berth to prove and argue that the accused was set up by the investigators; or that the investigative procedures used were underhanded or otherwise skewed against the accused. Here, the president will want to persuade the factfinders (and the country) that Democrats have conspired with like-minded officials in the bureaucracy, particularly in the intelligence agencies (including the FBI and the Justice Department), to paralyze and, if possible, shorten the Trump presidency.Most defenses based on government misconduct do not get very far. They tend to be fabricated, overblown, or focused on prosecutorial misconduct that is far afield from the charges against the accused. In this instance, however, the president has a great deal to work with.Prominent Democrats and Trump detractors have been quite brazen in their public rhetoric about Trump (including, as is now being reported, the so-called whistleblower’s counsel, who has spoken explicitly about a “coup” by bureaucrats). Moreover, the Justice Department inspector general’s report on the Clinton emails investigation outlines in wince-inducing detail pervasive anti-Trump bias on the part of government investigators.The same IG is about to release a report specifically dealing with investigative irregularities in the Trump-Russia investigation. Of course, we do not yet know what that report will yield (and even less what will come of the Barr/Durham probe of the Trump-Russia investigation’s origins). We do know, though, that the FBI and Justice Department represented to the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court that the FBI believed Trump’s campaign was likely complicit in Russia’s hacking operations to influence the 2016 election. And we know that the Obama administration -- undoubtedly in collusion with foreign intelligence services -- ran informants against Trump-campaign officials in an effort to establish a Trump–Russia conspiracy. Finally, we know that the president was repeatedly told that he was not a suspect of the FBI’s investigation, under circumstances where he appears to have been the central suspect.After years of very aggressive, expensive investigation -- by a special counsel who staffed his investigation with notorious partisans -- no Trump–Russia conspiracy was found. Moreover, the FBI and the Justice Department on four occasions obtained warrants to monitor a former Trump-campaign adviser, telling the federal court under oath that he was a clandestine agent of a foreign power and a key cog in the Trump–Russia cyberespionage conspiracy; yet that adviser, Carter Page, was never accused of any crime, much less the traitorous misconduct outlined in the warrant applications.The president and his supporters will want to lay much of this out in his defense case against any impeachment allegations. It is clearly relevant on the question whether the Democrats are to be believed that the Ukraine episode is what they portray it to be: a matter of such grave severity that Congress should remove the president from power just ahead of an election. The fact finders and the public are entitled to consider whether Democrats are blowing the Ukraine episode way out of proportion, just as they did with the collusion caper. Indeed, in the Clinton impeachment case, the president and his Democratic supporters were permitted to press the case that Republican claims about the egregiousness of his misconduct were overwrought, as evidenced, for example, by Clinton’s high approval ratings.In the presentation of his defense, President Trump would thus seek to call the “whistleblower” as a witness (a hostile one, no doubt). His counsel and Republicans would proceed to try to demonstrate his connections to senior Democrats with intelligence-community ties who have been scurrilous in their public comments about the president. They would grill him on allegations that he is among the intelligence-community officials who leaked information in a manner intended to cast the president in a poor light. And they would press him on the preparation of his hearsay complaint -- his consultation with an Adam Schiff staffer, his close collaboration with overtly anti-Trump lawyers, and so on. I might even have him read aloud from Schiff’s wannabe Godfather IV caricature of the Trump-Zelensky conversation and ask whether he helped the chairman’s staff write it.It is in connection with the president’s right to present a defense, not his confrontation-clause right, that Senator Paul and the president’s defenders should frame their argument that the “whistleblower” should be subpoenaed to testify at public impeachment hearings.A cautionary note. When I was a prosecutor, I loved defense cases. They were often not very well thought through -- just an effort to dirty up investigators toward no coherent end, or toss in some favorable details about the accused that were quite beside the point of the charges. A defense case can open the door to prosecutors to place before the factfinders a great deal of unflattering information about the accused that would otherwise have been excluded as irrelevant. Defense lawyers tend to be much better at dismantling the prosecutor’s case for conviction than at presenting their own affirmative case for acquittal. When a defendant proceeded with an extensive defense case, I almost always ended up concluding that it had helped me more than it helped the defendant.Presenting an affirmative case would not be without risk for the president. If the Democrats’ case for impeachment is weak and has no chance of success, he would probably be better advised to leave well enough alone. Nevertheless, if the president wants to argue that the bureaucracy has had it in for him from the start, and has coordinated with Democrats to undermine him, he has an unusual embarrassment of riches to exploit.

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[sweatygardencollectorblr]

Right church, wrong pew, as we Catholic types are wont to say.As I tried to explain in Thursday’s column, Rand Paul is wrong to insist that the Sixth Amendment’s confrontation clause demands that the so-called whistleblower be unmasked and publicly questioned. That does not mean, though, that Senator Paul’s general idea (that the “whistleblower” should testify) is wrong; nor does it mean that the Constitution’s guarantee of trial rights is irrelevant.The right to present a defense, also vouchsafed by the Sixth Amendment, is the guarantee on which Paul and the rest of the president’s supporters should focus.This comes with the same caveats elaborated on Thursday. The Constitution vests the House and Senate with plenary authority over their respective impeachment proceedings (the House to decide whether to file articles of impeachment, the Senate to try the case). No court has the power to make either legislative chamber afford a particular quantum of due process.That said, impeachment is inherently political. Here, it has been launched when we are less than a year out from an election in which the American people are supposed determine for themselves whether the president should keep his job. By the time impeachment has run its course, we could be just a few months from Election Day. Apparently, though, the political class is intent on end-running the sovereign, attempting to remove President Trump on its own. To pull that off, it will need to convince the country that (a) it has grounds so extraordinarily serious that Trump must be ousted forthwith and (b) the procedures under which it impeached were fundamentally fair.I don’t think they have a prayer of demonstrating the former, such that two-thirds of the GOP-controlled Senate would be spurred to remove the president. (Trump’s approval rating among Republicans is hovering around 90 percent.) As for the latter concern, due process, there must be some and it must be meaningful -- not because it is legally mandated, but because it is politically essential.This is why many of the more pragmatic Democrats knew impeachment was a bad idea. As a practical matter, they don’t have close to the votes to remove, so it’s doomed to fail. The public knows it’s doomed to fail and may well resent Democrats for gratuitously putting the country through it. If Trump is denied due process, the proceedings will look like a kangaroo court and Democrats will be blamed. And if Trump is afforded due process, the case he presents may damage Democrats come November.We do not have a ton of prior impeachment experience to go on, but the presidents in each episode were afforded the right to present a defense -- both in the House proceedings leading to articles of impeachment and in the Senate trial.The right to present a defense is importantly different from the right to confront the House Democrats’ case for impeachment.As I noted in Wednesday’s column, the confrontation right emphasized by Senator Paul only allows the accused to cross-examine whatever witnesses the prosecution chooses to call in making its case. It does not give the accused a right to cross-examine every source who may have provided accusatory information, even sources whom the prosecutor does not call. Consequently, if the Democrats believe (as they do) that they could establish their case for articles of impeachment without summoning the so-called whistleblower as a witness, the president and his Republican defenders would have no right to call the whistleblower merely to cross-examine him on the statements made in his hearsay complaint.By contrast, the right to present a defense is more extensive. Broadly speaking, it empowers an accused to do two things: (1) pointedly discredit the prosecution’s version of events, whether through cross-examination of the prosecution’s witnesses or presentation of the accused’s own witnesses, and (2) present the accused’s own witnesses and evidence in order to prove facts and theories that favor the accused and cast doubt on the worthiness of the prosecutor’s case.In most any criminal case, courts will give the accused a decent-sized berth to prove and argue that the accused was set up by the investigators; or that the investigative procedures used were underhanded or otherwise skewed against the accused. Here, the president will want to persuade the factfinders (and the country) that Democrats have conspired with like-minded officials in the bureaucracy, particularly in the intelligence agencies (including the FBI and the Justice Department), to paralyze and, if possible, shorten the Trump presidency.Most defenses based on government misconduct do not get very far. They tend to be fabricated, overblown, or focused on prosecutorial misconduct that is far afield from the charges against the accused. In this instance, however, the president has a great deal to work with.Prominent Democrats and Trump detractors have been quite brazen in their public rhetoric about Trump (including, as is now being reported, the so-called whistleblower’s counsel, who has spoken explicitly about a “coup” by bureaucrats). Moreover, the Justice Department inspector general’s report on the Clinton emails investigation outlines in wince-inducing detail pervasive anti-Trump bias on the part of government investigators.The same IG is about to release a report specifically dealing with investigative irregularities in the Trump-Russia investigation. Of course, we do not yet know what that report will yield (and even less what will come of the Barr/Durham probe of the Trump-Russia investigation’s origins). We do know, though, that the FBI and Justice Department represented to the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court that the FBI believed Trump’s campaign was likely complicit in Russia’s hacking operations to influence the 2016 election. And we know that the Obama administration -- undoubtedly in collusion with foreign intelligence services -- ran informants against Trump-campaign officials in an effort to establish a Trump–Russia conspiracy. Finally, we know that the president was repeatedly told that he was not a suspect of the FBI’s investigation, under circumstances where he appears to have been the central suspect.After years of very aggressive, expensive investigation -- by a special counsel who staffed his investigation with notorious partisans -- no Trump–Russia conspiracy was found. Moreover, the FBI and the Justice Department on four occasions obtained warrants to monitor a former Trump-campaign adviser, telling the federal court under oath that he was a clandestine agent of a foreign power and a key cog in the Trump–Russia cyberespionage conspiracy; yet that adviser, Carter Page, was never accused of any crime, much less the traitorous misconduct outlined in the warrant applications.The president and his supporters will want to lay much of this out in his defense case against any impeachment allegations. It is clearly relevant on the question whether the Democrats are to be believed that the Ukraine episode is what they portray it to be: a matter of such grave severity that Congress should remove the president from power just ahead of an election. The fact finders and the public are entitled to consider whether Democrats are blowing the Ukraine episode way out of proportion, just as they did with the collusion caper. Indeed, in the Clinton impeachment case, the president and his Democratic supporters were permitted to press the case that Republican claims about the egregiousness of his misconduct were overwrought, as evidenced, for example, by Clinton’s high approval ratings.In the presentation of his defense, President Trump would thus seek to call the “whistleblower” as a witness (a hostile one, no doubt). His counsel and Republicans would proceed to try to demonstrate his connections to senior Democrats with intelligence-community ties who have been scurrilous in their public comments about the president. They would grill him on allegations that he is among the intelligence-community officials who leaked information in a manner intended to cast the president in a poor light. And they would press him on the preparation of his hearsay complaint -- his consultation with an Adam Schiff staffer, his close collaboration with overtly anti-Trump lawyers, and so on. I might even have him read aloud from Schiff’s wannabe Godfather IV caricature of the Trump-Zelensky conversation and ask whether he helped the chairman’s staff write it.It is in connection with the president’s right to present a defense, not his confrontation-clause right, that Senator Paul and the president’s defenders should frame their argument that the “whistleblower” should be subpoenaed to testify at public impeachment hearings.A cautionary note. When I was a prosecutor, I loved defense cases. They were often not very well thought through -- just an effort to dirty up investigators toward no coherent end, or toss in some favorable details about the accused that were quite beside the point of the charges. A defense case can open the door to prosecutors to place before the factfinders a great deal of unflattering information about the accused that would otherwise have been excluded as irrelevant. Defense lawyers tend to be much better at dismantling the prosecutor’s case for conviction than at presenting their own affirmative case for acquittal. When a defendant proceeded with an extensive defense case, I almost always ended up concluding that it had helped me more than it helped the defendant.Presenting an affirmative case would not be without risk for the president. If the Democrats’ case for impeachment is weak and has no chance of success, he would probably be better advised to leave well enough alone. Nevertheless, if the president wants to argue that the bureaucracy has had it in for him from the start, and has coordinated with Democrats to undermine him, he has an unusual embarrassment of riches to exploit.

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[newsfundastuff]

Right church, wrong pew, as we Catholic types are wont to say.As I tried to explain in Thursday’s column, Rand Paul is wrong to insist that the Sixth Amendment’s confrontation clause demands that the so-called whistleblower be unmasked and publicly questioned. That does not mean, though, that Senator Paul’s general idea (that the “whistleblower” should testify) is wrong; nor does it mean that the Constitution’s guarantee of trial rights is irrelevant.The right to present a defense, also vouchsafed by the Sixth Amendment, is the guarantee on which Paul and the rest of the president’s supporters should focus.This comes with the same caveats elaborated on Thursday. The Constitution vests the House and Senate with plenary authority over their respective impeachment proceedings (the House to decide whether to file articles of impeachment, the Senate to try the case). No court has the power to make either legislative chamber afford a particular quantum of due process.That said, impeachment is inherently political. Here, it has been launched when we are less than a year out from an election in which the American people are supposed determine for themselves whether the president should keep his job. By the time impeachment has run its course, we could be just a few months from Election Day. Apparently, though, the political class is intent on end-running the sovereign, attempting to remove President Trump on its own. To pull that off, it will need to convince the country that (a) it has grounds so extraordinarily serious that Trump must be ousted forthwith and (b) the procedures under which it impeached were fundamentally fair.I don’t think they have a prayer of demonstrating the former, such that two-thirds of the GOP-controlled Senate would be spurred to remove the president. (Trump’s approval rating among Republicans is hovering around 90 percent.) As for the latter concern, due process, there must be some and it must be meaningful -- not because it is legally mandated, but because it is politically essential.This is why many of the more pragmatic Democrats knew impeachment was a bad idea. As a practical matter, they don’t have close to the votes to remove, so it’s doomed to fail. The public knows it’s doomed to fail and may well resent Democrats for gratuitously putting the country through it. If Trump is denied due process, the proceedings will look like a kangaroo court and Democrats will be blamed. And if Trump is afforded due process, the case he presents may damage Democrats come November.We do not have a ton of prior impeachment experience to go on, but the presidents in each episode were afforded the right to present a defense -- both in the House proceedings leading to articles of impeachment and in the Senate trial.The right to present a defense is importantly different from the right to confront the House Democrats’ case for impeachment.As I noted in Wednesday’s column, the confrontation right emphasized by Senator Paul only allows the accused to cross-examine whatever witnesses the prosecution chooses to call in making its case. It does not give the accused a right to cross-examine every source who may have provided accusatory information, even sources whom the prosecutor does not call. Consequently, if the Democrats believe (as they do) that they could establish their case for articles of impeachment without summoning the so-called whistleblower as a witness, the president and his Republican defenders would have no right to call the whistleblower merely to cross-examine him on the statements made in his hearsay complaint.By contrast, the right to present a defense is more extensive. Broadly speaking, it empowers an accused to do two things: (1) pointedly discredit the prosecution’s version of events, whether through cross-examination of the prosecution’s witnesses or presentation of the accused’s own witnesses, and (2) present the accused’s own witnesses and evidence in order to prove facts and theories that favor the accused and cast doubt on the worthiness of the prosecutor’s case.In most any criminal case, courts will give the accused a decent-sized berth to prove and argue that the accused was set up by the investigators; or that the investigative procedures used were underhanded or otherwise skewed against the accused. Here, the president will want to persuade the factfinders (and the country) that Democrats have conspired with like-minded officials in the bureaucracy, particularly in the intelligence agencies (including the FBI and the Justice Department), to paralyze and, if possible, shorten the Trump presidency.Most defenses based on government misconduct do not get very far. They tend to be fabricated, overblown, or focused on prosecutorial misconduct that is far afield from the charges against the accused. In this instance, however, the president has a great deal to work with.Prominent Democrats and Trump detractors have been quite brazen in their public rhetoric about Trump (including, as is now being reported, the so-called whistleblower’s counsel, who has spoken explicitly about a “coup” by bureaucrats). Moreover, the Justice Department inspector general’s report on the Clinton emails investigation outlines in wince-inducing detail pervasive anti-Trump bias on the part of government investigators.The same IG is about to release a report specifically dealing with investigative irregularities in the Trump-Russia investigation. Of course, we do not yet know what that report will yield (and even less what will come of the Barr/Durham probe of the Trump-Russia investigation’s origins). We do know, though, that the FBI and Justice Department represented to the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court that the FBI believed Trump’s campaign was likely complicit in Russia’s hacking operations to influence the 2016 election. And we know that the Obama administration -- undoubtedly in collusion with foreign intelligence services -- ran informants against Trump-campaign officials in an effort to establish a Trump–Russia conspiracy. Finally, we know that the president was repeatedly told that he was not a suspect of the FBI’s investigation, under circumstances where he appears to have been the central suspect.After years of very aggressive, expensive investigation -- by a special counsel who staffed his investigation with notorious partisans -- no Trump–Russia conspiracy was found. Moreover, the FBI and the Justice Department on four occasions obtained warrants to monitor a former Trump-campaign adviser, telling the federal court under oath that he was a clandestine agent of a foreign power and a key cog in the Trump–Russia cyberespionage conspiracy; yet that adviser, Carter Page, was never accused of any crime, much less the traitorous misconduct outlined in the warrant applications.The president and his supporters will want to lay much of this out in his defense case against any impeachment allegations. It is clearly relevant on the question whether the Democrats are to be believed that the Ukraine episode is what they portray it to be: a matter of such grave severity that Congress should remove the president from power just ahead of an election. The fact finders and the public are entitled to consider whether Democrats are blowing the Ukraine episode way out of proportion, just as they did with the collusion caper. Indeed, in the Clinton impeachment case, the president and his Democratic supporters were permitted to press the case that Republican claims about the egregiousness of his misconduct were overwrought, as evidenced, for example, by Clinton’s high approval ratings.In the presentation of his defense, President Trump would thus seek to call the “whistleblower” as a witness (a hostile one, no doubt). His counsel and Republicans would proceed to try to demonstrate his connections to senior Democrats with intelligence-community ties who have been scurrilous in their public comments about the president. They would grill him on allegations that he is among the intelligence-community officials who leaked information in a manner intended to cast the president in a poor light. And they would press him on the preparation of his hearsay complaint -- his consultation with an Adam Schiff staffer, his close collaboration with overtly anti-Trump lawyers, and so on. I might even have him read aloud from Schiff’s wannabe Godfather IV caricature of the Trump-Zelensky conversation and ask whether he helped the chairman’s staff write it.It is in connection with the president’s right to present a defense, not his confrontation-clause right, that Senator Paul and the president’s defenders should frame their argument that the “whistleblower” should be subpoenaed to testify at public impeachment hearings.A cautionary note. When I was a prosecutor, I loved defense cases. They were often not very well thought through -- just an effort to dirty up investigators toward no coherent end, or toss in some favorable details about the accused that were quite beside the point of the charges. A defense case can open the door to prosecutors to place before the factfinders a great deal of unflattering information about the accused that would otherwise have been excluded as irrelevant. Defense lawyers tend to be much better at dismantling the prosecutor’s case for conviction than at presenting their own affirmative case for acquittal. When a defendant proceeded with an extensive defense case, I almost always ended up concluding that it had helped me more than it helped the defendant.Presenting an affirmative case would not be without risk for the president. If the Democrats’ case for impeachment is weak and has no chance of success, he would probably be better advised to leave well enough alone. Nevertheless, if the president wants to argue that the bureaucracy has had it in for him from the start, and has coordinated with Democrats to undermine him, he has an unusual embarrassment of riches to exploit.

https://ift.tt/2WZnWXB

[justsimplylovely]

Right church, wrong pew, as we Catholic types are wont to say.As I tried to explain in Thursday’s column, Rand Paul is wrong to insist that the Sixth Amendment’s confrontation clause demands that the so-called whistleblower be unmasked and publicly questioned. That does not mean, though, that Senator Paul’s general idea (that the “whistleblower” should testify) is wrong; nor does it mean that the Constitution’s guarantee of trial rights is irrelevant.The right to present a defense, also vouchsafed by the Sixth Amendment, is the guarantee on which Paul and the rest of the president’s supporters should focus.This comes with the same caveats elaborated on Thursday. The Constitution vests the House and Senate with plenary authority over their respective impeachment proceedings (the House to decide whether to file articles of impeachment, the Senate to try the case). No court has the power to make either legislative chamber afford a particular quantum of due process.That said, impeachment is inherently political. Here, it has been launched when we are less than a year out from an election in which the American people are supposed determine for themselves whether the president should keep his job. By the time impeachment has run its course, we could be just a few months from Election Day. Apparently, though, the political class is intent on end-running the sovereign, attempting to remove President Trump on its own. To pull that off, it will need to convince the country that (a) it has grounds so extraordinarily serious that Trump must be ousted forthwith and (b) the procedures under which it impeached were fundamentally fair.I don’t think they have a prayer of demonstrating the former, such that two-thirds of the GOP-controlled Senate would be spurred to remove the president. (Trump’s approval rating among Republicans is hovering around 90 percent.) As for the latter concern, due process, there must be some and it must be meaningful -- not because it is legally mandated, but because it is politically essential.This is why many of the more pragmatic Democrats knew impeachment was a bad idea. As a practical matter, they don’t have close to the votes to remove, so it’s doomed to fail. The public knows it’s doomed to fail and may well resent Democrats for gratuitously putting the country through it. If Trump is denied due process, the proceedings will look like a kangaroo court and Democrats will be blamed. And if Trump is afforded due process, the case he presents may damage Democrats come November.We do not have a ton of prior impeachment experience to go on, but the presidents in each episode were afforded the right to present a defense -- both in the House proceedings leading to articles of impeachment and in the Senate trial.The right to present a defense is importantly different from the right to confront the House Democrats’ case for impeachment.As I noted in Wednesday’s column, the confrontation right emphasized by Senator Paul only allows the accused to cross-examine whatever witnesses the prosecution chooses to call in making its case. It does not give the accused a right to cross-examine every source who may have provided accusatory information, even sources whom the prosecutor does not call. Consequently, if the Democrats believe (as they do) that they could establish their case for articles of impeachment without summoning the so-called whistleblower as a witness, the president and his Republican defenders would have no right to call the whistleblower merely to cross-examine him on the statements made in his hearsay complaint.By contrast, the right to present a defense is more extensive. Broadly speaking, it empowers an accused to do two things: (1) pointedly discredit the prosecution’s version of events, whether through cross-examination of the prosecution’s witnesses or presentation of the accused’s own witnesses, and (2) present the accused’s own witnesses and evidence in order to prove facts and theories that favor the accused and cast doubt on the worthiness of the prosecutor’s case.In most any criminal case, courts will give the accused a decent-sized berth to prove and argue that the accused was set up by the investigators; or that the investigative procedures used were underhanded or otherwise skewed against the accused. Here, the president will want to persuade the factfinders (and the country) that Democrats have conspired with like-minded officials in the bureaucracy, particularly in the intelligence agencies (including the FBI and the Justice Department), to paralyze and, if possible, shorten the Trump presidency.Most defenses based on government misconduct do not get very far. They tend to be fabricated, overblown, or focused on prosecutorial misconduct that is far afield from the charges against the accused. In this instance, however, the president has a great deal to work with.Prominent Democrats and Trump detractors have been quite brazen in their public rhetoric about Trump (including, as is now being reported, the so-called whistleblower’s counsel, who has spoken explicitly about a “coup” by bureaucrats). Moreover, the Justice Department inspector general’s report on the Clinton emails investigation outlines in wince-inducing detail pervasive anti-Trump bias on the part of government investigators.The same IG is about to release a report specifically dealing with investigative irregularities in the Trump-Russia investigation. Of course, we do not yet know what that report will yield (and even less what will come of the Barr/Durham probe of the Trump-Russia investigation’s origins). We do know, though, that the FBI and Justice Department represented to the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court that the FBI believed Trump’s campaign was likely complicit in Russia’s hacking operations to influence the 2016 election. And we know that the Obama administration -- undoubtedly in collusion with foreign intelligence services -- ran informants against Trump-campaign officials in an effort to establish a Trump–Russia conspiracy. Finally, we know that the president was repeatedly told that he was not a suspect of the FBI’s investigation, under circumstances where he appears to have been the central suspect.After years of very aggressive, expensive investigation -- by a special counsel who staffed his investigation with notorious partisans -- no Trump–Russia conspiracy was found. Moreover, the FBI and the Justice Department on four occasions obtained warrants to monitor a former Trump-campaign adviser, telling the federal court under oath that he was a clandestine agent of a foreign power and a key cog in the Trump–Russia cyberespionage conspiracy; yet that adviser, Carter Page, was never accused of any crime, much less the traitorous misconduct outlined in the warrant applications.The president and his supporters will want to lay much of this out in his defense case against any impeachment allegations. It is clearly relevant on the question whether the Democrats are to be believed that the Ukraine episode is what they portray it to be: a matter of such grave severity that Congress should remove the president from power just ahead of an election. The fact finders and the public are entitled to consider whether Democrats are blowing the Ukraine episode way out of proportion, just as they did with the collusion caper. Indeed, in the Clinton impeachment case, the president and his Democratic supporters were permitted to press the case that Republican claims about the egregiousness of his misconduct were overwrought, as evidenced, for example, by Clinton’s high approval ratings.In the presentation of his defense, President Trump would thus seek to call the “whistleblower” as a witness (a hostile one, no doubt). His counsel and Republicans would proceed to try to demonstrate his connections to senior Democrats with intelligence-community ties who have been scurrilous in their public comments about the president. They would grill him on allegations that he is among the intelligence-community officials who leaked information in a manner intended to cast the president in a poor light. And they would press him on the preparation of his hearsay complaint -- his consultation with an Adam Schiff staffer, his close collaboration with overtly anti-Trump lawyers, and so on. I might even have him read aloud from Schiff’s wannabe Godfather IV caricature of the Trump-Zelensky conversation and ask whether he helped the chairman’s staff write it.It is in connection with the president’s right to present a defense, not his confrontation-clause right, that Senator Paul and the president’s defenders should frame their argument that the “whistleblower” should be subpoenaed to testify at public impeachment hearings.A cautionary note. When I was a prosecutor, I loved defense cases. They were often not very well thought through -- just an effort to dirty up investigators toward no coherent end, or toss in some favorable details about the accused that were quite beside the point of the charges. A defense case can open the door to prosecutors to place before the factfinders a great deal of unflattering information about the accused that would otherwise have been excluded as irrelevant. Defense lawyers tend to be much better at dismantling the prosecutor’s case for conviction than at presenting their own affirmative case for acquittal. When a defendant proceeded with an extensive defense case, I almost always ended up concluding that it had helped me more than it helped the defendant.Presenting an affirmative case would not be without risk for the president. If the Democrats’ case for impeachment is weak and has no chance of success, he would probably be better advised to leave well enough alone. Nevertheless, if the president wants to argue that the bureaucracy has had it in for him from the start, and has coordinated with Democrats to undermine him, he has an unusual embarrassment of riches to exploit.

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