#no spoilers yet im ALMOST done

[saintslaughter]

besties i need to know if any of you have read the dark tower series can you just tell me if you liked the series beyond like book 3. thanks (:

[robbyykeene]

And once again we are left with Robby Keene, the eternal scapegoat of Cobra Kai. They blame Robby for Johnny continually abandoning him, they blame Robby for not trusting Daniel after being thrown out, they blame Robby for joining Cobra Kai when he literally had nowhere else to go, they blame Robby for Kenny’s descent to the dark side, they unilaterally blame Robby for underperforming at the tournament when everyone else was too, and now they blame Robby for his own sexual assault. What the fuck.

[lovehours]

i don’t even fucking care

[gideonthe9]

why are they like this

[forged-in-kaoss]

dandadan ep 7 something something crossing dancing on the road threshold, surface between life (water) and death ((star)dust) to get to the others side

[imthere4yuu]

Tumblr has figured out that I love MLP and will follow artists pretty quickly for their cool interpretations of the ponies so I guess I'm never leaving this niche of the internet ever again, huh?

[thefandomcassandra]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Trying to look presentable?"

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

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

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

"General or specifics?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Man I miss burgers," Phoenix whined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know nothing about theater."

"Nobody's perfect."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Use it how?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No?"

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

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

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

"I did cry," the other cop added.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is there any reason why?"

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

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

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

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

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

"The defense is ready," Phoenix offered.

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

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

"Your opening statement?" The judge prompted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The murder weapon?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Your Honor?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He's got you there."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maya's cheeks were hot with embarrassment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Whoops. Watch how you say stuff."

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

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

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

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

"What is this?" The judge asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's that supposed to mean?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Order! Order!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, let's start pushing."

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

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

What was he on about?

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

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

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

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

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

"You may begin, defense."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh, yeah?" April May seemed unconcerned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Take the penalty."

"I take full responsibility for my actions."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"For once in your life," Maya muttered under her breath.

"I mean, the trial isn't even about that, is it? It's about murder and I know that little brat murdered her!" Riding the line between saccharine and cutting, April May glared daggers at Maya, who returned the favor. "What harm does a little tippity-tapping even do?"

"Aside from calling your entire testimony into question: implicating you as the true killer!" If Maya sounded a little smug, it's because she felt smug. They had her on the ropes and Maya had done almost all of the legwork. What a rush! "You had to have retrieved the wiretap between when Mia called me and when the office was locked down as a crime scene. That gives you plenty of time to have entered the office, killed my sister, removed the wiretap, left the office, and then called the police."

April May hissed and clutched at the witness stand, her fingernails gouging out lines in the wood. "You can't be serious?"

"Like a murder charge."

"I didn't kill her! I was in my hotel room!" She was cornered.

"Where's your proof then?" And that is when Maya got a little too cocky.

Something changed in April May's posture and she smiled oh-so-sweetly once more. "Coffee."

"Huh?"

"I had iced coffee at nine pm on the dot." She laughed, high-pitched and sugar-coated. "It was delivered by room service. The bellboy can prove I couldn't have left my room at the time of the murder."

Phoenix was shocked by her sudden change. "She has an alibi? Was that coffee ordered on purpose? It had to have been. I know I saw more than one name on the guest book when we were there but I can't remember if she had someone rooming with her."

"Shall we get the bellboy to corroborate her alibi?" Prosecutor Edgeworth asked the judge.

The judge nodded at him. "Fetch the bellboy of the Gatewater Hotel."

"As it stands, the prosecution already subpoenaed the bellboy when questioning the current witness revealed the existence of  her alibi." Prosecutor Edgeworth smiled at Maya, almost daring her to object. "He is in the prosecution's lounge as we speak, politely waiting his turn. Is this amicable to the defense?"

"Huh?" Maya didn't understand what he was asking.

"Do you really want to waste your time trying to prove Miss April May could be the true culprit by cross-examining the bellboy or are you willing to admit defeat and take my gracious offer?" His gracious offer of a manslaughter charge.

"Looks like May isn't the only one being catty right now." Phoenix laughed at his own joke. "But in all seriousness, take the chance. We might be able to prove her boss was there and that's more important."

"The defense believes that, in spite of what the prosecution might say, the wiretapping is relevant to the murder and, as I stated at the very beginning, I stand by my original goal of a full acquittal. I didn't kill Mia and the wiretapping proves I wasn't the only one who knew where she was going to be at the time of the murder." Trying to remember all the fancy lawyer words as she got emotional was hard but she was managing. Maybe when all this was done, she'd get her hands on a word-a-day calendar or something. Expand her vocabulary.

Prosecutor Edgeworth clicked his tongue in disappointment and wagged his finger at her. "If that's how you wish to proceed, so be it. The prosecution only has one request."

"And that is?" The judge asked.

"If the bellboy's testimony reveals nothing of value, then the trial will end and the defense will stop trying to drag things out."

Phoenix sighed. "I don't know why he's being so aggressive. This is just a murder case and he and Mia weren't even friends! He's taking this so personally."

"Deal." Maya didn't even hesitate. If Phoenix had seen someone's name with April May's in the guest book, then the coffee had to have been an intended alibi. She stared Prosecutor Edgeworth in the eyes, unwavering. His cold gaze seemed to slide right off of her.

"Then by all means, have at it." He bowed to her. She did her best to swallow her anger and simply rolled her eyes.

April May was arrested and led away while the bellboy was brought forward to the stand—still carrying a tray with tea on it, of all things. He looked pleased as punch to be standing on a witness stand for a murder trial.

Maya wasn't too fond of him on virtue of he'd already been rude to her, but his slight glory-chasing made her like him even less.

"Your name and occupation?" Prosecutor Edgeworth prompted.

"I am but a humble bellboy, sir." That wasn't the answer he wanted but that was the only answer he was going to get it seemed.

"You work at the Gatewater Hotel, do you not?"

Phoenix nodded in surprise. "Edgeworth is doing a great job leading his witness."

"Can't I object to that?" Maya hissed to him.

"Not any more you can't. Used to be able to though." Phoenix did not elaborate.

"I do, sir! Fourth generation bellboy! I say that this scandal will drive traffic up, up, up!" The bellboy laughed, a sound like the ringing of bells.

"I see...and the night of the murder, the fifth, Miss April May ordered room service?" Prosecutor Edgeworth didn't bother straying from his intended questions. Maya got the feeling that he wouldn't let her get away with as much faffing about as he did earlier. She'd have to be careful when cross-examining this one.

"Indeed I was." The bellboy blushed a bit. "I remember it well."

"Your testimony then."

The bellboy nodded and shifted the tray on his hand. "Of course, sir. That night, at nine pm on the dot, I delivered to Miss May room service. She answered the door, of course, and paid for her drinks, then I went on my way. That is all I saw."

"That's...hm." Phoenix stared at the bellboy. "His testimony is pretty nothing."

"Press?" Maya whispered.

"That sounds good."

"Defense?" The judge prompted.

"Thank you, Your Honor." Maya took the transcript from the stenographer and looked it over before she started her cross-examination. "You say she ordered room service at nine on the dot? Are all your room service requests so specific?"

"It depends, really. Miss May's was very punctual but sometimes we are asked for by name, so it's not an wholly unusual request." He seemed nonplussed by her asking this.

"Hm." Maya read some more, trying to find the weak link. "April May ordered drinks, plural?" That seemed odd. "She said she ordered an iced coffee."

"There were two drinks, yes ma'am." The bellboy was surprisingly forthcoming. "Eighteen dollar total, really. Plus tip." He blushed at that.

"That's an expensive coffee," Maya frowned. "But could she have drank two iced coffees before they both melted? Especially if she had called the police over a murder?"

"Are you asking the witness this?" Prosecutor Edgeworth looked bored. Maya wanted to throw her phone at his head.

"Oh, uh, no. Sorry. Just thinking aloud. Although...," she had touched on something interesting, "did you go back to get their dishes?"

"That was handed by housekeeping, ma'am. I simply tend to customers' needs as they arise." The bellboy shook his head, blushing lightly.

Wait. "You said April May gave you a tip?"

"Yes she did. It was quite shocking, considering, but she gave me an embrasser as payment for services rendered." The bellboy was beet red.

Maya blinked at him in confusion. "A what?"

"That is French for 'embrace', is it not?" Prosecutor Edgeworth supplied.

"Yes it is, sir. A kiss, as it were, sir. On the cheek, no less. I shan't forget it for years, I think. It was an exhilarating experience, considering." Oh, he was just flustered because she was attractive to him. Hm.

"What a cheap tip." Even Phoenix was unimpressed.

"As the defense can see: while Miss April May might be guilty of wiretapping, it has no bearing on this murder case and her alibi remains rock solid." Prosecutor Edgeworth looked dead at Maya as if he was daring her to keep fighting. "Shall we end this farce and get to the resolution so we can all get home?"

"Not yet!" Maya let all of her carefully crafted professionalism slip away in the wake of the terror she felt at the thought of failing after getting so far. "The - the defense would like to ask the current witness one more thing!"

"Just one more," the judge warned, "and if nothing comes of it, I will come to my conclusion. Are we clear?"

"Of course, Your Honor!" Maya furiously tore through her transcripts. "Thank you."

"Tick tock, Miss Fey." Prosecutor Edgeworth had never looked more smug or more punchable than in this moment. "Pick your question carefully."

"The check-in." Phoenix gasped. "I don't remember if she had someone with her but we can figure it out if we ask about the check-in. Edgeworth likes to keep his witness testimonies controlled. If we ask anything out of what he was told to talk about, we might get something."

Maya nodded. "Mister bellboy—"

"No need for the formality, ma'am."

"Witness, then." She didn't have time for his quibbles. "When did April May check in to the Gatewater?"

If Prosecutor Edgeworth had any concerns about the relevancy of her question, he didn't raise an objection. Instead, the bellboy gave it some thought before responding, "Well she checked in some time before the incident, ma'am. It's not as if she had only been staying for a day or anything like that. Still, I wouldn't forget her any time soon. She's my type, you see, and it was such a disappointment after all."

Wait. "What was a disappointment?" Please let this be what she thinks it is.

"She checked in with her lover, ma'am." It was. Maya was so excited she could almost cry but the trial wasn't over.

"Objection!" Now the demon prosecutor had a problem? Too late.

"Objection overruled." The judge was as interested as Maya was in what the bellboy meant. "This seems to be a pertinent line of questioning. Witness!"

"Ah, uh, yes sir." The bellboy flushed again. "Rather, uh, what is it?"

"Why didn't you mention that she was sharing the room before?" Maya was pretty sure she knew the answer.

"You didn't ask, ma'am." The bellboy gestured towards Prosecutor Edgeworth with the tray. "The gentleman over there instructed me to not offer information unless I was asked so..."

"And yet..." Prosecutor Edgeworth was sweating bullets. It was nice to see him put on blast.

"It's not technically illegal to coach your witnesses like that. It's just...scummy." Phoenix frowned again. "I suppose since I told you to do something similar in questioning, I've got no leg to stand on."

Maya was finally ready to claw her way to victory. "Witness, the man who checked in with April May, did you see him when you brought up the coffee?"

"Objection! How is that relevant?"

"Objection! April May has an alibi for the murder  but she was wiretapping Fey & Co. Law Offices so she had access to sensitive information such as when my sister would be alone, waiting to hand off evidence for an upcoming case to my care. Evidence, I'll point out, that is missing as of right now." That wasn't relevant at the moment but she needed to say it aloud so there was record of her acknowledging it for later. "However, the man who checked in with her had access to the same information through her. If her alibi stands and he doesn't have one, it stands to reason that he must be the killer!"

"Objection sustained. Witness?" The judge watched the bellboy intently.

"I, uh...I don't believe I saw him, Your Honor."

The court exploded with noise as the gallery roared. Maya leaned back, hands on her hips, and smirked at Prosecutor Edgeworth. The man was leaning against his bench, eyebrow twitching as he grimaced.

"Order in the court! Order now!" The judge banged his gavel a few times and the chatter died down. "So you are suggesting that Miss May's so-called 'lover' could be the true killer of this trial?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Do you truly think one wayward lover is enough to acquit you of sororicide?" Prosecutor Edgeworth tried to recover ground but Maya was ready.

"Let's not forget that you are the one who coached the witness to hide the existence of this man. The act of concealing him makes him suspicious enough, never mind April May's illicit activities that night." She stared him down, unwilling to let him try and undo all her hard work. "I hold fast to my belief that, if he is not the true killer, this mysterious man has some ties to the crime and we cannot continue without finding and serving him."

The judge banged his gavel. "The defense raises a good point. While we cannot prove that this man is anything more than a red herring, the evidence brought before the court indicates he must have some relevance. We will reconvene court the following day after law enforcement and the prosecution look into this man." And, just like that, she had done it.

One more day and the possibility of getting the true culprit in court so they could prove her innocence. Now all they had to do was track him down and force him into court.

Victory has never tasted so bittersweet.

[kaibacorpstocksplit]

still need to finish btvs season 6 but thinking about how it’s not like buffy wanted to die but she was fine with her fate and her afterlife was so nice and peaceful that getting pulled from that back to the land of the living was the real hell. thinking about atem lives aus.

[egoarc4de]

need to talk in the tags abt bcs for a second ...

[sznmjun]

Keep seeing people say veilguard is a "good game but not a good dragon age game" and idk what that means but I definitely think it shouldn't be classified as an RPG

Like why the hell can I not talk to anyone. And when I CAN talk I can never actually say what I want to say and I get to make 0 decisions on anything at all.

I need to replay da2 since I've seen people compare Rook to Hawke but I really dont remember Hawke talking that much without my consent. Like why does Rook keep yapping without asking me about it?????

The decisions at the end of companion quests are sooo irritating too cause you literally get to give 0 input on how the actual quest progresses. And then once it's complete you get like a single pity decision. Like the companions remember Rook is their boss or whatever so I guess you can make this completely irrelevant, meaningless and stupid choice

[grugruel]

Can you do that for me?

Pairings: ruined!Jayce x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: Formerly partners, you've started a new business in Zaun after Jayce's disappearance. One day, after hearing whispers of Victor's apparent evolution, Jayce shows up unannounced.

Wordcount: 4.2 k

Warnings: Some canon stuff (beware spoilers), pinv sex, angst, fluff, fingering, slight handjob, choking, biting, creampie, doggy, missionary, cowgirl (a lot of positions), sub/dom/switch!Jayce, power struggle, fight for dominance, praise (f and m recieving), spanking, overstimulation, "I love you", difficult feelings, hot depraved Jayce.

AN: Not proofread, I intend to make a few changes to it later but wanted to get it out. Might be spelling mistakes. I tried to fit a bit of everything into this. ENJOY GIRLIES🎀

Having pulled the curtains aside, a vigilant man inspects the dark streets below. "He's almost here, ma'am," the man says, eyes following the subject. There's a slight stiffnes to his stance, as if he's readying himself for a fight. "What do you want us to do?"

"Let him in," she smiles at him faintly, attempting to reassure the large man before returning to her paperwork. "Dont give him trouble, there's nothing to fear."

The guard nods slowly and crosses the room to leave, he knows she's right. Yet, he stays in the doorway, shoulders slumped and arms crossed.

Warm light creeps in through the entryway, contrasting the faint light that Zauns streetlights provide for her otherwise gloomy office.

Noticing how the strong wash of light remains, she looks up at her guard to find another question lingering on his lips. "I've know you long enough to tell when something ails you." She leans back in her chair.

He catches her gaze reluctantly, facing away before he speaks. The man clears his throat, he knows he's crossing a line. "He's trouble, if you ask me. The boys and I-"

The woman pulls her glasses of and sighs, done with her work for the evening. "Im a big girl, I can handle myself."

The guard leans against the doorway and shrugs in reluctant recognition. "We're worried for you, ma'am-" but catching himself on his words, his hands gesture to remedy his meaning. "Respectfully, of course," he ads quickly, aversed to insult his employer.

The woman stands slowly, walking around her crammed desk to casually prop herself next to him. "I know," she reassures, placing a soft hand on his chest. "But I'll be fine, send him in."

The large man huffs. "We'll be outside then," he begins, but as the next words begin to form on his tongue, he decides against it, solely out of trust for his employer. If he could, he would've added 'when you need us'.

She doesnt doubt it, nor does she take offence. They're a tight knit family down here, she cares for them as much as they do her. But this would be an interaction no family member should hear. "That won't be necessary, keep to the foyer . . . Now go," she hurries him, careful to keep an understanding smile on her lips lest he changes his mind.

With a heavy breath and one last glance, the guard reluctantly closes the door and heavy footsteps recede.

She sighs, moving to brace her hands against the desktop and preparing herself for whats to come, for what she suspects.

She lights the lantern on her desk and waits. Only a moment later the same warm light creeps into the room. She twitches, unprepared for his arrival inspite of her efforts as the squeaking door slices through the eerily silent space.

In her peripheral, a fallen man stands. He's tired and dirty. Cut up and run down. There's a moment of contemplation between her and the newcomer, she does not move and neither does he. It's been a long time.

Squeak, thump, click . . . Pause. He's locked the door. A heavy thud between metal and wood sounds next, there's a faint sound of coarse skin sliding along fine metal before the familiar vibrations of hextech dies out.

All that exists between them now is heavy breathing in two parts, laboring against their own minds and bodies.

The floorboards begin to creek, irregularly, as if the weight placed upon them has not yet decided it's course of action. She grips the desktop harder, fingernails burrying into fine wood. She can only guess why he has come. "It's Viktor, isn't it?" She breathes, trying hard to keep her voice steady.

She gets no response, the only answer she recieves is the creeking of floorboards as the uncertain weight shifts back and forth. But that is all the answer she needs.

Having seamingly made up his mind, determined footsteps approach her in a sudden haste. Srong arms wrap around her body, pulling her toward a hard chest in a tight, tight embrace. His head collides with her shoulderblade as he burries his face in her scent. Muffled by her body, strained breaths blow welcome warmth onto her skin.

"What's happened?" She whispers, not entirely sure she wants the answer for she can smell him now. Metal and gunpowder. But it's not the type raw metal used for smithing or creating, it's not the metal she's used to. No, this is pungent, corporeal. It's blood. "Jayce, please . . . " She begins, 'talk to me' her lips shape, but no sound comes out. Unable to muster the strength.

"Cant- I cant . . . talk about it. Not now, not yet," he manages, voice rough as if he has fought and damp breath raising goosebumps on her neck. "I just . . . Needed you. I need you."

A strong hand slides higher, knuckles intently brushing the underside of her breast. "Can't think anymore."

And inspite of her better judgement. "Ok," she agrees, whispering, as if her consience wouldnt be able to hear. She's missed him, worried for him. So, her body betrays her.

Laying her hand on top of his, she guides him over the hill of her breast.

His breath hitches while his other hand move downward, tracing her ribs, down her waist, stopping on her thigh and squeezing tenderly. Soft flesh dimpling beneath the force of strong fingers. "I've been lost, " his voice breaks. "Missed you." His hands slide further down to slither under the slit in her dress.

"No feelings right now, Jayce . . . Please, just-"

Two fingers slip inside of her and she gasps. "No feelings," he assures, placing a gentle kiss on her neck.

"Good, good . . . " she moans.

While massaging her breast his thumb finds her clit and tongue her neck, gently nipping and sucking on the crook of her neck. Her body grows to weak to hold itself upright so she puts her weight on her arms. Noticing, he holds her tighter and pushes her weight against the desk. "Already?" He whispers, dragging his teeth along the shell of her ear as his fingers steadily thrusts in and out of her. "You're making it too easy for me."

A breathless chuckle leaves her, crammed between heavy groans. "You work with your hands . . . Mmmh, unfair advantage."

He bites her earlobe, tugging, teasing. "So do you, if I remember correctly." A grin twists her lips as her hand reaches between them and palms his enlarged bulge. He hisses as she begins to stroke it, heat immedietly surfacing as the friction between fabric and skin grows. "Mhhg, that's what I thought," he groans. "Good girl."

He pushes a third finger inside off her, curling them at just the right angle.

"Fuck!" Her free hand curls into a fist, joints having nothing better to do than occupy themselves in anyway they can. He puts more focus on her clit, rubbing dutyful circles into and and finally pushes her over the edge. "Mhh, shit-"

His fingers slow down as she hits her high, gently leading her through it as he supports her weight. "Just breathe, that's right . . . "

Her breathing has become a mixture of moans and wheezes, the pleasure stimulating every nerve in her body. "Did you . . . ?" She asks, suddenly remember her hand on his clothed member.

"No," he whispers and kisses her temple. "Theres time." He tries to turn her around. But fear grips her. "No-" she stops him, gripping the edge of the desk to keep herself in place. Seeing the changes up close would make them real, would make whatever he has come from, real. "I can't look at you . . . not yet." She reaches over her shoulder to cup his jaw, and just like that, their bubble of reminiscence bursts. They arent colleagues anymore and havent been for a long time. Nor is their third party longer there to rationalise with them. A shrap jab strikes her heart. "Give me time, and just," her other hand reaches behind her, grabbing the fabric on his hip to pull him closer, pressing his erection against the curve of her ass. "Like this for now, Jayce. Please . . ."

His head lulls against her back, pushing his forehead firmly into her spine whilst releasing a big, shaky breath. She can feel him bare his teeth, silently working through the consequences of his actions.

He doesn't answer, he only obeys.

It goes silent for a short moment, until the warmth on her hips disappear and the metal clanging of a belt buckle sounds behind her.

Quickly, one hand returns to her thigh to pull her dress over her ass.

"Dont hold back," she says.

There's a pause in his movements. "Are you certain?"

She nods and he wastes no time. Pushing himself against her, his knees spread her legs efficiently, just liked they've practiced many times before. With mo further warning, he sinks into her. One hand crossing over her waist as the other grabs her shoulder, then sets a ruthless pace.

Somehow she knows he needs to get this out of him, the pent of fury and need. But she doesnt complain, he always knew what he was doing.

The sound of slapping fills her office, while the lewd squelching from her previous orgasm further spurs them on. He bends over her, changing his grip. Fingers snaking around her throat as his knee and free hand work together to fish one of her legs onto the desk, hitting her deeper, harder. His thrusts are no longer about speed, but of that one special little spot.

He puts pressure on her throat, almost painstakingly so. But it feels heavenly and she wouldn't have it any other way.

With each rut, his members perfectly fills her. His face is next to hers and he kisses had bites around her neck and ear, making sure she knows how good he makes her fell by grunting and moaning right into her ear. It makes that pulsing in her core worse, and he seems to notice.

"Yeah, you like that?" He groans, kissing her soft skin right behind the ear.

"Mmmhmm," she hums, voice vibrating with the bumping of their bodies. Doing her best to keep silent, afraid that one of her guards suddenly decides to check up on her.

"Let me hear you, use your words," he breathes, flexing the fingers around her throat and biting her shoulder.

"Fuck-" her knuckles and nails take turns in destroying her desk, scratching and denting the expensive wood grain. "I like making you, mmh . . . feel good." She manages, words stuttering between thrusts.

He gently pulls on her ear with his teeth. "Good," he whispers, then releases her throat and places his hand on the back of her neck, pushing her against the desktop.

Slap. His hands comes down on her ass, then gripping the plump flesh hard to lessen some of the stinging. A jolt of electricity shoots through her and her insides clench arouns him.

Jayce whimpers from the sudden, godlike pleasure. "Wanna hear you, honey, don't be shy." His hand comes down again, harder this time.

She squeezes around him, nerves on fire as she feels her second climax building up inside her. She moans as tears run down her face, happy pleasurable tears only Jayce has been able to produce.

"That's it . . ." He slaps her ass a third time, and the wall inside her core crumbles. With a whimper, she comes. "You did so good, lovely, im almost there," he assures her. Tears stream down her face as his thrusts grow irregular, but continues to pleasure her body. "Fuck," she cries, squirming from the drawl iut orgasm. One hand holds her steady at the hip while the other slides up her back, rubbing her tender body until he brushes away stray hair from her profile.

"Hold on a little longer, just breathe, baby," he comforts her, such a stark contrast to the rough thrusts he's been dealing her body. Her fingers are jittery from the overstimulation, they aached to touch him, pull his hair, anything. But she cannot reach, so she presses her palms against the table to keep them occupied.

As he sees her tear streaked face, one last blow lands on her ass and he too, comes. He collapses on top of her, they attempt to regain their strength as their sweaty bodies lie flush against eachother.

After a few moments of breathing heavily together, Jayce wraps an arm around her torso and splays his hand over her rips, pulling her with him as he straightens out.

Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and turns around. Hands finding his face, guiding her lips to his.

"Please look at me, my beautiful girl. Look at me," he pleads, murmuring the words against her lips.

She opens her eyes and his breath hitches. Yellow, brown irises meet her won. They're the exact same ones she knew not too long ago. Except . . . Haunted.

His fingers brush along her cheek, jaw and down her throat. She winces at the soft touch and his brows furrow in confusion.

Capturing her chin, he tilts her head back.

"It's fine, I'm fine," she whispers, assuring him as she sees his expression. Pure shock animates them.

"I don't-" his fingers trace the red marks running around her throat and tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes. "Im so sorry." He falls to his knees, hands resting against her chins as he hides his face between them. "I don't know-" he chokes and kisses her legs with remorse. He pecks her delicately, trailing his lips over her knees and up her thighs, hands following behind, tracing the outside of her legs until they reach her waist and encircle her. He hugs her tightly, knees sore against the hard wood. "Im not right," he breathes, head lulling into her lap. She can feel wetness coating her skin, running between her thighs.

She exhales heavily and slides down the desk until the hard wooden floor welcomes her thighs.

They stay like this for a good long while, she's in no rush and neither is he. Over and over again, her fingers comb through his overgrown and unpreened hair while the sensation of his seed drips out of her. Sharp nails gently scratch at the nape of his neck, they trace his bonestructure and play with its halls and valleys. The back of her fingers caress the length of his nose and sharpness of his cheekbone.

All the while Jayce lays wordless, occasionally squeezing her thighs, her hips. Occasionally trailing featherlight touches along her legs, watching with wonder how goosebumps rise and fall.

She chuckles beneath her breath. It's the same expression he used to get when making progress in the lap, just like when they first cracked the hextech runes. "Jayce," she says, attempting to grab his attention.

Crouching beneath her, he looks up from her lap, chin resting on the softness of her flesh. His face glistens and eyes plead. He looks at her with fatigue, wordlessly asking for her forgiveness.

"What happened?" She asks, her voice soft but words demanding. She's not getting dersuled this time, she needs answers.

He shakes his head, reluctantly drawing his lips into a thin line as he breaks away from her gaze.

Her eyebrows twist together. "What have you done?" She asks, anger laces her tone now. But he closes his eyes, the corners of his eyes gleaming again. The fingers burried in his hair curl into a fist and she pulls his head back, forcing him look at her. "What. Have. You. Done?"

His eyes shift between hers, uncertain, unwilling. "He's gone . . . " He begins. "I had to, I had to–the hexcore, it was poisoning him, spreading like a disease." His voice is coarse. "I had to stop him, there was no other choice."

Her eyes grow. Viktor . . . Gone? She could only assume when Jayce suddenly pays her a visit, but never dared believe.

"I never ment to leave you," he says, hand reaching out to grab her waist. "You have to believe me." He rouches the fabric at the waist, white knuckling it out of desperation for an ounce of u derstanding. "Hextech isnt what we thought it was, not anymore. Viktor couldnt see it, he was infecting the undercity, it would've spread to Piltover, the rest of the world if I didn't stop him."

She shakes her head in disbelief. "But he was saving them, freeing them of shimmer."

"No . . . they weren't themselves anymore. I've been away, lost. I've seen–" She waits for him to continue, but he doesn't. "The hexcore mutates them, changes them. I had to stop him. It, the core."

Her eyes drift the Jayce's hammer posted by the door. "Like your hammer?" She studies the now misshapen weapon, once crafted with obsessive precision. Her eyes drift lower along the neck and over its face, blood splatter.

She looks away, closing her eyes to recollect herself. Remembering to strongly the smell of blood Jayce had arrived with.

"Yes," he says. "Like I did." His hand reaches up to loosely cup her face. She notices how the crystal from his old bracelet has fused with his skin. Her fingers run along his arm and slides along the crystal, feeling it, inspecting it. "I didn't chose this," he murmurs. "I didn't chose to leave you . . . I love you." His hand falls back to his side.

She's taken aback. Its not something they've said before, not while still partners, not before all of, this . . . But despite herself, she believes him. They were colleagues for a long time and affection had always kept them together. He wouldn't hurt Viktor without reason.

With hooded eyes and parted lips, he studies her, waiting for her judgement.

"You had to," she nods, seamingly decided.

Relief and disappointment floods his face all at once. He'd expected an 'I love you' back.

She leans in, kissing him for the first time since he disappeared. Finally reunited. "We'll get through this, ok?" her voice is uncertain, what's happened has not been fully processed.

"Ok," he agrees and straightens his back, carefully placing small kisses along her abdomen as he does so, afraid he'll scare her away. "I've missed you so damn much." He levels his head with hers, meeting her gaze head on.

"I've missed you too," she responds. "But I need you now, Jayce. Can you do that for me?" She places a soft kiss on his lips.

"Certainly," he murmurs against them.

She stands, slinding his hand into hers and leads him to the bed. With his back to the bed, she places her hands on his chest and pushes him into sitting at the edge of the bed.

One leg over the other, she straddles him, standing on her knees so he has to look up at her. His she brushes the hair away from his eyes and lowers her lips to ghost over his. Their scared and quivering, needy to be on hers.

His hands slide up her sides and curves around her back, coming to rest in the arch above her ass. Gently, he massages circles into her skin, tickling her intentionaly.

She squirms beneath his touch, luring a satisfied grin from him. "You look good like this." Her fingers run through his beard, tracing his new scars. "Dangerous." Reaching down between them and into his pants, she pulls Jayce's member free and lowers herself just enough to tease his tip.

With a hiss, he locks his thumb over her hipbones and wanting to guide her onto him.

She shakes her head, a smirk playing in the corner of her lips. "My turn," she whispers and pull the straps of her dress down, letting it gather at her hips. Jayce's eyes immeidetly fall as his hands slide up her ribs with a specific destination in mind. "Dont touch," she warns. "Now look at me, Jayce." Her chest is inches from his face, but unallowed to look and unable to touch, his eyes appear like that of a wounded stag.

Her nimble fingers work on the buttons of his shirt and quickly slides it off of his shoulders. "Ive missed this," she purs, dragging a finger down his torso, her nail leaving a white scratched up mark behind it. "But this is new," she refers to the chest hair she's never seen before. "I like that, too." Her lips meet his jaw as she leaves kisses all the way down to his collarbone and shoulder. Her continues down his abdomen and below his v-line, then there's a sharp intake of breath as she stokes his member, circling the leaking pre-cum around his tip.

"Devil woman," he groans, but there's a twisted smile to his lips.

She returns it and takes a step back, letting the dress fall completely as if wanting to prove his point and oh, how she revels in the desperation on his face.

Her gaze fixes on his hands, clenching and unclencing in his lap, knuckles white from the strain. She bites her lip. "You look good like this," she repeats. "All, fallen apart . . . " She steps closer, placing herself between his legs. "Bloody and broken."

Never has he taken his eyes off of hers, and as she lowers herself onto his lap once more, she finds his member and lines him up. And finally, she sinks onto his thick inches. Still, he does not touch her. There is only a desperate whimper leaving his lips at the much needed pressure. Obedient, or respcetful? Either way, he deserves his praise. "Good boy. Now, touch me," she whispers and topple them over.

He twitches inside her at the words, but before she can react he's upon her. Fitting one breast into his mouth and the other in his hand, he licks and spits and squeezes. Sucking the entierty of her tender, plush flesh into his mouth.

"Ooh," she braces herself, strings of pleasure and heavy breaths return to them. "You liked that didn't you, pretty boy?" All she gets in response is humming between the lewd, obscene slurping.

Alright, then. Putting a hand on his chest for support, she begins to move, rocking back and forth just watching his expression of pleased torture.

Moving his hands to her hips, lips tear free from her breast for some much needed air, only to replace them upon her lips and kiss her with fervour.

She sits up, getting a better vantage and he follows not long thereafter. Unable to sit by and let her do the work. Leaning back on one hand and wrapping the other around her back, he helps her rut against him while he can't softly thrust up to meet her. "Fuck me- Jayce . . . " She gasps, hardly able to get enough air to moan.

He grins against her lips, sharing their breaths. "You liked that didn't you, pretty girl?" He mocks her.

She laughs breathlessly and digs her nails into his biceps. "Naughty," she murmurs and bites his lip, drawing blood. Again, she feels his member twitch amidst all the rocking between them. Their eyes meet and share a knowing glance. She cocks an eyebrow, he blushes. "That's what I thought," she smirks. It's her win, for now.

Unable to let it slide, Jayce takes the reigns. Flipping them over, he pins her beneath him without missing a single thrust. Amidst the confusion, he interlocks their fingers and pulls her arms above her head, stretching her out and limiting her movement.

She squirms against his restrains, testing the limits but he's rock solid. With her legs around his waist, he thrust perfectly into her and she cant help but roll her hips. She can feel the knot tightening in her core and she furrows her brows with displeasure. Missionary always did her in, he'll win. "Unfair," she moans, throwing her head back as waves of pleasure wash over her with every movement of his hips.

He moves one pair of their locked hands down so ha can stroke her throat with his thumb, placing soft kisses on the damage he caused.

His tenderness alone could cause her to crumble. "Put your back into it at least," she whines, realising she only had her pettiness left. Being beneath him, in his control feels way better than any win she could earn.

A breathless chuckle leaves him. "Yes, ma'am," he grunts, releases her and pulls out before he hooks her legs over his shoulders and thrusts back in. Hands finally free, she cups his face and pulls him in for a kiss concealing the cries bubbling up in her throat. For as it stands, he moves expertly and he's deeper–better than any man ever has been. "Fuck me-"

He smirks. "Tell me I'm good, again . . . " Shes uncertain if this is his ego talking or- "Please, please tell me im good," he whimpers, kissing her inbetween every word.

Without warning her third orgasm washes over her, back arching and nails digging into Jayce's cheeks. "You're so good to me," she sobs. "Such a good boy."

His thrusts falter and then he too, comes. Filling her with his seed, once again.

With shaking limbs he falls to her side, one arm draped over her chest. Both breathing heavily as they regain their senses.

"You win," ge admits and kisses her temple.

Yes she does. "I love you, too," she smiles, heart and teeth achingly sweet.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Homicipher ending 17 spoilers:

what abt mc clinging onto Mr Crawling after getting kidnapped by Mr Stitch bc they’re still shaken up but super relieved that Mr crawling came to save them

That route is so 🥹🥹🥹

You hasn’t stopped clinging onto Mr Crawling since he saved you from Mr Stitch, fearing that if you’d let go of him that you’d only get kidnapped again and taken elsewhere where you wouldn’t be so lucky. It also didn’t help that your mind kept wandering back to that moment where you were being hauled away, hand outstretched as you called out to Mr Crawling in desperation, before finding yourself in a room with Mr Stitch and fearing what he might do to you before the feeling of relief flooded your body when you saw Mr Crawling.

You were so relived that you didn’t hesitate to throw yourself into his arms, clinging onto to him as he rubbed your back as soothingly as he could, hoping to bring you some sort of comfort while trying to reassure himself that you weren’t going anywhere nor that anyone was going to try and take you away from him.

‘You pain have?’ He asks as he cradles you against his chest and looking you over to make sure Mr Stitch didn’t bring you any harm. ‘Me worry.’ He adds.

‘I’m fine thanks to you, just still a little unnerved is all.’ You replied as you tried to smile at him but it came across as forced and you instead just cling onto him even more, just wanting to get it into your head that you were safe, that no harm would come to you when Mr Crawling was there to keep you safe like he did moments prior; Unfortunately it seemed that no matter what you did your brain was leas to believe that you were still in danger somewhat and it made you unable to feel Mr Crawling’s attempts at comfort and reassurance which you absolutely hated.

Mr Crawling lets out a mournful sound from the back of his throat as he burrows his head into your neck, taking one of your hands and placing it atop of his head and gesture for you to stroke his hair with it, albeit it was a little clunky and clumsily but it did manage to make you smile a little as you began to stroke his hair on your own accord while he purred. ‘Keep you safe. It okay cry.’ He said softly as he made sure to keep a look out, daring anything to try and pry you from his hands and if they do, he’ll make sure to make it hurt however he can if it meant keeping you safe and sound in his arms like you were now.

You chuckled tearfully as you burrowed your head into his shoulder, breathing him in and ignoring the fact that Mr Crawling didn’t smell so pleasant, but in this moment you didn’t care as it was what you connected him with in means of calming yourself downs an regaining composure. ‘You did keep me safe, you really, really did. Thank you Mr Crawling.’ You said while your fingers became entangled in the long black tresses of his hair, toying with them at your own leisure, not feeling the need to escape his embrace just yet when it’s done nothing but bring you back down to reality and back to him.

‘You okay. Happy.’ Mr crawling utters as he shifted a little but as he does so he feels your grip on his tighten and your breath hitch in your throat, almost as though you were scared that he was leaving you when he would never dare entertain such a thing, and he lets out a sound akin to whimpering as he nuzzled your neck in reassurance. ‘Not going.’ He adds. ‘No leaving you.’ Mr Crawling felt you relax in his arms once again and your hand went back to fiddling with his hair and trying to even out your breathing.

‘Im sorry.’ You muttered against his shoulder. ‘Me seem weak.’ Mr crawling frowned as he was the one to tighten his hold on you this time, wanting nothing more then to infuse every ounce of affection and love he has for you into the embrace , letting you know that he was always going to be with you whether you wished for his company or not but in this moment in time you needed him more then ever and he wasn’t going to throw the opportunity to show how capable of a partner he could be away.

‘You strong brave. No weak.’ Mr Crawling reassured as he kissed you lightly on the head, keeping you close, keeping you protected and safe while he kept guard as you felt relaxed enough to fall asleep in his arms though not before saying one final thank you to Mr Crawling and pressing a sleepy kiss to his neck.

[prettyboykatsuki]

— ❈ YOU'RE SO PRETTY, BABY.

▸ prompt ; companions and their responses to being called pretty boy / pretty girl.

▸ a/n ; bit of a generic post im sorry forreal. while i was originally just going to write this for astarion i had ideas for. all the other companions.

most of the characters have a reader w a specific class or background, all varied! also spoilers for gale, shadowheart, karlach, and lae'zel.

reader / tav is always gender neutral!

▸ wc ; about 4.5k, about 700+ words per companion.

ft. astarion, wyll, gale, shadowheart, karlach, lae'zel

no minthara or halsin bc i could not bring myself to write it. but maybe later if enough people ask lol.

❈ ASTARION ;

Astarion tries his very best to find your affection for him trite, even when he knows it doesn't feel that way. It's an instinct for him, one you'll simply have to make peace with you if you're really planning on tailing him to the end of the world.

Truth be told though, he likes your generally affectionate nature. He hasn't reached a point he can admit this so openly, but the comfortable and easy way you reach for him is nice. He likes how your hands seem to stretch for him, the way you cling to his spine when you sleep in his tent and the likes.

And while he is not stranger to hypocrisy, he thinks it'd be amiss to try and bar you from calling him any pet names when he calls you so many. He's got quite a few handy. Darling is a favorite, followed by dear, and sometimes my love when he can muster up the courage to mean it instead of saying it like he's trying to perform.

You like to call Astarion by his name though, most often. He isn't exactly sure why you're so fond of it, and truthfully he's done little to consider his own name. You say it wonderfully though, tasteful and loving and soft.

Sometimes you gasp it in offense or horror or shock, other times in pleasure. Sometimes you whimper it in your sleep, groping around until your hands fist in the material of his shirt and you drag him back to you.

In any case, he's used to hearing his name. So hearing you utter the words pretty boy to him, he can't help but be a little shocked.

You're a little tipsy. A hard, arduous journey of fighting githyanki soldiers has taken a terrible toll on your normal inhibitions. You're quite flushed while you're drunk, and all the same sitting in his lap like you've not a care in the world.

Astarion doesn't mind holding you. In fact, he's thinking of all the terribly teasing things he can say to you come morning. So far, you've done nothing but mumble. It's a sudden movement, your hands clasped around his face.

"Feeling forward are we darling?" He says, like second nature. It's so reactionary it's banal, though he does have some enthusiasm since the flirtation is directed at you. Instead of your usual giggling, you stare at him with your lips parted.

"I suppose I am pretty boy," You reply, a completely foreign confidence in your voice that stops him dead in his tracks. Underneath the thick layer of flirtation is sincerity so unmistakable it almost proves to be too much "Could I ask you to keep me company?"

Astarion is, eternally grateful about the fact you don't get much more than that out of you. He spends the entire night thinking about it. You're certainly not the first to call him pretty, and that particular phrasing has been thrown to him more than once.

Yet it rings a little differently. The way you said it so tenderly, your hands stroking the nape of his neck and cupping his face. Well, it's not nothing. He can't decide if he hates it or not until the next morning comes.

Your eyes flutter open as light pours through the open part of his tent. You reach over to him with a deep sigh, engaging in some quiet morning affection when you repeat yesterdays sentiment.

"Good morning, my very pretty boy," You say - and this time Astarion is sure whatever he is feeling he has not ever felt previously "Sorry for the antics last night."

"So your memory hasn't failed you. Good to know." Astarion says back. You laugh lightly. "Your charming little pet name worried me quite a bit."

"Nothing to worry about my love." You say, warm and nuzzling into his neck likely to cool yourself from over-heating "I really do find you very pretty."

He can't help the feeling that floods his sense. He likes it even though he feels a little clingy, but perhaps there's no need to admit that.

"Oh, really, darling? How sweet you are. Tell me again, then. Just for kicks this time."

❈ WYLL ;

it's a matter of getting used to it for Wyll.

For the first month of your adventuring together, pretty boy, had been a somewhat condescending substitute for his name. Among other ones, like daddy's boy and prince. None of the pet names held any real affection.

You liked getting under his skin, after all.

You didn't get on at first, not for a long while. You're a rogue, a ratty street urchin turned mercenary who'd spent your youth climbing through the soil and mud of the Lower City's underbelly. Your words verbatim, not his. At first, your resentment for him caught him off guard, especially because Wyll prefers to keep the peace and get along with everyone. But, he had a difficult time understanding you, even with his people skills

Eventually it clicked that your resentment was less towards him, and more towards what he represents. You're a Baldurian, but one abandoned by the city and it's people. What else could the Ravengards represent if not the future you never had a chance to look towards.

It was easier after that. And Wyll had promised to himself to observe you closer. In that, he found to like you a great deal.

He's fond of pet names in general, but more fond of you lately. At the beginning of your adventure, it was a little difficult to get accustomed to your... roughness. You lack delicacy, but you're not exactly silver tongued.

Yet, you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be. Contrarily, while you've traveled together, Wyll bore witness to only gentleness. Nothing more. The words you spoke about only doing things for coin had been clearly disproved by your countless acts of charity. Especially gentle and kind to children, and especially unforgiving to the rich and unhelpful.

Once he got used to it, there was something kind of...sweet about it. To see you say one thing and do another had it's own novelty that Wyll grew fond of you.

It was the night of tiefling party that roused his feelings. That night, he'd watched you play with the tiefling children all night, teaching them tricks of the trade.

And you'd started falling for him, too, judging by the way your usual snark was nowhere to be found.

Especially vivid is the change in your tone when you call him the same way you did before.

"We'll take a short rest for you, pretty boy." Your voice murmurs, looking carefully over his wounds while place down your own weapons "Get your spells back. Organize our things in the mean time."

He gives you look, examining your own worry before his smile stretches into one of fondness. It doesn't bother him at all, not anymore. No, lately - it sounds rather fond, and each time Wyll hears it, it does something for ego.

"No need for the concern, though I am appreciative," He says, not bothering to mask the smug quality in his voice at your change. He delights in it a little, admittedly . "I'll be alright soon enough."

You don't seem to notice, too busy wiping your blade of fresh blood, metal shiny as moonlight. "And there's no need for your heroism, Blade of Frontiers. Have some discernment about time and place."

You look up at him with your brows furrowed, and Wyll can barely help himself. "Are you worried I'll lose what's left in my appearances? I'm just telling you there's no need to trouble yourself over it."

It takes you a while to register to his words, but when it finally does - your eyes blow wide. The look of embarrassment on your face is well worth it.

"I thought you hated when I called you that." You say coolly.

"It's not so bad," He says back tenderly, staring at you "At least not anymore."

You pout a little. Wyll fights some unspoken urge to kiss you. A little longer.

"I prefer when you're acting oblivious,"

"Sorry to disappoint."

He lets his head lay on the wall behind him - reaching a hand for yours instead, trying to rest up as promised. He sees you smiling from the corner of his eye and affirms it to himself. You squeeze, soft, but otherwise say nothing about it.

Yes, lately, nothing you say could get under his skin. Even when you so obviously try.

❈ GALE ;

Gale is always the poet, never the muse.

He thought highly of his relationship with Mystra, and in many ways still does. He loved her. This much is true. He can't say for any certainty if she had loved him just as much, or at all. He wasn't the first mortal, and would hardly be the last.

But he loved her, enough to write about her and wax poetic about all that he'd lost.

When Gale examines any of his past relationship, he realizes this is some kind of pattern. Gale is good at being loving, but he does not know for certain if any of them loved him back. Or if he was loved in the way he loves - if it was anything near close. Gale had thought, at one point, it was just matter of destiny. Gale is after all, a man who bleeds with all he has.

He can't blame anyone for loving him less than when he is categorically too much. He thought that way for a long time, destined himself to never find love again or beg for Mystra's forgiveness for some new found purpose.

When you came into his life, he hadn't been sure what would come of your relationship. Certainly a brain parasite would make camp a difficult place for romance, but the two of you managed against all odds. Among all the things that Gale finds astonishing about your relationship - it's your affection for him that catches him the most off-guard.

It's a little sad, he can admit. But it's true. When you speak to Gale, your voice is always soft. It's never demanding. Before, always, there had been some kind of expectation. Gale had to be a certain way, to pour himself into someone else for the sake of it being returned.He loved. Surely he loved.

But now, lately, you love him back. Overwhelmingly. The easiness of your love makes him feel a little... spoiled. Which is embarrassing, at the stage of life he's in. He finds the whole thing tips him over the edge. The heat creeping up his neck every time he remembers. Your hand brushing against the back of his neck, cupping his face so gently.

Gale, perhaps unsurprisingly, is fond of your various pet names. All of them sound good. Make him feel important and desired. You like to call him a bookworm, sometimes you call him baby (which he really likes much more than he is ever willing to admit), and other times you settle on saying my love.

Pretty boy is new. Pretty boy is different, and makes heat crawl up the back of Gale's neck like a smitten school boy.

It has a special effect on Gale.

In between classes, spoken with your hands cupping his face as he leans on his desk. The sunlight is pouring through the large paneled windows, casting a warmth on your expression. Gale is sat on his desk, making you eye-level.

"I'm glad you've come to see me," Gale says to you first, breaking a period of comfortable silence. You're a busy person, given all the heroics. Gale finds it troublesome, despite the fact you've moved with him to Waterdeep. Your reputation precedes you "It's been ages,"

"Of course I'd come to see you, pretty boy," You hum, thumb brushing under his cheek - carefully drawing a line "You're very healing to look at."

The effect is rather immediate. As soon as the words leave your lips, spoken to him so lovingly - he unlocks a part of himself he always seems to forget about. Forgets himself in a fundamental way, the flurry of heat and euphoric sensation of adoration washing over him like water.

He gives you a look, and you laugh - pressing your thumb to his lower lip as you lean in for a kiss. "Stop pouting, will you?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," He insists, kissing you despite him. You laugh into, warm and bubbly. For a minute, he remembers all he might've lost had he done what Mystra told him.

He's glad he's alive. To feel you.

"You very much are," You reply back, once you've managed to pull away from each other "Don't be so surprised. You've always been very pretty to me."

He blushes again, deeper, and closes his eyes.

❈ SHADOWHEART ;

You don't often communicate your feelings to Shadowheart through words.

You're something of a stoic. Of the few people in Shadowheart's past who remain by her side, many of them communicate about how surprised they are about your partnership. Shadowheart is known to be a little snarky, witty. She used to be very prickly, at the start of your adventure together - so everyone questions how you were able to win her heart.

Truthfully, Shadowheart didn't know what to make of your personality at first. There's a silence to you. Maybe she should expect this of paladin so loyal. A Paladin of Torm, the unswerving enemy of injustice and corruption. You've always been a devout person, putting action and justice over everything. She hated it at first, a natural response for a Sharran, she figures.

Once she'd left it all behind, she could no longer use it as an excuse.

Truth be told, Shadowheart had always liked that aspect of you. Your devotion spoke to something greater than your oath or even your god. You had simply believed in the world, and inadvertently in her. You saved her from herself, her parents from her fate, and then some.

Your devotion to her as a lover isn't something so different. She often thinks you would swear yourself to her if you could. For Shadowheart, your affection is akin to worship. Every morning, the animals are tended and the flower bed is damp. You wake her mother up without a start, remind her of where she is without making her feel ashamed. You're good to her father, talk to him of worldly politics at the dinner table.

She has no complaints to make about you. Your love for her is tangible, something she can reach out and touch with her fingers.

She's unused to hearing your affections, though. Unused to hearing the words.

You lay together in the darkness. You're alone tonight, the entire cabin empty. Her mother and father have gone together on an outing together, after you accompanied them into the city. You've finally returned, put the horses up in the stable, and have to come to her side.

Shadowheart likes to lay in your arms. She lets herself curl into your weight, inhales the scent of your skin - earthy and rich as you let your arm fold around her waist. She lays ontop of you today, her whole body on yours like a blanket.

She looks up at you, her her tied loosely. She can practically feel how glowy her own expression is as she examines you - sees her reflection in your irises.

You let your hand lay over her back, reaching up underneath her nightwear to lay touch her skin. She gives you a look - her smile small, sincere. Your own expression is tired from travel, but fond. You insisted on taking her parents instead of letting them go alone.

She loves you more than she cares to admit.

"You're staring." She comments blithely "See something you like?"

Normally you'd flush a little at this, silent as you kiss her forehead or cheek. This time though, you use your fingers to brush the stray hairs from her face and nod.

"Yes, pretty girl," You hum, nonchalantly. Sagely. "I really do,"

She's so caught off guard, she can't help but gape. She lifts herself slightly to stare at you in shock.

"I've never heard you talk like that. Not once while we've been together. I mean.. you've called me beautiful but," Shadowheart stumbles, a fluttery feeling in her stomach she'd rather ignore "But it's never like that,"

"I think it more often that I say it,"

"And you always think to call me that?"

"Like I said, often," You look over he carefully, before your lips pull into an easy smile "You're pretty to the point I want to tell you all the time,"

Shadowheart is scarcely embarrassed by anything. She's a practiced woman at this point in her life. It's almost juvenile the way the words effect her. It's you saying it that makes all the difference. The way you've said it that makes her squirm. She lets out a little puff of air, silent as you laugh.

"Pretty girl," You repeat, warm and gentle and laced with exhaustion "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

Shadowheart tucks her face into your neck, voice as soft a murmur as the sound of her own heart rings in her ears.

"Don't make a habit of talking like that," She huffs "I already know, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to hear."

You smile brightly. "I'm glad,"

❈ KARLACH ;

Karlach adores you, utterly and completely.

She's a little caught off-guard by it. Just when she'd convinced herself she couldn't love you more, you surprise her all over again. She'd probably harbored some sort of affection for you from the start of your adventure together, when you'd gone to bat for her and make sure Wyll didn't take her head as a trophy.

Since then, though - on your journey together, she'd taken careful notice of you. And gods, she likes you. You're very different she must admit. Where Karlach is strong and fiery, you're cool and calculated. She figured that's just what magic users are like, but Gale is pretty keen on correcting this assumption. You're a sorcerer, specifically, means the whole magic thing is in your composition and not your study.

Which explained why your head isn't the books like their local wizard. She does find you to be rather charming. You're good at talking your way in and out of almost everything, and you can outwit even the cleverest people on camp. You'd think it'd make you... annoying. Or cruel. And sure, you're a little calculating - but mostly, you're sweet.

Karlach's really never met anyone like you before. Her companionship is a little limited because before the Blood Wars, she was a rag-tag kid in the street of the city. But you grew up in a noble house, learned to charm and finesse your way through everything. You know how to read situations before they've even happened.

And you always explain them to her afterwards.

You make Karlach nervous, strangely. Which is wild! When it comes to socializing, she can get along with almost anyone. You though, you always see right through her. You know when she's using her own personality as a shield, and you always know just when to intervene. Or when to say nothing, and just let her sit with you.

The day she blew up at you, after defeating Gortash - you'd handled it better than she could've hoped. You were comforting, and kind, and let her feel it out without making her feel bad. With you, she felt hopeful despite knowing that the end was probably going to come for her eventually.

With you, she thinks she could endure even the end of the world.

You're in the city now, no longer sleeping in the woods. When everyone else has gone to bed, Karlach finds you in the study, a room attached to the main living quarters.

She knocks before entering. Your voice is soft as you tell her to come in. Dressed in your comfy night clothes, your hair damp from washing up. You're bent over the desk with a furrow in your brow that Karlach finds sweet.

"Hey, baby," She asks, her heart thumping soft "Hope I'm not disturbin' your research."

"Of course not," You reply back, encouraging her towards you "I'm actually due a break."

Wordlessly, you sit up from your chair, pointing for Karlach to sit. She follows through, a little confused as to what you're doing before you plop yourself back into her lap. She throws her head back in laughter.

"Don't know what I was expecting there," She giggles, arm curling around your waist "All cozy?"

"Mm," You melt yourself into her embrace, turning to look at her. Your eyes are soft, free hand cupping her face "I'm cozy. What's keeping you up, pretty girl?"

The words catch her off guard completely, her engine flaring from the heat.

"Shit, what's with that?" She glances down at you, smiling like the cheeky fucker you are "I can't get any redder, you know? It's making my engine burn."

"You like it, no?" Your voice is smooth, smug in a way that gets her hot "My pretty girl,"

Karlach stares at you as you say it. Traces the curve of your lips, the slight arch of your brow. Asses the weight and warmth of you as you lay your legs over her lap and feels her body start to react. She didn't think it was possible to feel so complete by someone, even among the impending doom at the end of the world.

With you it fades away to nothing. Permission to want freely, she had no idea she had wanted that so bad. She had no idea she could want more when you'd already given her so much.

It's nice to be greedy. A little greed is fine, after everything.

"If you keep talking to me like that, we're going to do a lot more than just sitting, you know?" She tells you seriously.

You smile and laugh but don't deny her "Only if you say please,"

❈ LAE'ZEL ;

The Githyanki do not fall in love.

It's a fact of the culture, a mark of their honor. Love is for the soft, tender fleshed species of the material planes. It does not suit warriors, not the ruthless githyanki who spend their entire lives training the sword and learning magic. Love had always been a flimsy concept to Lae'zel. To the point she'd never thought about it or cared too. For the gith, there is only pleasure and carnal desire. The foolishness of longing can only be harbored in the lesser existence of the outer-world. The world outside of her creche.

For a long time, this was true for Lae'zel. She had never intended her time in the material plane to weaken her in the ways in which it did. Or that the experience of a ghaik parasite trapped behind her eyes would will her into cooperation with lesser beings. In many ways egregious, unfathomable. In trying to rid herself of one parasite, she'd found herself another one - more intolerable and more consuming than the first.

You. What a foreign and remarkable bond. From the beginning she had told you the truth, that the gith do not love and she would not be able to love you. Though she could admit passion, admit admiration for your courage, admit possession - she could not admit love. She knew nothing of it.

Over the course of your journey, you'd managed to prove her wrong. Slowly stripped bare of the identity she'd made her life around, you stripped Lae'zel down to her soul. Her most honored solider, and most formidable ally. When the time came, you'd told her to do what she must, to liberate her people. That you'd be there when she returned.

That you'd wait for her.

Months apart with few visits in between meant that each time Lae'zel sees you must make every minute count. Enjoying your body and indulging in carnal pleasures is only so much of that. What Lae'zel looks forward too most, she must admit, is the gentleness of your touch whenever she comes back to Fae'run.

Soft warm whispers among the indulgent plush of bed sheets and candles. A room that smells like lavender and oak, prayer books and scripture littered on the desk. A cleric of Bahamut, and a soul strong as steel.

But this, her head resting in your lap as you stroke her hair so carefully, is what she's missed most of all. No doubt she's going soft.

"Chk. You are smitten by the text in front of you as if you have forgotten of my return,"

You look down at Lae-zel with a laugh, carefully placing said book down on the bedside table. The voice you speak with her is different from her own. Tender fleshed even in your speech, you let her curl herself into you.

A vulnerable position, open to whatever may come.

"I'm sorry, pretty girl," You hum. The words practically startle her "I don't mean to neglect you. It was an interesting passage."

"Pretty...It is true among the githyanki, I am among the finest of their ranks," She replies, turning herself towards you - getting comfortable "Yet still, something stirs."

"Are you embarrassed?" You reply, delighted as her frown deepens. Before she has a chance to argue with you, you lean down to press your lips against hers briefly "How sweet of you."

"I do not get embarrassed," She insists, scowling as you begin to giggle at her "It was merely unexpected."

"You're beautiful to me, Lae'zel." You hum, stroking her cheek gently as she continues to lay herself across. Your eyes are tender and lidded. That look of obsession she recalled from the months prior returned in full, and no longer hidden. Unlike your other mortal companions, or the pale elf - there is nothing hidden in your words. No agenda "More beautiful than anyone else. At least to me. Getting to look at you so closely is a gift."

She softens, her hand gripping yours resting on her chest

"When it is over," She says seriously, a solemness to her voice "I will return to you. This I swear. Without you, the liberation of my people would be no less then a dream,"

You return her smile in kind.

"My pretty, wonderful girl," You hum. She loves you. She thinks she understands it now "I know you'll return to me, nailo. You always keep your promises."

"Yes," She says, an unfamiliar emotion overwhelming her "I will not forsake all we have promised."

The affection in your voice shakes Lae'zel to her core. Initial abrasion fades only into warmth. It's not so bad to hear, even if it is tender fleshed.

▸ a/n ; the word reader uses for lae'zel is elvish for swift winds!! reader is meant to be sort of a book worm so you do not need to picture them as a elf and more of a linguist.

this is the most substantial thing i've written in the last few weeks so commentary is very appreciated. i'd be willing to do a minthara and halsin addition to this eventually if anyone is interested!!

anyways, baldurs gate companions i love u. reblogs so appreciated !

[adieutristana]

Hi hi hi! Was wondering if you could do a jinx x reader fic where instead of ekko saving her from blowing herself up it was the reader

Tyy <333

of course! thank you for the request <3

two out of three finals knocked out, then one more tomorrow and im free 💔

summary: fem! reader saves jinx from blowing herself up.

characters included: jinx

tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, suicidal ideation, mentions of poor mental health, s2 spoilers, (some) fluff at the end, reader does not have ekko's time traveling skills (sorry)

men dni.

jinx stands on a ledge, dark tears staining her pale cheeks. long, blue braids gone. her shoes taken away, nail beds raw. she stands, with one of her own bombs, pulling at the safety pin. testing her own fate with each pull growing stronger and stronger.

pulling, pulling, pulling.

until she hears your footsteps, slowly looking over her shoulder. jinx looks through you, her eyes so utterly blank and dull. she looks so… defeated. she’s out of energy and out of resolve. she doesn’t say anything to you, though, only turns back to the bomb in her hands. pulling the pin one more time-

until you wordlessly sprint towards her, throwing your arms around her in a way that miraculously didn’t throw her off her balance. clasping both hands over hers, physically restraining her from putting the bomb to use.

“please, jinx, can we talk about this?”

you plead, your eyes desperately searching for any kind of reason. her eyes are downcast, her face relaxed. too relaxed. her voice comes out in a soft yet exhausted whisper.

“leave me alone, (y/n).”

“no.”

jinx tries to wriggle her hands out of your grasp, her shoulders thrashing with the movements and face contorting. she’s impatient. she wants to do this and get it over with.

“you’re too late.”

she says, still trying to escape your hold. still grasping her bomb, desperately trying to find any kind of purchase. anything. she’s given up, she’s done. there isn’t a point.

“too late for what?”

you gasp, now in a full wrestle with your girlfriend. wrapped around jinx from behind, your hands over hers, sharp nails scratching your skin and jinx writhing. grunting. she’s so frustrated yet so empty, and it makes your heart ache inside your chest. with the loss of isha, being thrown in jail, losing almost everyone she had… you understood jinx. finding motivation to keep living was already difficult enough for her, but almost all of those things had been ripped away from her.

it rips you into pieces seeing your girlfriend like this. you’ve seen it all: her breakdowns. screaming and crying because voices and hallucinations won’t leave her alone. her trying to act as if she doesn’t care when she gets blown off by her sister. coming home with bruises and cuts from god knows where after a mission, or even worse, coming home an inch from death. but never have you seen jinx like this.

jinx’s knees buckle under her and she falls to the ground, but your grasp is still strong.

“drop it, jinx.”

“no.”

“drop it.”

and to your surprise, she does drop it. you hoped to whatever was out there that this was the end of it, that she would give up. she would go home with you and finally tell you exactly what brought her to this point. stationery, the bomb falls on the floor, rolling away from the both of you and jinx staying in that kneeling position.

until she doesn’t.

“i’m tired of talking.”

she mutters under her breath, making her way to a ledge without so much as looking back at you. your senses are blown into full panic mode as you spring to your feet to sprint towards her, reaching for her braids to restrain her from stepping over- but they’re gone. your hand shot to the clasp of her top. holding jinx in place as if her life depended on it, probably because it did.

“jinx, baby, please. i know that things have been hard, you’re not happy. but you have to stay alive. for me, if nothing or nobody else. please.”

you plead. you circle jinx to stand in front of her, placing your hands on her shoulders gently. almost afraid that she’ll break if you handle her too harshly, especially after just restraining her to stop her from killing herself. your eyes are filled with tears just waiting to spill, your lips pressed into a thin line. and then you feel jinx begin to tremble.

like a bridge that's lost its foundation, shaking and threatening to combust. her breathing is getting quicker, her eyes are darting from place to place to place, but never once settling on you.

"jinx."

you squeeze her shoulders, looking into her eyes, desperately trying to get through to your girlfriend. there has to be something you can do, surely. how come nothing is working? you've already pulled out all of the stops, what more could you do? what, if anything, would be successful? the tears in your eyes spill over, but you don't make any sound. you can't. you have to hold it together for jinx's sake.

jinx swallows tentatively. quivering.

"i... i can't do this anymore."

"of course you can," you whisper. reaching up to cup one of her cheeks with your hand, but she jerks away.

"everyone i get close to dies. or they leave. mylo, claggor, vander, isha... will you be next?"

she asks, finally locking eyes with you. it's clear that it's a rhetorical question- jinx doesn't want an answer. she wouldn't be able to handle an answer, not right now.

“no. no. i’m not leaving, jinx- and i don’t plan on dying any time soon. please, listen to me.”

you beg her, still looking into her eyes, half-lidded and glowing pink. one hand coming up to try and cup jinx’s cheek again, and this time, she allows it. this is a good sign. you’re getting somewhere.

“i have to break the cycle. i have to do something to fix all of this,” she says. “i’ve done so much i can’t come back from. what else is there to do?”

“walk away.” you whisper.

“what?”

“walk away. you don’t need to die, jinx, walk away. go somewhere. take me with you. you can still break the cycle without doing this.”

your thumb is brushing her cheek, your own cheeks stained with dried tears.

“what is your death going to fix? if anything, it’ll cause more pain. zaun will be fine if you walk away, but could you imagine what would happen if you died?”

jinx looks down, and another tear falls from your eye.

“please, you have to stay. i’ll come with you. i’ll do anything. just please, baby, don’t die. i don’t know what i would do with myself if you did.”

you plead with jinx. desperation is obvious in your tone, her jaw quivering, threatening to cry herself. she’s spent.

you feel jinx’s hand slowly, hesitantly coming to rest atop yours on her cheek, and all she does is nod. slowly.

“let’s go home.”

you whisper, brushing a lock of hair from out of her eyes.

“what do i do from here?”

jinx asks, her voice low and unsure.

“we’ll figure something out. i promise.”

[str4wberrysw4n]

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟑𝐃 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋!! + 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐃 🧁

i don't want to give out too much info, but i have a friend who doesn't come to school very often. she's absent for majority of the week or comes late so i barely get to see her. today, she didn't come and she hadn't come the day before. most of the time, i try to text her to see if she'll respond, but today i thought to myself "why am i upset she isn't at school? besides it doesn't matter to me. I would like for her to be here but it's not a big deal if she isn't." so after 2nd period, we meet up at the stairs so we can walk to class. when she's not here, i wait for her just in case she came late or smth. this time, i simply walked upstairs. smth was telling me that my friend would be here somehow, but i ignored it.

imagine my surprise when i sat down, looked to my right, and saw her sitting down in the flesh. just there. i was shocked.

now, ik this might not seem like a manifestation (spoiler alert: I count it as one) unless u knew how i would affirm for her to come to school only to not get results. i consider her one of my best friends and school isn't the same without her. it was frustrating that the results would only come days later, yet the moment i said i didn't care, it came to me. why?

imo, the key was that I didn't put it on a pedestal. I told myself "I would LIKE for her to come, but it's not a BIG DEAL if she doesn't." i used this not only bcuz it happened at the time im writing this, but bcuz it's a perfect example of how taking ur manifestations off a pedestal helps.

imagine being a king/queen. u have literally everything u desire with the snap of ur fingers. u control everyone and everything around u. but then, u want something that u don't have in the 3d. u have it the 4d, but YOU don't see it bcuz ur eyes are only honed in on the physical world. all of a sudden, u put this object of desire,that u ALREADY have, ABOVE u. it's what u need or else u'll practically fall and break into thousands of pieces. doesn't make any sense, right? well that's literally how it is when u put ur manifestation on such a high pedestal.

YOU are the prize. YOU should be the one placed on the pedestal and stay on it. ik it's hard, especially when there's no evidence of the 3d showing u that -- but it's true. that's why when u care so much abt a manifestation, u are quite literally taking urself off and putting something way less important on there. it's hard to accept that, bcuz society has literally told us that some people are better than others. those who feed into money, fame, "above average" beauty, concepts that only exist in the 3d. but the truth is being tied down to thoughts like that will only make things harder for u.

I'm not saying u shouldn't try to manifest concepts that we know from the 3d -- almost everyone is. I would be a hypocrite to say that when im literally trying to manifest clothes rn lol. im saying that u should stop thinking of those concepts as "impossible" or "out of ur league", bcuz unless u say so, YOU are the standard. stuff like that will only drag u down into the illusion of the 3d.

to sum it up, stop putting the 3d on a pedestal and put urself on there!! when ur able to detach and no longer depend on ur manifestation coming through, it helps it pass through ur 4d level of consciousness and materialize into the 3d. someone with everything doesn't cry abt something they ASSUME they don't have. now, u might be asking: "what do i do if i can't get my mind off it?" i know all too well that this task is easier said than done, so i wanted to help!! :3 these r just some general hobbies u can do instead of obsessing over manifestations!!

🎀 drawing or some form of art

🎀 self care day

🎀 baking

🎀 studying

🎀clean ur room

🎀 text/face time ur friends

🎀 window shopping (my fav lol)

🎀 read a book

🎀 indulge in one of ur own personal hobbies

these r just some of the things that i do when i find myself stressed with a manifestation!! as always, this is all imo, and im just trying my best to help!! happy manifesting ╰(✿´⌣`✿)╯♡

[froggibus]

The Three Times You Share A Bed - Leon S Kennedy

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x reader

Genre: fluff, some light angst thrown in towards the end?

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: two times you sleep in leon's bed, and the one time he sleeps in yours

CW: roommate! Leon, kinda friends to lovers?, light angst, abandonment issues, paranoia, fear + insomnia, mentions of zombies, bedsharing, leon has intimacy issues (get therapy challenge)

OMG HAPPY RE4 RELEASE!!! I am SO excited to play once im done work this weekend! Leon looks so damn fine in the gameplay ive seen and i am going FERAL! pls no spoilers for anything new in the game! <3

RE4 remake spoiler free zone!! I have yet to play the remake so there are no spoilers in this!

————

The telltale clicking of a key in the door has you on your feet in seconds, abandoning the plush throw blanket on the couch. Before it even opens, you’re standing on the doormat. You feel a little silly, like a golden retriever waiting for its owner, but the shame is washed away when Leon steps through the door.

It’s been three weeks since you’ve last seen your roommate and best friend, and just as long since you last had company. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of you standing in front of him, the dark circles under his eyes becoming more prominent. 

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He sighs and drops his backpack on the floor, locking the door behind him.

“How was it?”

You fight the urge to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and inhale his scent, knowing that’s not what friends do. Still, the feeling is there and if he went in for it, you’d reciprocate in a heartbeat.

He opens the fridge and beams at the fully stocked drinks and snacks. He cracks open a can of cider and leans against the counter. “Long,” he admits, “way too long. And my nose is still burning from the smell of rotten flesh.” You crinkle your nose at the thought. Leon’s never been much of a talker and most of his work being classified didn’t help. Whenever something wasn’t top secret, though, you were sure to sit there and listen no matter how horrific the details were.

You settle in on the couch next to the agent, listening to him drone on about a zombie-like creature that had peeling flesh and fifty eyes. You could vividly picture it from his words alone, and the image of the creature sent a shiver up your spine.

Leon talks for hours, spilling every miniscule detail of every horror he encounters. You stay the whole time, nodding along. Leon laughs at the way you scrunch your face in disgust or close your eyes in fear. He hates how cute you are, but he can’t seem to stop telling you stories. After many hours and a few drinks between the two of you, he’s almost run out of stories to tell.

Leon pats your shoulder gently, collecting his cans from where he’d set them on the coffee table. “I need a shower,” he states. “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.”

“Go shower. You stink,” you joke and punch him in the ribs.

He feigns injury at your blow, pretending to suck in a breath like you’d really hurt him. He keeps up the facade the whole way to his bedroom, only leaving character when he shuts the door behind him.

It’s only when he’s disappeared that you realize how late it's gotten—and how dark. Even though your shared apartment is on the 19th floor, you can’t help but worry something is going to crawl through your window. You shake the thoughts away and get ready for bed, but every gust of wind and rustling of leaves makes you flinch.

You close your eyes and tug your comforter over your head, hoping that if there is something out there, it won’t know you’re there. You toss and turn for a while longer, staying dead quiet and pushing your fears away.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You take a deep breath, throw your comforter off of your shoulders, and sprint to Leon’s room. It’s like your brain is on autopilot—it knows exactly where to go to be safe.

You don’t knock on the door, instead quietly twisting the knob and slipping in through a crack in the door. Leon sits up as soon as your feet touch the wooden floor, eyes snapping towards your silhouette. He’s been a light sleeper ever since Racoon City, waking at the slightest of sounds.

He relaxes at the sight of you but only for a second. He glances at his digital clock, eyes widening at the time. “Y/n? What are you still doing up?”

“I-I couldn’t sleep…I feel like a flesh eating zombie is going to climb through my window and eat me.”

He chuckles. “That would be my fault.” He shuffles over in bed and pulls back the comforter. “You’re more than welcome to stay here for the night.”

You crawl into bed next to him, keeping as much distance between the two of you as possible. You can feel his body heat radiating through the blankets and smell his body wash on his skin. The feeling is new, yet so familiar it eases you instantly.

“Leon?”

He hums in response.

“Is it safer to sleep next to the window or the door? From like, a secret agent standpoint.”

“We’re on the 19th floor so window, but unless it's a hotel room, the door. You would more than likely hear it if they broke down the front door so you’d have more time to get out.”

You think for a second. “Can we switch places?”

“Honestly, y/n,” he laughs dryly, “the safest place to sleep right now is next to me.”

Your face warms at that and you nod, relaxing into his pillows. While you drift off to sleep, Leon watches over you. He knows nothing is going to come for you here, but he did promise to keep you safe, and he’ll keep that promise no matter what.

—

When you get home, you’re in a foul mood. You practically throw the groceries onto the counter before walking to your room and throwing yourself onto your bed. It’s been a long day. All of the stores were so busy you could hardly get through the aisles, and all of the people you encountered were rude.

Leon comes out of his room a few minutes later. Seeing the groceries abandoned on the counter, his first thought is to check on you. He doesn’t check on you, though. Not yet, anyway. He knows you’ll just be more upset if the frozen items melt and the milk sits out all night, so he sets out on putting them away.

After almost an hour of laying in your bed trying to recuperate after the day you’ve had, you’re snapped out of it by a text.

Leon: Come here, I have a surprise for you

You don’t feel like leaving your bed, but you force yourself out of it anyway. It’s not Leon you’re mad at. Leon is probably the only person in the world you don’t hate right now. You knock on his door softly, holding your arms behind your back.

“Come in!” He shouts.

You open the door, shuffling into his room and closing it behind you. Your jaw drops when you see a tray in the middle of his bed piled high with your favorite snacks, drinks and two wine glasses. Leon pats the spot next to him and you’re happy to oblige, relaxing onto the mattress.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

He shrugs, pouring you a glass of wine. “It already seems like you had a bad day, I just wanted to do something to make it a little better for you.”

“Thank you.” He nods in acknowledgement, turning on his tv and handing you the remote. “You can choose the first movie. Just—maybe no zombies?”

You snort at that. Classic Leon, using his corny jokes to make light of even the worst of situations. You settle on an old favorite movie you love, handing the remote back to the blond and switching it for a wine glass.

Between your favorite movie, the delicious wine and your favorite snacks, your spirits are lifted in no time. One movie turns into two, and two turns into three. Soon enough, you’re dozing off in Leon’s bed.

He moves the tray of snacks and the glasses off of the bed to give you more room to sprawl out. Laying down next to you, he watches you sleep. A part of him wishes he could see this every night—the same sight he fantasizes about on even the hardest of missions.

He flicks off the lamp on his side table and settles in. “Good night, cutie,” he mumbles, knowing you’re far too deep in sleep to hear him.

—

You wake up in the middle of the night, moonlight streaming through the window and illuminating Leon’s bedroom. You’re still numb from sleep, your senses dulled just enough that it takes you a minute to realize that something is grabbing you. No, not grabbing—holding. 

You blink a few times. Leon is laying next to you, his chest pressed to your back, his arms around your waist. You can feel the slow beating of his heart and the heat coming off of his skin. He’s so close it overwhelms you, yet it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

You think about slipping away but you know what a light sleeper he is, and you don’t think you could handle it if he woke up and saw how close you were. You close your eyes and try to calm the beating in your heart so you can fall back asleep.

When you wake up again, Leon is gone. Your body feels cold where his once was. You sit up—is he showering? He can’t be, the bathroom door is open. You sit up, letting the blankets fall off of you. You swing your legs over the side of his bed, walking out to the kitchen, but he’s not there either.

Did he leave to go get something? 

You check your phone, expecting to see a text saying he ran out to go get more milk or something, but there’s nothing. You sigh, typing up a message and sending it to him.

Y/N: where’d you go?

You practically jump when your phone lets out a noise, but your heart sinks when you see what it is.

Message Not Delivered. Try Again?

You sigh. That can only mean one thing: he’s on another mission. Typical Leon, disappearing in the middle of the night to go god knows where for god knows how long. The frustration bubbles up in your chest and you feel like hitting something, but you don’t. It’s not worth it.

You try to keep your mind off of his sudden disappearance by throwing yourself into chores. You wash his bedding and make his bed, then wash your own. You sweep and mop the floors and vacuum the carpets. You dust the blinds.

It doesn’t help.

Your mind keeps wandering back to the fact that he left without saying goodbye. That he woke up at some ungodly hour, saw you laying in his arms, got up and left without another word. He didn’t even leave a note. He really cares that little. 

You shake your head and even though the pit in your stomach makes you feel like not eating, you make yourself a sandwich regardless. Seeing the untouched groceries in the fridge just adds to the feeling.

Even though you know he’s not going to get it, you pull out your phone and start typing.

Y/N: do you at least know when you’ll be back?

Message Not Delivered. Try Again?

The message makes you roll your eyes. Leon fucking Kennedy.

—

A week goes by, and then two, and you still hear nothing from your roommate. You send texts here and there, hoping for an answer, but none of them go through. Eventually, you start venting to him through there, too. Expressing how frustrated you are that he didn’t say goodbye, how annoying your feelings are, how sometimes you wish you didn’t know him so you didn’t have to go through this.

It’s a random Sunday night when you’re sitting on the couch, watching trash reality tv and eating snacks. It’s cold in the apartment, but you can’t be bothered to turn on the heat. Only when your arms puff up with goosebumps do you scour the room for a sweater, settling on a random one hanging on the back of a chair.

It’s Leon’s, an old one from the Police Academy. His smell floods your nose when you pull it over your head, and it's so bittersweet you don’t know if you should laugh or cry. You settle back on the couch, but a rustling at the window makes you freeze in your tracks.

It stops for a moment, and you can almost convince yourself you’ve imagined it or it’s a part of the show—until it happens again. You scramble for the remote, pausing it so you can hear better. The noise starts again, and you waste no time in hightailing it to your bedroom and slamming the door behind you.

You flop onto your bed, trying (and failing) to remind yourself that it’s just the wind. That you’re safe here. But it’s hard when it’s late and you’re tired and you’re alone and the only person you feel safe with just abandoned you.

You curl up into a ball, pulling Leon’s sweater over your mouth and inhaling the familiar scent. It’s enough to calm you down, if only for a few moments. If you close your eyes, you can almost trick yourself into thinking he’s there, and for now, that’s good enough.

—

Leon knows he fucked up when he gets back to the country and turns on his phone. Almost fifty messages from you, each one more sad than the last. He wants to slap himself—why couldn’t he just grow a pair and say goodbye? Why did he have to be so noncommittal?

He reads every message on the cab ride back to the apartment, and his heart breaks for you. He didn’t think about how you would drive yourself crazy over him or how worried you must have been. All he thought about was getting the call for the mission in the middle of the night and not wanting to wake you up.

But he didn’t abandon you. He thought about you every day and god—he wishes he could have talked to you. Hearing your voice and seeing your face was enough to make everything better. With the horrors he’s seen lately, all he wants is to be back in that bed with you for one more night.

He’s quiet coming into the apartment, hoping he doesn’t wake you up or scare you. And even though he knows you’re sleeping, he’s still disappointed you’re not waiting at the door for him.

He tosses his backpack into his room and strips off all of his holsters and velcro.  He’s quiet walking down the hallway to your room and even quieter opening the door. He relaxes at the sight of you curled up in a ball. 

You look so cute and so peaceful and—is that his sweater? The sight brings a smile to his face. He closes the door behind him with a soft click, climbing into the bed next to you.

You wake up when the bed dips down and arms wrap around you. You’re so tired you don’t even care who or what it is.

“If you’re gonna kill me, can you at least let me sleep first?” You mumble.

You fully awake as soon as you hear Leon’s laugh.

“You’re back?” You say, and you hate the way your voice cracks. 

You turn around to face him, tired ocean eyes meeting yours. He nods sleepily, “‘m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. It was stupid of me.”

“It’s okay,” and it really is okay. All the resentment you felt melted away at the sight of him. 

“C’mere,” he mumbles. 

You lay your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around him. You can hear his heart rate slow down at the contact. 

“I just—I just need you tonight.” Those are big words coming from the agent, and they leave you completely stunned. He must have seen or done something horrible while he was away for him to be this vulnerable, even with you.

“You can have me tonight.” You try to keep your voice even, “you can have me whenever you need me,”

He kisses the top of your head. “But I always need you.”

“Then I’m always yours.”

Neither of you speak after that, Leon falling into a light sleep. You stay up a while longer, watching the blond boy rest beneath you. He looks so fragile like this, you can’t imagine him fighting off monsters and handling weapons. You kiss his collarbone through his shirt and let yourself fall asleep with him.