#oh and the flower is a snapdragon do with that information what you will

[aru-art]

wouldn't you like a taste of the power?

[eljeebee]

Was Death an Old Friend?

A week later, Lady Lenora patiently (and excitedly, in her own way, given with her demeanor) for the next newsletter of Ambrosia Society. She took care of her plants, just as the guide the newsletter had told her. Now, her lily and snapdragon were ready to be clipped.

Lenora nodded at the letter, excited to see what this would be the contents for this week. She went to the living room and gave Percival a greeting.

“Hello, little Percy,” Lenora nodded at him.

“Hey,” he greeted back without looking away from his book.

The newsletter read,

For this week, we give you another volume of these books. You must have grown the preliminary plants now, so now we will guide you which plants to grow next! We also added a guide for the next goal. For this week, you must learn how to fish. You must learn how to catch one, especially an angelfish! Continue practicing cooking and experimenting dishes – you’ll need it! Brush those skills up! Thank you for subscribing to the Ambrosia Society Newsletter.

She opened the cookbook that was included in the package. It wasn’t much, since she knew how to cook already, so Lenora only scanned the pages.

“Do you have plans for today?” she asked.

Percy put down his book, “No…why?”

“Do you want to go fishing?”

He blinked. “Don’t you want to do it with your sister?”

“Her whining aggravates me sometimes,” Lenora sighed. And you won’t ask why I’m doing such things…

Percy let out a laugh. “Good point. Alright, I’m in. I’ll go find us some rods.”

Lenora nodded. “I’ll wait for you at the lobby. I just need to take some cuttings…Will you inform Valentina?”

“Sure.”

Lenora quickly went back to her room to take some cuttings of her lily and snapdragon. Meanwhile, Valentina had returned inside, who finished harvesting their plasma fruits.

“Hey, Val. Nora and I will go out for a bit,” Percy said. “We’re going fishing.”

“Alright…” Valentina said, “I’ll go tell Lana.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, tilting his head a bit.

“I’m just surprised she finds joy with doing these things,” Valentina said, crossing her arms. “It’s…uncharacteristic.”

“But didn’t you say it’s best to keep her this way, instead of letting her remember her old self?” Percy raised a brow.

Valentina sighed, “Yes. I’m just surprised. Go ahead, I’ll keep her sister busy.”

“Aye, aye.”

“What’s this for?” Percy asked as he caught his first fish of that afternoon. “Trying out a new recipe?”

Lenora replied, throwing her line, “Yes.”

“And will I get to try this new recipe first?”

“Yes.”

And with that, Percy focused.

Later, when they caught at least two angelfishes, Lenora placed down her rod. The sky was darkening, the afternoon sky painted with blue.

“Great job, Percy,” Lenora gave him a small smile. “I think that’s enough. Let’s go home.”

“What is that for?” Lady Lana asked. “Why are we building garbage in my penthouse?”

“This garbage, Lady,” Percy said, flattening the soil on the grow bed, “Was asked by Nora.”

“She’s planting trees,” Valentina said. “You know your sister; she loves plants. Her bedchamber was wrapped with her flowering plants.”

“Oh, goodness,” Lana shook her head, “Don’t tell me she buried her room with flowers again.”

“Don’t worry,” Percy stood, clapping the dirt out of his hands. “That’s why I’m here – I’m keeping her mind off of it.”

The guide said to practice cooking, and even though Lenora knew by heart hundreds of recipes that she doesn’t have to follow that, she still cooked something. So, they won’t ask me why I went fishing, Lenora convinced herself.

Percival waited patiently. Lenora knew he never really digest the food she cooks; after all, almost all vampires have withered stomachs. Some would only eat it just for the taste, for pretenses. She remembered, giving her peers a piece of her cooking –

She remembered giving her peers a piece of her cooking.

Lenora paused for a moment, the fish slid off her turner and into a big dish plate. What an odd memory.

“Well, how does it taste?” Lenora asked as she gave him a serving into a separate plate. She placed it down in front of him.

“Like the soft skin of a mortal, melting when I sink my teeth in,” Percival hummed.

Later that night, Lenora felt compelled to summon Death once again. She recited the poem, and the room was swallowed by shadows, before clearing up.

“Vampire,” Death said, his voice in her ears and around the room. “Have you found out what the ambrosia is?”

“Nothing at the moment, Death.”

“Then this is useless. Why summon me now? I told you I will return once you’ve learned enough.” His voice rumbled, wrapping around the room, as if he is the bedroom. Lenora hoped her family didn’t hear it.

“I thought you remember it. I thought…” she blinked, looking down. “I thought you remembered anything. Not just the ambrosia.”

Death sighed. His booming rumbling voice lessened into a softer tone. It felt like a whisper. He thought for a moment.

“I do not remember much, but there is one memory of you that had returned to me. I remember you mourning over your husband.”

Lenora slowly returned her attention to him. “My…husband?”

Death said nothing. Huffing, he said, “I’ve said too much. I shall take my leave.”

He brought out his scythe and was about to cast himself into the shadows when he paused. “If you…remember anything, do not hesitate to call me, Lenora.”

He disappeared.

Lenora racked her brain for anything. She thought hard. Who is this husband? Was she married just like her older sister? Why? Why is the husband dead? Was he a mortal? Why mourn? Why?

“Thank you for making this for me, little one,” Lenora said, burying the apple beneath the soil.

“No problem,” Percy replied. “Are these your own cherry and apple supply?”

Lenora chuckled softly. “Perhaps.”

“Good for ya,” Percy stood up. “That means this’ll lessen my grocery errands.”

“Good for you,” Lenora smiled as he helped her up.

[sea-owl]

Part two to the Iris Council. Find the original part one here, and the edited one here.

AO3: Link

Just as Penelope and Sophie said King Anthony had not gone to Kate's room that first night, or any night after since she's came to the Garden Palace. He actually left right after their dinner with Penelope and Sophie that first night to go back to Aubrey Hall. There was a kiss though.

As the king was leaving Kate was shown one of her duties that others will expect of her as part of the high-ranking concubines. It was simple, seeing the king off, and of course mid and lower ranked concubines could also join them, but of course the high ranked ones were the ones expected to actually see him off.

"It's technically practice since we have the highest chances of becoming queen," Penelope explained. "Gotta make sure we're prepared if we send him off to war!"

"And he dies under mysterious circumstances," Sophie joined in. "Leaving us all alone!"

Anthony rolled his eyes at their dramatics. Kate joined in on their laughter.

Finally, they reach the steps that lead towards the entrance where the concubines were not allowed to travel beyond without special permission. One by one the king kissed his concubines as was expected. They were quick kisses, nothing more than a peck of the lips really. Penelope and Sophie were quick to hide the lower half of their faces with their fans after. Kate could see both of them either pursing their lips or holding back a shiver.

Then it was Kate's turn. Just like with the other two, it was nothing more than a quick peck. Kate wasn't sure the shiver that went up her back wasn't for the same reason the other two had though. Kate wasn't sure she was having that same weird feeling the other two had as well. Why were her lips tingling? Is her face heating up? Kate quickly, and a little clumsily, hid her face just as the other two did.

After that it was down to business. Under Penelope and Sophie's advice Kate began to set up her new home in the Lily Pavilion. Currently the three of them were in the Snapdragon Pavilion where Penelope made her home.

Kate was finding out there was a lot of secret compartments in the Snapdragon Pavilion, some she thinks she will never remember how Penelope opened them. Upon Kate's request Penelope was gathering documents that contained information about the staff, guards, and most importantly the concubines of the Garden Palace.

"First things first we'll need to find you a head lady in waiting," Sophie said. "Someone you can trust to keep your secrets."

Kate's mind flashed to Felicity and Posy, the head ladies in waiting to Penelope and Sophie. The head ladies in waiting who were a little too young in Kate's mind to be in such a position.

Penelope plopped down a bunch of documents in her hands. "Your sister might be an option," Penelope suggested. "It's what Sophie and I did."

Kate snapped her head up. Now that she thought about it she could see a resemblance between the two red heads, not so much between the two blondes though.

Sophie glanced up at Kate from one of her financial reports. An understanding was on her face. "Posy and I are stepsisters."

"Oh." Kate nodded. "But I could hire Edwina?"

"If you trust her enough," Sophie replied. "While our head ladies in waiting don't know everything, they do know enough to know there is something else going on, but they also trust us enough that we can continue the ruse."

"So it's best if I pick wisely," Kate said as she skimmed over some of the documents on the other concubines. They must've been Penelope's personal notes, each one was written in her hand.

There were several different flower markings on the documents. A common one she noticed, especially among the lower ranked concubines was a rose. But there was a mixture of roses, hyacinths, daffodils, and poppies. The least common ones were an iris, and a lily. Kate could guess what the iris flower was supposed to represent, but the lily was an interesting one. She could only find it on two other concubines' information besides her own.

"What do these represent?" Kate asked as she pointed at the flowers.

Penelope looked at the documents. "Oh that's how I keep each girl organized. As you know not all of us are here as concubines, but we can't let other know that. Roses are for the actual concubines like those two." Penelope pointed out the window where two brunettes sat.

Kate dug through the papers to find their information. Sienna and Maria Rosso, cousins who came here at around the same time. According to their paperwork they both are singers. Kate noticed that Maria had a daffodil next to her rose, while Sienna had a poppy.

"Daffodils are to mark girls who have expressed desire to leave when the time comes, while those marked with a poppy have no such desire or they haven't expressed it," Penelope explained. "Hyacinths are for girls who are here out of protection more than anything else, they're the ones Anthony wouldn't touch. The iris marked girls are a little more obvious."

It was simple but effective, and should anyone accidentally come across these it would give nothing away.

"Huh, this is all so elaborate, " Kate said as she looked back at the documents. "How did this even start?"

Penelope sat down. "Well, at the time I was about two months away from turning fifteen."

-

"No Eloise."

"But Anthony Lady Hazelwood has brilliant ideas that could-"

"Eloise, I said no."

Penelope stayed silent as she watched the two siblings argue. She really wished Eloise would stop dragging her to these impromptu meetings with the king. This is the third time Eloise has tried to convince him to have a private meeting with Lady Hazelwood and much like the other two times it was not successful.

The open-door policy the king has for his siblings may not be lasting that much longer Penelope thought to herself.

Eloise huffed. "Why won't you even consider it?"

The king sat down his pen. "Eloise may I remind you that Lady Hazelwood is married to Lord Hazelwood? The same lord who is infamous among the court for his schemes of influence?"

"That is her husband," Eloise argued.

"Who she would have loyalty to." There was a finality to the king's voice. "My answer remains the same."

Eloise let out another huff and stormed out of the room. Penelope felt herself slightly pout. She cannot come and go as freely as Eloise does with her position as princess. Penelope was only a baron's daughter, proper etiquette demanded she stay put until she was excused by one of the royals. She picked at her skirt.

"Um, your majesty?"

The king looked back over to the seated area where Penelope still found herself. He looked tired. Penelope has known Anthony since he was prince and she was in leading strings due to their mothers' friendship. She remembers when the messengers informing every lord that they were required to travel to the ancestral home of the royal family, Aubrey Hall, for the coronation of the new king. She remembers thinking it was a mad house as each lord fought to be the leading influence over the new king who had yet to go to university and looked too young to be wearing the crown on his head.

Penelope could see Anthony about to wave her off, but he paused. "Penelope be honest with me, as a family friend, do you think this Lady Hazelwood to be genuine? Or is she like the others and trying to use one of my siblings?"

Penelope bit her lip, her brown eyes drifting towards her lap. Thinking back, if she was to be honest, Penelope shook her head. "In court Lady Hazelwood is always by her husband's side, or she is close enough to have him in her eyesight while he mouths the words she says."

Anthony nodded. "Thank you, Penelope, you may go."

Penelope bowed and took her leave.

Over the next few days, Penelope found herself following her mother around the court as usual, but something had shifted.

She couldn't quite pin point what it was. The rumors were the same as usual. No new schemes among the lords, no newcomers, and no one has announced an engagement recently either. Maybe something happened at one of the parties? While Penelope was old enough to start attending the day court, and technically she was old enough to marry with her mother's permission as soon as she was fifteen, she was still too young to attend the night parties. That had to be it honestly.

Satisfied with the thought Penelope settled herself in a corner as she watched yet another lord try to butter up their king. Marquess Stratton, according to the rumors he's been trying to weasel his way into the royal family's inner court even back with King Edmund had been alive. Unfortunately for him King Edmund held strong in his belief of those he was raised with were the only ones allowed into his inner court. This limited it to his siblings and the Rokesby family who has been close with the royal family for at least four generations now. King Anthony has refused to build an inner court at all, which was quite odd. Most believed he would follow in his father's footsteps and have an inner court made up of his siblings.

"Marquess Stratton is making a fool of himself," Portia, Penelope's mother, said with a shake of her head.

Other lords and ladies murmured in agreement.

"The king is just like his father. Just you wait his inner court will be nothing but his siblings."

"The Duke of Hastings might also be a member, they are best friends after all."

"He's just waiting for more of them to debut. Watch as soon as Princess Eloise is old enough to attend the night parties the inner court will be formed."

Penelope tuned out the whispers, it is nothing that has not been said before. Instead she refocused on the marquess. His back stood straight, but his arms were overly animated as he spoke. There was a shine on his palms like they were wet. Penelope could also see a slight limp in his walk despite how hard he tries to stay in one place. How odd, according to all the reports the battles at the border have all been successful, and there have been no rumors about injuries to the officers.

Penelope glanced up at the king, and flinched when she met his eyes. She was not expecting that, nor was she expecting for the king to have her stay back while the rest of the court dispersed. Not that her mother noticed she wasn't following.

Penelope bowed to the king who still sat on his throne. "Your majesty."

"Penelope be honest with me, as a family friend, what do you think of Marquess Stratton?" Anthony asked.

Penelope hummed as she thought back on the older gentleman. He certainly wasn't as calm as he pretended to be. Which was odd, Marquess Stratton should be ridding the highs of won battles right now. But instead he's hiding a limp.

"I think his reports of the battles are not as truthful as they should be," Penelope said.

Anthony raised an eyebrow. "Really? What makes you think that?"

"According to the rumors he's been successful in battle, but he walk with a limp he did not have before this current battle. Oh! He is also skittish when talking to anyone too!"

Anthony nodded. "Thank you Penelope. You may go."

Penelope bowed and made her leave. That was strange.

Two weeks later Penelope receives an invitation to tea in the royal family wing. It wasn't unusual for her to receive such an invitation. After all Eloise was her best friend, and hopefully Penelope can be her lady in waiting when they are older. What was unsual though was that only the king was waiting for her in the tea room. She didn't see her friends, the princess Eloise and Francesca, nor the prince Colin, none of the royal siblings are here. Not even their mother the Dowager Queen was present, who would never miss a tea time.

Penelope started to shrink in on herself. She was alone with the king. "Your majesty." She bowed, stiff.

"Penelope, I invited you here as a family friend, no need to be so formal," Anthony reassured her.

Penelope's shoulder loosened. She took her seat, busying her hands by making a cup of tea. "Pardon me Anthony, but where is the rest of your family?"

"I have sent them and my extended family on a trip for a few months this morning. I didn't want to risk them interrupting."

Penelope paused in her tea prepping. Interrupting?

Anthony sat down a folder. It was full of reports that have been edited, some even completely different.

"You were right, Marquess Stratton hasn't been truthful in his reports, as had other lords." Anthony scowled at the folder. Turning his eyes back on her they softened in a way she has seen when he looks at his younger siblings. "I can not trust them with the responsibilities I need to entrust to others."

Penelope furrowed her brow. "If you can not trust the lords Anthony, then why not air your concerns with your family?"

"They are too easily reached. Benedict, Colin, and Daphne are all attending the balls now. Eloise will soon start attending the day court, with Francesca following next year. You've seen it Penelope, some of these lords are like snakes who will say or do anything to get in their good graces."

Penelope sighed. She knew that was true. All too often she will see a lord or lady try to flatter Eloise to either gain her favor or find a way to get to Anthony through her. And with Eloise so vocal about her passions how often did she give others the exact words they needed to stroke her ego?

Anthony continued, "You observational skills have proven to be good use Penelope. You have not lied to me, and you genuinely love my family as if they were your own. I want to see you flourish those skills, starting at the balls."

"But your majesty-" She was cut off with a look.

"Anthony Penelope. We are speaking as family friends, not king and subject," Anthony reminded her.

Penelope took a breath. "But Anthony I am not yet of age to go. The only way for me to attend if I was married."

"Or a concubine."

Penelope whipped her head around towards Anthony. "A concubine? Me?" Penelope felt her face flushed. There were so many reasons she couldn't be a concubine, one that she'll never say aloud was her love for the third prince.

"That would be your public title, and how you would be perceived in the kingdom" Anthony said. "What I really want from you though is to be part of my inner court, my spy mistress."

Penelope's mind clicked. "Being a concubine would also keep untrustworthy lords away as well since I would be living at the Garden Palace when I wasn't with you. But um . . ." Penelope felt her face flush again. There was one major aspect that comes with the whole concubine territory that would be hard to ignore.

Anthony chuckled. "Penelope I swear on my father's grave that I will never force you or anyone."

Oh he was serious about this. Swearing on the previous king's grave was the strongest oath any member of the royal family would ever make. They would rather die than go back on their word sworn on the late king.

Penelope found herself nodding, ideas flying through her head. "We'll have to find a way to cover my face. If they can't confirm my identity they'll never know 100% if they are truly talking to the concubine. Also if we bring back the royal harem then we can bring others into the inner court, though perhaps we should call it something else?"

"Any suggestions?" Antony asked.

Penelope looked around the room until her eyes landed on a painting of an Iris flower. Benedict must have been working on it. Penelope turned back to Anthony. "The Iris Council?"

"It has a nice ring to it," Anthony said. "Alright Penelope first things first, we need to learn who we can truly trust to bring in. Learn the lords secrets and see if we can potentially bring anyone else in."

After that Penelope kept meeting Anthony for tea until two days after her fifteen birthday Penelope put on her mask for the first time and was presented to the kingdom as King Anthony's first concubine.

-

"It didn't take too long after that for word to spread through to the kingdom and eventually reach the ears of the Dowager Queen," Penelope said. "She stormed home with the rest of the royal family, demanding an explanation from Anthony. None of them would even look at me and I was standing next to him."

Kate's eyes widened. "Truly? None of them?"

Penelope shook her head. "Not a single one. It hurt at the time, but honestly it made things easier in the long run. I got to focus on building my life's work."

"Them refusing to learn our names or even hearing them also helps," Sophie added. "Confuses the lords in our favor."

"Their parent's love story was sacred to them," Penelope said. "Anthony taking a concubine and restarting the harem probably felt like one of the biggest betrayals to them."

Kate could see it. Mary was always talking about how precious love was, and lucky she was to experince it with her husband. The harem is just to extend the bloodline, it must feel so cold and impersonal in their eyes, even if no children have been born from it yet. But still that treatment isn't fair to the concubines. "Do you think that will ever change?"

Penelope picks up one of the files. "Maybe if Anthony takes a queen. But we're not quite there yet."

The light reflected through the paper, Kate could see the outline of a lily.

[patchwork-crow-writes]

(Resend because i got the order wrong aldjfakfj)

Hey there! So you know the official art of Ralsei titled "Floralsei" where he's surrounded by flowers? I've been interested in the possible symbolisms behind these flowers and wanted to share a bit of my analysis with you haha. (I know there's a chance that merch isn't canon, but we also get "Weird Route" foreshadowing through the Line Stickers, so who knows? ¯_(ツ)_/¯)

In the picture, I think we can identify several flowers such as 1. "Red Roses", 2. "Lily of the Valley", 3. "African Violet" , 4. "Hibiscus",5. "Snapdragons" and 6. "Forget-Me-Nots". (link to pic: https://imgur.com/a/NXAs1jv) I'll try to list the symbolism of each one here…

"Red Roses": These flowers are placed prominently in the center, forming Ralsei's scarf and adorning his hat. While they appear as dark pink in the artwork, I interpret them as representing red, especially considering Ralsei's default scarf is called the Red Scarf. Red roses are traditionally associated with romantic love, which aligns with Ralsei's one-sided affection towards Kris.

"Lily of the Valley": This flower symbolizes purity, happiness, and sweetness. It carries diverse symbolism and is often used in various settings, such as weddings and religious ceremonies, to convey messages of hope, purity, and the joy of new beginnings.

"African Violet": (I'm not entirely certain about this, but the shape seems to resemble the flower in the pic…) This flower signifies loyalty, devotion, and faithfulness. In addition to representing faithfulness and fidelity, African Violets can also convey admiration and respect, especially when given as a token of high esteem.

"Hibiscus": Often associated with beauty, femininity, and delicate charm, the hibiscus is known for its stunning appearance and vibrant colors. It symbolizes delicate beauty, youthfulness, and a sense of joy.

"Snapdragons": These flowers embody both deception and gracefulness. According to legends, their unique appearance with "dragon mouth" shapes can represent deception, while others view them as symbols of grace and openness. (Deception seems particularly fitting considering Ralsei's mysterious nature and the secrets he keeps from Kris and the others.)

"Forget-Me-Nots": These flowers serve as a clear reminder of the phrase "Don't Forget." (It reminds me of Ralsei's Line Sticker where he's depicted singing "Don't Forget.")

Let me know if I made any mistakes, and I would greatly appreciate any feedback you have!

Oh, I didn't actually know about this! Some Ralsei fan I am, lol :P It's very pretty though, I've just seen that it's a print on a T-shirt, which I'm now sorely tempted to purchase because of how good it looks! Thanks for bringing this to my attention, it's appreciated :)

Moving on to your analysis of the different types of flowers... there's not too much I can really add here I feel - flowers and their meanings are sadly not my forte. However, a lot of the meanings you transcribed here do definitely relate to Ralsei and his character. Of particular note is the Snapdragon and its allusion to "deception" - as you rightly state, our favourite fluffy boy is definitely withholding crucial information from everyone, both about the plot at large and his own character.

You know what else caught my eye, actually? I'm just checked because I wasn't sure if I was misremembering, but Lily of the Valley is actually poisonous, and can cause skin irritation if touched directly, and its berries can cause serious harm or even death if ingested. It's a stretch, but applying this to Floralsei (what a name, by the way!) you could perhaps posit that whatever secret he's keeping, it's so dangerous it might cause irreparable damage if it were to ever come out. Or perhaps it's a warning - he may be pretty, but get too close and you'll get hurt.

With that said, however, I don't actually think Ralsei is secretly malicious or anything like that. My current theory is that he's not telling us stuff for two reasons - one is that he's directly serving the narrative by revealing pieces of vital information at critical moments in the story, as evidenced by the dramatic reveal of the Roaring and the Titans JUST before Berdly creates a new dark fountain in the cyber world; and the other is that he is trying to protect his friends from information that they might find distressing, and/or won't be relevant to them unless the worst case scenario happens (which it's obviously gonna... but I digress).

I'm sorry I couldn't really add any more to this discussion, because it is quite fascinating! I'd be quite interested to see what others think, if any further insight can be provided on this topic!

[rainmustfallts4]

Rain Must Fall (Reaper’s Rewards Special) ◇ #008

⊶⊰Information & Index⊱⊷⊶⊰Ep. 1⊱⊷⊶⊰Chronological Tag⊱⊷

Reaper’s Rewards Special: ⊶⊰Latest⊱⊷ ⊶⊰From the Beginning⊱⊷ ⊶⊰All Reaper’s Rewards Posts⊱⊷

─────────────⊶⊰◇⊱⊷─────────────

The letter has finally arrived. I really need to get to work on making the death flower. I have what I need for the orchid, but my snapdragons “died” when I watered them and now I have to wait for them to grow before I can graft them lol

We might actually be able to max this just from cleaning the cat box lmao Poor Oscar is back there like, “Finally! I’ve been waiting for weeks for you to clean this because you’re too busy with the Grim Reaper! Useless human.”

Our cowplant finally grew! Look at the baby ❤

Hehe I think Oscar is happy about it, too~

There’s a fishing spot right by our house, so I thought this would be a simple task.

But then it changed to catching an Angelfish. I stayed for a while but didn’t catch it. Upon hovering over the quest, it said to catch one from Willow Creek so I headed over to the gym.

I caught one finally, but I was multi-tasking and didn’t get back to it in time to get a screenshot.

I tried to catch another one for a screenshot but it just wasn’t happening and she was getting angry.

I caught the ferry, though! Man, I wish we could ride it 😦

Wait a minute… what is that? Is that a new kind of bug?

No, I think it’s just the splashing of fish in the water lol still looks cool, though.

So, she was miserable and decided she didn’t like fishing. I don’t know if this is a fact, but it seems like sims are more likely to dislike something if they are in a bad mood while doing it. I immediately clicked yes to disliking fishing because that’s what I like to do in my playthroughs, letting my sims choose their own likes and dislikes.

However, I’m probably gonna go in and remove this because, in this super sim challenge, it’s going to be super annoying if she dislikes something.

Next, we have to go to Casters Alley. I’m not sure what this has to do with Ambrosia?

Look at this prettiness, though~

Okay so, if I remember correctly, Casters Alley is the area where you buy brooms and stuff right? But it completed as soon as I stepped through the portal lol Oh well.

Oooo what are these? 😮

Okay so they didn’t give me my damn items, the jerks. I could buy the bike from buy mode, though and it looks cool as fuck.

I usually don’t use bikes but come on, this is epic.

Our final task is to make a gourmet dish and, of course, I had to choose garlic noodles, yum!

Girl, that is WAY too much seasoning, how dare you ruin the garlic noodles! Well, at least you leveled up…

See you next week c:

[thefandomcassandra]

hallowed be thy unknown Ch6: Tokusatsu Haunting 2: Red Columbine and Snapdragon

"Wh-what's that?"

Maya glanced down at the paper bag she was holding then back up at Will Powers. "Breakfast?" To be more specific: a couple fruits and some bottled water and napkins, but that wasn't the point.

"Well, yes, but why?" Apparently her client didn't understand the point of getting food in your stomach before something stressful. Or rituals.

(To be fair, Maya was pretty sure most people who weren't some kind of spiritual practitioner didn't really understand the importance of rituals, small or otherwise. They couldn't call on the dead to take over their body so they didn't know how important it was to leave offerings and burn incense, to plant flowers and pray, to visit like clockwork and clean off gravestones, to tend to the resting places and keep tradition. Sure, tradition could be stifling and restricting but there was comfort there, in the route and routine.)

(If she ate fruit every morning before a trial and she won every trial, then it wouldn't do to break tradition—even if 'every trial' was one trial, singular. She'd even go so far as to share her good luck charm with her client. Spread the act and luck as far as it would reach.)

Out loud, Maya only offered a blithe, "You don't want to be in court with low blood sugar. Do you want an apple or an orange?" She pulled a water bottle from the paper bag and offered it to him.

Will Powers hesitated before taking the water in one of his large hands. "Orange?"

Maya handed that over too, wrapped in a wad of napkins. "It's a mikan. Should be easy to peel and you can throw the rind away in this bag." She bit down on the apple and quickly devoured it, watching Will Powers as she did so.

He worked his fingernails under the rind and clumsily peeled it apart, the bright flesh of the citrus fruit glistening under the fluorescent lights of the defendant's lobby. He ate carefully, trying his best to not get pulp or any other fruit residue in his facial hair.

"They probably didn't give him a razor or anything, did they?" Maya had gotten used to Nick speaking out of nowhere so she didn't jump, even if he did startle her a little bit. "But I'll say this: he's holding together better than I thought he would be."

Will Powers passed Maya the remains and wiped his sticky fingers on his sweatpants. She smiled at him and threw the paper bag away, dusting her own hands together. "Alright, so let's talk game plan, shall we?"

Even after having eaten, Will Powers still looked like he might pass out. His face paled, wan and sweaty, and he blinked rapidly. "O-oh?"

"Nothing too rough, Powers-san," Maya played down what she was saying with a dismissive hand-wave to boot. "Just a few heads-ups and some extra information so you're not blindsided. And one request."

"A request?" At least he wasn't panicking outright. Small miracles.

She hoped her smile looked reassuring. "Just that you remember: I am on your side. I trust in you and am working to prove that you are innocent, so I need you to relax and believe in me, okay?"

Something in his posture changed, loosened a bit, unwound. He looked down at her with awe. Was she that impressive? It's not like she was doing anything that interesting!

"What you forget, Maya, is that Will Powers is more than a little timid and you are seventeen and very resolute. You look like a young genius." Nick's amusement tickled the back of her neck as he lounged midair. "To him, you're a lighthouse in the fog." Cool...no pressure or anything.

"So here's what you need to know about today's proceedings, assuming things go like I hope they do." Maya changed topics so she didn't get lost in the mires of self-doubt that were starting to suck her in. "The prosecutor today is one I've already faced once. His name is Edgeworth, he is very stern and no fun, and I've already won so he's not unbeatable."

Just saying that seemed to lift a huge weight from Will Powers' shoulders. The power of words, it seemed.

"The first person on stand will likely be the detective in charge of the investigation, who will testify on the crime scene, the police's understanding of the murder, and whatever additional evidence they might have found. After that, they're bringing Oldbag on and she will give her eyewitness testimony."

The mention of Oldbag seemed to spark something in Will Powers. He winced and began to wilt again. She couldn't have that at all.

"No matter how bad things might sound at first, I'm a professional and you didn't do it so I won't give up until they force me to stop, okay?" What else could she say?

"Great pep-talk, Maya." That little snide comment won Nick an irritated look and a handwave through the head. He just stuck out his tongue and floated a little more out of reach.

"Any questions? We have a couple minutes before the bailiffs call for us to enter."

"Um..." Will Powers took a long, labored moment to think, humming as he did so. When he spoke again, Maya had to strain her ears to make out what he was saying. "Will there be people there? In court, I mean."

Right. He didn't want to show his face, for the kids. She winced. "It's a public trial."

"The gallery will probably be packed," Nick pointed out.

"They're here for the spectacle so don't pay them any mind. You've got all sorts in your corner!" As much as she might be hyping herself up a little bit, she did want Will Powers to feel comfortable—or as comfortable as one could, considering the circumstances—going to court. If that meant being frank and a little too direct, so be it. "Myself and Penny, first off. And some of the people in the gallery too. The judge won't let them get rowdy and, if they do, there's security measures."

"Also cameras are prohibited." Good to know.

Maya echoed what Nick had just told her. "And neither flash photography nor filming is allowed."

"That's good." Will Powers sat down on the leather couch and hunched over on himself. He looked tired. She didn't blame him. "I just..."

Maya wanted to tell him no one would think less of him but she didn't want to lie outright. Instead, she chose to pivot. "If Oldbag's testimony is about what I think it's about, I have a counter. We don't have all the pieces yet but if I can't prove your innocence today, I'll at least buy us another day to dig deeper."

"You're being very honest with me." He looked up at her from where he was sitting, his eyes wet with unshed tears. "I - I appreciate that."

"I was in your place a month ago." Maya said as way of explanation. "And I found that being aware of what is going to happen defangs the experience a fair amount, don't you?"

Before he could answer, a bailiff opened the courtroom doors and looked for Maya and Will Powers, eyes lingering on the large man quivering in the smaller girl's shadow. "Defense and counsel please enter."

Maya gave Will Powers a soft, reassuring smile. "Alright. Think of it like a dress rehearsal. Maybe that'll help!" Then she forced a grin. "The Steel Samurai, protector of Neo Olde Tokyo and his defendant in court, the Lavender Lawyer."

That got a laugh out of him. "Don't say that too loud or someone might actually take that idea and pay you nothing for it." Good. He was less stressed out.

"Is there an audience for legal drama in a children's show?" Nick wondered. Maya couldn't answer him out loud but yes, yes there was. People liked all sorts of things, even courtroom drama. Even on a children's show.

This time, the defendant's seat was filled by the hunched, orange-colored form of Will Powers while Maya and Nick—unseen by anyone but her—took their place at the defense's bench. Across the courtroom, Prosecutor Edgeworth looked as unimpressed as ever in his red-purple suit and fancy frilly neckwear, though Maya noticed his gaze lingering on Will Powers for a second too long. Dork.

The gallery was the loudest that Maya had ever heard. She could catch all sorts of inflammatory remarks about Will Powers' looks, among other things, but she could also hear people wondering what actually happened and a few others openly expressing discontent with him being arrested. Good, just like she expected.

"Public trials with famous people were always difficult to get seats in." Nick's gaze wandered across the gallery as they waited for the judge to call silence and start the proceedings. "But this one is somehow less rowdy than I expected given the demographic."

"Did you think it'd be a gallery full of kids? At this hour on a school day?" Maya muttered under her breath.

"A little bit." Shameless, really. To be fair, they did break into Global Studios on days like that so...fair enough.

The gavel finally came down, a hush falling across the gallery. "Court is now in session for the trial of Will Powers."

She'd practiced this dozens of times before. "The defense is ready, Your Honor."

Across the courtroom, steel-gray eyes locked onto her, expression flat. "The prosecution is ready, Your Honor."

"This is young Miss Fey's first trial as an accredited lawyer, is it not?" Maya gave the judge a bright nod. "Welcome back. It's good to see you free of your shackles and in good spirits."

"It's good to be free of my shackles and back in the courtroom." Spirits—ha—notwithstanding.

"Now," back to business with little fanfare, "your opening statement, Prosecutor Edgeworth?"

Practiced and smooth, Prosecutor Edgeworth produced a paper from his legal binder and began to read. "On October fifteenth, around two thirty pm, beloved action star and children's show villain Jack Hammer was killed by his coworker, the defendant Will Powers. As all other staff members at Global Studios at the time have alibis and there is conclusive evidence proving Powers was the only person capable of murdering Hammer, he was arrested on the spot. The prosecution believes that Powers is guilty of murder in the first degree and will provide proof to support these claims."

The crowd in the gallery roared to life, waves of surprise and horror mixing with vitriol.

Maya made quiet eye-contact with Will Powers. Color was draining from his face, leaving his forehead and the bridge of his nose waxen and drawn. He was panicked, nauseated even, his wide gaze pleading for any hope she could give him. She grinned at him—beamed, even, bright and wide and full of false bravado—and subtly mimicked the Steel Samurai's victory pose.

If it did anything for his mood, she didn't have time to notice because her attention was snapped back to the judge's podium as he slammed his gavel. "Order! Order in the court!" The gallery did as they were told and it was back to business like before. "Prosecution?" Prosecutor Edgeworth inclined his head slightly, chin tilting so the courtroom lights cast harsh shadows across his face. "Your first witness, if you please."

"Thank you, Your Honor." Prosecutor Edgeworth nodded to the judge. "The prosecution would like to call Detective Dick Gumshoe to the stand."

As Gumshoe took the stand, Maya went over what evidence she had access to. Aside from the folded up security photo and the autopsy report, there wasn't much to go off of without the investigation team or the prosecution bringing forward more. The steaks barely counted, the unmade bed was inadmissible as anything save conjecture, and the open grate was more of a liability than evidence towards anything but she wouldn't discount them. Nick looked at her, head tilted quizzically.

"Worried?"

"No," she muttered, low enough that nobody would be able to tell. "Just need to keep my hands full."

"Worried." He determined, smug about it. "You got this, Maya."

She did got this.

"Name and occupation." It was a formality for the stenographer and the gallery, Maya knew, but it was comical to hear Prosecutor Edgeworth constantly asking for Gumshoe's name and occupation as if he wasn't his boss to some degree.

"Detective Dick Gumshoe, homicide division, head on this case." Gumshoe, like last time, was all professional and all smiles. Chest thrust outward, coat floating loose around him, jaw set, head tilted in pride. He truly loved his job, even this part.

"Please summarize the case for the court, if you would."

"Of course." Gumshoe nodded and produced a diagram of Global Studios' campus. "So if you look here at the map, you can see the two studio lots are separated from the employee area by a large stretch of walkway. That mornin' both the defendant and the victim did an action run-through in the employee area before breakin' for lunch." He gestured at the main gate area on the diagram. "At one pm we have record of the main gate bein' staffed and the secondary gate has automatic cameras that take shots of anyone passin' by. There was active security at the time so it couldn't have been some kind of outsider."

This was all basic information but, like Maya assumed, they were setting the scene. The only issue she had with his testimony as it stood was the assertion that nobody could have gotten in. There was, after all, a second photo taken at the secondary gate. The one featuring the Steel Samurai was photo two of two.

That mysterious photo one of two was missing.

"Studio One," he pointed out the studio lot on the diagram, "is where the murder took place and the body was found. On that day, only three people were in that part of the campus at the time: Jack Hammer, Will Powers, and an assistant who was doin' extra work on sets and props. There was a lunch break around noon. Then, when the crew went to Studio One for the rehearsal at five, they found the victim in his costume, pierced in the chest by the spear used by the accused's character. Estimated time of death is around two-thirty but there's a five hour window between lunch and the discovery unaccounted for. That is the case in brief."

Prosecutor Edgeworth gave Gumshoe a stiff but almost approving nod. The detective beamed back, glad to be praised for his work.

"So the victim was found with the murder weapon in his body in Studio Lot One?" The judge, while probably asking for clarity's sake, sure did fail to realize how redundant he was being. Still, Maya couldn't fault the old man for needing a refresher. If it hadn't been for Phoenix quizzing her on laws and so on, she might also need recaps like that.

"The Samurai Spear," Prosecutor Edgeworth enunciated the two words clearly, as though he was trying his best to convince everyone how silly he felt the show was, despite being a closeted fan, "was thrust into the victim's chest, through his Evil Magistrate costume. While there was no blood on the scene and minimal amount in the suit, the police are certain that the evidence points to that being fact."

"Ah." The judge nodded. "I see."

"Additionally," Prosecutor Edgeworth waved his hand and the Spear was brought out by one of the bailiffs, "we have the murder weapon here, processed with chain of custody already logged."

"Chain of custody," Phoenix reminded Maya, "Is a record of who touched what evidence in what order. From when the evidence is found to when it's submitted, all aspects of its involvement in the case is meant to be logged for posterity. It's to make sure if any discrepancy is found at a later date, or if the evidence goes missing, the possible suspects can be traced."

Maya would argue that the middle of a murder trial—her first ever murder trial as a bonafide lawyer—wasn't the best time for a lesson but, well, it was a useful bit of information. Especially considering how high-profile this case was, and how Redd White meddled with the last one.

She'd rather keep her eye on who did what when than let some corrupt bigwig start poking their fingers where they didn't belong so...having chain of custody on record was a good thing.

Wait...

"What about evidence found by the defense?"

Phoenix winked at Maya and held a finger over his mouth, cheekily shushing her. "In accordance with evidence law, so long as the police department okays it or it's relevant to the case at hand, any evidence submitted to the court can be done so without the prosecution and police's fancy chain of custody. This is mostly because of how defense attorneys rarely work in tandem with other people save others in their firms, but also, can you imagine putting down 'evidence discovered by a ghost, handled by said ghost and then myself' on the paperwork?"

To be fair, the idea of submitting evidence on post-mortem hearsay was actually incredibly funny, even if only in a morbid way. Maya stifled a snicker.

"The court accepts this...Samurai Spear as evidence." The judge nodded at the bailiff, who rested the large weapon against the evidence table. Maya's eyes were drawn to it, the urge to geek out taking root in her lungs.

Across the room, Prosecutor Edgeworth watched the Spear equally sharply. When the bailiff left, he cleared his throat. Gumshoe jumped and coughed in surprise. "Oh, uh, yes sir?"

"Your testimony?"

"Wasn't it done, sir?" The cold glare Prosecutor Edgeworth gave Gumshoe could have frozen a waterfall. The poor man swallowed heavily and looked over at Maya. "Right. Uh, any concerns pal?"

Maya couldn't find any problems with his testimony because it was, at its heart, a faithful recap of what they assume happened. It's not as if Gumshoe knew Will Powers was sleeping during the time of the murder.

She shook her head. "The defense finds no reason to keep the detective on the stand at this time." Really just a fancy way of saying 'go sit down, Gumshoe my guy', but it sure felt good to say.

"Then this witness is dismissed." The judge smacked his gavel, Gumshoe leaving the witness stand to go wait in the wings, and turned to Prosecutor Edgeworth, who smiled with all the warmth of a hungry predator.

"What the prosecution asks the court now, in the face of all this evidence, is this: what did the security lady see that day? This will bring clarity to this case as a whole."

"I presume she is your next witness?"

"Indeed she is." A bailiff left to retrieve her from a waiting room in the courthouse while the crowd muttered to themselves.

Maya looked over at Will Powers to make sure he was holding up alright. He seemed no worse off than when the trial began, but he didn't seem any more at ease. Well, Oldbag's testimony wouldn't help, but it probably wouldn't hurt...if she could be reigned in.

"Do you think you can work your Maya magic on her?" Phoenix slid into Maya's peripheral vision, his face pinched in concern.

"What 'Maya magic'?" Maya shuffled through the transcript and evidence list, trying to find relevant points to commit to memory. "She's just an old woman. She wants to talk, so I let her talk. I just got better about getting her to talk about what I wanted to hear. It won't be useful in court because she can't talk that much, but it should make getting info out of her easier."

"Famous last words." Phoenix laughed. Maya pursed her lips and rolled her eyes.

Oldbag came to the stand with little fanfare. Good. What was less good was how eerily quiet she was, her gaze laser-focused on Prosecutor Edgeworth for some reason.

"Witness, your name and occupation?" Unlike with Gumshoe, this time Prosecutor Edgeworth was asking instead of demanding.

Oldbag, against all odds, remained mum. The courtroom echoed with silence. Someone coughed. It was unbearably awkward.

Prosecutor Edgeworth's face screwed slightly. He seemed like he was trying to hold back some kind of reaction. All that came out of his mouth, however, was a terse, "Witness—"

Before he could finish his request—now demand—for her name and occupation, Oldbag cooed loudly and fanned herself, cheeks flushing. "Well aren't you a tall drink of water!"

Phoenix let out an ungodly noise, something between a bark of laughter and the starts of a coughing fit. It made Maya jump but nobody noticed.

Mostly because Prosecutor Edgeworth himself was making a loud noise of pain and leaning over his bench. "Will the witness give her name please?"

"You'll have to forgive me, I've forgotten myself on account of how handsome you are!" Oldbag did not, in fact, give him her name. In fact, she seemed intent on sizing him up like a hungry dog does a nice cut of meat.

Phoenix's aborted coughing gave way to a hysterical, amused peal of laughter. Maya fought to swallow her own sadistic delight at watching the opposition squirm.

Prosecutor Edgeworth grit his teeth, leaned forward more, and repeated himself. "Your name." Not a request any more, huh?

"So forward!"

"Your name please!" He shouted, all decorum gone. The gallery tittered and roiled with amusement. Maya caught a whisper or two of people agreeing that Prosecutor Edgeworth was, in fact, very handsome.

Oldbag reeled as if she was struck and pouted. It would've been funny if she didn't look like a lovestruck teenager. As it was, it was just...well, Maya had a job to do. Even if she felt bad for the poor woman.

"Wendy Oldbag, dearie." She blew Prosecutor Edgeworth a kiss. He winced but she seemed oblivious to his discomfort. Or, if she wasn't oblivious, this was a heightened version of her trying to butter up the police during the investigation. Either or.

"I've never seen him turn that color." The color in question was some pale pinkish-greenish color. It clashed with his suit.

"Thank you." It sounded as if saying that physically pained Prosecutor Edgeworth, the words squeezed from between clenched teeth, falling leaden on the floor. "Now, if you would—" with all the implication that he was not asking, but demanding, "—please tell the court about what you saw."

"Of course, of course! Honestly, what do you think I am? Some kind of amateur? I've worked this position for almost a decade now and I haven't once been reprimanded. When the bosses say 'jump', I don't even ask 'how high' I just jump until they tell me to stop, that's how good I am at following directions! I mean, seriously, young people these days! Just because you're handsome doesn't mean that you can just demand things of old women like myself! I'm delicate, you know?" The way Oldbag brushed off Prosecutor Edgeworth's frustration—barreling ahead, seemingly unaware of her part in his mounting blood pressure—would have been funny except that Maya was realizing that she would have to also fight this uphill climb. In order to buy time for more thorough investigation or to get her client declared innocent, she, too, would have to brave the winds of Hurricane Oldbag.

She barely suppressed a shudder as the sound of the judge's gavel cut through the white noise of Oldbag's rambling. There would be time enough for worry later. Now it was time to pay attention.

"If the windb— witness would please keep her testimony on topic."

Oldbag straightened up, taking on the air of someone giving a report to a superior—even as she cast the odd gaze askance at Prosecutor Edgeworth as if to refresh her spirit. It was, quite frankly, a fascinating sight, but spoke to the woman's many years of service with Global Studios. She had to know how to conduct herself if she wanted to remain employed through heavy cuts. "Of course, dearie. Anything you say." Another wink at Prosecutor Edgeworth, who let out some strangled sounding gurgling objection.

"Very well. Go on."

At the judge's behest, Oldbag began her actual testimony. "The day of the murder, I arrived on-site at one, as I had some errands to run prior to that; you know how it is, right? Poor Hammer and the lot had been doing their run-through all morning and had just broken for lunch. I posted up at the main gate when I arrived, then didn't leave until around five." So far so good. She even was being concise. Still, neither Maya nor Phoenix said a word as she continued on. "If the murder happened around two-thirty, then I will say that there is one thing I noticed around that time: at two in the afternoon, I saw Powers walk by the main gate."

There it was, the damning statement.

"That's the weakest point of her testimony!"

Maya fought to not roll her eyes at him as a copy of the transcript was handed to her. "No duh."

"Someone's being sassy."

"Weren't you the one who told me to 'work my Maya magic'?" She pulled her copy of the photograph from her belongings and grabbed the page with the relevant part of Oldbag's testimony so she could reference them side-by-side. "Turns out that the real magic is just not pressing everything so the verbose old woman doesn't blather on for hours. Who knew?"

Nick snorted and fell silent. It was a comfortable silence, a silence that spoke of trust in her abilities and logic. A silence that showed how much he felt she had grown as a lawyer.

"Defense?" The judge's wide eyes silently requested she not set off the witness on another long tangent. Maya nodded at him in understanding.

"Thank you, Your Honor." Maya turned to face Oldbag and gave her a warm smile. "Oldbag-san, when the assistant and I spoke about the day's events, she mentioned you were one of the people at the run-through. Why, if you were at the studio, were you not at your station?"

"That Nichols girl?" She scoffed, nose wrinkling as she waved a hand about, waving off Maya's unspoken accusation. "She should learn to mind her own beeswax. It'll help her keep her job better than building slipshod sets for salacious nerds."

"Oldbag-san."

Her stern insistence paid off. Oldbag sighed through her teeth and stood upright and stiff once more. "I'd gone to see the run-through, like that Nichols girl said. Won't deny that. What she doesn't know—you lot either—is that I've never once missed an opportunity to see my Hammer practice an action scene. His body was a work of art, his every movement like something those fancy museum-types would sculpt!" Thankfully, she cut herself off before she could wax poetic for too long. Oldbag sighed again and placed a hand against her cheek like she was some shrinking violet or demure fainting maiden. Then her hard gaze fell back on Maya, who flinched at the abruptness of it all. "So I was at the studio, but not on the clock. Wasn't scheduled until later anyway."

"That," Nick, "was both much shorter and much more open than I expected." Maya shot him a wry grin, silently gloating about her method of being polite and leading the witness paying dividends. "Don't get a swelled head."

As if she would. The fight had barely just begun. "One of the pieces of evidence you gave to the police during their investigation was the security photo for that day, wasn't it?"

"It was." Oldbag smirked. "Good picture, isn't it girlie? Caught Powers red-handed, it did!"

When the judge, confusion evident on his face, raised an inquiring eyebrow, Prosecutor Edgeworth stepped in to explain. "The security camera Detective Gumshoe spoke of captured a photo used as evidence to make the arrest." His unspoken question of why she knew about it was unsaid but Maya could tell he was seething about it. Ha ha.

"And this photo proves the defendant committed the crime?" A copy of the photo was produced by one of the on-duty cops and brought to the judge. He peered down at it and hummed in thought. "Well this certainly is a damning photograph. Between the date and the costume—"

"If Your Honor will forgive the interruption," Maya cut him off to Nick and Prosecutor Edgeworth's panicked surprise, "the defense would like to point out the considerable hole in the prosecution and witness' claim that my client is the one in this photograph."

The old man was, as Maya figured, amused at her cheek. He laughed and shook his head. "You shouldn't do this often," he chided her, "but you were polite this time. Next time you will be penalized. Now, do enlighten us."

"You need to be less reckless!" Nick hissed in her ear. She didn't pay him any mind. All of this was to draw everyone's attention to the photograph.

"You say this is my client, Will Powers, correct?" Maya addressed Oldbag, who frowned at her.

"Yeah?" Her lips pursed like she'd eaten something exceptionally tart. "Isn't it obvious?"

"It's certainly the Steel Samurai," Maya admitted, "but that doesn't mean it's Will Powers."

Oldbag bristled. "Now see here, girlie! I might be old but my vision isn't half as gone as you seem to think it is! Why, I'd bet I could see a hair on a fly from almost fifty meters off, let alone be able to distinguish between any of the hulking brutes working costumes at Global Studios!"

"But you can admit that, unless there was a second photograph showing a costumeless Will Powers walking the opposite direction, there is no definitive proof that the person in the Steel Samurai costume is my client, correct?"

"Objection!" Prosecutor Edgeworth spoke up, the slamming of his hand echoing in the courtroom. Maya snapped her head to look at him. What was he up to? "This line of questioning is going nowhere. The burden of proof doesn't fall upon the witness."

Maya bit down, hard, and conceded the point. "Right." It almost physically hurt.

"Pick another angle of attack then. You've got a foot in the door!" Nick's encouragement helped her recover, as did the whispers of agreement she heard from the gallery.

"With regards to the security system: it's automated isn't it?" She could feel Prosecutor Edgeworth's eyes boring holes into her head but she did her best to ignore him.

"It is." Suspicion dripped off of every word Oldbag said. She'd already been called a liar—or as close to one as Maya was willing to push right now—and her hackles were up. She wasn't going to let Maya have an inch any longer, politeness or not.

"Do you mind explaining how it works for the court?" Translation: tell everyone what the system is so when I land this shot, it doesn't look like an asspull. "There must be some kind of human aspect of the system or else they would have some specialist working instead of you, wouldn't they?"

"Global Studios trusts me to know the system forwards and backwards." Oldbag puffed her chest out. Across the courtroom, Prosecutor Edgeworth looked like he was in pain again. Whatever coaching he might have done with Oldbag obviously wasn't sticking. She was running her mouth like a marathon—which was good for Maya and bad for him. "Of course I can explain the system!"

"Thank you." Maya even threw in a bow, to be extra polite.

"The cameras are all marked with ID codes so the techies and security—literally only myself—can find the right one and see which jackanape went past what area without trying to memorize the map or learn some new fancy system that'll be out of date in months. Also means that manning the gate doesn't leave the Studio unguarded. We got proof of when and where things happen without needing to scrub hours of CCTV footage for one measly trespasser!" When she wasn't rambling aimlessly or making passes at men, Oldbag spoke with the presence and clarity of a consummate professional. "Every photo taken by every camera is sent to the main computer at the gate and can be pulled by camera ID and time. You can also just check how many times the cameras went off during the day without loading any of the pictures."

"Is there a way to verify how many photos were taken in a day past pulling the list off the computer?" Maya already knew the answer but...

With the way Oldbag sneered, obviously it was a pertinent question. "The timestamp, girlie. Didn't you get a copy of the photo from that handsome hunk of beef detective that was poking around yesterday? Flip the damn thing over. It's in plain ink on the ass end of the print."

Whoops...sorry Gumshoe.

"It's funny," Nick mused, "that a company like Global Studios, who won't pay for a better security system or more than one poor overworked assistant, will pay for a printer that churns out double-sided images in black and white. Expensive security system when it comes to waste."

Petty concern, Maya thought as she found her own copy of the photo, but to each their own.

"This image says that it's photo two of two from the day of the crime." She tried to pitch her voice as if this was the first time she'd seen that information. Hopefully—

Oldbag took the bait. "Well that's because it was! Don't they teach kids literacy these days or do you only spend your time on internet forums yelling about things that don't matter and reading smut. Obviously if a machine—especially a security machine—prints that a photograph is the second of two, that means that there was one that preceded the one you're currently holding. Second, of course, follows first. First means there is one other, older photograph. Do the meaning of words change over time or is the educational system failing you—"

"Objection!" Prosecutor Edgeworth had enough. His voice cracked a little as he cut off Oldbag's rambling, fist trembling where he slammed it on the bench. "The prosecution objects to this witness'...talkativeness!"

"Objection sustained." Even the judge wasn't willing to listen to her keep going.

"Oldbag-san, where is the second photo?" It wasn't quite April May levels of weaponized honey, but Maya came close as she beamed up at the older woman. "There has to have been one if the system said this—" she waved the print "—is the second and last photo of the day from that camera."

Prosecutor Edgeworth likely made some kind of weird noise but it was lost beneath the roar of the gallery.

"A second photo?"

"He did say burden of proof fell to her."

"She's hiding the second photo to frame Powers, I know it!"

Oldbag seethed and sweated, her face pinching as if she ate something bitter and sour while the gallery calmed down. "Do you enjoy making me into a villain?"

"Not at all." Truly, she didn't.

"Then why are you trying so hard? Can't you just take me at my word? There's even evidence."

"It's my job, Oldbag-san." It's my job to examine every angle to make sure that the true culprit doesn't get away. It's my job to argue until I can't anymore, if only to run down the clock. It's my job to believe in my client, not you.

"Hrmph." Oldbag crossed her arms and snorted through her nose. "The first photo doesn't exist anymore."

That caused another uproar.

"Order! Order in the court!" The judge's gavel cut through the noise, a satisfying marker of Maya's first real turnabout in this case. "Witness, what is the meaning of that? The first photo doesn't exist?"

"You do understand," Prosecutor Edgeworth threatened through clenched teeth, "that destruction of evidence is a crime, do you not?"

"Calm down, calm down! It's not as if I knew it was going to be evidence or anything!" Oldbag bristled and bit back, a cornered stray cat unwilling to lose an inch of ground. "It's part of my duties after all! The system doesn't have a lot of memory so every shift I clear out the backlog of useless shots—mostly the odd tourist—just to save space."

"But you thought the photo of the Steel Samurai was worth keeping?" Maya pressed.

"Of course! It's obviously suspicious!"

"A suit actor walking around in costume is suspicious?" Oldbag wasn't backing down but Maya wasn't going to let her gain any ground either.

"It is when the suit actor is dragging around a bum leg!" Wait, what?

"Wait, what?" Maya stopped dead in her tracks, all momentum lost. With just one statement, Oldbag had derailed everything.

Scenting blood in the water, Oldbag smirked at Maya and waggled a finger. "During the run-through, Powers tripped on his own hem and sprained his ankle. Clumsy man looked fit to cry but I kissed it all better and he limped off to ice and elevate it. Cut the whole run-through short so I went to the main gate and did my job like usual."

"The end of her 'errands', then." Nick's attempt at levity fell flat. Maya was too busy turning around the new information she'd been given in her head, scanning the transcript for anything good.

Nothing. A press and pray type of testimony, only more dire. Oldbag wasn't one to be pressed randomly for fear of setting her off and, with the way Prosecutor Edgeworth was grinding his teeth and the judge looked like he was developing a headache, Maya might suffer the brunt of any ill will.

So much for her 'Maya magic'.

Maya took a deep breath and focused her gaze on Oldbag, trying to summon her most Mia-like expression. It worked but only in that Mia also had issues forcing a calm smile when she was stressed.

Nick wouldn't stop snickering.

"Oldbag-san—"

"At this point, you can just call me Oldbag. I don't have the patience for your fancy Japanese niceties after what you've said about me today."

Deep breath in. Out. Be calm. (Not Mia, who would have Words for witnesses with lip like this.) "Oldbag, you said Will Powers tripped and sprained his ankle?"

"Sure as spit. Caught his foot on the hem of his pants, tripped, and took a fall on his ass." Oldbag rolled her eyes and sniffed. "Rolled his ankle bad enough he couldn't put weight on it."

Maya looked to Will Powers for confirmation. He was flushed pink and sweating so it was pretty likely she was telling the truth.

"Can the accused corroborate this part of her testimony?" Prosecutor Edgeworth called out. Will Powers jumped in the defendant's seat and stood at attention, doing anything he could to not make eye-contact.

"Uh, yeah, of course. I did, um, hurt myself. It's why I went to my dressing room to lay down. Rest, ice, compression, elevation, right?" Even if he was nervous, he spoke loud enough to be heard. Must've been his actor skills at play, projecting and all.

The judge nodded at Will Powers and he sat down, relief visible in the bowed slant of his shoulders. "Thank you, Mr. Powers. Continue."

Wait. "If Will Powers hurt himself, wouldn't more people be talking about it?"

"Didn't that Nichols girl tell you?" Oldbag seemed almost affronted. "Global was working a barebones crew, especially for the run-through. Save the actors and the stunt coordinator and cameraman, she and I were the only other ones around at the time."

"She did say that," Nick reminded her. Maya frowned.

"But she didn't mention Will Powers' injury when I spoke with her."

"She wouldn't have; she didn't know he hurt himself. She was too busy nailing together some background that didn't get finished in time for the most recent scene." Her fingers were covered in bandaids. "By the time she was done, the whole fiasco was done with. It's why I had to pull double-duty."

Okay, that was tantalizing. "You said Will Powers broke a prop? I assume that's what you mean by 'double duty'?"

She nodded, visibly delighted that Maya had caught on. "When he tripped, he tried to catch himself on the Samurai Spear. When that thing snapped under his weight, he tried to roll like he'd been taught but landed wrong. After he limped off, I taped the thing up. Luckily I carry a roll of duct tape on hand at all times. And chapstick, just in case an opportunity presents itself." Oldbag reapplied a layer of chapstick and blew Prosecutor Edgeworth a kiss. He shuddered.

"Can the state of the murder weapon be appended to its description in the record?" The judge asked. One of the court bailiffs did so as Maya continued pressing every aspect of Oldbag's testimony.

"So he sprained his ankle and went back to the employee lounge still in costume?" That was another aspect of this whole deal that felt weird to her.

Oldbag shook her head. "We don't do the run-throughs in costume. Padded vests to dull the blows, for sure, but Hammer and Powers practice in what amounts to gym clothes." She smirked and fanned herself. "It's enough to make a woman swoon."

"His ankle?" Maya pressed.

"He hurt himself bad enough we had to stop but not so much he couldn't walk." Brief, but unhelpful.

As if he sensed her confusion on how to proceed, Prosecutor Edgeworth jumped in with a self-satisfied smirk and cluck of his tongue. "Haven't you exhausted the witness enough? I think it's time you let this poor woman rest." The 'poor woman' in question was mooning over him, batting her eyelashes as if that would garner his attention instead of his disdain. "Your Honor, this testimony has run its course."

"But—!"

"Maya," Nick interrupted, his voice low even though he didn't need to, "he's right. You can't get anything more meaningful out of her like this. You have to go back to your first thought: the first picture. She never said why she deleted it."

"How am I supposed to get there when we're currently focused on the Steel Samurai's injury in the photo?" Maya hissed back.

Thankfully, Prosecutor Edgeworth was too busy talking to hear himself to notice Maya tuning him out. "The prosecution asks the court to consider the newly-discovered facts: Will Powers, the accused, injured himself during practice. This injury can be seen in the photograph taken before the murder. Due to the low number of people who knew Powers was injured, this means that the likelihood that the accused did in fact commit the crime has not decreased. Instead, it is more likely now than ever before!"

Maya panicked. "Objection!" When everyone turned to look at her, the weight of their gazes enough to press the air out of her lungs, it was Nick's suggestion that got her momentum back.

"The first photo."

"Photo number one still hasn't been explained. We cannot let this witness leave without understanding why she destroyed potential evidence!"

"That is true." If Maya had any less self-control, she might have kissed the judge on the mouth. He was her favorite person in the entire court—sorry Nick. "And I am curious as to if there's any blood on the costume the killer was wearing."

"Ah, that." All the wind left Prosecutor Edgeworth's sails at that. He coughed into his fist and readjusted his cravat. "I'm sorry to say that, as of this moment, the investigation team has been unable to find the Steel Samurai costume, so we cannot test it for anything."

"Hm."

Nick was in agreement. "Wonder why the costume's missing. And why Hammer's costume doesn't have a lot of blood in it. Those feel...connected somehow..."

Prosecutor Edgeworth recovered quickly. "As to the defense's question regarding the first photo: the prosecution would also like to hear this witness' reasoning."

Oldbag bristled. "Well I never!"

"I highly doubt that," Nick retorted.

"I already told you whippersnappers that it's part of my job to erase non-vital security photos!"

"What made this particular photo supposedly non-vital to your security work?" Maya didn't trust Prosecutor Edgeworth to be nice about this—not that she was being nice, per-se, just nicer than he would have been—and the way Oldbag was starting to get aggressive the more she was put on the defense was going to make her testimony worse in the long-run.

"Well...uh...hrm..." For the first time since she'd met her, Oldbag was at a loss for words. In fact, it almost seemed like she was struggling to remember what had happened. She was an old woman, after all, but Maya had just assumed she had a mind like a steel trap.

Her lackluster response wasn't enough for the large group of people who had gathered for the public trial of the Steel Samurai. The gallery started getting riled up again. Among the idle chatter, Maya could hear someone bring up how unreliable elderly people could be and that, against all odds, got a reaction.

"Whippersnapper!"

Everyone—judge included—jumped in surprise.

"P-pardon?" The judge straightened himself up in his seat, clearing his throat to try and center himself. "Whippersnapper?"

"That's why I deleted the photo!" This clarified nothing. Oldbag did not elaborate.

Prosecutor Edgeworth had had enough of waiting on her to talk. His words were acerbic and icy, said through clenched teeth like he was spitting them out across the courtroom. "If the witness would explain herself." He was not asking. Once again the Demon Prosecutor was demanding a witness do as they were told.

(Maya didn't blame him in the slightest. If Mia had been here, she would have probably said something dumb and gotten penalized. The only reason Maya herself hadn't done the same was because Nick was silent as the grave and she had learned that meant she had to pay attention. He was never quiet if he could help it.)

"The photo was of one of those whippersnappers that get into the Studio from time to time, the ones Sal says to leave be for marketing reasons." Maya was actually kinda impressed at how fast she could recover her momentum and how little Prosecutor Edgeworth's frustration seemed to actually bother her. "That's why I didn't keep it. It literally was unimportant. We get them in from time to time and management has always said 'Wendy, don't worry about them, they're free advertising!' They say, 'Just delete the photos in case their parents come asking what their kid was doing during the school hours, so we have deniability, and move on with your shift. It's better for everyone if you do this.' So I do. Been doing it since the shift from action films to kids TV, even. It's second nature and I hardly even notice them at this point, though I have told that Nichols girl to patch up the vent the little brats get in so they can't snoop on the filming as easily but that's neither here nor—"

"Objection!" Again, Prosecutor Edgeworth was the one to take offense to Oldbag's chattering. Maya was too busy trying to parse what she had actually revealed to speak out. "If the witness could keep her statements brief!"

"Sustained!" Oldbag snorted in frustration.

One thing did bother Maya. "If the second— if the first photograph was of a child, how old was he?" Inverse bell-graph probably.

"Second, maybe third grade?" That was a very small kid.

The courtroom drowned in noise. Nick's voice cut through it all from where he hovered next to her. "There goes our possible suspect."

Maya tried her best to disguise her response as trying to find some kind of way out of this hole. "I wasn't going to blame a child for a murder!"

(Eyes like spotlights. A cold holding cell and crying herself to sleep. Water against her face. Only ghosts to greet her. Nobody who believed you is alive any more. Iron and iron and iron red rust blood red iron—)

His face softened and he settled down to stand next to her. "Of course not." The 'but' was unspoken.

"I just...we need more time!" She was grasping at straws. "Oldbag is an unreliable witness, right? Is that enough to demand a delay and continued investigation?"

Nick cast his blank gaze up at the judge, who was slamming his gavel down, demanding silence and order. "I think...this is enough of an upset we might get an extra day anyway. You've poked enough holes in the prosecution that their arrest isn't a sure thing anymore and, with the publicity this trial is getting, public outcry will prevent this from being closed too fast. We might get a full three days, even. High profile cases are always like this."

Maya didn't have time to respond to him before the judge's voice boomed out over the murmurs of the gallery. "We will take a five minute recess while the prosecution and defense consider the new information. Hopefully this will allow the witness to...remember more of what happened. Accurately this time."

It was a warning that, judging by how Oldbag was making goo-goo eyes at Edgeworth instead of listening to him, was likely to go unheeded.

So they broke for a brief recess. —— Maya cracked open a water bottle and knocked it back like she was trying to drown her nerves. Her mouth was so dry and also so sticky. It was stupid how contradictory stress made things.

When she finished, wiping her mouth on the back of her arm, she looked over to Will Powers.

He stood in the defendant's lobby, twisting the cap for his own water bottle off and on and off again. He looked fit to pass out. Maya couldn't blame him.

Nick was already pacing circles in the air, organizing his own thoughts aloud. "We can stall out the day. It's already pushing late, like I said, and if we present a reasonable enough doubt, I'm sure Edgeworth would jump on the opportunity to investigate further." Would he?

"Powers-san, do you want to sit down?" Maya kept her voice even and cordial, light but not pitying. Conversational, even.

"I, uh, maybe? I don't—" The poor man could barely finish his thought. Maya gently took his elbow and guided him to the couch. "Thank you."

"Of course." Maya ducked her head at his water. "You need to drink. It'll help."

"Right." If she had drank like she was trying to get smashed, he drank like he'd never had a drop in his life. For an actor, he did poorly under the spotlight. Maybe that was why he wore the costume in public: to distance himself from the attention by being someone else. "You're, uh, doing good?"

"Thanks! So are you." He actually was. While he hadn't been called to testify yet, he had kept his mouth shut and hadn't passed out. It was a low bar to clear but he was easily jumping over.

"The Samurai Spear is blunted, isn't it? It has to be if it's used for practice..." That was a good question, actually.

"Do you mind if I ask a few clarifying questions before we have to head back in?" Will Powers nodded so Maya went ahead. "The Samurai Spear isn't actually sharp is it?"

He shook his head. "It's heavy, like the real thing would be, but it's all foam and a cheap metal core. It hurts to be hit with—all the weapons do—but it's not enough to pierce someone through."

Nick frowned and crossed his legs again, ceasing his endless pacing. "Then why was it in Hammer?"

"With the snap in the shaft, would it be possible to have stabbed someone with it, even if it was sharpened?" That was something that was bothering her as well.

That got another shake of his head, more firm this time. "When I broke it, I broke it where it was already structurally weak, where it had been bent a couple times. It's the original prop after all. So with the tape around the break, it's still weak. It wouldn't have even been able to support my weight if I leaned on it like a cane."

Like the Steel Samurai in the photograph was.

"How's your ankle now?" Maya chose to ask instead.

"I've been elevating it when I can but it hurt to walk on all of that day. I did a pretty good job hiding it, huh?" Will Powers gave Maya a sheepish smile. "I just didn't want to upset anyone more than they would be, seeing me get arrested."

"You're a talented suit actor," Maya affirmed, "of course you did a good job hiding it but you should still rest. Have more water while I see if I can find a way to extend the trial."

Will Powers' shoulders slumped but he offered her a weak smile as she gave him another two bottles of water.

Nick was immediately ready to run a game plan. "We can't blame the child."

"What did I say?"

Nick doubled down. "I wasn't suggesting it, I was pointing out we're running out of avenues of escape. There has to be something we can do that doesn't involve law enforcement tracking down a toddler."

"How old do you think kids are in second grade?" She was using humor to cope. Nick stuck out his tongue, playing along with her.

"Babies. But seriously—"

With the photograph no longer a viable piece of evidence, with the Steel Samurai costume missing, with the blunt Spear snapped at the grip, with the lack of witnesses to Will Powers napping, with the skeleton crew running the Studio that day, their options were slim pickings.

"Could we argue about the weapon?"

"Not without any alternative explanation for his death. Coroner's report does actually have more detail from what I could see. Perforation of a lung means he hemorrhaged, yes, but he would've died choking on his own blood if he'd remained conscious longer." Nick frowned thoughtfully. "There was metal residue found in the puncture wound, tearing indicating it was done with some kind of piercing object, like a spear."

"Well that's cheery."

"That's a murder case." Not like either of them could change what had happened

Maya suddenly had a very risky, very bad idea. "Hey Nick?"

"Hm?" If he noticed her sudden change in tone, he didn't comment on it.

"What's the legal precedent on the defense falsely accusing someone to prolong a trial?" His flat stare was answer enough. "I'm not going to say she did it or anything but—"

"Are you planning on implicating Oldbag?!"

"I plan on insinuating Oldbag had the knowledge and resources to frame Will Powers, not that she's the one who killed Jack Hammer!"

That wasn't reassuring enough, apparently. "Irritating or not, we can't just blame someone—!"

"I don't think we have the space or time to take the high ground. She's already an unreliable witness, isn't she?" His silence was the perfect answer. "Prosecutor Edgeworth isn't going to fight too hard if she's put in the crosshairs, right? And I'll apologize!"

"Apologize? How?"

"Aunt Kimiko has this really good gionbō recipe Mia wrote down at one point. Old people like persimmons, don't they?"

Nick was unamused. "Right. 'Sorry I accused you of murder, here's a snack my aunt makes!' I'm sure that'll go well!"

"You got a better idea, smart guy?!" Maya hissed back, bristling a bit like an irritated cat. "Coz I can't think of any other way to keep a verdict from passing without chucking someone under the bus and it's either Oldbag or Penny and Penny didn't know Will Powers was injured, which is something Prosecutor Edgeworth will bring up to shoot down my bluff."

It wasn't something Maya wanted to do; not really. It was beyond last-ditch. It was desperate and she just...she'd already worked so hard to be taken seriously. If her career, her second ever case as a lawyer, ended with her failing to exonerate an obviously innocent man for a crime he didn't commit, then she was dead in the water.

Nick seemed to pick up on how desperate this gambit was because he didn't fight her on it any more than he already had. "Fine. You're on your own though. For the court and the gionbō. I'm not good at cooking, let alone making desserts."

"Alright." Maya closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She hadn't realized how tense she had been until it all loosened when Nick agreed to trust her judgment. "Thanks."

"Good luck convincing the judge and Edgeworth that Oldbag wanted Powers arrested for murder." The bite in his voice wasn't real, or it didn't have much of a real edge anyway. "I'll be letting you drive this one."

"I've got this." Maya's phone buzzed and she looked down to see a text from Penny.

hows it going? air heres so thick you could spackle a wall w it

Right.

"Hey, Powers-san?" He turned to face Maya as she walked over to him. He'd already finished both additional bottles of water and had absently twisted one of them in a knot.

"Hm? Are you done figuring things out?"

"I just wanted to once again thank you for choosing me as your attorney. I know I'm young but you put your trust in me and I want to make sure that your trust is repaid in full, not just as your lawyer, but as a fan of your work." She bowed, low, and then offered him the biggest grin she could muster. "And I wanted to remind you that not only are there fans cheering for you, but that you have someone rooting for you back at Global Studios."

Will Powers' eyes filled with confused and grateful tears. "Who—?"

"Penny Nichols. She's been asking for updates the whole time because she had to work. She asked that I take care of you." That sentiment seemed to really touch him because he started to sniffle in shuddering gasps. Maya handed him a fistful of napkins. "So know that you're not alone, okay? The world isn't against you. You're going to make it out okay."

(She wouldn't bring herself to jinx it and say she'd get him found innocent because, at this point, she wasn't sure if she could. But she could promise she'd be there and try and get him the best possible ending she could. It's the least she could do.)

"Thank you!" He was almost unintelligible beneath his crying. As he blew his nose into the napkins, a bailiff came in to collect them. Recess was over. Back to the grind. —— The courtroom hummed with a choking palpable energy as it reconvened. The gallery—cowed into silence by the might of the judge, among other things—seemed as though they were moments away from going off like a fireworks stand. All it would take is one well-placed match.

Maya was going to light that match.

"Has the prosecution given the case more thought during the recess?" The judge turned his gaze to Prosecutor Edgeworth, who gave a flourishing bow to the older man, smirking beneath his bangs at Maya.

"I have, Your Honor. The prosecution's stance has not changed, despite the information brought to the court's attention. Aside from a small child, the only person who could have committed this crime is the defendant."

Asshole. Maya glared at him until her attention was called away by the judge.

"And the defense?"

"The defense maintains that my client is innocent of all charges. In fact, with the information given to us by the last witness, I believe there is a lead as to what really occurred that day." Chest forward, project your voice, be Mia. Mia wouldn't be intimidated. Mia wouldn't lose her nerve.

(Mia would have called Prosecutor Edgeworth an asshole to his face, but Maya had more self-control than that at the moment. She would settle for calling him an asshole in her head for now.)

"Oh? Well then, let us hear your assertion." The judge's gavel smacked the podium and Prosecutor Edgeworth looked at Maya from across the courtroom.

He looked irritated.

Sorry, Prosecutor Edgeworth, but I won't just roll over and let you send my client to jail like that. Not when I know he's innocent. And then, for good measure, she offered a silent apology to Oldbag. Nobody will like this but I have to do what I have to do.

"While the child captured in the missing first security picture can be reasonably eliminated from the list of suspects, as can Penny Nichols due to her being unaware of Will Powers' injury, that does leave one person open for suspicion." Maya straightened her back and spoke as though she was the sole authority on this matter. She was, insofar as anyone was concerned, but it sure didn't feel that way so she had to pretend a little. "The only person with sufficient clearance, knowledge, and motive to have committed the crime and frame my client is Wendy Oldbag."

There, the match dropped in a line of gasoline and gunpowder. The gallery exploded with noise.

"Is she really saying the security woman killed Hammer?"

"She's lying to try and cover for Powers. I'll bet she just is in it for the money and fame."

"That old bag is the sole person working security..."

"Wait, but why?"

"I knew it!"

"Order in the court! Order I say!" The judge had to fight for several moments to get the courtroom back under control. During that time, Maya maintained steady eye-contact with Prosecutor Edgeworth, whose expression remained derisive but impassive, a cold stone monolith in the midst of this inferno. "What do you mean by that?"

"The people present during the run-through who would have seen Will Powers injure himself were Jack Hammer, Will Powers, the stunt coordinator, and Wendy Oldbag. Judging by how only Wendy Oldbag was brought in for testimony, the stunt coordinator's involvement was minimal or their testimony would have been too similar to what Penny Nichols and Wendy Oldbag had said. Therefore, barring the idea that the victim himself was the one caught on camera—"

"This is ludicrous." Even if he didn't shout, Prosecutor Edgeworth's voice carried across the courtroom and struck Maya in the chest. "Do you honestly believe that that woman would kill someone she was so enamored with?"

"People have done terrible things in the name of love." Beside her, Nick started coughing, the sound raspy and wet and dangerous. If he wasn't already dead, she might have worried for his health, but he couldn't choke with no lungs. "Killing someone in an act of domestic violence tends to be what makes a majority of second degree murder cases, isn't it?"

"True," the judge nodded, "but what of her motive?"

Maya shrugged. "Passion for the murder, distaste for my client for the framing? There were rumors going on that there was tension between Jack Hammer and Will Powers. That could have been rooted in some kind of truth. Additionally, she knows the locations of the cameras on the studio campus. She could easily avoid detection and have borrowed the costume from Will Powers' dressing room while he slept, dragging her leg to sell the illusion."

"And the murder weapon?" Was it her imagination or was Prosecutor Edgeworth not fighting as hard as she expected against her claim?

"Never was it said the Samurai Spear was returned to Will Powers, or anyone for that matter, after it was repaired. And if it had broken during the assault, she could have easily repaired it again without raising suspicion."

He wasn't refuting her. He wasn't fighting her. She was making headway.

Why did this feel like some kind of trap?

"Now hold on just a damn minute!" Oldbag had forced her way back on the stand, chest heaving. "What is this about me killing my poor Hammer? That's slander, you hear? How would I have even walked in that heavy mess anyway? I'm a little old woman!"

"You wouldn't have needed to. Not for very long, anyway. Just enough to get 'evidence' of 'Will Powers' heading towards Studio One."

"You—! You're not going to let her just get away with this, are you?!" Oldbag turned to Prosecutor Edgeworth, who only shook his head in disappointment.

"As much as it pains me to say this: the defense does bring up a good point. Unless we confirm the location of the witness during the time of the murder and re-examine and re-question all the people present during that day, there is no way we can conclusively say that she didn't kill him any more than we can say Powers did."

Oldbag let out a shriek of frustration and seethed.

"Oh...that's what he's doing." Nick had been quiet for so long that when he finally spoke again, it startled Maya badly enough that she jumped. "He wants more time too."

What? Maya stared at Prosecutor Edgeworth, trying to suss out his thought process on the matter. Gumshoe had said he was a fan of Steel Samurai but if you didn't know that, this trial wouldn't convince you. But his actions were...he had fought for so long for Will Powers to be found guilty right up to this point, right when Maya was offering Oldbag up as a scapegoat.

"You—" Oldbag choked out. "I won't—"

"If the court would afford the prosecution one more day to ascertain whether or not the defense's baseless claims have merit or not, we will test to see how truly impossible it would have been for this frail old witness to have walked about in a full-body costume with a prop spear."

The judge nodded in agreement. "If that is how both sides feel, then I can safely say I cannot come to a conclusion at this time without further investigation. We will reconvene tomorrow at the same time to hopefully reach the bottom of this. Court is adjourned."

"Hold it!" Everyone stared at the source of the objection, at Oldbag, with confusion. She gripped at the witness stand, fingers bowing with pressure. Color was leeching from her face and where her hand pressed against the wood. "I— you— I won't stand for this!"

"I've already passed my verdict. We won't be continuing today's trial, no matter how much you protest." The judge was surprisingly stern, his gavel gripped in his fist like a weapon of justice.

"If I'm going down, then I'm taking the moral low road too! I've got something to say and you're gonna listen! All of you!" She was holding the court hostage and, frankly, Maya couldn't blame her. "They told me to keep my trap shut and I did because I'm a good employee and they passed me a pretty bonus on top of my pay but no bonus and brownie points are worth being accused of murder like this!"

Oh?

"What, pray tell," Prosecutor Edgeworth hissed, "are you on about?"

"You keep saying 'oh, Wendy had to have done it because she was the only one brought in with the means and knowledge to have killed him' but that's a big fat lie! There were more people at the run-through than just myself, the actors, that Nichols girl, the stunt coordinator, and the cameraman." Oldbag leaned forward and sneered at Maya like she was personally offended by her presence. Fair, all things considered. "See, the producer and the director were holding a meeting with some bigwig higher-ups from Global. They paid everyone under the table to keep our mouths shut so we did. But loyalty only goes so far, so I'm taking them with me if I hang."

What?

"Didn't Nichols say as much?" Nick wondered. "She mentioned them, which was what was so weird about Oldbag's testimony omitting them. It was a very blatant discrepancy but we never noticed, which means that maybe..."

"Witness, is this true?!"

"Sure as spit!" Oldbag didn't change how she was standing, leaning forward, eyes narrowed, sneering. "I'm not going to just lie on the stand, am I? I haven't lied once since I was brought out. Why would I start now?"

"She...hasn't been lying. That's true." Nick sounded almost upset by this revelation. "She omitted the truth, surely, but never once did she outright lie."

Prosecutor Edgeworth also seemed to have reached that conclusion because he looked devastated. Stricken with grief, even. "The prosecution will look into this matter during the investigation period. This changes very little about today's proceedings, however."

"Agreed." The judge nodded. "As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted: court will adjourn for the day and reconvene after a period of investigation."

"Didn't you hear me?!" Oldbag shrieked.

"We do," the judge snapped back, "but you will adhere to court proceedings. Regardless of the existence of other people at the scene, your involvement is in question so you will be scrutinized. If you submit willingly, you won't be charged with contempt of court. If you continue to fight the ruling, you will be detained, am I clear?"

Tight-lipped, Oldbag nodded at him.

"Good. Court is adjourned." The gavel came down, the trial was prolonged for one more day.

It didn't feel like much of a win, but Maya would take it. She had to.

[harlot-of-oblivion]

Sowing the Seeds of Lasting Love (Part 10)

Vergil helps you with a flowery dilemma before the wedding.

The big day is finally here! Hope you enjoy! 🌹😘🌹

Chapter 1: White Heather

When Nero first told his father about the wedding, he explained that they wanted to keep it nice and simple, only inviting family and close friends to the ceremony. But now that the big day is upon them, Vergil notices that the ceremony is still nice but definitely not simple. And it seems they’ve decided to invite all of Fortuna going by all the numerous names he hardly recognizes in the guest log!

But there’s one name that he knows very well on the very first page…your neat yet bubbly handwriting is indistinguishable among the cursive chaos.

Vergil smiles but then remembers himself as the hustle and bustle of people whiz around the venue’s entryway. He quickly closes the guest book before striding away from wandering eyes, seeking refuge from the morning mayhem before the wedding. But you always manage to wriggle your way back into his mind, occupying his every thought…especially now that he’s confessed his feelings and tasted your kiss. Just the mere memory of your velvety lips parting for his tongue make his cheeks burn with a slight blush!

The lovestruck devil shakes these desirous thoughts out of his head as he approaches one of the designated dressing rooms for the wedding party. He quietly slips in and examines himself in the three-way mirror, checking his appearance and immaculate suit for any obvious flaws. The refined paisley pattern of his dark blue wedding coat contrasts well with the silky black lapels and matching blue vest. He wrings the black bow with a grimace, wishing it were an elegant cravat instead as he adjusts it around the stark white collar of his shirt. Then, he scrutinizes the rest of his suit, noting the pristine matching dress pants and spotless black formal shoes with an approving nod.

This well-tailored ensemble will surely bring that endearing blush to my beloved rose’s cheeks, he muses with a confident chuckle while raking his fingers through his silvery white hair.

The thought of you creeps into his mind again, but he allows himself to reminisce in the privacy of the dressing room. He didn’t have much of a chance to let the events of the previous day fully sink in until now; the time between storming out of the shop and arriving at your doorstep is still a bit hazy. But the warmth of your humble abode, the steaming hot water of your shower, and the comfort of your soothing lullaby and tranquil heartbeat as he fell asleep in your embrace…now that he remembers quite well!  

Vergil also recalls how he swallowed his pride before baring his soul to you, practically pouring every ounce of sincere fervor from within his heart as he revealed his true feelings. And despite hearing all about his past trauma and doubtful hesitancy in matters of romance…you still accepted him with unconditional love, releasing the mounting tension between both of you as he finally gave into his desire by capturing your lips with a passionate kiss. The cadence of your soft gasps and lingering moans, the thorough strokes of your tongue, and the feel of your body beneath him…it all felt so good.

But it’s not enough.

He wants more…he needs more…

A sudden shriek of distress from outside interrupts his amorous ruminations. His eyes widen in alarm as he rushes out the dressing room door, following the dreadful tone of your voice all the way to the venue’s kitchen. And he’s not the only one to come running to rescue; a couple of the staff and Dante burst in with a look of concern. But you barely notice their presence as you continue to stare into the large walk-in freezer with a horrified face.

“What’s going on, Buttercup?”

“Are you hurt?”

Both brothers slowly approach as you turn around to face them. You meet each of their eyes for a moment…then, you take a deep breath and scream at the top of your lungs:    

“FLOWER EMERGENCY!”

Your enraged declaration bellows through the kitchen, making some of the staff jump as you dash towards a countertop. You unpin the delicate flower crown upon your head, being mindful of the white heather blooms and bleeding hearts flowers. Then, you carefully remove it and place it on top of the counter before tying your hair into a low ponytail at the nape of your neck.

Dante lets out a low whistle. “It must be really bad if the flower crown’s coming off!”

“What happened?” Vergil asks while giving his idiotic brother a warning glare.

You turn back around with an exasperated sigh. “I told them to NOT put any peonies to the freezer under no circumstances!” you exclaim, angrily marching into the frigidly cold room with both brothers in tow. “But now look! Almost half of the centerpieces have wilted!” you bemoan while pointing at a group of flowers in fine crystals vases.

Vergil inspects the various peonies in question and immediately understands why you’re so distraught. A vast majority of their petals have shriveled up and turned brown, completely ruined just before the wedding. The sight of you biting your lip and pulling your hair in worry wrenches the growing prickling knot within his chest.

“Is there anything I can do?” he inquires, gently grabbing your shoulders while staring down into your glistening eyes.

Your brow furrows in thought. “I might be able to salvage some of them with fresher blooms…but they’re all back at my garden’s workshop!” you inform while glancing down towards his waist. “Could I borrow the Yamato for a bit?” you implore sweetly as your lips curl into a charming grin.

Vergil smirks at your hopeful plea. “But of course.”

You beam up at him a grateful smile, unwinding the discomforting knot in his chest as you instruct the staff to haul all the half-frozen flowers into the kitchen. Both brothers stay out of your way while sharing intrigued glances, clearly impressed with your command over a highly stressful situation. Your eyes squint at the withered half of the centerpieces, mentally weighing how many more flowers you need to fix them.    

“Hmm, we may need to take one more person to haul all the flowers back in one trip.”

Dante perks up with a wide grin. “I can tag along!”

“I’m more than capable of carrying all the flowers without assistance,” Vergil boldly claims with a determined nod.

“Oh really? I see…” Dante trails off while giving him a knowing grin. “You just wanna be alone so you can put your tulips togeth- WHOA!” he exclaims as multiple spectral swords surround him. “Hey! Don’t ruin the suit, big bro!”

A low and irritable growl emanates from Vergil’s throat. “Cease your prattling and go help Nero,” he demands while relenting to his foolish brother’s request, calling off the summoned swords from shredding his black and red suit to pieces.

Dante lets out a disappointing groan as he stalks out of the kitchen, grumbling under his breath about how all this waiting around is boring. Vergil rolls his eyes and shakes his head before directing his attention back to you, paying no mind to the staff’s slightly perturbed faces while offering his arm. You wrap your hand around the crook of his elbow with an amused giggle and follow him out of the kitchen.

Vergil heads to the closest room with enough space before summoning the Yamato with a flick of his wrist. He insists that you stand back before unsheathing the blade and slicing the air with two intersecting slashes. Then, he sheaths the Yamato with a loud click of the hilt as the portal opens with a bright blue flash. You grab his hand and run through its threshold, popping up just outside the back gate behind your cozy home.    

You quickly undo the latch and dash towards your outdoor workshop with Vergil hot on your heels. The overwhelming perfume of your impressive garden brings a fond smile to his face as both of you run down winding paths between lush flowers and trimmed bushes. He pulls ahead a little when you get closer to the workshop, reaching out and opening the door with a courteous nod as you enter with a sigh of gratitude. You flip the light switch before scurrying off towards a large cold case full of fresh blooms.

Vergil enters the workshop as you begin counting out the number of flowers you have on hand. He shuts the door and lingers close behind you, patiently waiting for your next directive while taking in your pleasing visage. But you seem to not notice his blatant gaze, diligently focused on taking inventory as you take out a step stool to count the flowers on the top shelf. His eyes wander down your dainty body, admiring the delicate flowers embroidered on the lovely pink dress that brings out your natural charm and radiant grace.  

Your pensive hum breaks him out of his adoring stupor. “Looks like I have plenty of yellow peonies but not enough white ones,” you inform with a disheartening pout.

“Can you substitute them with another flower?” he suggests, recalling your lesson on improvising a bouquet when he helped you arrange one for a customer.   

You ponder for a moment. “I do have some white hydrangeas!” you exclaim with a victorious grin while turning to look at him. “Can you- Ah!”

Your feet wobble as you let out a startled squeal, losing your balance on the step stool before tipping over towards the ground. But Vergil surges forward and catches you within his protective embrace, wrapping his arms around your small frame.

“Oh snapdragons,” you murmur while clasping the lapels of his coat.

Vergil smirks at your stunned exclamation. “Are you okay?”

Your lips curl into a gracious. “Yes! And it’s all thanks to my darling devil!”

“You should be more careful, my beloved rose,” he murmurs while looking down at you in concern. “It pains me to see you hurt,” he admits as the gravity of this intimate situation takes control.

Vergil bows his head as you raise yourself up onto your tippy toes, slowly drawing closer and closer until your bated breath caresses his starving mouth. Then, he gently presses his lips against yours, letting out a pleased hum when you return his tender kiss with enthusiastic passion. You let out a delightful sigh as he withdraws from your lips with a warm smile.  

“I’ve longed to do that again since yesterday morning.”

“Me too,” you agree. “We didn’t have much of a chance to talk more at the rehearsal dinner either,” you remind while averting your gaze with a coy smirk.

“Between the chaotic run-through of the ceremony and our rushed practice session,” he recalls, nuzzling your face until your lips brush his eager mouth. “What a most inconvenient time to confess.”

“Since when has love ever been convenient?” you muse with a playful peck. “We’ll have more time to talk after our performance,” you pause as he presses a soft kiss above the corner of your mouth. “And during the reception,” you finish before capturing his lips with your needy kiss.

Vergil growls as his tongue brushes against your lower lip, silently requesting for entry as you wrap your arms around his neck. You part your mouth for him, softly moaning while meeting every stroke of his questing tongue. He basks in your intoxicating scent, so flowery and arousing…the devil inside him clamors to claim you as his own. But he’s able to clamp that instinct down, prolonging that inevitable need when the time is right…which will definitely be later since the door of your workshop bursts open with a loud crack.

“Fiddlin’ Firs!” you exclaims, hastily jumping back from his embrace as the spectral form of his devilish side peeks in with an expectant look.

“Be at ease,” he soothes you with a swift peck against your brow. “It’s only my doppelganger.”

You squint as his phantom form points at the white hydrangeas it collected just outside your workshop. “But he looks so much different than you!” you note with a curious tilt of your head.

Vergil chuckles at your subtle suspicion. “Remember what I told you,” he whispers close to your ear, “the power of Sparda is vast and you have yet to see an ounce of its potential.”

You shiver as he kisses your neck. “Does the power of Sparda include sweeping sweet gardeners off their feet?”  

“I’m not certain,” he remarks, “but it does include…how did you put it?” He tilts his head in thought. “Ah! Charming the petals off of a lovely rose,” he reveals with a smirk while meeting your ardent gaze. Your cheeks grow pink as he dips back down for another kiss…but his doppelganger stops him from indulging in your velvety lips again with its impatient scratching at the door.

You stifle a giggle as he growls irritably at his spectral self. “We better head back with these flowers,” you reason with a sweet smile. “Don’t wanna be late to your own son’s wedding!”

Vergil reluctantly withdraws from you with an agreeing nod. He helps you collect all yellow peonies and white hydrangeas into several flower trays. You manage to pick up a few of them as he opens up another portal with the Yamato, silently commanding his doppelganger to carry as many flowers as possible before following them back into the venue’s kitchen.

A chorus of various shocked gasps and cries from the astonished staff greets them, but they all scamper away as the monstrously tall spectral devil enters the room. You put the flower trays down on a nearby table with a sigh of relief, softly hoping that this sliver of peace and quiet would last as you fix the ruined centerpiece in a timely manner. Your lips curl into a pleased smile when you turn to see his doppelganger wagging its tail proudly next to all the flower trays it dropped off by your makeshift worktable.

The sound of rushed footsteps gets their immediate attention just as the wedding planner enters the kitchen with a worried grimace. You explain the current state of the flowers but assure her that you have everything under control now. She nods her head with a relieved smirk while side-eying the spectral devil standing next to you, clearly curious but not commenting on it as she informs Vergil that the groom’s party is taking their place at this very moment.

“You’re certain that you can do all of this without any assistance?” he inquires as the wedding planner leaves the kitchen.

“Of course! Just be-leaf in me,” you reply with a cheery grin before giggling as he scoffs at your ridiculously bad pun. “Buuuut I wouldn’t mind if you let him stay and help!” you suggest while pointing at his doppelganger, who is currently helping you arrange the assortment of flowers on the table.

Vergil ponders for a moment before nodding his head. “Very well…but you better be on your best behavior!” he instructs his spectral self with a suspicious glare. You laugh as his doppelganger shrugs its shoulders defensively while shaking its horned head.

“And I’ll meet you backstage as soon as I can before our performance,” he softly affirms, swiftly pulling you in close for a quick kiss before heading out of the kitchen.

It only takes him a few minutes to arrive at the designated place outside on the beach. Many of the guests are already in their seats along the elegant runner leading all the way down to a modest arch wrapped in white silky ribbon with sunflowers and blue delphiniums. He can hear their excited murmurs over the soft crashing of the nearby surf as he makes his way towards his assigned spot on the groom’s side.

Nero is already standing in front of the arch, shifting around nervously while adjusting the blue dahlia boutonniere pinned to his crisp white suit. He looks up as his father approaches him and immediately pulls out a matching boutonniere from inside his coat pocket. Vergil gives him a gracious nod while pinning the delicate bloom to the lapel of his coat.    

“Is everything alright?” his soon-to-be wedded son asks with a soft whisper as classical music starts playing over the ecstatic chatter of the guests.  

“It’s nothing for you to be concerned about,” Vergil assures while looking out into the gathering crowd of unfamiliar faces. “Everything is under control.”

Nero nods with an anxious swallow. “Yeah…okay.”

Vergil quirks a brow at his son. “Nervous?”

“What? No!” Nero exclaims in a hushed whisper. “Well…maybe a little,” he admits while scratching the back of his head.

“Don’t sweat it, kid!” Dante exclaims as he pops up behind both of them. “You’ve got this!” he adds with an encourage pat on his nephew’s back.

“I must agree with your fool of an uncle for once,” Vergil avows as everyone begins to quiet down.

His son responds with a grateful smile as the ceremony starts with the wedding officiant taking their place in front of the arch. The music gradually swells as the bridal party walks down the aisle with their beautiful dresses and lovely bouquets…except Nico, who proudly struts down in her black suit. She grins while taking her place as the Best Woman, cheekily wiggling her eyebrows at Nero when everyone stands up for the bridal march.

The crashing waves in the distance grow quiet as Kyrie slowly makes her way down the aisle, leaving only the collective gasps of the guest’s to accompany the sweet melody of her march. She clutches her bouquet of sunflowers below her chest as her pure white dress flutters softly in the sea breeze. Her lips curl into a sunny smile beneath her tulle veil when she sees Nero staring in awe at her warm and graceful beauty. But he snaps out of his amazed daze as soon as his soon-to-be wife reaches the arch, reaching for her hand with a small smirk before facing the wedding officiant together.

An array of emotions fills the salty air as the ceremony commences; one moment there’s silent admiration with some light laughter in between the simple rituals of matrimony, but then there’s plenty of soft sniffling and happy tears as the officiant guides them through their vows. Even the Dark Slayer isn’t immune to the palpable emotions surrounding him, unexpectedly getting misty eyed as they exchange rings and promises of eternal devotion.  

Vergil happens to catch sight of you lurking behind the guests, seemingly watching the ceremony but mostly staring at him with a smitten smile upon your lips. He suddenly finds himself pondering about the prospect of marriage while blinking away his unshed tears. The image of his beloved rose dressed all in white drifts across his mind and he can’t help but to smirk at the thought of settling down with someone like you.

Your eyes widen when you finally notice him staring right back at you with his affectionate gaze. You look away bashfully while your flushed cheeks glow as red as the bleeding heart flowers upon your head. His lips curve into an endearing smile as the officiant allows Nero and Kyrie to seal their blissful union with a kiss. And as everyone showers the newly wedded couple with periwinkle petals, he realizes just how lucky he was to come upon such a lovely rose among his briars.

🌹🌹🌹

Tagging: @drusoona @bettybattaglia @exsultry @thedyingmoon @veenus-ow @meowykittenn @fandomhell97 @vergilsangel @thenightgazer @cherryvane @yesno18 @diabeticsugarush @queenmuzz @mary-v-o-n @tinamalee @a-midsummer-nights-odyssey @ancientwhitefire @agentdedf1sh @divinity-deos  @shiranyaaww @skarlet-red-rose @lucinalu219 @superluckystar

[sixeyesgojo]

Team Gojo as flowers

Summary: Gojo, Yuji, Megumi, Nobara and Sukuna as types of flowers

Characters: stated above

Content warning: mild manga spoilers

Word count: -

A/N: I’d appreciate feedback here (and in general) because I’m not sure whether to do this kind of hc for other JJK characters or not. I am thinking of Toge in particular because I love my salmon boy. Also fyi, this was some time after 135 but before 140 for sure.

Gojo Satoru  - Nemophila

I just saw these and immediately thought about how good they would suit him???

another name for them would be baby blue eyes (no, I had no idea beforehand)

they symbolize prosperity, victory, success or triumph over an enemy

flashback to Gojo beating Jogo tf up... but add a nemophila field in the background <3

That being said, his profile literally states that he is perfect in every way (except for his personality but we still love that, right?), so if this isn't success in every way then idk

This flower's essence is also said to be helpful for those who put up a mask over their painful sensitivity

Gojo also displays characteristics of cynism and mistrust towards the higher-ups

Furthermore, I think he is a little anti-social - doesn't have a lot of friends. As someone from the secret Jujutsu World, he's bound to be hidden in a way. This is enforced by the fact that he is the strongest, so a lot of people and curses are out to get his head. I'd think he doesn't keep anyone too close to him so that they do not become a target for anyone. Must be traumatizing to be him.

This flower helps soothen the soul's conflict, healing it slowly, which is exactly what Gojo needs imo

it really is the perfect flower for him

but it's native to North America

Yeah, watch him teleport there to bring back a bouquet of them for his s/o

Itadori Yuji - Protea (orange)

This kind of flower comes in many different shapes, which is why it's a symbol of transformation, which is exactly what Yuji embodies by going from a regular human being to being a Jujutsu sorcerer

Diversity: Yuji is open to anything, Gojo even described him as "having a few screws loose up there". I don't even think he questions how he is being taught by Gojo or anything for that matter?

Yuji also embodies courage and is known to be daring and i don't think i need to explain this one further

I mean, the boy literally jumped right into a curse to rescue Sasaki and Iguchi and help Megumi while not even knowing what a curse is

Orange proteas represent cheerfulness, joy and happiness - if that isn't our sunshine boy, then idk. After what happened to Junpei, he seemed a little down at first but recent episodes have shown that he will not slow down because of that and will keep on being the energetic fluffball of joy that he is.

moreover, they also symbolize unlimited possibilities as his cursed technique so far probably isn't even his final technique yet - compared to Nobara's hammer and Megumi's shikigami. All we know is that Sukuna's techniques are going to be his over time but we don't even know the full extent of the said curse's power yet

If anyone ever mentioned all this to him and showed him the flower, he would think it looks weird at first but will grow to find it interesting (especially the shape). It's not like the flower is native to Japan, so he most likely wouldn't have seen it anywhere.

Gets really excited if you were to give this baby one of these flowers

Fushiguro Megumi - Anemone (purple)

hear me out

The most common symbol for the purple Anemone is 'protection against evil'. While it's Megumi's primary focus in his line of work as a professional, you ought to know he became a sorcerer in the first place because of his sister, Tsukimi.

Fragility: While Megumi shows a lot of potential for growth, it's also said that he will most likely stagnate due to the mental aspect. He's pretty insecure about his own abilities and doesn't think much of himself but that doesn't mean he won't use his powers in order to protect someone.

Anticipation: As previously stated, Megumi shows a lot of potential as a sorcerer, even to the point that Sukuna (mind you, the creature that only cares about himself) has praised him and will not hesitate to make Megumi a pawn to whatever his big, mysterious plans may be. With that being said, if Sukuna himself is interested in our blue-haired boy, we can anticipate great things from Megumi in the foreseeable future.

This specific flower seems to be a double-edged sword in terms of symbolism. In some cultural circles, it is believed to be a symbol of bad luck, whereas in other areas it's seen as a lucky charm (in which we hope this is the one for our boy). I see the same principle applying to Megumi's descent and his mysterious technique - not gonna elaborate further though (feel free to ask though)

a rather dark symbol for this particular flower: "death of a loved one". In this case, I am referring to Tsukimi, his step-sister. She may not be dead but it is indicated that she is in a comatose state due to being cursed. It seems that Megumi does not know when - or rather whether - she will wake up or not. Knowing this boy, he probably has tried anything and everything in his power to wake her up (hell, he probably even consulted Gojo) but nothing worked so far. This poor boy is anxious about it all the time.

he's surprised anyone would even associate him with flowers but wouldn't mind it

Kugisaki Nobara - Orchid (mainly orange)

I had some trouble finding something for her but orchids seem to suit her best

couldn't really pick a particular color though but I am leaning towards orange

orange orchids represent: pride, enthusiasm and boldness

Nobara is very proud of who she is. She strikes me as a person who is not afraid to tell her story, even though she despices the countryside where she is from. She also takes pride in staying true to herself all the time, to the point of admitting that she only enrolled in Jujutsu High so that she could move to Tokyo to Yuji, who was basically a stranger at that time

She is also very enthusiastic about her own future. She knows she won't ever like having to exorcise curses but somehow, being a Jujutsu sorcerer excites her.

plus points for her being enthusiastic about winning in the Kyoto Goodwill Event Arc and just beating up the Kyoto students

I don't need to mention her being enthusiastic about shopping and sightseeing in big cities, do I?

Bold? Oh, she is bold. She has no filter when it comes to speaking her mind and would never hesitate to put anyone in their place. I see her going places in Gojo's revolution... and cussing at the superiors.

Yellow symbolizes new beginnings and friendships. Nobara does not have any problems making new friends, she adapts fairly well in new environments. There's also the way she mourned for Yuji, despite "only knowing him for two weeks" and I don't even doubt for a second that it was her making him hold the black funeral picture frame when he came back lol

Pink: grace, femininity, joy + purple: royalty and admiration

There is no doubt that Nobara tries to enjoy her life to the fullest *cough* moving to Tokyo

Moreover, there is something about her that just screams "queen behavior" to me and I don't even mean that in the slang sense. Have you all seen how graceful this girl moves? (I would like to thank MAPPA at this point)

Nobara shows respect where it's due - I'm just gonna mention Maki here - but is a very admirable girl herself

probably has an orchid plant in her room, ngl

Ryomen Sukuna - Snapdragon

please, the name already sounds a little dangerous

This flower shares a certain character trait with him: being unique

Snapdragons are usually associated with strength due to the way they even grow in rocky areas and if that's not screaming Sukuna's name, who is all about strength, then correct me

Deviousness is practically Sukuna's second name, so this symbol isn't exactly off the track either. Let me remind you about the way Sukuna and Mahito laughed at Yuji??

Graciousness: just like Nobara, he possesses some sort of grace that makes me percept him as a majestic being

but maybe that's just his throne of bones and title as King of Curses contributing

and him owning a shrine???

or maybe that is just the way he majestetically killed that special grade lol

"Only large insects like bumblebees can pollinate snapdragons because the petals are too heavy for smaller insects to push apart." I read this and if you reverse it a little, it somehow reminded me of the fact that Sukuna's fingers need to have a powerful vessel aka small fry won't do because they will simply die away.

Deception: despite being given the minimum amount of information about Sukuna in general, I just don't see him being anything but egoistic and evil. I just cannot picture it. So yeah, put everything evil in a pot, stir a little and don't be surprised if your result is not the Powerpuff girls but a four-eyed multi-talented and deceptive curse that is out to kill you for fun

[theawkwardterrier]

Blossoms Every Day

Summary: When you work at a flower shop requests for elaborate bouquets are just part of the job. Requests for bouquets this specific, on the other hand...

The other of my rejected Steggy Secret Santa stories. I was looking for AU tropes to play around with, thought of flower shop...and immediately began to write it in the weirdest way possible.

Read on AO3

After three years of being the only employee of Asters to Zinnias other than Michaela, the owner, you are fairly familiar with the peaks and valleys of the business. Valentine’s Day is big, of course (and the day or two afterward are even bigger for more elaborate apology arrangements) but considering the shop’s proximity to the university campus, there’s also an uptick in sales around graduation time and about a month after the fall semester starts each year, when the kids who’d met and fallen for each other at orientation have their first tiny anniversary.

Summer and winter breaks, though, are generally...well, you don’t want to call them dry spells because it would give Michaela an onset of migraine face, but they’re certainly less busy. That’s why on a drizzly Wednesday morning at the beginning of January, you feel certain enough about having the shop to yourself that, while you dust the vases behind the counter, you have your earbuds in playing an episode of the soothingly-voiced serial murder podcast you love.

The volume is turned up pretty loud, so you don’t hear the bell over the door (don’t tell Michaela) or the approaching customer’s footsteps, or your own shocked squeak when you turn to water the spider plant on the counter and find someone standing there.

“Sorry,” you gasp, pausing mid-murder description and hastily shoving your earbuds into your pocket. “How can I help you?”

There’s something of a stunned look on the man’s face, and he stares for a moment as if he doesn’t quite know how to answer the question and would have preferred you stay oblivious to him for another few moments while he gathered his thoughts.

Finally he says, “I—I think I need a recommendation. Can you think of what flowers would say ‘welcome to campus’ to a really smart visiting professor in the history department who specializes in European women's and gender history in the mid-nineteenth to mid-twentieth centuries?” And then, as if he wants to make sure you have every bit of information which might be helpful, he adds, “Her last book was an amazing collection of oral histories about women in the UK during World War II.”

You’ve picked out plenty of arrangements for people who didn’t know daffodil from a delphinium, for students who’ve walked in asking simply for “something pretty,” and you consider yourself pretty quick on your feet at this point. After a moment of staring, you offer weakly, “A nice plant always brightens up a new office. Maybe bamboo, for good luck?”

He walks out with his potted bamboo twenty minutes later. You spent two minutes wrapping the pot. He spent eighteen writing and rewriting cards. Hopefully the professor really likes bamboo.

Two days later, a woman walks in, comes right over to where you’re finishing up a new baby bouquet to send over to the hospital, and asks for “something to show gratitude for making me feel welcome. An arrangement expressing appreciation for brightening up my office.”

“Oh,” she adds, “and his eyes are a lovely shade of blue, if you have something that might suit.”

Holding back a groan, you start to offer some options. Apparently she liked the bamboo well enough.

You don’t see either of them for three weeks, long enough for you to have told the story to Michaela then to a couple of friends over beers, long enough that the pair of them are fading into a slightly amusing anecdote.

The man shows up just after you’ve come back from lunch break. You’re still wiping a few tricky crumbs off your sweater as he tells you that he’s looking for something that says “sorry about that horrible meeting, and here’s hoping for less exposure to jerks in the future - although since too many of them are tenured, I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Sunflowers are cheerful?” you suggest. “Maybe mixed with some tulips or snapdragons, plus white poppies - they symbolize consolation - and some greenery?”

He’s pretty young, probably too young for tenure or a significant salary, and you can see that his dark, tidy dress pants are getting a bit soft around the hems, but he doesn’t back down when you quote the price.

That evening, when it’s dark and the wind is blowing chill outside and you sit at the counter with your face in your hand dreaming of getting out of here and going home to hot soup and a blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a cloak, there’s a call on the store’s phone. You hadn’t talked to the woman long enough in person for her voice to be familiar, but you have no doubt as to the identity of the person requesting a “thank you for speaking up to our terrible colleagues” bouquet.

The thing is that they never seem to show up or call when Michaela or any of the regular customers are around, or when any of the neighboring shopkeepers are popping in for a break and to share some gossip. You’re the only one who ever sees or speaks with them. Every month that the receipts tally with the inventory, you have a flash of relief at this small proof that they actually exist.

But this means that it’s up to you to suggest red tulips to represent “those journal reviewers were idiots to turn your paper down” and yellow poppies for “congratulations on the high average on your students’ last exam.” You’re the one charged with making arrangements in honor of “I had a great time at trivia last night,” and “best wishes on your sports team making the championship, even though I’m sorry you can’t be at the game,” and “you looked like you were a bit down yesterday,” and “that book you recommended was so great that I’ve already started on the sequel,” and “sorry I was short with you in the hall this morning, my neighbors threw a raging party last night even though it was 2:30 on a Wednesday.” In April, you help choose the three most perfect crimson roses in the shop to add to a birthday bouquet of calla lilies and orchids, and you don’t say anything about how the shade reminds you of a certain hue of lipstick or about what everyone knows red roses mean.

You’ve kept up with your schoolwork through it all, acquitted yourself nicely. Graduation day is approaching quickly now. But somehow, between helping Michaela find your replacement among the newer students and saying a slow goodbye to all your campus haunts, you can’t help but wonder how things will end for your two most politely irritating regular customers. Visiting professors aren’t meant to stay, after all.

The arrangement you put together in early May, tiger lilies and sweet peas and irises, is the largest yet. You’ve been told that it’s meant to say “I’m sorry that you can’t stay, but I know that there’s something amazing waiting for you,” although the sadness is obvious in his eyes as you hand it over. Nevertheless, he thanks you sincerely for all your help.

“I’m sure you’re glad not to have to see me anymore,” he jokes. You shake your head. Once, maybe, you would have secretly agreed, but in a certain way you’ve come to look forward to the challenge that only these two seem to give you. More than that, you’ve enjoyed seeing two people so eager to demonstrate their affection for each other. They seem to have said more with flowers over these last months than most people say with words in a lifetime; sometimes you wonder if they even have to speak when they encounter each other.

With a last smile, he turns to go, just as the bell above the door jingles, and she steps through.

“Peggy,” comes the surprised exhalation. You can’t see his face, although you can imagine the widened eyes, the parting of his mouth. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” The enormous bouquet in its vase lowers just a bit, so they can look each other in the face over your handiwork.

“Steve. Hello,” she says, surprised too but covering it better. “I suppose it was only a matter of time before our schedules overlapped here.”

You’ve seen people grin and shriek and tear up when presented with flowers before, but there’s something entirely new about the particular quiet tenderness with which they are regarding each other. It sort of makes you want to just stand quietly and perhaps hold the hand of someone you love.

“Your order is ready,” you say instead, hefting her vase forward onto the counter, filled with primroses, violets, and camellias. And before you can think better of it, before you can imagine what Michaela would say, you add, “One ‘Thank you for everything. If you ask me, I’ll find a way to stay’ bouquet, as requested.”

For a minute, nothing moves, and in the drowning silence you wonder if your last memory of this job is going to be filled with shouting and humiliation and demands to speak to your manager. But instead their eyes seem to shift into deeper focus on each other, as if you aren’t even there.

“Do you really—” he swallows, voice somehow even softer as he continues. “You don’t usually say things you don’t mean.”

“No,” she responds. “And I’m not now. They offered to have me stay on, if I want to.”

“But Cambridge—You can’t just tell Cambridge to go screw themselves.” The vase in his hands seems to be preventing him from gesturing the way he wants to, but he holds himself very still and her eyes don’t leave his.

She laughs a bit. “Of course not, but I can tell them that there are greater opportunities available to me here.” She places a hand on his arm. “And Steve? To be clear, I don’t simply mean academic ones.”

And suddenly the spotlight turns back onto you as he turns abruptly and says, “Can you send these over to the hospital instead? I don’t know that I need them anymore.” As you give a quick nod, somewhat shocked by the rapid turn of events, he strides over to set the vase gently back onto the counter beside hers.

“You can deliver mine there as well,” she tells you. “I think this is the sort of conversation you have in words rather than plants.” She steps forward and extends her hand. He glances at it, at her face, then intertwines his fingers with hers. The bell jingles behind them as they step out the door together.

A year later, you’re waiting for your lunch order at the specialty salad place near your new job when your phone vibrates with a text. You’d given your number to your replacement just in case you were needed to shed light on the location of the fancy twine or what to get Michaela at Starbucks when she was groaning over the January billing, after the holiday sales had dropped off and before the Valentine’s orders had started coming in. This is the first time it’s been used.

What in the world do I put in a proposal bouquet that’s meant to symbolize “You are the best, most brilliant woman in the world, someone who knows herself better than anyone I’ve ever met. I can’t fully describe when you are to me and I’d wait for you forever, but if you’re ready, I would love to be married to you”???????

You give a shout of a laugh, right there in the crowd, not caring about the glances thrown your way or the call of your name at the pickup area. You’re too busy typing back: Okay, you’re going to want to have orange blossoms in there…

[kawaiijohn]

Going Angst Week Day 2: Obsession

Ao3:  Here

WC:  1689

Nav: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 

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The scenery behind the door was very... unique Quizz would say.  

“You know, if I wanted space I would just remove a wall.  A room suspended in the endless void is a little... extra, don’t you think?” They asked nobody.

There was a singular platform suspended in an endless inky void of space with a singular pathway to the door.  Nothing sat upon it but a desk- complete with a fancy looking double-monitor setup and roomy drawers underneath.  It looked sleek, modern, tempting.  

Quizz didn’t know why the single point of focus in an otherwise liminal room was so enticing, but hey!  The feeling in their chest hadn’t led them astray.  Yet.

With a shrug they began walking, their saunter turning into a slow but steady glide as they negated gravity.  “Well, only one way to go.  Down it is!!”

The monitors lit up with a strange logo- a devilishly smiling face with red shades and blue flames for hair.  Okay... that looked really cool, but... why was it lighting up?  They tapped the space key and a password entry blinked before them.

“I can’t even remember my name, what makes this place think I’ll remember a fuckin’ password right off the bat?  Sheesh!!”  He pulled the chair out and took a seat, realizing it didn’t need adjusting and was hella comfortable.  

Alright... he could work with this.

With a too-wide grin he began trying to unlock the machine.

-----

It turned out he could not, in fact, work with this.

Quizz had his cheek pressed against the desk, growling lowly at the password box as it flashed tauntingly at him.  It really didn’t help that the damn thing cackled at him with every wrong entry.

“Stupid computer.  Stupid amnesia.  Stupid Quizz... stupid stupid stupid.”  He pried his face off the desk in despair and slammed his forehead on it a few times.  “The fact that nothing seems to hurt me makes me think I’m just having an awful dream.”  Another slam.  “But with my terrible luck I’m in purgatory or something.” Slam.  

“Why is this so damn hard... Always gettin’ myself into so much trouble- way more than it’s worth!!  Gods mom was ri-...”  Quizz paused and thought.  “.... she was... who?  Who was... right??  ACK!”  They grabbed their forehead, talons accidentally scratching the fuck out of their face in the rush.  “I-I... why do things keep.  Leaving me?”

They took a moment to calm, thinking about it- thinking about the trouble they were in; lost and alone with apparently only a locked computer for company.  “Please, I... don’t want to forget her.  I just want to... know...” The pain in their head subsided as the thing in their chest thrummed violently.  “Who was she to me again??”  They had to remember, feelings of both nostalgia and love rushed over them, followed by a single, near debilitating shudder of regret and the gut-wrenching feeling of failure.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t enough... I couldn’t be there for you all...’

Quizz gasped loudly.  “I... someone said I get into trouble... it was familiar, but not angry.  Exasperated... and then I... I left them.  How did I leave?”  Their heard vibrated strangely again.  “I don’t think I left them willingly.  But who were... they?”

A happy, yet tired family sits at a table.  A single chair remains empty yet another day; a small plate covered in frogs sits on a placemat in front of it.  There’s three other people, smiling yet tired.  Pizza steams fresh in the center with two figures talking excitedly about something else.  They’re all smaller besides one more in focus than the others.  They look... older?  The image clears a bit more and reveals a stout woman with slightly greying hair and blank eyes...

Something clicks into place.

"Mom!!!  I remember mom- I think... but who are the others?  Kids, at least maybe?  Ah, what was her name- I can... Her favorite color was peach!!”  They readied themself for pain again, but none came.  “ Ah, so the initial memory sucks when I remember it!!  Noted!  Thanks brain, I hate it!!!”  They tapped their forehead and stood in front of the desk, arms crossed.  “Now, brain, my dear friend- can please you do me a favor and, oh... I don’t know... fuckin’ LET ME UNLOCK THIS FUCKIN’ DESKTOP?? Please???”

The monitor snickered softly at them again after a moment of absolute silence.

“ALRIGHT SMARTASS!!!”  Quizz slammed their fist hard on the keyboard, hearing something click softly underneath.  “There’s literally no need to get sassy with me!  So what do you say, help me out here, bud?  Please???”  They pleaded with the computer, but got a loud raspberry in return.  “Cool.  Just fuckin’ great.”  Another smack to the keyboard made something inside the desk click again, the sound of some sort of mechanism unwinding.  After a moment, a drawer (one he was SURE was locked) glided open gracefully.

Quizz perked up, ignoring the fact they were about ten seconds from slashing the monitor in half with their new claws.  “Alright!  Now that’s the shit I’m talkin’ about!  That’s the shit I’m fuckin’ about!!!”  They turned and saluted the blank space surrounding him.  “Thanks, weird void room.  Thanks weird asshole computer!!  I totally appreciate the help you gave me!!” 

‘Ah, sarcasm.  Never fails to lighten the mood.’

With nimble fingers the amnesiac started shuffling through the drawer.  It had several very... interesting items inside- weirdly shaped pens, a neat collapsable cane he was gonna inspect later, but the best of all was a pair of dope-ass red shades that they absolutely donned immediately- a feeling of pride and rightness filling them as they put them on.

They made it to the bottom of the drawer when their chest thrummed violently.  A lone binder, locked tightly, sat at the bottom.  They grasped their chest with one hand and the book with the other, admiring the intricate silver swirls and black glittering stars covering it.  Quizz placed it on the desk, noticing a small, strangely glittering key hanging off of a chain attached to it.

The room seemed to whisper directly into his mind.

‘Open it.  Inside.  Open... learn about... read... learn...’

With a shaking hand, they unlocked it and read.

They read.

And read.

Memories coming to the forefront and fading away just as soon.  Their eyes scanned words that would pixelate and blur as soon as they glanced at them.  Names and places, numbers and facts- blurred away from his sight.  

‘No.  This is not how it should be.’

A growl bubbled up in his chest as he kept reading.  Names were all universally destroyed, photos for the most part blurred out.  But categories- favorite places and things... birthdays and personality types- all of those were categorized neatly and nicely.  

Some pages had just a few, and those names were less obscured- some even with profile pictures fully visible.

Those pages made his chest rumble happily.  He couldn’t understand why.

But there were three specific pages that stood out.  Just looking at them... it made his blood itch, his chest scream in longing.

He needed to finish them.  If he didn’t... he didn’t know what he would do.  

He poured over the pages over and over and over again.

They all had information filled for the most part, more categories were finished than any other page had been, but things like the person’s name and appearance, as well as the photos were unhelpfully blurred out.

They snarled at the thought of not knowing what it meant.  

“Can’t make anything easy for me, huh?”

One was a page that was rather childish.  Observations were written but he could barely understand them- the letters scrambling before his eyes.  But he noticed something- it seemed the entry was cut short; the only clear thing besides crayon drawings of frogs said ‘entry cut short, just like their time with us.’

The second page was filled with pressed flowers- all different types of lilies and snapdragons.  Everything was written with a glittery peach gel pen.  They ran a claw over the script and felt a tear fall from their eyes.  The writing made them feel something deep and painful- the same pain they’d felt a short while ago.

Their eyes scanned the page, noticing a single clear data entry.

Favorite Color:  Peach

“This was... is this my mom?”

Upon saying that, the page become more readable- some smaller things filling out and the photo less ‘thumb over the camera’ and more ‘they moved while I took this’.

If this was information on people they knew then...

Quizz yelled as their chest spiked in pain, something overcoming their willpower.

If this book was filled with things about the people they loved, then they will... they are going to... uncover all of it- collect all the information and find them.  They’ll collect everyone interesting they meet- ask them... get answers, know things, know all things to... to - 

Protect.

Love.

Learn.

Know. Know them.

After feeling cold pins and needles consume their form, Quizz flipped back to the third and last page that had gathered their interest. 

The very first page in the book.

Their claw ran over the scrawling handwriting- admiring how the writer crossed their sevens with lines, how they looped their letters and underlined things for emphasis.  They felt nostalgic and hollow.

This page had every single category filled, but the descriptions were blackened out; like they’d spilled ink all over the page.  They looked it up and down but couldn’t find a single clue about who page one would have been.

With a sigh they grinned and noticed something peculiar on the inner cover- right next to the bio.  There was a single note, a single clue.

Password:  Page 5′s best friend.

Now that... that tickled Quizz’s fancy.  Page 5... that would be the childish froggie page?  Yes it was.  

Quizz felt the buzzing in their chest become steady, violent yet subdued.  It was telling them this was the right direction- that attaining that information would fill a hunger they didn’t know they had.

Interesting, this was going to just be... delightful.

[katherinewilliams221b]

For A Greater Good 18/18

not my gif

He Who Must Not Be Named

Summary: Kate Williams, young healer and member of the Order,  joins Durmstrang’s staff at Dumbledore’s request. Her mission? Find a     Death Eater and survive long enough to tell the story. Set in 1996.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x ofc/mc

Masterlist

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

[Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]

[Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14]

[Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17]

A/N: bold lines are from the book Harry Potter and The Order of The Phoenix

Severus Snape emerged from the shadows to stand in front of his ally.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t come, Severus.” The voice of Albus Dumbledore was, as expected, steady and confident. “Do you have it?”

Snape approached him, eying the room with suspicion. It was the first time he had stepped inside Dumbledore’s hiding place, but despite he trusted the man, a chill ran down his spine. Keeping a stoic expression, he reached inside his robes and handed him a rolled piece of parchment.

“She had it with her. As you said.”

Dumbledore unrolled the document and nodded slowly. Another name wrote itself with the others.

“It is vital that Cornelius sees Voldemort first. After that, I will personally make sure that this information reaches the aurors.” The bearded man walked to the end of the room; the dim light of a candle outlined Fawkes’ silhouette.

“My name appears on that list.” Snape watched Dumbledore’s hand halt in the air. He turned around and with challenging eyes, he stared at him as he unrolled the parchment again. Turning his gaze back to the paper, Dumbledore pursed his lips together as if he was going to whistle and with a light blow, the name ‘Severus Snape’ left the paper in the form of black ashes.

He looked up at the potions teacher from up his glasses. Snape nodded.

“What happened to Yankelevich?”

“She will be brought to Nurmergard” The phoenix moved so his master could slide the parchment under him. “Attempted murder, at least.”

“I don’t understand why you sent Williams. Yankelevich wasn’t an immediate threat and Alastor could have done it faster and more efficiently.”

Dumbledore turned and put his hands behind his back. “You underestimate her. She’s learnt fast, and listened to your instructions, didn’t she? You were busy training Harry to notice, of course, but her occlumency skills have improved enormously, and she’s been practising how to communicate with Mr Weasley.”

“You said she would, yes…”

“Well, she refused using her patronus to communicate, and she needed to be away from him to practise.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but he reconsider it. At Snape’s piercing stare, he kept going, “Astrid knew someone was up to no good and needed a favour, however,” he pointed at Fawkes’ nest “that was my goal.”

He walked to the nearest chair and sat down, grabbing a goblet from the table. Before sipping, he caught how Snape’s jaw tensed. “Besides, Alastor’s never run freely around a castle, breaking rules and finding places he is not supposed to enter. She has.”

“How did she know how to find it?”

“I said her skills had improved, not that they were better than mine. I might have… given her a small guidance.” He raised his hand up to his temple’s level and brushed his index and thumb together. “ I was certain that Karkarov knew about the existence of the room. It was the most logical place to hide it.”

“Where is he now?” demanded Snape.

Dumbledore looked at his partner with amused eyes, but corrected his demeanour quickly. “I have no idea. I mistakenly believed he would be in the forest. I sent a letter to Katherine in hopes she would meet him there. Turns out, he is smarter than I thought.”

“It won’t be long until He finds out Karkarov’s writing that.” Snape pointed at Fawkes’s nest, and the bird chirped unhappily.

“I know.” He tsked and took a sip from his beverage, “But it was his choice.”

“What are you going to do until then?”

“We’ll wait. That spell is not easy to perform. We’ll let him write as much as he can.” They fell silent for a long while, lost in their thoughts, until Dumbledore spoke again.

“When?”

“Tomorrow. He wants the prophecy.”

“Of course. Of course…” he stood up and crossed his hands in front of him and searched in his companion’s black eyes. Snape reached inside his sleeve and took out a small vial with a silver liquid in it. He handed it to Dumbledore, who read the tag ‘K. Williams. Durmstrang’.

“She will not remember the names.”

With one last nod, Albus Dumbledore observed how his confidant dissolved in the air.

--

Katherine Williams awoke for the second time in the same Grimmauld Place’s cold room. She let the sun rays hit her eyelids and savoured the memory of Charlie’s firm body against her own.

When she reached behind her, only cold sheets wished her a good morning.

Promise me something. Promise me you’ll wake me up to say goodbye.

She stared at the pillow next to her and sighed. To be fair, he didn’t make such a promise. He didn’t say anything at all.

Putting her disappointment aside, she prepared herself for one of the most exhausting whirlwinds one could face: the loving care of Molly Weasley.

Sitting up with her back against the headboard, she stretched her neck to the side and had to do a double take at the nightstand.

A pink flower with orange undertones sat beside a piece of paper that was folded in half. Her stomach flipped, and she considered forgiving him for leaving.

A snapdragon for the strongest of flowers.

I hope this wasn’t a one-time thing. Owl me.

“Oh, shut up!” Kate whispered, but a chuckle escaped her mouth, anyway.

Movement on the other side of the door startled her, and she hid the note under the pillow before quickly hiding herself behind the covers.

The doorknob turned, and Mrs Weasley entered the room.

“Oh, thank Godric you are alright!” Molly was by her side in four long strides and cradled Kate’s head in her hands. “How are you feeling? Charles told me you woke up last night. You look pale. Did you rest?”

“Yes, Mrs Weasley, I’m fine. My head is spinning a little, though.”

“Of course, of course, let me see that arm.”

Internally complaining, Kate let her put the cream on her arm and tend the bruises of her neck.  She didn’t have the courage to tell her that wouldn’t make the scar disappear. When she finished, Molly nodded with a satisfied smile and proceeded to pick up the clothes that were scattered on the floor. Kate held her breath during the entire the process.

“This boy... tsk... taught him better than this! At least he could have brought his clothes with him…” Kate wasn’t sure if she was oblivious or if she was giving them a green card because they weren’t at The Burrow. In any case, she felt the need to take Charlie off the hook.

“I’m sorry, that’s my fault, Charlie let me use his clothes after I showered and when I went to sleep... they were bothering me.” That wasn’t exactly a lie. She gestured her neck to point at her bruises and then remembered that maybe there were ones more recent, that she did not want to explain. Charlie had never left a mark on her, but that night he felt a tad possessive and she wasn’t sure he could be trusted.

Although Molly hadn’t commented on them while she was applying the cream, the younger witch rested her hand there, trying to appear casual. Just in case.

“Ah, don’t worry, dear.” Molly waved her free hand nonchalantly and went to pick her cloak from the floor. While putting on the robe that Charlie had left at the end of the bed, Kate remembered that she technically stole the uniform band.

“Oh, this is warm! What a nice coat!” She waved the magically warmed piece of clothing, admiring it, and something the size of a matchbox flew across the room in doing so. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I always check the pockets and now look at this!” She murmured something under her breath and went to pick up the mysterious object, but Kate interrupted her.

“I’ll get it, don’t worry.”

“Very well, then. I made you some breakfast, but it’s already cold, Charlie made me swear I would let you sleep in!” She laughed and when she was crossing the threshold, she added, “Arthur got your trunk, it’s downs… ah!”

Mr Weasley appeared from behind her with a smile on his face and his hands on her waist.

“Oh, not you too, Arthur, I have enough with your sons apparating everywhere…”

His husband ignored her with a laugh and entered the room, her trunk following him in the air.

“Special delivery!” He roared.

“Thank you so much, Mr Weasley.” He approached Kate, and after hugging her shoulders with an arm, he kissed the top of her head. “You scared us the other day, eh?” He squeezed her. “But, let’s thank Godric you are safe and sound! I must go to work now, if you’ll excuse me…”

“I’m fine, really. We healers recover quickly. Tonks filled me in, and I’m feeling alright.”

“Alright, then. I’ll let you change.” Molly placed a hand on her own cheek for a moment and left the room without another word.

The moment Mrs Weasley closed the door behind her, Kate spooned around and crawled down the wooden desk to retrieve the small object.

Placing it on her palm, she murmured ‘engorgio’, making the tiny leather journal grow to its original size.

Letters, maps, notes, names, drawings, and a full research on how to magically cross plant species were contained in that notebook. The past six months were portrayed in those pieces of paper, and their value was incalculable.

Looking up, she faced one of the obscure paintings that belonged to the Black family. Kate stared at a woman standing on a bridge in what appeared to be a forest, and a question formed in her mind. She needed to go to St. Mungo’s.

 Convincing Molly that she could go alone to the hospital was harder than the mission she just came from. After a diluted Invigoration Draught and some help from Lupin, she managed to step out of Grimmauld Place.

She didn’t feel ready to apparate, and she doubted she would ever be, so she enjoyed her walk through the streets of the city. With the muggle money that Lupin gave her, she jumped on the first underground station she saw and followed his directions.

She got comfortable on an empty seat and observed the people on the train car. When she saw a couple getting handsy in a corner, a wave of sadness washed over her, and had to look away.

She missed Charlie terribly. The night before was too desperate and rushed, she didn’t have time to savour the moment. She didn’t even ask him about his mission with the giants, about his dragons, or about how he felt all that time alone at home. Being on a mission kept her head occupied for most of the time, but now, with nothing to do, she anticipated some time of loneliness.

She brought her hand to her chest, and her heart ached even more when she couldn’t find the necklace that Charlie had gifted her many years before. No. Stop it. You’ll get answers and study your notes and then... and then you will have to explain to Dumbledore you lost an important document that could have saved lives. Brilliant.

Soft clapping noises brought her back to reality. A woman in front of her was struggling to hold an excited baby on her lap. Kate observed the child and smiled when his little finger touched her mother’s nose. The baby turned his head and stared at Kate for a while before raising his arm to wave at her. She chuckled and returned the greeting, her trip improving slightly and temporarily.

 Walking through St Mungo’s doors had a mixed effect of nostalgia and excitement. She had spent many hours in that hospital studying, training, and learning, and all of a sudden, she was fresh out of Hogwarts again, with all the emotions that implied. Taking a deep breath, she walked through the corridor and started searching for her first mentor and boss, Madame Louise.

She scanned the faces of the healers that were working, rapidly treating the patients like frantic ants recollecting their food.

“Williams?” Kate turned at the deep voice calling her and recognised the robust middle-aged woman in front of her. “What brings you here? I thought you were working in Romania?”

“Hello, Madame Louise, yes, well I was… working there. But I’m here as a patient today.”

Madame Louise frowned and looked at Kate up and down before giving a curt nod.

“Wait on that bed.” She said before turning and walking away.

Kate sat as directed and stared at the beautiful glass stained windows of the place.

“I request you let me go right now! This is nonsense.” She could recognise that firm voice anywhere. To her right Professor McGonagall was lying on one of the beds and arguing with a boy that Kate figured he was wishing he hadn’t been born.

She walked towards them and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’ll take it from here, thank you.”

“Who are you? You are not a healer; Madame Louise will hear about this.”

“Mister, this young woman knows more than you, do us all a favour and go with your mother.” Intervened McGonagall.

“I heard Jared O’Leary was looking for you.” The boy shifted in his place and nodded nervously before leaving them alone.

“Professor, what happened?” Kate’s healer mode activated and started scanning McGonagall for injuries and signals of distress.

“Oh, Williams, a lot is been happening this past year. I can imagine you’ve been informed?”

“Vaguely. I arrived two days ago from…”

“I know.”

Kate grabbed the file at the foot of the bed and read the report on McGonagall’s state.

“Four stunning spells to the chest?” She looked up and asked with her eyes, but her professor wasn’t in a mood for a talk.

“Williams, I must get out of here and go back to Hogwarts. I’m afraid it’s going to be too late by the time they let me go.”

“Professor, you could faint just by… too late for what?”

“Williams!” Madame Louise motioned her to come closer. Kate hesitated, but followed the mediwizard to a quieter space. “What happens to be the problem?”

“I’ve been poisoned two days ago.”

“In that case you should have come earlier, don’t you think?”

“There’s been… complications. I wanted to ask you if it’s possible to poison someone without using a vial or a potion or, I don’t know, food or drinks.”

The woman hummed and crossed her arms in front of her. “That’s rather strange.”

“Is this…” Kate moved the collar of the shirt to the side, revealing the red marks that hadn’t disappeared yet. “… a possible way?”

Louise grabbed the glasses that were hanging by a chain around her neck and placed them on the tip of her nose to inspect the injuries.

“The poison could have been injected with some kind of needle, but the shape of these marks means claws or… nails.”

She took her glasses off and waved them while talking. “I imagine it is possible, but you must have a very twisted mind to carry around poison in your nails. Also, you need to be very careful, a bad placement of the poison can cause yourself to get ill. In what kind of troubles are you getting into, Williams?”

“It’s a story for another day.”

 “Madame Louise, I can’t find Jared O’Leary…” The boy that was treating McGonagall appeared from behind Kate.

“What are you talking about? Go back to work! Naturally, you can’t find him. He doesn’t work here anymore!”

“But she…”

“Is every patient cured, Mr Boyle?” Kate slid away from the conversation to where Professor McGonagall was resting.

“I suddenly feel tired…”

Kate nodded and checked that the potions on her nightstand were filled and in order. A hand grabbed her wrist, and she turned to look at McGonagall.

“Katherine. You must find Potter. Something terrible is about to happen.”

Kate frowned and got closer to her former professor’s face.

“The Ministry. Try the Ministry,” she whispered.

Kate didn’t think twice. She ran all she could to the underground station, receiving some odd glances from the surrounding people.

When she arrived at the Ministry stop, she could sense the commotion even from the muggles that were passing by.

“A gas leak.” She heard while climbing up the mechanic stairs. Some people complained at her rudeness, but she couldn’t stop and apologise at the moment.

“There’s the press. Those vultures. It was probably a problem with plumbing. Look! The water reached the first floor!” A man said.

Kate tried to walk among the curious souls that were conglomerated around the building and recognised the protection bubble that was forming around it. She slid under it with ease.

“But I heard an explosion! I’m telling you!” a woman said to a journalist.

She tried to enter the building, but what seemed to be an auror stopped her.

“Let me in! I’m a healer!”

The man remained stoic and grabbed her arm.

“Identification?”

“I… I don’t have it right now but…”

“You can’t go in, Miss” She tried to get rid of him and she almost succeeded, but when the doors to the Ministry opened, she stopped the struggle. Four aurors walked out the building protecting several figures that walked behind them. She tried to reach them, but the security guard grabbed her again.

“You are the cursed girl! Daily Prophet here! Are you involved in the accident? How do you think your father will react to this? How do you think this is connected to your brother?”

“I’m not…” dumbfounded by the flash of a camera, she tried to escape from the journalists.

“Miss Williams! Miss Williams! What can you tell us about the person who died?”

She couldn’t hear anything, see anything, someone pushed her, and she felt another flash of a camera. Her head was spinning.

Cornelius Fudge stepped out of the building and pointed his wand at his neck. He cleared his throat and all the attention was directed at him.

“It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself Lord… well, you know who I mean… is alive and among us again.”

--

[Epilogue]

--

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[shes-an-oddbird]

Sunflowers, Snapdragons, Roses and Daisies

Dousy Week Day 2 - Prompt : AU - A Flower Shop and Fake Dating AU in one

Actually a little Multichapter AU fic I’ve been working on for awhile. Enjoy :)

Summary: While covering a shift at Jemma’s flowers shop, Daisy must help a customer with an unusual request. When they discover flowers may not be the right thing to solve Daniel’s problem, they work out a new solution.

AO3

The custom of bringing flowers to a date, while once a staple, has become an outdated practice and is regarded as an old-fashion tradition, now considered unnecessary outside of special occasions. To avoid social faux pas these occasions should be limited to anniversaries, holidays and birthdays; never first dates where the gesture may come off as creepy or overstepping.

Seriously, Daisy thought. Of all the creepy things men do, bringing flowers to their date hardly qualified. Why did Jemma even have her reading this book? That was that kind of mentality that was going to put her little flower shop out of business.

“Excuse me miss, I could use some help, when you have a chance.”

Daisy nearly falls off her stool. She looks up to see a handsome man standing on the other side of the counter looking around uncertainly. How long had he been standing there? She hadn’t even heard the door open. She wants to swear, mostly because she’s already messed up but also because she really doesn’t want to help anyone. Despite what her name might imply, she knows next to nothing about flowers. She was only supposed to cover the desk and phones while Bobbi was out today.

She falters, trying to assess the situation quickly. She could do this, it was just flowers. She looks the customer over, thinks again that he’s a good-looking guy, wearing a nice, if a little stuffy, suit. He probably just needs flowers for his wife or girlfriend. She glances at his hand. Girlfriend then.

“Of course, I’m sorry, I was just caught up in my book.” She closes the book, giving the impression of her full attention. “What’s the occasion, anniversary?” She hopes it is. You give roses on an anniversary, even she knew that. It’s funny, she thinks in the back of her mind, at another time, when she wasn’t trying to save Jemma’s shop from a horrible review, she might realize it was odd to wish for the good-looking guy with the polite smile to be taken but Bobbi has already warned her about that. All the decent guys who come in are already spoken for.

“I’m afraid it’s not quite so simple.” He answers sheepishly.

“Ok, well, let’s hear it, I’m sure we can find the right thing.” Her fingers curl around the edge of the book. Where was Jemma? She was supposed to be back from the greenhouse by now.

He seems to consider his answer carefully before replying. “It’s more of a congratulations.”

“That’s not so bad,” she flips the book back open, prepared to check the index. “What are we celebrating?”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s probably not in your book.”

Daisy shakes her head. “This book comes with the Dr. Jemma Simmons stamp of approval, if it can be said with flowers, it’s in this book.” Or so she’s been told.

“My ex-girlfriend is getting married.”

Oh.

“That’s – well that’s, kind of passive aggressive, but some of these flowers do have pretty cruel meanings, I’m sure we can get the point across.” It makes him laugh which is great because that’s what she’d been going for. He was right, that wasn’t an easy one and she didn’t have a clue where to start. “OH! We have some great discount bouquets!”

“No, no, um, I’m happy for her, for them, really.” His shoulders are still shaking from laughing and she notices his eyes crinkle a bit at the corners, but after a moment of quiet he does let out a heavy sigh. He still needed something.

She gives him back a sympathetic smile. “My friend, she’s the owner, she should be back soon, if anyone can figure it out, she can.”

“No more faith in your book?”

“Umm.” Daisy flips the book to the list of flowers and their meanings. It was an insane amount of information, most of which was irrelevant according to Jemma. Customers who didn’t have much to spend asked for something pretty and simple. Customers with money to spare asked for something different. Nine times out of ten they didn’t care what the flowers meant, they either wanted a deal or to make a statement. She assumed in this guy’s case it was less about saying the right thing and more about not saying the wrong thing. He certainly couldn’t send roses to his ex to congratulate her on her wedding. But maybe some flowers with no romantic connotations. She could probably manage that. “You know what, I think we can put something together.”

He smiles back at her gratefully and follows her to the worktable set up in the middle of shop. Strewn across the table are rolls of red and blue ribbon from where she and Jemma had been finishing up some wedding flowers earlier that morning. She pushes it all aside into a messy pile and can hear her friend’s scolding tone about a neat workspace being a happy workspace.

“Does she have a favorite flower?” Daisy asks as lays out some paper the same way she has seen Jemma do.

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay, no problem.” Daisy looks around the shop. “Okay, what about – yellow!”

“I’m sorry?” He asks, not understanding her outburst.

“Yellow flowers, there are usually no romantic undertones associated with them.” She recalls as she grabs bins of yellow sunflowers, carnations, and daffodils, deposits them on the table and goes back around for the daisies, roses, and tulips. Eventually the table is full and Daisy returns her attention to the book.

By this point the customer has taken a seat at one of the stools by the worktable. He’s watched her shuffle around the store with amusement written across his face and now as she settles down to sort out his request he finally speaks again.

“Have you ever done this before?”

She looks up.

“Even once?”

“No.” She answers truthfully. She’s been caught, no point in lying about it. “But I’ve watched Jemma do this a million times, it’s not that hard.”

She expects him to stand and leave. Find a flower shop with a competent salesperson and a shelf dedicated to flowers for awkward occasions. Instead he remains seated. “Alright, where do we start?” With a surge of confidence, she continues.

She looks at the flowers. “Which do you like?”

 “Damn.”

“Still no good.”

“Disappointment and rejection, probably not going to work.” Daisy sets aside the yellow carnations. “I thought for sure, I mean we sell a ton of these.” So far, they have had to discard the marigolds, the roses, the chrysanthemums and nearly everything else she’s familiar with. The sole survivors are the daisies, the tulips and the sunflowers, and even those were on the fence.

They’d been at this for nearly an hour now. Daniel, he had eventually introduced himself, had made himself comfortable, removing his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. He was happy to fetch and return whatever she requested. Daisy, twice, had to stop to help other customers and each time he apologized for taking up too much of her time and insisted he could come back later.

She refused. They would figure it out even if it took all day.

“Who even decides these things,” Daisy groans as she rearranges the flowers in front of her. “Dark thoughts, false riches, who looks at bright yellow flowers and thinks that?”

“Sounds like someone with a broken heart.” Daniel replies.

“Maybe.” It was the best explanation she could think of. She scoops up the flowers and drops them into a vase so she can see them standing up. They flop lifelessly. She grabs up some of the filler greens to support them, but it still looks a mess. “This would be so much easier if you just hated your ex like a normal person.”

“She’s not the problem, if I could just go to the wedding I wouldn’t need the flowers at all, I could just bring a toaster oven or a blender or booze, like they registered for.”

Daisy sighs and shoves the vase away. “Why can’t you go to the wedding?” He must have been invited it he has the gift registry.

“I can, I want to,” he pauses, “you don’t think it’s weird, to go to your ex’s wedding.”

She shrugs. “Not if you were invited and as long as your happy for them, and you know, you’re not still in love her with her or anything like that.” Now she takes a moment to pause. “You’re not still in love with her, are you?”

Daniel’s expression turns soft and his tone is nothing but genuine when he answers. “No, I care about her, truly, she’s one of my closest friends, but I am happy for them.”

“So go, I see no reason why not.” She encourages. “Please go, because this is a disaster.” She gestures to the flowers.

“I don’t know, its growing on me.” He pulls the vase towards him and adjusts some of the flowers. Daisy immediately realizes he’s avoiding the ‘why not’ and while its not her place to pry, she’s curious now.

“What is the real reason you don’t want to go?”

“It’s that obvious?” She nods. “It’s really not them, it’s everyone else who will be there, we all work together and they know that when things ended between me and her it was really more on her and I was the one left with a broken heart, if I go, I just know I’m going to get that look, that poor pitiful Daniel look, all night long and I already get that enough of that as it is.”

“Why is that?”

“Hmm, oh.” Daniel stops fussing with the flowers. He turns on the stool and tugs up his pant leg to reveal a metal prosthetic.

“Oh well that will do it.” Her surprise gets the better of her and she doesn’t realize till after the words are out how they may have sounded. “Sorry, that was rude.”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “No, it’s okay, I rather people didn’t make a big deal of it.”

She understands. Not what it was like to have a prosthetic leg of course but to have attention for something connected with less than pleasant memories.

The bell above the door jingles, pulling Daisy out of her thoughts. She looks up to greet the customer and instead see Jemma entering the store, a slight squishing sound following her as she trudges to the counter and dumps her bag and keys across it.

“You will not believe – “

“It rained?” Daisy interrupts.

“No, it did not rain,” Jemma runs her fingers through her damp hair trying to make it presentable. “The sprinkler system in the greenhouse went berserk, drenched my phone so I couldn’t call out, I had to run to get Fitz and drag him back there to fix it, I’ll be lucky if everything isn’t ruined.”

“That’s sounds terrible.” Daniel’s sympathetic reply catches Jemma off guard. She spins around with a look of horror on her face that fades just a bit when she sees them.

“Oh! I didn’t realize, Daniel Sousa – ” She surges forward, hand outstretched and a wide grin on her face. Daniel jumps up from his seat to meet her halfway and shake her hand in hello.

Daisy looks back and forth between them. “You two know each other?”

“Daniel is a regular customer.”

“Flower shops have regulars?”

Jemma rolls her eyes. “It’s so lovely to see you again, its been a bit since you’ve been in – “ She trails off, her eyes going wide as she spots her pristine workspace in perfect disarray. Daisy stands and attempts to position herself in front of the table to hide the mess. “What brings you in today?” She asks distractedly.

“It’s a long story.” Daisy is forced to move aside as Jemma steps forward to examine the bouquet Daisy had only moments ago deemed a disaster.

“Oh, I think I’d like to hear it if it somehow ends with this.”

“It’s my fault really, I wanted to send flowers to Peggy and her fiancé, as a sort of apology for not attending their wedding, Daisy was trying to help me put together something that would properly express that without sending the wrong message.”

“I see.” Jemma collects the last bins of flowers and returns them to their homes.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Daisy whispers to him.

“I feel like I just got you in trouble with the principal.”

Jemma returns to the table and inspects the bouquet again. “Well I can see where you were coming from here Daisy, but I told you, most people don’t read much into the meanings behind the flowers.”

“You’re the one that gave me the book!”

“Yes, and in that book, it also tells you that it’s not customary to send flowers for a wedding.” Daisy frowned. She hadn’t gotten to that part. “That said, I’m afraid flowers aren’t going to solve your problem Daniel.”

“That’s okay, it’s probably a sign that I just need to suck it up and go, let everyone whisper over their cake about poor single heartbroken Daniel a little bit longer.”

“That does sound truly awful.” Jemma says gently.

It does, but in that moment Daisy is struck by an idea. “Hey wait, why don’t you just bring a date?”

Daniel looks sheepishly at the ground. “I, I haven’t got anyone to bring.”

“Perhaps you could go out and meet someone new.” Jemma suggests.

“I don’t usually connect with people that fast and the wedding is this weekend.”

“Well it’s not like she has to be the love of your life or anything.”

“Daisy makes a very good point, you could always invite a friend.” Jemma suggests but Daisy already knows that won’t work either, a friend won’t eliminate the look of pity from his colleagues faces. She has only known Daniel for an hour but she’s already on his side. She wants him to have it all, to attend the wedding for his friends and to give a proper screw you to his coworkers. “What you need is a fake date, someone who you can pretend to be invested in just enough that they know you’re over your ex but not enough that the next time they see you they think to ask about her.”

“OH! You should take Daisy!” Jemma looks absolutely giddy, as if her sudden exclamation is a stroke of genius and hasn’t caught her best friend completely off guard.

“Wait what?”

“Well why not, she’d be the perfect fake date, no one will know her, you two clearly don’t mind spending a bit of time together, unless you made this mess all in five minutes,” she gestures again at her worktable. “And I promise under this apron she’s a total babe, no one would look at you and feel sorry for you, I promise.”

Daisy does notice that she is not the only one embarrassed by this proposition; Daniel looks flustered and unsure how to handle having a date just tossed at him. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“She wouldn’t mind, she really needs to get out more anyways.” Daisy slaps Jemma’s arm.

“I get out.”

Daniel shifts uncertainly. “Still, this wedding is kind of a high profile event.”

“She cleans up really well.”

Daniel’s eyes go wide. “Oh no, that’s not what I meant,” He looks frantically back and forth between them, “I’m sure you do, it’s just there is going to be a lot of people there and possibly media.” He shakes his head as if he can’t believe how ridiculous the notion is and again Daisy finds herself wondering who exactly this woman is. In fact, it has gotten to the point where she kind of wants to meet these people.

“Actually, it might be kind of cool.”

“What?”

Daisy considers for a moment longer before confirming her answer. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind, besides I feel like I’ve got to see this through to the end now, since the flowers were kind of a bust.”

It takes him a full minute to catch up. “Um, the wedding is Saturday, if you’re free?”

She nods.

“Okay.” He closes his eyes for a moment. “You’re really sure?”

“Yeah, it’ll be great, we can give those gossipy coworkers of your something to really talk about.”

“Alright, great.” He looks at their flower project and turns to Jemma “Can I still buy these?”

“You don’t have to – “

Daisy cuts Jemma off. “Oh my god no, this is, it’s really my problem, you can take the cost out of my pay Jemma.”

“No really, I actually kind of like it.” Daisy doesn’t believe that for a moment, but she also can’t think of any other reason why he’d want to keep the sad little bouquet.

Maybe Jemma does though? She smiles happily and scoops up the vase, “let me wrap them for you.”

[goldleafacrossyourlips]

Uneasy Lies the Head - Dark Lord/OC - Chapter 5

Chapters - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13

Chapter 5 - Snapdragon and Arrows

The days following Aunt Zelda’s wedding and Ambrose’s imprisonment were somber. Samara’s original plan was to depart from the Spellman house shortly after the wedding and head back to Vail. She had a business there after all. However, with all the recent developments she had decided to stay with her family and offer the support they needed. So as the dawn rose, Samara got herself ready, patted Phlox on the head where he still lounged in the bed and left her room. 

Aunt Hilda was downstairs in the kitchen, mixing something in a bowl. Stress cooking. Samara approached her melancholy Aunt with a soft smile.

“Auntie, I wanted to talk to you for a minute.” 

“Of course, my love. What is it?” Aunt Hilda dusted her hands off on the apron she was wearing.

“I know originally, I was going to be leaving today to head back to Vail. But I figured, what with everything going on, I could perhaps stay for a bit longer? Just until everything is figured out with Ambrose and Auntie Z is back from her honeymoon. I just want to help.” Samara wrung her hands together and stared out the kitchen window, towards the many flowers that swayed in the wind. The brightly colored Snapdragons caught her eye.

“Samara, when would we ever deny you staying?! Of course, my girl! We’d be thrilled to have you around some more. Perhaps we can even convince you to stay forever with a little more time. Keep your cousins out of trouble.” Aunt Hilda squeezed her hand teasingly. Samara let out a low chuckle.

“We’ll see, Auntie. Well, if I am going to be staying for longer than I planned, I do need to hop back to the shop and get some things ready for it. I’ll be back before evening. Anything you want me to bring back?” 

“Oh! How about some rationality brew to pour down your bloody cousins’ throats?” Samara laughed at her Aunt’s joke. She leaned forward and kissed the woman on her cheek.

“I’m afraid even the Dark Lord himself couldn’t brew a potion strong enough to keep their heads on straight. I’ll see you soon Auntie. Give Sabrina my love.” Samara stepped back and braced herself for the teleportation. With a whispered chant she was floating through space and time. 

She landed in the small sitting room of the house she had in Vail. Luckily there was a side table near where she appeared and she used that to steady herself. She shook her head to clear herself of the disorientation. Snapping her fingers, the lights flickered on and she moved to the workshop at the back of the house. It was a nicely sized room where she did all her brewing, grinding and bottling for her work and hobby. Dried and fresh ingredients lined the walls and ceiling either in containers or hanging. The pungent scent of herbs and flowers lingered in the air.

Samara felt the tension she held in her shoulders release as she took in the scent of her workroom. She checked the moisture level of the foxglove and mint as she passed by them. She had a lingering thought that they’d be dry as a bone by the time she returned. Shaking the thought away she turned to the brews she had on one of the counters.

She went to work bottling the requested brews and writing letters to her clients that she’d be indisposed for the unseeable future. She’d get in touch with all of them when she returned to work. She gathered everything up and set them in their designated boxes. She focused for a moment and then began tapping each individual box which instantly disappeared and transported to the client that needed it. 

The time passed quickly as she continued to work. She safely stored some of her more testy and hard-to-aquire ingredients and gathered some gifts for her family. As she got her little cottage prepared for a more longer term vacancy. She went around the house and gathered what she’d need for her longer stay at the Spellmans. By the end she had two suitcases ready in the sitting room. 

She went outside to her sprawling garden and began to carefully walk through the many rows of herbs, flowers and foliage. She stopped by the large patch of red Chrysanthemums that had been what convinced her to buy the cottage. Not only were the flowers beautiful, they were incredibly useful in many brews she made. And without fail, whenever she used those flowers her potions were always successful and potent. Samara was sad to part with them, even if it was only for an indeterminate amount of time. She stroked one of the petals before she headed back inside.

She went over to her bags and glanced at the clock. It was just reaching late afternoon. Hopefully she’d get to the Spellman house just in time to be able to help plot something for Ambrose. She grabbed her two bags after making sure all the lights were off and took a deep breath. She chanted under breath and began teleporting. 

She landed in her room at the Spellman house, falling forward onto the bed after dropping her luggage. Samara groaned as the feelings of teleporting drained from her body. She sat up and took stock of her room. Thankfully her suitcases had remained sealed and not spilled everything everywhere. She’d done that before. She quickly set to work unpacking her bags and settling in. 

The sun was still high in the sky when she finished. She had heard noise downstairs indicating someone was there. More than likely Sabrina since she would’ve just finished with school; her having to return to the mortal school since she’d been expelled from the Academy. Samara brushed her hands off on her jeans and headed downstairs. She was interested in hearing what plans Sabrina and her Aunt had come up with to help Ambrose. She had a few ideas herself.

Samara felt herself begin to frown in confusion as she heard a male voice talking downstairs and her cousin’s voice replying. She hurried down the stairs to see who their guest was. She entered the kitchen to see her cousin filling a glass with water and a taller, handsome man standing by their dining table.

“Cousin. Who’s our guest?” Samara felt giddy delight brush through her at seeing both jump at her question. Sabrina turned around and smiled brightly at Samara but before she could answer her question the man spoke.

“Hi. I’m a missionary for my church. But the young miss here explained that your family already has a faith. I just asked for a glass of water before I left.” The man stared at Samara as he spoke. Chills raced down Samara’s spine for some reason. She stepped closer to Sabrina and watched the man. Her Shadows threatened to twist and turn where they were but Samara kept them still, not wanting to show them to the mortal.

“I see. Do you get many converts, going door to door?” Samara asked, still remaining by Sabrina’s side. Something was off about all this. Samara tried to brush it off, thinking it stress and worry from the past couple days.

“Uh, you’d be surprised. The Word of the Almighty can hold a lot of appeal to people. As long as they’re open to it. I’m Jerry by the way.” He accepted the glass of water from Sabrina and began peering around the room.

“Sabrina. And this is my cousin, Samara.” Samara shot a quick look towards her cousin for giving their names to a stranger.

“Thank you. It’s thirsty business doing the Lord’s work.” Samara subtly rolled her eyes at the man. She leaned back against the counter with Sabrina, her taller cousin shooting a quick smile towards her.

“What religion do you practice? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

“It’s more spiritual, really. Personal to our family.” Samara answered before her cousin could. Her arms crossing over her chest. The chills up and down her spine were getting more intense. More feeling like flames and ice racing along her skin. 

“Does it comfort you?” His question was off-putting. Samara thought back to the night she signed her name in the Book and the reassurances she had been flooded with.

“Yes.” 

“To be honest, sometimes it scares me.” Samara turned her stare to her cousin at her answer. Barely concealing her shock and irritation at divulging personal information to this stranger. A stranger that promoted the words of the False God at that!

“What about it?” Jerry was subtly prying and Sabrina was falling for it. Samara wanted to grab her cousin and shake her. Where was her sense?

“That at its core it’s...What’s at the core of your religion?” Samara let out a quiet breath at her cousin not fully answering.

“Forgiveness and salvation. Who couldn’t use more of those things in their lives?” He gave a soft chuckle with his answer. Samara kept her eyes on him as he began rounding the table towards them.

“But aren’t some people beyond saving?” Sabrina’s question held honest confusion. Samara closed her eyes in exasperation. Honestly, her cousin just didn’t know when to stop.

“Not in my book. No matter what choices they’ve made.” The man continued to look at her cousin. Something in Samara wanted him to leave and stay away. Something in her wanted to flee. She wanted to grab her cousin and run. It was such a ridiculous thought. This mere mortal was causing her senses to go haywire. Maybe she inhaled more of the fumes from that Confusion Concoction than she originally thought.

“But if you dedicate your entire life to something most people think is wrong...or evil...you can’t just wash that away.” Sabrina walked closer to the dining table as she spoke. Samara tensed and dug her fingernails into her arms she still had crossed.

“A hundred percent you can. You just have to ask for forgiveness.” Jerry set his drink down and leaned towards Sabrina.

“If only it were that easy.” Sabrina’s face was scrunched in disbelief.

“Sabrina, that is exactly what I am saying. It is.” Samara scoffed at his words about retort when she heard Phlox making one Heaven of a commotion outside, screeching and chattering. She felt herself tense even more, torn between sticking to her cousin’s side or checking on her familiar. Her answer was made when the phone began to ring and Sabrina hurried to pick it up. Samara rushed out the back door to check on Phlox.

Her worry instantly died when she found him sitting in the garden flicking his tail. He looked fine and nothing around him seemed disturbed. 

“What? Phlox?” Her questions stopped when she heard something going on in the house. She began running back in with Phlox at her feet growling and chattering. She entered the house to see her cousin and the missionary man missing. Cautiously walking through the ground floor, her worry began mounting as she still couldn’t find Sabrina. Just as she rounded the corner of the staircase, she could see the front door hanging by its hinges. She could see Jerry hulking in the doorway, looking out towards the driveway. Just around his side she could see Sabrina cycling down the driveway Salem close behind. Samara began to slip back around the corner and run when Jerry turned to face her. 

“Wait! You can be forgiven! I can show you salvation!” He began screaming and quickly approaching her. As she turned to run she saw the familiar glint of a blade in his hand. Samara felt true panic and fear begin to settle in her chest. She weaved through the house with Phlox sticking close. She could hear Jerry’s thundering footsteps close behind her. She just needed enough space between the two to be able to teleport away, but she also needed to be able to have Phlox touching her so he could teleport with her too.

She was almost to the stairs leading down to the mortuary when she tripped over one of the many rugs in the house. She landed harshly onto her knees and was quick to flip over onto her back to keep Jerry in her line of sight. Seeing her on the ground, he slowed. He began stalking towards her, knife stretched out at his side.

“The choice to be who you are now was made for you when you were still a child! There is still time for you to change and be saved! Repent! Ask for forgiveness and you shall receive.” His ramblings were causing irritation to flutter in with her fear. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see the Shadows begin to writhe and twist. She felt her core relax a bit at the sight. She began to slowly extend her arm towards Phlox.

“Sorry bud, I like my cult, not looking to join another one! Phlox!” She yelled to her familiar at the same time the Shadows descended upon the man, keeping him back as she gathered her familiar in her arms.

“Lanucae magicae.” She spoke clearly and buried her face in Phlox’s fur. She landed with a thump in the middle of Cerberus’ Bookstore. She was sure her Aunt would be there. She lifted her head out of Phlox’ fur and took in her surroundings or rather what was left. The bookstore was in tatters, shelves busted and books strewn everywhere. 

“Samara!” She heard her Auntie yell her name. She raised a trembling hand and was helped up. Sabrina was by her side and they quickly wrapped the other in a hug.

“What happened here?” Samara’s voice was buried in her cousin’s shoulder.

“Witch-hunter. It seems there’s a couple running around here. What happened to the one at home?” Aunt Hilda’s hand stroked through her free-flying hair. Samara pulled back and looked at her.

“He’s still alive. I got a couple seconds to run away and I did.” Samara stared at her Aunt as she spoke, hoping she’d get the meaning behind her words. Luckily she did. Aunt Hilda’s face lit with realization and relief. She patted Samara’s cheek in response.

“So, there are two witch-hunters running around Greendale. Lovely.” Samara sighed, Phlox leaning against her leg.

“Three.” Nick’s breathless word came as he burst open the door. “Well, there were three. They call themselves the Innocents.” Sabrina immediately went to him and wrapped him in a hug. “The one who stormed Dorian’s is now trapped in one of his paintings. Sorry Sabrina. I was a dick before but believe me, I’m sobering up fast.” Nick grasped Sabrina’s arms as he apologized.

“What do they want? Do we know?” Samara broke their reunion with her question. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she looked around at the damage.

“To kill all the witches in Greendale. According to the hunters we subdued, their plan was to start with the outliers. You, your aunt, the crew at Dorian’s. And then converge at the Academy.” Nick answered. They all looked at eachother with worry.

“Ambrose.”

“They’ll all be sitting ducks. We have to warn them.” Sabrina stressed.

“We’re expelled. There’s no way we’re getting into that school. Not without a Hand of Glory.” Nick had a good point. Samara and Hilda shared a glance.

“Oh! You can take your pick in the botanical room at home. I mean, I have half a dozen at least. Okay?” Hilda reassured the two. Samara stepped forward, her arms unfolding.

“Let’s go kill some Witch-Hunters.” She shared a wicked smile with Nick and Sabrina.

[smalltowndetective]

32, 39, 48 for any of your OCs plz :)

Thank you for asking! ❤ I’m going to answer for my M detective Mariana “Mari” Gonzales, specifically because of number 39 haha

32-Do they get stressed out easily?

39-Do they have any tattoos?

48-What does their room look like?

Going to put all of this under the cut because I rambled on and on!

OC Questions

32-Do they get stressed out easily?

Oh, this is kind of a tough one. It really depends on what it is honestly. She normally seems to have a “whatever” attitude to stress, resigning herself that nothing would be solved by worrying. But one thing that stresses Mari out is the feeling of losing control of her own life. And with the promotion to detective that she pushed aside for so long, and to find out about the supernatural shortly afterward, has completely ruined the routine that she was comfortable in. Mari never realized just how much she relied on it until then. But outwardly, I don’t think most people would pick up just how stressed she is, it buried so deep that it is rare to even get a glimpse of it.

39-Do they have any tattoos?

Mari is the only detective that I have that has tattoos.  In my fic, I have only referenced one of them so far, but I have always thought that she has three of them. And I know no one asked, but I’ll go over the meanings of them anyway. (And pictures that I’ve used as reference for my head) (Also can’t get these pictures to go in the same line, sorry about that!)

Snapdragon tattoo- On the inside of her right arm, going from her wrist to her elbow. Snapdragons have several meanings, but one that means the most to her is grace, but also strength from their growth in rocky areas, and this resonated with her. One thing that the reference picture has is a spider as well, for her symbolizing creativity, the power to create something, break it apart, and start with something new.

Two dog tags- Around her ankle on her right leg, hangs two dog tags. The reference picture I have has them empty, but it my head, Rook’s full name is on one of them. Mari was fully expecting to join the army after high school, and it was Rebecca who stopped her from doing so, so the other dog tag, which she going to put her own information in when she joined (this was her first tattoo). It serves as a constant reminder that never happened, and even after all of these years, it is something that she is still bitter with her mother about.

Snake tattoo- On the back of her right shoulder, is a tattoo of a snake, surrounded by poppy flowers(because future foreshadowing, haha) and bees, but still looking threatening anyway. Mari does own a snake, a ball python named Kaa, but that is not the only reason why she got it. The snake resonates with Mari, since in some cultures it is seen as evil, a destroyer, but in others in symbolizes healing, even power. Humans have a fascination with snakes, and almost no one is truly indifferent about them, whether they fear or like them. But even what can seen as beautiful can still be dangerous, and she has always been drawn to them for that reason. 

48- What does their room look like?

The picture below is he absolute closest that I could get to how it looks in my head. Mari loves that darker aesthetic, almost cool feeling. Too much colors and brightness is a bit much for her. Simplicity is a big thing as well, nothing too much or overwhelming. 

[gansey-just-gansey]

Under the Needle part Eight

“I swear four more weeks is going to kill me.”

“I think that's an exaggeration,” Gansey said, crossing the last crosswalk near Cabeswater. They had just gotten back that morning from visiting Matthew and therefore Declan as well. They had avoided another fight- barely- but Ronan was still on edge from it. He and Gansey made it back just in time for the appointment, but had decided to walk it so Ronan could get some of his excess energy out before he had to see Adam, which would only key him up more.

“It's not,” Ronan insisted. “Adam Parrish is going to kill me.”

“I hope you have your will sorted then.”

“Yeah, Declan gets shit. You and Matthew split everything.”

Gansey laughed. “While I appreciate that, I don't think Adam Parrish will kill you. You've gotten through six weeks, you can get through four more.”

“Whatever. How's it going with Blue?” Ronan asked so he wouldn't have to think about Adam Parrish and his beautifully infuriating self.

“Really good, I believe. I really like her,” his face melted into one of adoration.

“What the fuck?” Ronan said suddenly.

“What?” Gansey looked surprised. “I don't think that's unreasonable.”

“Not you. Parrish,” Ronan said, looking around Gansey down the alley way next to the shop.

Adam Parrish was the unreasonable one. It wasn't reasonable how hot Adam looked right at that moment, leaning against the wall as he had the day Ronan saw him for the first time. One hand was in his pocket and the other one was raising a cigarette to his mouth. His cheeks hollowed out as he sucked in a breath and brought the cigarette back down, releasing a curl of smoke that wrapped itself around his chin and neck. Ronan was captivated for a moment, watching the way the smoke surrounded Adam the way he wished to. Then he was walking down the alley way.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ronan demanded.

“Taking a smoke break,” Adam was so startled that he answered truthfully instead of coming up with a sarcastic quip.

“You smoke?”

“Oh.” Adam's face relaxed. “You here to lecture me? If so, you should know that I am attempting to quit.”

“No one has any right to look as positively sinful as you do right now,” he murmured in Adam's ear, one arm braced against the wall next to Adam's head. He leaned back to watch as Adam's whole face turned bright red, not just his ears this time.

“What do you plan on doing about it?” Adam asked, taking another drag from his cigarette and releasing it slowly in Ronan's face. Ronan breathed in the smoke from Adam's mouth and let out a tiny puff of it back. Adam's eyelids hung heavily, his body arching slightly off the wall.

“Absolutely... nothing.” Ronan pushed off the wall, much to Adam's clear dismay. “Four more weeks, right?” he asked. “Meet you inside.” He turned on his heel and marched around the corner to the shop's entrance.

Gansey had already gone inside rather than watch Ronan's flirting and was hanging with Noah and Blue. Ronan waited with them for Adam to finish his smoke break. When Adam finally did come back in, he looked furious. Ronan shot him a slight smile, which was returned with a middle finger. Ronan's smile got bigger.

Adam set up the tattoo station while Ronan and Blue talked gauges. Adam called him over when he was ready. “Strip,” he commanded.

Ronan raised his eyebrows but slowly took off his shirt, maintaining eye contact with Adam for as long as possible. Adam huffed a little but didn't dare take his eyes off Ronan. When the shirt was out of the way, Adam turned Ronan by the hips, his index fingers and thumbs rubbing on the skin just above Ronan's jeans. Then he ran the tips of his fingers over the top part of the tattoo, starting at the top and working slowly down the expanse of Ronan's back, burning heat blooming out of every contact point. Ronan shuddered but didn't stop him.

Adam cleared his throat. “Looks like it's healing on schedule. Let's get the second part of the shading done.”

….

Three hours into the tattoo, Ronan finally cracked and asked for a break after Adam informed him that they were only a little more than half way done. It was nearing closing time but Adam agreed to stay past to finish up the section. Ronan let out a low groan as he stood up slowly. Blue was cashing out the register while Adam went for another smoke break. Ronan was tempted to follow him, but Gansey caught his elbow.

“Hey, I'm going home with Blue.”

Ronan raised his eyebrows. “You're ditching me?”

Gansey shrugged helplessly. “Do you think you can make it back without me? I can stay if you need me.”

“Nah, you're good, man. Go get laid.”

“Ronan,” but he was blushing.

“Later,” Ronan called as Blue reached for Gansey's hand and led him out.

When Adam finally came back in, it was just Ronan and Noah left. “Blue cashed out for the day,” Noah said, putting the last of his equipment away. “Do you need me to stick around?”

“I can close up by myself, you get out of here,” Adam tried for nonchalance and failed by the slightest margin. His eyes were bouncing back and forth between Noah and Ronan's half dressed form.

“Cool, I'll see you tomorrow,” Noah high fived Adam on the way out. “You too, I'm sure, Ronan.”

Ronan flipped him off but Noah just laughed and went out the front door, flipping the sign to closed as he went. Then Adam and Ronan were alone.

It struck Ronan that he actually hadn't spent much time with Adam alone. They'd had conversations just between them, but they had never actually been alone except in the alleyway earlier. And that had gone a very interesting route. Ronan had no idea what to expect now.

Adam cleared his throat and sat back down in his rolling stool. “You ready to get back to it?”

“Yeah,” Ronan said, even though his back was still screaming.

“You sure you're good?”

“Yeah, it's cool.”

Two hours later, they were done. “It's going to be nine this time,” Adam told him, putting down the the tattoo gun.

“That's fine, it'll make up for the low ball on the first session,” Ronan said with a wink. Adam rolled his eyes.

“Let me just dress it real quick.”

Ronan hissed when the bandage touched his back.

“Shit, sorry,” Adam pulled back slightly.

“No, you're fine. The spine just hurts a lot.”

“Yeah, the spine is one of the worst pains, or so I've heard.”

“So you haven't gotten one on your back?” Adam shook his head. “So where are your tattoos?” Ronan asked cautiously. He didn't want to pry too much into anything Adam wasn't willing to give up.

“I just have the one. It's on my ribs.”

“Can I see?” Adam looked self-conscious. “You don't have to if-”

“No, I want to.” Adam kept eye contact with Ronan as he slowly lifted his shirt and pulled it over his head. Under the shirt, swirls of colors made themselves known. A cluster of small flowers bloomed over Adam's ribcage. Some were blue and had five petals each, some were pinkish-purple flowers that seemed to fold over themselves. Ronan reached out, as though to touch them, but didn't make contact.

“What are they?”

“Forget-me-nots and snapdragons. They symbolize remembrance and strength. They replaced the bruises my father left,” Adam said quietly.

“They're beautiful.” Ronan paused. “You're beautiful.”

Ronan wasn't quite sure what happened after that, all he knew was that suddenly Adam Parrish was in front of him, hands on his face, pulling him down so they could kiss. The hesitation only lasted a second, and then Ronan was kissing him back.

Ronan kissed Adam until they were gasping for breath, pushing Adam against the front desk, his lips hungry as they roamed down Adam's neck and his hands exploring Adam's body. He ran light finger tips down Adam's ribs, tracing the lines that were permanently etched into his skin.

Adam let out a moan and Ronan took the opportunity to push his tongue into Adam's mouth. Adam melted into Ronan, ever so careful not to touch his back.

“We shouldn't be doing this,” Adam murmured.

“I beg to differ,” Ronan whispered in his ear.

Adam pulled away slightly and Ronan let him, keeping his hands on Adam's hips but allowing Adam the space he needed. “We can wait four more weeks.”

“I really don't think I can,” Ronan said, stepping forward once more to nibble on Adam's neck.

“It looks like I'm going to have to be the voice of reason in this relationship,” Adam sighed.g“So you admit there's a relationship,” Ronan smiled, but he stepped away from Adam completely so they could both put their shirts back on.

“Don't test me, Lynch.”

“Oh I haven't even started yet, Parrish.”

[protectorsofthewood]

The Red Jewel - Episode 1

FREE TO DO WHAT?

A few hours later Abby’s deep sleep was interrupted by the church bells. Her first impulse was to jump up, dress, and hurry across the churchyard to the morning service.

The bishop will be speaking! He said he’d support me, now let’s see what he does.

She looked out the small window at Bridge Avenue. Once again the sidewalk was crowded, and a news team was trying to interview and video the new arrivals.

Hmmm… The bishop said he’d take the attention, get some of this scrutiny off my back. Why not just stay away and let him do it? I don’t feel like getting involved in all that again. I have no energy for it. I think I’ll just go back to sleep.

Her mind flashed briefly on the incredible events of the night before, but it was too overwhelming to think about. In a few minutes she was sound asleep.

Abby awoke in the fading light of the setting sun. She was starving, and longed to walk down to Sammy’s Coffee shop and order a sandwich and fried potatoes. But her mind was still overwhelmed. She felt like a new person, beginning a new phase of life, and wasn’t sure how to act, how to talk to her friends. What if Phoebe and Stephanie and Nico and Sulay want to talk. What can I say about myself? How can I describe the last two days? I’m not ready, and don’t know how to get ready.

She made a cheese omelet with fried finger beans, sliced two apples, and covered a thick slice of bread with apple butter. I’ve never loved eating so much! She followed it up with a cup of Breakfast Mixture tea, extra strong on the cocoa, and felt ready to face the day.

I’m free! But free to do what? It’s almost night, and I don’t know what to say to anyone.

She looked around her room. Alex’s blood-red print of the Human One embracing a crowd of lost souls held her gaze. This really happened!! Somewhere, somehow. It’s not just me. Alex saw it in a dream. And the muttering voices are gone. I’m free and it feels wonderful. But free to do what?

Her eyes roamed around the room again, as if she might see a clue, a sign to answer her question. But nothing appeared to help her. Finally, she decided to take a walk around the churchyard, look at her gardens and the wild area. I wonder if the stalkers are still around. I wonder if the Morphy organization will kill our whole effort. What’s happened with the trustees, and the fate of Tuck and myself and the Youth Council? We’re really trying to make something good! Please God, save our project, however small and futile we may be. We’re trying!

Bridge Avenue was deserted. No stalkers leaned against the front gate. The benches in front of the Middletown Standard were empty. Abby walked right up to the wrought iron fence, but did not see a soul. But the flowers were thriving. Marigolds, Cosmos, Snapdragons, and a few tall sunflowers with their heads heavy with seeds… They were gorgeous, very much alive. Turning around, Abby walked back to the privet fort and down the narrow path through the wild area to the Secret Place and the wrought iron door. She looked out on the dirt path and Fred Peterson’s cornfield. All was still. The crickets played their song, coming in waves.

In the light of the rising moon Abby stared through the brambles, looking for the hidden door to the underground, the domain of the mapstick. Was that secret entrance safe? So much – more than she could imagine – depended on its safety. The Great Gray Owl hooted, and hooted again. Abby seemed to hear the owl say, “Welcome back! Glad to see you! I’m in charge here, and all is as it should be. Nothing to worry about.” Abby pictured the great gray owl as the guardian of the entrance to the underworld.

With that reassurance she headed back up the path. As she emerged on the open lawn she heard a faint knocking, and saw the dark form of Reverend Tuck at her door.

She called to him softly: “I’m here.”

“Ah! I saw your light on, and wondered if you were back from your trip.

Perhaps you haven’t heard the news.”

“What news? I’ve heard nothing.”

“Please, come and drink a glass of cider with me. Janet has made the most delicious apple pie.”

“Yes! Can’t wait.”

They walked to the side door leading to Tuck’s small dining area and kitchen on the side. He served the promised desert and sat down, giving her a close look. “You look… a little different. I mean it in a good way. A bit more… happy…”

She smiled. “About this news… I was just hoping to hear something good.”

“Well, brace yourself, there’s a lot of good news. It will take a while to describe.”

“Come on, Reverend Tuck! I’m burning with curiosity!”

“I’ll summarize as best I can, and we’ll go into detail another time. I’ve had a long day. But I’m very glad to see you back, and be able to describe this new landscape. Okay, first of all, Bishop Beckett stunned the congregation and visitors with two things: he fully supported your interview with Sara Williams. Your attack on the idea that Christianity presents the trinity as an all-male divinity residing in heaven, and the earth as all female and a source of evil… well, the bishop called this a heresy, and backed it up with readings and interpretations of scripture. He actually said – or at least hinted – that the divine is more like a family unity, male and female mother and father, son and daughter. And he agreed that the battle against climate change, the mission to save life on earth, must be fought in religion and spirituality as well as in science and politics. He said, “mother earth is holy, sacred, and the destruction of creation is evil. There must be a religious taboo on actions and practices that are destroying the future lives of our children.” Abby stared. “Oh my God. He did! He really did come through! But won’t this ruin his career? A lot of powerful people aren’t going to like this. You should have heard the trustees of Evansville College. They’re a hopeless case. They can’t understand this at all.”

“We shall see. Bishop Beckett is a very subtle man, hard to predict. But he thinks things through. I’m sure he knows the powers he’s offending. He must have a plan of some kind, though he has not revealed it to me.” Abby shook her head and whistled. “Wow… it’s hard to believe. Good news indeed!”

“And that’s not all. As the congregation buzzed with noise, conversation of all sorts, even angry shouts, the bishop suddenly announced that he had finished his investigation of the disputed election. You could have heard a pin drop. The silence was total. Then he said: “Our church hierarchy, the national and global leadership of our denomination, has seen the evidence we have gathered, including an analysis of all votes and follow up interviews with hundreds of voters. They have decided to disqualify most of the votes for one candidate, and declare the other candidate the winner. Therefore, our new trustee will be… Ellen Hall. She has graciously decided to accept this honor, despite the harassment that she and her family have endured. And I want to make it very clear that we are providing her with police protection, and will prosecute any such harassment in the future.” Tuck presented this quote from the bishop with drama and emotion. He even had tears in his eyes. Abby stood up, clapped her hands, and walked around the room. “I can’t believe it!” she cried. “It’s too good to be true!” “Now, brace yourself,” Tuck went on. “There’s still more, and here we have your amazing mother to thank. Let me warn you that this last piece of news is not public. So far, it’s a deep secret, still being investigated. But one conclusion is clear: Two of our trustees, including the treasurer, have for years concealed most of the church endowment, and as a result the interest and dividends from those investments has not been available for church maintenance. Please! Not a word about this. A criminal investigation of possible fraud and embezzlement is now under way. There’s no telling how long that will take. But one thing we do know: Ellen Hall is our new trustee, and joins Fred Peterson, Tom Winkle, and Geraldine Bear as the majority deciding any issues that may arise. Thus…” Tuck pumped his hands in the air, “You and I will not be fired! Our plans can proceed. We will have funds to renovate the school building!”

Abby was in tears. She wanted to give Reverend Tuck a hug, but knew he would refuse any such demonstration of affection and mutual joy. They both began making extravagant plans, interrupting each other, hardly able to contain themselves.

Finally Tuck said, “This is too much happiness for both of us, and it’s getting late. You’ll be back at work early tomorrow. Oh, there’s one more very strange piece of news that may affect your problems living here in the churchyard, and perhaps my problems too. Yesterday evening, Milton Morphy’s new office tower in River City burned. Not just a little fire, a major disaster. They hadn’t finished it yet, and it appears that no one was on the upper floors, no workman were there, and those few on the ground floor escaped with no injury. But the insulation of the whole building, what they call cladding, caught fire and spread rapidly. It was all on TV, and may be a total loss. I’m no expert on these things, but I imagine that Milton Morphy and his organization may not be bothering with Middletown for quite a while. You’ll probably find that the surveillance of both of us has vanished. Actually, the people you called ‘the stalkers’ were already gone. Chief Santiago has been trying to identify these strange men staking out the churchyard. Your friends have published many photos, and our local police have discovered that no one knows who these people are. So anyway, Morphy has many reasons to leave us alone.”

“Oh stop!” Abby moaned. “I can bear it I’m so happy.”

“So, feel free to see your friends, walk about with no fear. But remember, be very careful with this information. The less said the better.”

She blew him a kiss. “My lips are sealed.”