#but now. he did it. maybe not in THAT trial. but he gave forged evidence to Apollo. this time there’s proof. this time he did it.

[borom1r]

I have thoughts abt Beanix but they are NOT coherent ooooargh!!!! HIM!!!!!!!

[nyarumitsu]

i love how the more the story in aa progresses the more mia/phoenix parallels show up... even after pwaa, phoenix still carries mia's legacy with him in his own ways.

it starts off with how phoenix has the same mannerisms and behavior in court as newbie mia did and it's really cute watching them grasp at straws to pull a turnabout and succeeding! then we get into the good stuff of them starting their own law firms, right after very difficult moments in their lives.

mia almost loses diego, then starts fey & co. law offices. phoenix loses mia, then starts wright & co. law offices. those losses would have emotionally destroyed them if they didn't have some sort of support during those times. and mia's support was phoenix, and phoenix's support was maya.

it's so amazing how strong the both of them are, just taking case after case relentlessly putting their lives on the line for their jobs and greater goals. it's just that phoenix got a little more lucky and got tons and tons of help from mia past the grave which is honestly so badass of her.

in a way, i sincerely do believe that they saw each other as family. i mean, mia literally saved phoenix's life and probably didn't hesitate to apply to her law firm once he passed the board exam. again, i am filling up gaps here with my own interpretations up in here. i really did wish we could've gotten more interaction between them pre-mia death. maybe mia saw phoenix as this weird little brother she's never gotten, and maybe phoenix, for once in his life, was happy to finally find someone to rely on.

another thing i'd love to touch on is how ... incredibly devoted the two of them are. they love with their whole hearts and are dedicated to doing everything they can for their goals. bringing me onto the : dahlia and kristoph topic. these are two people who have greatly ruined their lives and how do they decide to bring justice to them... in the most badass ways possible.

mia literally got her revenge WHILE BEING DECEASED. finding out that dahlia was her cousin didn't even make her hesitate or anything, she just wants her gone for everything she's did. hurting all these innocent people, and diego, and phoenix. she was apart of such a big convoluted plan that she helped plan from the very beginning to be steps ahead of dahlia, morgan, and iris.

but of course, it all has its consequences. her mother had to join her to the other side, and diego just had to get himself guilty for murder. the plan worked, but so much had to be sacrificed. and, it was phoenix himself, with everyone's help who brought dahlia to justice.

then there's the seven year gap, phoenix's disbarrment, and everything kristoph-related. there he was, bringing back a whole new legal system just to finally bring kristoph to justice. somewhat, with the help of apollo. so much had to be sacrificed too just to reach that point, and it's even a miracle he was able to get control over the whole test trial.

he was forced to forge evidence. he gave said forged evidence to a newbie attorney, risking his career. vera's father had to die, vera herself had to be poisoned, trucy's FATHER had to die, and klavier had to lose his only family left. it's so incredibly crazy.

mia and phoenix absolutely turned the tables on them both time and time again, and still persevered even with all the sacrifices that were made. then basically phoenix got his badge back and now he's a boss too. just like how mia was to him and UGHHH. can you tell i love them so much? they're literally the crux of the whole game series they're my everything. love them. i love how their parallels were proven by godot himself during t&t where they both stood on trial together. godot, one of the people who knew mia the most, saw her spirit within phoenix too. and that made him incredibly happy... AAAHHH!!!

[ot3]

hey kinda heavy ace attorney question ig but I agree with you on many things about aa and feel like you have a good understanding of Phoenix and Trucy so I really wanna ask. How do you think the creation of the bloody ace was handled? I’ve seen the idea that Trucy took matters into her own hands and made it as a failsafe without his knowledge, and that he then covered for her, but if that were the case I wonder how he knew about it and planned around it at his trial. I’ve also seen the idea that he made it himself, but gave it to her for delivery to Apollo; which maybe seems the most apparent but I really dislike it because…. It means he uses her to deliver forged evidence. In much the same way he was given the diary page, really. it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I’ve also seen some people suggest that he made it but only gave it to her for use at her discretion, which does give some agency back to her but I also question whether Phoenix would be right in placing that on her shoulders and making it her responsibility. Sorry this expanded into a ridiculously long ask but I really am curious about your take on it?

eoooh yes yes yes i love talking about phoenix and trucy lets goooooo. i actually have a scene from my (still pretty rough and probably never to be finished) wip longfic covering this scene, which ill sick below the cut, but i'll just give my generic thoughts here first.

i think phoenix asked her to do it. trucy having enough detailed knowledge of the crime scene and the events leading up to it and the actual mechanical operation of trials that would be required in order to come up with this plan just doesn't make any sense to me. phoenix is really the only one who could have theoretically concocted this particular move. but since he was presumably held in the detention center until trial, trucy is from there really the only person who could have actually done the thing.

phoenix and trucy are pretty notoriously codependent; i'm headachey and melting from the heat today so rather than doing what i normally do and trawling the wiki to find the quotes that back me up on broadstrokes statements like these so i'm just gonna pull a 'dude just trust me' moment here. the fact that she helps take care of her daddy is a point of pride for her. i don't think it strips trucy of any agency for this to be phoenix's decision because it's not like trucy spends her whole life (or even the entire game) blindly following other peoples orders. her (and phoenix's ) priority at the beginning of aa4 is each other and their own wellbeing, and the decisions they have to make in turnabout trump are indicative of that.

yes, it echoes her bringing the forged evidence to phoenix 7 years ago, but it's more of an inversion/reversal (one might even say a turnabout) than a repetition of past mistakes. in the past she was an unwilling pawn in someone else's plan where her life was collateral, now she's an active and conscious participant in the plan of someone she cares about that she's doing to protect the life she and phoenix have built for themselves. She's not being forced to do it, but i don't think there's any world where she would have said no either. she and phoenix are the most important thing in the world to each other. in their own words, if one of them falls, they both fall.

was it right of phoenix to ask this of her? was it okay for him to do this to apollo, too? obviously it's not a good thing. but it was his only option at that moment. phoenix found himself in a very difficult situation. as an attorney he promised himself to the truth, and that was the principle he lived by, but as a father what he lives by is the promise he made to trucy to never disappear on her. at that moment phoenix did what he had to do to make sure the trial ended the way he needed it to. truth had to take a backseat. his priorities have shifted.

i've also spoken before at length about how i don't think phoenix was plotting against kristoph in the longterm, at least not to the degree which popular fanon seems to agree upon. so really everything he did in turnabout trump was phoenix being backed into a corner using every tool at his disposal to try and snatch victory out of the jaws of defeat. was it right of him to get trucy involved? it's no worse than bringing 8 year old pearl along to crime scenes because he needed her channeling skills. phoenix cares about people deeply but he isn't capable of shielding them from all the harm the world has to offer, and he knows he isn't. half of his capability comes from his shrewdness and willingness and ability to take help when he can get it because he knows, even if its a strain in a short term, he's fighting battles that need to be won at any cost. if that makes any sense

anyway heres the little scene i wrote below the cut.

---------- APRIL 17TH, 2026 DETENTION CENTER VISITOR’S ROOM ----------

Trucy shows up on the dot as visiting hours begin. It’s funny, she thinks. The last time she did this she had a different daddy altogether. Only it really isn’t particularly funny at all, is the thing about it, and she’s going to have quite a few stern words for the man when he gets home.

She picks up the phone on one side of the pane of bulletproof glass and he grabs the other.

“Daddy,” she huffs. “You promised me you’d stay out of trouble.”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry, Truce.” He puts on an easy smile as he says it, and he uses the same affected tone of voice she had used to start the conversation off. Affected. Cautious, in the sense that it’s levity is entirely manufactured. A performance.

It had been like that between them for real at the beginning, both of them still unsure of each other, pantomiming something resembling a sitcom and playing the real feeling filled in as it went. Thankfully, it did, but the theatrics still lend themselves better to specific conversation.

“Well, if you’re sorry, I suppose I can forgive you! But this isn’t going to look good on your employee review, y’know. I’ll have to bring it up with HR.”

“I’m sure Charley can find it in his heart to forgive me, too.”

“He’s a gentle soul.” She nods.

“You should come watch the trial on Monday, I think it’d be good for you to see.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” Trucy doesn’t like the courthouse. Daddy knows that. She never comes when he goes to use the library there. She also hates, hates the idea of watching her daddy sit in the defendant’s chair not knowing if he’s ever going to come home again. He knows that too.

“Well, there are always interesting things to learn during a court trial. Plus, having you there would help me out a lot!” I need you to do something for me. She reads through the tone into his words’ real meaning. Her stomach clenches. A favor he can’t just outright ask for, not over the phone in the detention center, where every word would be recorded.

“Oh, daddy, no! I’m a magician, not a lawyer, although I understand the confusion.” She drapes a hand over her eyes in faux anguish. “I simply couldn’t, it isn’t my stage.”

“I disagree. I think it’s a perfect stage. Lawyers need cheering up too, you know! Back when I was a lawyer, I used to get really stressed out during cases like these. I bet one of your tricks would do the job.”

“Well what sort of trick do you want me to do?”

“Do you remember the first trick you ever did for me? It was the day we met, at the courthouse. You pulled a piece of paper out of your hat and gave it to me.”

“Yes,” she chirps, forcing a vibrant bubble into her voice. It feels like a pile of rocks in her gut and her pulse starts to quicken. “Of course I remember!”

“I bet if you did that trick again, it’d cheer up the whole courtroom! I bet I’d win my case in a heartbeat.”

----------

Her legs feel like jelly by the time the bus drops her off at the stop near the office. Daddy had kept on like that, loaded phrasing and a lopsided smile as he laced vapid banter with instructions. With warnings. She walks into the storage closet and grabs a deck of cards - one of his, the same style they use at the club, not hers for her tricks. Abruptly, she has a moment of panic as she realizes she’s not even sure what color she’s supposed to use, but then, just as fast, she forces her head clear and just grabs one of each.

They’re unopened. This makes it a cinch to find the card she’s looking for. Her stomach flips.

The worst part isn’t even what she’s doing. The worst part is that she’s doing it at all. Daddy knows well what this situation is making her feel and he’s asking her to do it anyway.

The only explanation left: he’s completely out of options.

She pulls her gloves off and grabs a needle from her sewing supplies. She pricks her finger, and lets a drop fall onto each ace.

----------

[mcheang]

Chloe actually uses her brain

Miraculer alternate ending

“Weren’t you with Ladybug yesterday?” Lila looked confused.

“Of course Ladybug was with me yesterday! Because Sabrina got akumatized! So either you’re lying or your magic dance summons an akuma.”

Lila sweatdropped. Chloe chooses to use her brain now?

Lila put a hand on her heart and feigned shock. “I’m not lying! But maybe the magic dance was only meant for me after all. Ladybug only showed it to me.”

Chloe cocked her hip. “Ah yes. Your utterly ridiculous dance. Tell you what. If your dance really works, why don’t you show it to us all now and summon Ladybug.”

Lila flushed. “You know exactly why i perform that dance in private, Chloe!”

Chloe gave a fake yawn. “What’s the point of boasting about your connection with Ladybug when you don’t have any proof? At least people have seen Ladybug visit my roof when I use my Bee signal. But you? Ladybug has never visited you in public. And I highly doubt she thinks such a charitable person as yourself is worthy of a miraculous. You’re no Rena Rouge. You’re just a wannabe fox heroine.”

Lila’s face grew redder. “How dare you? After I tried to help you?”

Chloe raised her eyebrow. “I know you’re from Greece (if Chloe can confuse Asian cultures, why not Greek and Roman?), but your French can’t be that bad. You didn’t help me. You sabotaged me. And rest assured, I intend to return the favour. Sabrina told me your Mother works for the Italian embassy, doesn’t she? I think I’ll ask Dad to invite them all for a nice dinner and she can tell the whole tale about how Ladybug saved you.”

Lila panicked. Her Mother cannot get involved, everything will be ruined if she does. Quickly composing her face, Lila shrugged it off. “If you please. But she’ll just confirm whatever I’ve been saying.”

Chloe smirked. “We’ll see.”

And she walked off, unwilling to let the liar get the last word. Sabrina followed, not giving Lila another glance.

Lila stewed. She had to change Chloe’s mind. But how?

Sabrina!

Later in the morning, once Chloe had gone to the bathroom during a class break, Lila approached Sabrina. “Hey, Sabrina.”

Sabrina jumped, looking nervous to see Lila close by. Chloe would not like to see her BFF talking to the girl who humiliated her.

Lila saw this and was just as eager to make this quick before Chloe returned. Feigning a carefree attitude, Lila asked what Sabrina was doing that afternoon.

Sabrina frowned. “I’ll be helping Chloe prepare the dinner arrangements. After that, I’ll help Chloe prepare for the dinner.”

Lila gasped. “You mean you don’t even get to attend?”

Sabrina shook her head.

Lila put on an apologetic face. “I’m so sorry, Sabrina. I didn’t mean to ruin your afternoon with my advice. I wish there was something I could do.”

Sabrina gave Lila a look. “Well, you could actually perform the dance in public, say during lunch time? If Ladybug shows up just for you and Chloe sees it, she’ll have to admit you’re telling the truth.”

Lila just smiled at Sabrina, promising nothing.

For the rest of the morning, Lila was frantically trying to attract an akuma. Her own alarm and panic was not enough.

Lila told Rose a lie that Prince Ali has a fiancée and she was one of the first to know. Rose was disappointed but not surprised. She knew she hardly had a chance with Prince Ali romantically. They hardly saw each other. Juleka was happy to cheer Rose up.

Lila asked Mylene how her tree planting event had gone. Lila sympathizes that Ivan lied to Mylene rather than trusted her with the truth. Did he think Mylene wouldn’t understand? Mylene admits she had been upset with her Boyfriend but they had already hashed it out.

Lila can’t put her frame/accuse-Marinette plan into action yet. There isn’t a test at the moment.

Lila tries to rub it in Max’s face that he got beaten by Marinette. But Alix jumps into their conversation and admits it’s nice to have another female winner in an event stereotyped for males. Max doesn’t dare argue in the face of that statement.

And Lunch has arrived. Coincidentally, an akuma appeared on the other side of the city. Sabrina gave Lila another look, silently promising that one way or another Chloe will avenge herself.

(Now, in case you’re wondering, Lila wanted the akuma for herself, to become Volpina and cast an illusion of Ladybug again. But too late)

Lila tries to get her Mother to stay at home by feigning to be grievously ill enough to be sent to the hospital.

The Doctors will immediately point out Lila has no broken bones, but Lila forces herself to vomit in class and claims this was a regular occurrence ever since she decided to go on a diet. She had even suffered hair loss.

“Is that the excuse for your hair-don’t?” mocked Chloe.

Lila’s Mother does make an appearance at the hospital but the Doctors are baffled because Lila looks perfectly healthy.

Lila’s excuse: makeup

In any case, the blood work needs some time to be finished. The doctor’s advice was to just let Lila try to eat dinner and sleep early. (I’m just basing off what I read in Kitchen Princess volume 2)

Sadly, Lila’s Mother won’t stay even if her Daughter is suspected to have an eating disorder. She asked their neighbour to look after Lila while she attends a mandatory dinner.

Lila wants to scream. If her plan had failed, she would have tried something else to sabotage the dinner (set off the fire alarm) but she can’t leave under the neighbour’s watchful eye.

So while Chloe asked Mrs Rossi her opinion of Ladybug, Lila did have one bit of good news.

The doctor had suggested feeding Lila what she liked to eat. Knowing she will be grounded very soon, Lila indulges herself on lasagne and rich chocolate cake.

She goes to sleep and pretends to continue so when her Mother slams the door open.

After dismissing the neighbour and thanking her, Mrs Rossi checks on Lila to see if she was indeed asleep before deciding their confrontation could wait till morning.

That dinner was the most humiliating event Mrs Rossi could remember. Not only was she the only one to believe Ladybug was incompetent; but the Parisians had been insulted that she had badmouthed their heroine. Their offended faces turned to incredulity when they heard her faulty evidence from her own Daughter. Then that Chloe girl told her that her own Daughter was said to have been saved by Ladybug and that they were BFFs. After that there came the theory that Lila was playing truant since the school hadn’t shut down, as Chloe could very well attest to.

The next morning, Lila tries to delay the inevitable by feigning exhaustion. Her Mother strangely lets it go as she announces she is off to work.

Lila tries to suppress the hope that maybe something went wrong with Chloe’s plan, like she couldn’t attend because she had another appointment.

The reason behind Mrs Rossi’s departure is because she wants all the facts before she confronts her daughter. She had called an emergency meeting with the principal and Ms Bustier. Imagine her shock and sadness to learn her daughter changed her parental contact information and her excuse for truancy. Mrs Rossi clears up the matter for the faculty and all agree Lila will be in massive trouble. Detention sounds like a lenient punishment for forging signatures and email fraud. But Lila’s truancy means she will have to stay back a year. She won’t graduate with the class.

Meanwhile, at class, Chloe boasts about Lila’s true nature with video evidence. Let’s just say the class are upset to learn that their friend had called Ladybug useless. Alya is shocked and Lila’s phone is exploding with texts demanding explanations and pleading for it not to be true.

Lila reads it all but doesn’t answer. Her whole world is crumbling before her eyes. Why hasn’t an akuma come for her then?

The akuma wasn’t attracted by Lila’s dull acceptance and rage, her emotions weren’t as strong when she knew this was coming.

No, the akuma was attracted towards sweet, innocent Rose, most sensitive of the girls. Because Lila’s betrayal really stung her.

Alya apologized to Marinette for not believing her. It makes the whole class realize Lila had been taking advantage of them, and makes them recall their discussions with her yesterday. Had Lila been intentionally trying to upset them?

Going further back, they analyse everything Lila had told them. Promises she had not yet fulfilled. Her implication that Ladybug doesn’t care about the earth. Yeah, the class idolizes Ladybug and while they didn’t really believe Ladybug was apathetic about the earth’s issues, they had dismissed it back then. Now, they are furious, especially since a lot of them have become heroes.

In all the chaos, Rose becomes akumatizes into Princess Fragrance. She will hold Lila on trial, and then decide her punishment. Luckily, Adrien and Marinette led the charge out of the class once they saw Rose transform.

Rose is stopped before she reaches Lila but her akumatization and reason for it make the news.

Before the day is over, when Mrs Rossi returns to work, she is told she has been called back to Italy because she had been sacked/demoted for her incompetence, ignorance and for humiliating the Italian embassy.

As Mrs Rossi packs her things (one of them a tiny plant), her despair, shame and rage against her Daughter summons a second akuma. She turns into Mother Nature.

If Lila was the bad seed, Mrs Rossi was the one who watered the tree. Mother Nature’s powers allow her to prove she can raise beautiful things.

She is defeated.

Mrs Rossi accepts her punishment and prepares to move back to Italy.

Lila is still staying in Paris. Her Father had been in another city but is also still a diplomat stationed in France. He will take over his wife’s station. Mrs Rossi can’t look after Lila and find a new job at the same time.

In addition to her school punishments, Lila will be getting a nanny, no allowance, grounded. Mrs Rossi knows Lila will face worse punishments once she returns to school tomorrow since the doctor confirmed Lila was fine. (Medical fees paid over nothing irked Mrs Rossi further)

At school, Lila is left to sit alone. Nathaniel decided to sit next to Ivan since he needs some closure.

Thanks to Marinette insisting the class not get worked up over Lila, the class ignores her but Lila notices she is glared at on her way to her desk.

Marinette and Alya throw a party for Chloe, under the excuse that it is to celebrate her time as Queen Bee now that she is retired. Alya had wanted to honor Marinette too but Marinette declines because she doesn’t need to be the center of attention.

Chloe was annoyed by the reminder that she can no longer be a hero but basks in everyone’s thanks for exposing that liar.

Adrien can’t argue because he has just learnt how much Lila had intentionally tried to hurt their class, and Chloe needs to be cheered up after Miraculer. Like after Oniichan, Adrien avoids Lila when she tries to hurt the people he loves. (Seriously the boy needs to stand up for the love of his life. Lila has badmouthed Ladybug in front of Adrien several times, and he has not defended her. Even after Oniichan, he still greets Lila cordially in Miraculer! Argh! 😠 also...why leave Ladybug alone with Lila when she was clearly fine?!)

Lila can’t even summon an akuma when her round-the-clock Nanny stays outside the classroom door and is there to walk her home for lunch. It’s a shame, because she really could have used an akuma after seeing the party. But her nanny was instructed to keep akumas away since Lila had been akumatized at least twice.

With the class ignoring her, Lila has no chance to make new ‘friends’ or get her old ones back. Not when she has to return home immediately for lunch or when school ends. Even during group projects, Lila has to communicate from home.

The class makes their hatred of Lila known in gym.

Oh, and now that Lila had been publicly announced a liar, Gabriel has no use for her. He doesn’t reach out to her anymore and Lila knows she has been fired.

Lila’s stay in Paris is assuredly miserable. And to think she had done all this because she wanted Adrien all to herself and tried to humiliate the competition.

[project-ohagi]

Keigo Takami ღ Hawks x Reader {Greek Mythology AU}

Buy me a coffee!! <3

Being celebrated as the town's best blacksmith and master-craftsman, you had many opportunities to provide exquisite items for the royal household. You lived within the boundaries of King Enji Todoroki's castle, and you knew the inhabitants quite well. Their splendid, sharp and practical weapons were fashioned in your very forge, and seeing the guards carrying them down the labyrinthine hallways of the castle filled you with a sense of pride. The furniture, often wooden and antique, with exotic designs that no other craftsman in the realm could ever replicate, received compliments not only from the king's subjects, but the foreign ambassadors, who proceeded to inform their employers of the magnificent works. You had big dreams and a means to achieve them.

You wandered the corridors of the castle, glancing at the hand-brewed lanterns littering the walls, illuminating the red and brown bricks. Their flames flickered like the tongues of dragons - a reliable source had once told you that the king himself reared these beautiful, dangerous beasts, although you had never seen them personally. The claim went invalidated, but your songbird was a lovely girl, very gentle and trustworthy. She possessed a meagre level of magic, which impressed you to no end. She slurred potions around and carried leaves of fern and belladonna wherever she travelled. Her companions were extraordinary, as well, and you often saw them as they graced the grasses of your small town. There was a boy with stunning verdant hair and a penchant for crying, plus a knight from the land controlled by King Toshinori Yagi. He had always been lax with the laws, and there was barely ever any crime, so the castle wouldn't suffer from having one less guard.

A pleasant humming sound drifted from your lips, echoing along the walls, making it seem as though someone was tailing you. Your (e/c) eyes fluttered shut as you allowed the crackling of the small flames to guide you safely on the path. Through the flesh of your eyelids, you could see the faint glow of fire beginning to dwindle. Ceasing any movement, you cracked open both eyes and resolved to find the problem. These lanterns had been imbued with the Eternal Flame, so it was (supposedly) unheard of for them to die out. It wasn't just one, either - as your gaze lingered on the husks of your lanterns, you noticed their light slowly diminishing, until all that remained was darkness.

You shivered, the lack of warmth enabling a frigid breeze to waft over you, like a bad dream.

"Whoa, who burned out all the lanterns?" A voice called, cheery amidst the dire circumstances.

That wasn't the only issue, however. This was a strange sound, a foreign one, and you knew all the sounds of this castle. You could pick people and objects apart by noise alone, and yet this was a trial your ears could not overcome. Another thing - you hadn't even realised there was someone else in the corridor with you. The earlier humming was a sound you only made when absolutely comfortable, usually while tinkering in your little shop. You were at home around the lanterns you had manufactured yourself. Yet, they died out. Every. Last. One. You didn't design things to fail. That was the first rule of the trade, and until now, you had sworn by it.

You decided to try this stranger. "I'm not quite sure. They weren't supposed to do that, and no-one else was here."

"Well then," His bones made a clicking sound, as if he was stretching. "It must have been you, or me, but I guess we'll never know."

The arrogance lacing his tone did tick you off slightly, but you had to sigh at his words. "Impossible." You muttered, almost condescendingly.

"I was specifically entrusted to fashion lanterns that would never die."

Your last sentence was likely whispered, but it still reached your accomplice's ears. Probably because he had elected to stand right behind you, which startled you out of your skin when he started talking again. Apparently, he was the king's jester or some other such nonsense. He must have been - no other sane person would dare disrespect the greatest figures of modern times (you thought quite highly of yourself, if that's not already evident).

Whistling, he asked, "Wooow, you made these? No wonder they burned out so fast. What did you make them out of? Wood and wax?"

You huffed indignantly, trying not to rise to his taunts. "It's impossible that they all went out. One or two, perhaps I could find fault in, but all of them? What magic is this?"

"The black kind?" The stranger offered, unhelpfully. "Don't get me wrong, they looked nice - so do you, by the way - but maybe you're not as great as you think, princess."

You searched for him in the dark, but that turned up nothing. "Please don't call me that. My name is (Y/n) (L/n). I'm the town's main blacksmith and craftsman - I know what I'm doing, and if I say this isn't normal, I would like to be believed. What is your name, anyway? I don't feel like calling you 'stranger' forever."

There was a pause and a near-incoherent sound, the he spoke. "I go by Hawks, beautiful, and you didn't call me 'stranger', unless you were thinking about me? Aww, I wonder why I haven't seen you before?"

You sighed. "Honestly, I'm not sure you can see me now."

"Haha, you're right! Well, gotta find some light, I suppose. Which way to safety...?" You heard his light footfalls, followed by a muffled cry.

"That would be the wall." You muttered, astounded by the apparent stupidity of this man.

He said nothing, but continued onwards. After a few moments, a warm hand moved to cradle yours, and he pulled you alongside him. You wanted to protest, but decided against it. You would get nowhere with trivial arguments. The corridor twisted and turned, and you suddenly remembered that one section leading off from it was restricted, but you wouldn't be able to see it in complete darkness. This did worry you slightly, but instead of vocalising your discomfort, you just squeezed Hawks' hand tighter. With him as delegated leader, he bumped into a few more walls on the way out. It seemed that, like you, he hadn't been expecting the lanterns to burn out as easily as they did. When you appeared to have reached a crossroads, he stopped. It was so abrupt that you actually slammed into his back. Trickles of hair brushed against your forehead, and you realised that you were probably just a fraction taller than him. At least this gave you one advantage. He could have his jokes and flirtatious words, but you had your trade and your height.

"Ahh..." He chuckled, a tone of uncertainty present in his voice.

"What's going on? Why did you stop?" You questioned, getting kind of annoyed with this guy.

He glanced around, but saw nothing, obviously. "I might have gone the wrong way?"

"You what?!" You yelled. "We have no light source, and now no sense of direction? Oh, more black magic..."

"It'll probably be fine." He responded, once more sounding as though he commanded some divine wisdom.

His one free hand traced the wall, and just as you were pondering whether to give him two free hands, a noise of acknowledgement erupted from his throat. You supposed that meant he knew where you were, but could he really tell from touch alone? It was likely a ploy, although it did something to calm your throbbing heart. He re-established his pace, dragging you in tow. He made a degree of small talk along the way, but it was drowned out by all the thoughts swimming in your head. His palm was dangerously hot, like an oven, yet you were finding it impossible to let go. It was the kind of heat source your body craved, although you weren't entirely sure why.

Suddenly, an ear-splitting screech began to resonate like a gong, and before you had chance to ask what the hell was happening, you were tugged through the wooden frame of a door. It closed as soon as you stepped into the bright, blinding light. After all that darkness, this seemed like Hell. At least for the first few minutes. Once your eyes managed to adjust, you peered through heavy eyelids, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man calling himself 'Hawks'.

He was absolutely gorgeous.

Those tussles of hair that had previously ghosted your forehead turned out to be feathery and ash-blonde in colour. A small amount of stubble hung from his chin, and as he yawned, you saw perfect, snowy-white teeth. When he noticed the starstruck expression on your face, he grinned, the corners of his lips moving upwards. You blushed - even his cocky smile was breath-taking. He had the most awe-inspiring, chocolate-brown eyes, that twinkled in the glinting candlelight. His fluffy eyebrows made your heart weep, and the formation of those black triangles below his tear ducts reminded you of a bird. His peasant clothes were nothing to write home about, but the way he wore them certainly was. He somehow made them look more appealing and seductive than they should have been, yet you couldn't put a finger on the reason. An onyx, stud-shaped earring adorned both ears. He must have been a similar age to you - around 22 - and you wondered if he would consent to court someone so soon after meeting them. Despite his frankly irritating nature, he made your heart sing, and you instantly knew that you needed to be with him.

"Too hot for you, princess?" He smirked, arrogantly.

You flushed. "S-Sort of."

Adding moisture to his lips, he retorted, "Well, you're pretty sexy yourself, Miss."

After this comment, you immediately retracted your gaze, opting to look around the room instead. "W-Where are we, anyway?" You asked, a little confused.

"My bedchambers." He replied, laughing at your face, which was now stained red.

"W-Why am I here??"

He shrugged. "You followed me, dollface."

"You dragged me!"

--

In a district far removed from the prying eyes of royal sentries, a hoard of villainous men and women alike resided. Their sanctuary had been built in haste, as their ancestors needed a safeguard, away from anyone who might wish to hurt them. Those people, namely the kings Enji Todoroki and Toshinori Yagi, were fierce yet kind rulers, protecting their realms while simultaneously warding away the evil that lurked around the bend. Although their relationship was strained, the kings banded together for the greater good, and finally succeeded in expelling the tyrants. However, nothing was ever so simple - spies had been recruited and placed around the perimeter of the realms. They often caught wind of conspiracies, and would venture into the twisting labyrinth of a wasteland where they were never supposed to find. The mice frequently managed safe journeys, but the grand dictator, All For One, had abilities that far exceeded those of any normal human; he could hear their footsteps, smell their shallow breaths, feel those tell-tale vibrations in the air. There was never any privacy in his castle, and certainly no safety.

If he sought after your head, he would receive it. However, unlike what the rumours suggested, he never abused this power, instead deciding to reserve it for the serious threats. There was no point waging war against the kings without sufficient battle tactics, and All For One remained wounded from his encounter with the stronger of the two: King Toshinori Yagi.

"What shall we do with him, master?" A raspy voice called out, partially muffled by the detachable hand covering his face.

The large, shadowy figure he addressed reclined in his throne, looking upwards and intertwining his fingers, as if contemplating the question. This was all pretence - he had already begun putting the plan in motion, after all. To ease his pupil's mind, he replied, "Bring him in. Question him. Torture him if you have to. If he has valuable information, let him live. If he refuses to speak in three days' time, execute him."

"As you wish."

Messy blue hair whipped in all directions as he signalled for a few of the people in the room. They followed his lead, heading out of the double doors and down the nearest hallway. With him, there walked a tall, lean individual with an ebony mane and oddly-symmetrical burn marks, the skin purple and wrinkling. It was held together crudely by metal hoop piercings. Beside him, a smartly-dressed man with wisps of purple and black mist in place of a body, and a young, blonde girl with a Cheshire-Cat grin. These were apparently the people for the job. In this world of tricks and magic, these four were the ringmasters, controlling the rest of the troupe with strings of steel.

"Who do we get to kill this time??" The girl asked, almost drooling in anticipation of the hunt.

"You heard what master said." Came the agitated response. "We capture him and try to get what we need. If he manages to stay sane for three days, then you can have your fun."

The patchwork zombie spoke next. "How are we doing this, then? We can't storm Enji Todoroki's castle."

As his words echoed around the walls, a swirling vortex appeared, growing bigger and bigger until it could allow for all four to plunge into the blackness. Two, however, were commanded to hold back - the girl and the man with purple patches of flesh. The warp gate closed as soon as the others stepped through.

The hunters were on the prowl.

--

"Ah...don't be shy. Admit it - you wanted to spend the night with me." Hawks gifted you a wink, both flirtatious and amused.

He must have been savouring your embarrassment. "I can't admit what isn't true." You glanced towards one of the massive, stained-glass windows lining the nearby wall. Although it was difficult to see, you determined that it was indeed night-time. How had you spent so long in the castle? You could have sworn it was early afternoon when you arrived, and you shouldn't have been there for more than a few hours. Your detour with this cocksure fairy didn't feel as though it had taken any more than half an hour. Perhaps that was just because your brain was preoccupied, enjoying the company it was in. "I should leave now. It's late, and my shop needs guarding."

"Haven't you fashioned some defence system? Surely (Y/n) (L/n), the oh-so-talented master-craftsman would be prepared for everything?" He taunted, clearly trying to back you into a corner.

"I'm afraid I can entertain you no longer, jester. I need to leave. Something strange is happening - can't you sense it? Those lanterns were my inventions, and I need to figure out why they died." Turning on your heel, you began to walk away from the blonde-locked man and his mahogany door.

However, his laugh stopped you in your tracks. "I guess I do act like a jester, don't I?"

Mysteriously, like smoke, his voice soon trailed off. You couldn't even begin to comprehend how such a flashy, boisterous person would all of a sudden go completely quiet. It wasn't just that - you couldn't hear anything but the ear-splitting silence, like static running through your veins. The walls weren't moaning, the floor wasn't creaking, and nobody seemed to be breathing. There were no sounds. None at all. It was as if Hawks, along with the very castle, knew something you didn't, but their lips were sewn shut. You wondered if the walls would collapse around you, burying you alive, or maybe the ghosts of Enji Todoroki's victims would seek revenge, but instead attach themselves to and haunt you until the end of your days.

"What-" You tried to break the ice that had settled like stalactites on the ceiling, but felt as though a veil was slowly being wrapped around your neck, preventing any more words from reaching the surface.

Suddenly, hands as warm as a furnace grasped your ice-cold ones and dragged you through the door. When you looked at him, you saw that his face held a serious expression. He definitely knew something - something bad. You wanted to ask, but couldn't quite find the words to do so. Stepping through the door felt weird, as if your feet weren't touching wood, but rather something less material. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, opting to trust the man you had only recently met. After a few seconds, he tumbled on to a hard surface and, still being hand-in-hand, your body crashed into his. His head slammed into the brick, eliciting a faint, pained noise. Truth be told, he was in a lot of pain, but he didn't want you to have any anxieties about the situation, so he refrained from screaming. That was so much worse than stubbing your toe.

"You were surprisingly easy to catch, despite your profession. I did not expect you to have an accomplice, however. She could prove to be troublesome." The voice resonated in your ears painfully, like white noise.

"She's not an accomplice. I met her about two minutes ago - she looked lost, so I was just pointing her in the right direction." Hawks drew out the lie, allowing more time to think of an escape.

Whoever else was out there laughed. "We have orders, Hawks. You have been flying too close to the sun for a long time, and now it is your time to fall."

"So, what's the plan?" Hawks breathed, sparing a side-glance at your trembling figure. "Are you gonna put me in chains, lock me in the dungeons? You do have dungeons, right? I mean, this place is massive, and pretty much a castle."

"This place," The voice began. "Is a labyrinth."

You tugged at Hawks' sleeve. "What are you doing? Are you trying to get us killed??" You whisper-yelled, both furious with and concerned for the man.

"Out of tricks? That's such a shame. To answer your question: we will lock you in one of the many chambers within this labyrinth. There are so many corridors, that even if you were to escape from your cell, you would never reach the surface."

The air swirled in front of you, a mixture of black and purple. Two legs protruded from within, followed closely by a slim body, clad in a suit. Behind this imposing figure, another man stepped out of the darkness. He was dressed far lighter than the former, in only an onyx shirt, baggy trousers and slip-on shoes. You didn't recognise either of these men, given that you mostly stayed in your small town, never straying further than the treeline of the surrounding forest. Despite this, it was easy to reckon that they were the rumoured tyrants. At least, two of them. That thought made your hair stand on end, as though it had been exposed to a great deal of static electricity - what if there were more, hiding in the black void, ready to pounce at any moment? As if sensing your fear, one of the men (the one who seemed as if he might tend to a bar in his off-time), turned to address you.

"Miss, if you comply, then nothing shall be done to cause you harm." His tone was polite, but by that time, you had already chosen your side. You would remain with the person who had stolen your heart in a matter of minutes, with his witty, mischievous nature, and how he laughed in the face of danger, just to keep you safe.

So, although it might have been reason enough for your head to roll, you showed a level of defiance that they weren't expecting. The other man, whose voice was a lot more sickening, muttered something you couldn't hear, scratching his neck as he did so. His partner in crime seemed to sigh (though, with him having no discernible mouth, it was hard to tell), but elected against opposing his superior. The orders had already been given, after all, and any accomplice of the target must suffer the same, horrendous fate as him. You never knew what such seemingly innocent people could be hiding. Before he was grabbed, Hawks made an attempt to snare one of the stray knifes littered on the ground. His enemies noticed the plot, however, and ensured it wasn't followed through. A set of calloused hands gripped your neck and waist, hoisting you up on to your feet. You lashed out, but the hand around your neck clamped down harder, making you choke. You were gradually running out of oxygen. Soon, you couldn't handle the strain of fighting, and your body went limp, slumping against the blue-haired man. It was uncomfortable, but your vision was dimming, just like your lanterns back in the castle of Enji Todoroki. Just before you blacked out, you made the connection - they had been responsible for your burnt-out lights.

--

A spellbinding sight awaited your tired eyes - the walls were covered in ancient carvings, spiral-designs and other such patterns. You, alongside your companion, were confined in a large room, with no obvious doors or windows. You attempted to move, and although you had no bindings, your muscles were stiff. Almost immediately, your mind went into overdrive, trying to work out a viable escape plan. You could always create something to break through the wall, but you weren't sure how deep the labyrinth ran, and it seemed appropriate to assume that you would be easily captured. Raising a hand to your mouth, you began muttering to yourself, slowly piecing together a picture of what you were going to do. You needed to be extremely careful, as there were two lives on the line. If you were discovered mid-escape, it was likely that you would be executed, since you doubted Hawks had the skills required to take flight.

"...Flight! That's it!" You silently praised your ingenuity, glancing around to see if there was anything that could be of use. "Alright...I need the framework, and then something to hold them together. The shape needs to be perfect, for the air to pass over..."

Whilst in the midst of your mutterings, Hawks awoke and contemplated his situation. Then, he noticed you had been shoved into the same cell as him. An unfamiliar feeling welled up inside his chest, tugging at his heartstrings. It was a concoction of guilt, dread, love and sadness. You appeared to be working on something, kneeling in the dirt and presiding over your art. He stood with much effort, and he thought for a moment that his legs might have been broken. He managed to hobble over to where you were stationed, giving him a better view of whatever you were trying so desperately to complete. Your hands were moving rapidly, not letting him concentrate for very long. One minute, they just looked like smashed pieces of wood, but the next, they had a proper form.

"They'd be great if we could actually get out. Did you think about that, princess?" He had been in the labyrinth before, and knew just how tricky it was to navigate - it was meant to gradually drain your sanity, and make you compliant. If that didn't work, there was always good old-fashioned torture.

You responded after a few beats of silence. "You can do something about that, then. We'll need quite a large hole, or else these things won't get through."

Hawks smirked. "You're trying to get out? Bold of you to assume you can."

"Bold of you to suggest I can't." You countered, adding the finishing touches to your work. "Okay, now listen carefully - I managed to sculpt these out of scraps of wood, and I melted the wax from those candles." You pointed to them. "They will hold long enough to get us back to the realm of Enji Todoroki, but you cannot, under any circumstance, get caught in the heat of the sun. If you do, not only will you have wasted one of my creations, but you will plummet to your death. do you understand?"

There was a mischievous glint in his chocolate orbs. "You'd make a good gypsy, y'know."

You masked your smile behind irritation. "Do you understand?"

"Oh, completely. I just have to stay away from the sun, right?" He nodded.

"Correct." You released a breath you didn't know you had been holding; this man was going to be the death of you. A speck of silver flashed in your peripheral vision, and you directed your gaze accordingly. "Why would someone leave a hammer...?" You mumbled, confused.

Hawks hummed, then looked towards the object. "Well, seems like you've found our way out."

Stepping forwards without hesitation, he picked it up and did an initial, experimental swing. It collided with the wall of the labyrinth, severing the carvings and creating a small dent. His lips twitched upwards, and he held the hammer more firmly in his hands. He swung it again and again, shattering the wall almost entirely. To your surprise, it gave way to blinding sunlight and lush green land. Your mouth fell agape - both of you had been anticipating another layer of the winding entanglement. Nodding once to yourself, you handed a pair of wooden wings over to your accomplice, reminding him of your prior warning. Clasping your own tightly on to your person, you stood on the edge, looking down. You heard an awkward gulp from beside you - Hawks must have been nervous. Just before you were about to soar to freedom, a portal, black and purple, fissured a section of previously untouched wall. Two figures began marching into the frame.

You didn't give Hawks any time to think. With a hand on the wings, you propelled him forwards. You jumped out of the labyrinth after a few seconds, tailing closely behind Hawks, who was flapping his newly-acquired wings rather awkwardly. Although you detested the idea, you spared a brief glance back to your prison, seeing those two men standing among the ashes of the wall. Their faces displayed not anger, as you expected, but glee. Disturbed, you averted your eyes. They would not silence you. The people of your town would indeed hear your voice again, purchase your goods and request specific items. You would not be trapped.

Never again.

"Hawks, are you doing okay? Remember you need to move them yourself - just like a bird." You called, swooping past the blonde-haired man. An ecstasy-streaked expression had appeared on his face. You had to smile at this.

"This feels amazing! Damn, you really are good at making things. When we get back, could you jazz these up a bit for me?" He glided in the air, riding the wind, the breeze fluffing up his hair.

Below, a vast expanse of sea stretched out, going for miles and miles. You wanted to fly down, gently touching the surface with your feet, and making it look as though you were walking on water. Your eyelids flickered shut as you relished in Gaia's soft breaths. The clouds slowly ghosted past you. By the time you opened your eyes, it was far too late. Savouring the sweet taste of fresh air, like a starved child, Hawks had been consumed by a false sense of security. He neglected to recall your warning. The bright rays of the sun beamed down on his figure, washing an unpleasant heat over him. The wax which held his wooden wings together began to drip, raining down on the surface of the ocean like snowflakes. Soon, fractures started to show in the wood. You wanted to scream at him for being so idiotic. Instead, you dove towards the falling form. You missed by a millisecond. Speed was quickly becoming an issue, but you continued descending, reaching out a hand in the hopes that he would grab it. His arms and legs were flailing, and he couldn't seem to stay still for long enough. The water was luring him closer and closer.

In one last ditch effort, you howled out his name. "Hawks!"

His body met the blue liquid, and he was dragged down further, as if compelled by a magnet.

You caressed the water, watching and waiting for any sign of him. Tears were clouding your vision, cascading down your cheeks and eventually dripping down, into the sea. You didn't know if they would ever reach him, but you whispered a few words, distorted by sobs.

"...I warned you..."

[Word Count: 4779]

[bee-kathony]

The Oath | Ch. 26 “The Whole Truth”

a/n: finally!!! I feel like it’s taken ages to get here, but it’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for! thank you @lcbeauchampoftarth for all the lovely beta work she has helped me with! Only 4 more chapter to go xoxo

Arc I | Ch. 16 | Ch. 17 | Ch. 18 | Ch. 19 | Ch. 20 | Ch. 21 | Ch. 22 | Ch. 23 | Ch. 24 | Ch. 25

January 15th, 2020

It felt like any normal morning. The sun was shining in the room, the birds were chirping — it was almost idyllic. Jamie’s arm was laying across Claire’s stomach, pinning her to the bed so she couldn’t move. She turned her head to look at him, breathing softly with his head pressed against the pillow, red curls fanning out against the stark white of the sheets.

It felt like a normal morning, but it wasn’t. Today was January 15th… the day they went to court. Hopefully, within a few hours, Frank Randall would be sentenced to time in prison and Hawkins Laboratory would be shut down.

Claire had woken up a few minutes before her alarm, and she sighed, knowing soon that she would have to start the day. She was certain they would win the trial, but the last face she wanted to see today was Frank’s.

The only face she did want to see was lightly snoring an inch away from her. She slowly ran her fingertips across his forehead, brushing away a few curls. He stirred, his eyelids fluttering.

“Mornin’, Sassenach,” he grumbled and yawned.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she smiled and kissed the tip of his nose. “I was enjoying watching you sleep.”

“Were ye?” He grinned, his eyes still closed.

Claire took a hold of his cheeks with one hand and squeezed lightly, making his lips stick out. “I was,” she grinned and kissed him. Jamie’s arms came around her, and he rolled them so she was laying across him.

“I ken that today is verra important, a nighean, but I want nothin’ more than to lie here wi’ ye in my arms,” Jamie sighed and held her tight on top of him.

“I want that too,” Claire laughed as he tickled her sides. Her legs kicked out against him and she buried her face into the curve of his neck. “But if you don’t stop…” she wheezed, “tickling me — I will leave this bed immediately!’

“Who says I’ll let ye go?” Jamie laughed and wrapped his arms tighter around her, digging his fingers into her side and slid them down over her arse.

Claire laughed wiggled her hips against him, feeling him harden underneath her. “Shouldn’t we be preparing for the trial?”

Jamie moved one hand up her body, resting it on her cheek, “We are, Sassenach. Don’t ye ken that sex is good exercise and will help wake ye up?”

“Is that what all the doctors say?” She smirked.

“That’s what my doctor says,” Jamie grinned and rolled them onto their side. “She told me it was very beneficial to start yer day wi’ havin’ sex wi’ yer almost wife.”

“I’ll have to meet this doctor sometime, check her credentials,” Claire smiled, all while sliding her leg in between Jamie’s thighs. Last night, they had fallen asleep quickly after undressing each other slowly. They both knew that they should be tired and wanting nothing but sleep since they had an almost four month old baby in the house. But every time they were in bed with one another, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, like horny teenagers.

“I’d like for ye to meet her,” Jamie adjusted Claire’s hip and reached between their bodies to take hold of his cock. “Maybe she could join us sometime.”

“Jamie!” Claire laughed and put her hand on his chest. “The doctor you’re talking about is me right? So you’re suggesting we have a threesome… with me?”

“If only there were two of ye, a nighean,” Jamie smoothed the curls back from her face. “I think I truly would die. There would be so much of ye to love,” he cupped her arse, squeezing the plump flesh.

“Is that what you think about?” Claire said softly and rolled her hips, feeling the tip of him slide against her entrance. “Two of me and one of you?”

“Sometimes,” he groaned, his eyes shutting briefly as Claire’s hips did sinful things.

“I don’t think you could handle two of me,” Claire said confidently and placed one hand on Jamie’s flank, pulling him into her and they both hissed at the contact.

“Yer probably right, Sassenach,” Jamie’s laugh faded into a moan as he began to thrust into her. Their bodies were pressed together, leaving no room — not even for air. They clung to each another, desperate to be one.

“God… Jamie,” Claire sighed, her mouth pressing sloppy wet kisses against his chest. His hands worked in tandem, one squeezing her arse and the other sliding against her slick folds where they connected.

In three more thrusts, Jamie spilled into her and soon he felt her clench down around him. They stayed wrapped around each other for several moments, each coming down off their high — their mountain.

It was in these moments, the “mountain” moments that life was nearly perfect. When Claire was with Jamie, everything stopped and she could breathe. When she held their daughter in her arms, she was blissfully happy.

But with every mountain, there was a nearby valley. A moment when everything felt so low, that there seemed no way out — no escape. Jamie and Claire had their fair share of mountain moments and today… they would be heading into the valley, facing their biggest fear and worry yet.

++++++

“Ye look good, verra professional.” Jamie commented on Claire’s outfit for the second time that morning. She had chosen a dark green skirt and cream silk blouse. Her hair was pinned meticulously up on her head, and she was wearing her best heels.

Jenny had arrived to watch Madeline just ten minutes before they needed to leave, and now they were sitting in the courthouse with Ned, waiting to be called in. He wouldn’t admit it, but Jamie was nervous. His fingers twitched and tapped against his thigh.

“It’ll be fine,” Claire said as she noticed his tapping and reached over to squeeze his fingers. He glanced at her and his lip flicked up momentarily before falling back into a worried line. This was a day they both never thought would come, but it was necessary to protect their family.

“How long do ye think this will last, Ned?” Jamie asked the smaller man.

“Oh, no more than an hour or so. Our evidence is pretty straightforward and I’m no too sure what Mr. Randall will have to hold against ye,” he said.

“I honestly don’t understand why Frank is going to such lengths,” Claire said through gritted teeth. “It’s so frustrating! He has never even laid eyes on Madeline, why does he want joint-custody of her so badly?”

“Because he wants a piece of ye, Sassenach.” Jamie said, his eyes soft on her. “I’m no sayin’ I would do what he’s done, not at all. But I think he canna let ye go, and this is the only way he kens how to keep a part of ye for himself. It’s a foolish thing to do, but — I maybe understand.”

“A piece of me?” Claire repeated. “If he wanted a piece of me, then he shouldn’t have cheated on me with another woman! Then he would have had the whole damn piece!” She threw her hands up in the air, annoyed with men and their backwards way of thinking.

“I didna say Frank was a smart man, Sassenach,” Jamie smirked. “Far from it, actually. He may have his other reasons for wantin’ joint-custody and forging the test, reasons I’m sure he’ll either tell us in there or keep to himself.”

“I highly doubt he will tell us the whole truth and nothing but the truth,” Claire scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Lying is what Frank Randall does best,” she said and crossed her arms.

Claire heart Jamie snicker beside her and she looked over at him to see him smiling.

“What are you so happy about?”

“Och, tis nothing,” he grinned.

“No, tell me,” she poked his arm.

“Ye just look so damn cute when yer cross, mo nighean donn,” Jamie slid his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in for a kiss. “I like it when yer eyebrows knit together right there,” he tapped on her forehead.

“You only like it because I’m not cross with you!” She pointed her finger at his chest.

“Aye, true,” he laughed. “And I find ye cute no matter what expression crosses that bonny wee face of yers.”

Jamie kissed her again and she laid her head to rest on his shoulder. They had left Madeline at home, away from all this drama, but now, Claire was wishing she had their daughter to hold and hug.

It was another twenty minutes before they heard their names being called and together, they all made their way into the courtroom. Ned walked up to the table on the left and sat down, immediately opening his briefcase with all their evidence. Claire and Jamie sat next to him, sitting up straight and trying to appear calm. Mary Hawkins was sitting just two rows behind them, awaiting the time to be called as their witness.

As Claire turned to look around the room, she spotted Frank and his lawyer walking in. The sight of him gave her chills. The last time she had seen him was when Jamie beat him within an inch of his life. And besides their phone conversation just days after receiving the fake paternity test in the mail, they hadn’t spoken since.

Frank had a charming face, one that was inviting and warm. She had fallen in love with that face, and had spent many afternoons caressing his cheeks and smoothing out the lines on his cheeks. He met her eye and one side of his mouth turned up, a look of steely determination staring back at her. Whatever Claire had felt for this man — all that sentiment was long gone.

A minute later, the judge came into the room and they all rose from their seats.

“Please be seated,” the judge said and the sound of chairs being pushed back filled the room.

It felt like hours before he spoke. Claire began to nervously tap her foot, her heel clicking against the tile floor.

“Good afternoon everyone,” the judge said. “Today, we are here for the case of Fraser versus Randall to determine the legitimacy of a paternity test. We are also here for the case of Fraser versus Hawkins Laboratory. It is my understanding that both of these cases coincide and have a direct relation. Here today are James Fraser and his fiancé, Frank Randall, and Silas Hawkins from Hawkins Labratory.”

The judge looked at something in front of him, and then looked first at Claire and Jamie, and then over to Frank and his lawyer.

“I will allow both parties to make opening statements. We will have the prosecution up on the stand first, followed by the defendant,” the judge said and motioned his hand for Claire or Jamie to take the stand. Only one of them needed to go up for now to state their case, and they had decided before hand that it would be Jamie.

He squeezed Claire’s hand, and rose from his seat. A wave of calm washed over him — this was the time for the truth to come out. Placing his hand over the Bible, Jamie said the oath.

“I swear by Almighty God that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

The judge nodded his head at Jamie and told him to take the stand.

“Please present your case, Mr. Fraser.”

Jamie began from the beginning — the night he met Claire. He told the courtroom how it wasn’t until months later that he found out that Claire was with child, but from that moment, he became involved in her and the child’s life.

“Even if the child wasna mine, I promised that I would love her no matter what and protect her from harm,” Jamie said. “I had to protect her from this man right here, Frank Randall, when he tried to attack Claire and demand she go with him from her home.”

Claire noticed Frank shift uncomfortably in his seat, but Jamie continued with the unfolding of events.

“When we received the results of the paternity test, I was crushed. The results said that I wasn’t Madeline’s father, and it was something I didn’t think possible. Ye see, our daughter has red hair just like mine, and she has my smile and eyes. Anyone who sees her, remarks on our similarities.”

Jamie smiled as he thought of his daughter, the very essence of him — all the best things.

“It’s because of those similarities that Claire and I decided to find another laboratory and only have me tested. We thought maybe there was some mistake and things were switched up by accident at Hawkins Lab,” he said. “Several days later we received the results stating that I was the father of Madeline Fraser.”

Muttering could be heard around the few people in the room, and the judge banged his gavel, “Silence,” he said loudly and then motioned for Jamie to continue.

“That’s when we knew that Mr. Randall had forged the first paternity test and had the help of Hawkins Laboratory in doing so. We’re here today to put an end to this once and for all. Madeline Fraser is my daughter by blood, and I intend to use my rights as her father to protect her.”

As Jamie finished, Claire dared a glance over at Frank. He was sitting up straight, his arms crossed over his chest with a stern look on his face. She was hoping he was kicking himself for forgetting the small detail of how Madeline would resembler her actual father.

“You may take your seat, Mr. Fraser,” the judge said and Jamie stood and joined Claire. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, and took her hand in his. He was shaking slightly, from nerves or anger, Claire didn’t know.

“We will now have the defendant, Mr. Frank Randall to the stand, please come forward.”

Frank rose, an almost smug look on his face — of course, for show. When he approached the bench, he took the same oath that Jamie did and then his seat.

“Mr. Randall, you are being charged with forgery of documents and sexual harassment of a one Mary Hawkins who we have present today with us. Please state your case when you’re ready,” the judge motioned for Frank to begin.

Claire kept her eyes focused on him, daring him to lie one more time under oath. No matter what he said, he was ruined — the new paternity test they had confirmed he had lied.

He cleared his throat and began his side of things.

“What Mr. Fraser neglected to tell the court today about why we were both tested for the paternity of Madeline, is that Claire Beauchamp had sexual relations with myself and then not even twenty-four hours later with Mr. Fraser,” Frank said.

“So, you can see why I would want a paternity test done, and I was the one that requested it in the first place. As to these claims of forgery, who’s to say that Claire and Jamie didn’t forge the second paternity test?” He scoffed.

“Moving on to the second claim made against me, sexual harassment,” he cleared his throat and rolled his eyes slightly. “I object to any such claims.”

Bold move, bastard.

“Final statements, Mr. Randall,” the judge said.

“As Mr. Fraser said in his testimony, he had to protect Claire from me… by using his fists. I have my hospital bill from the night of the event a few nearly six months ago. Granted, I was a little under the drink, but he left me bloody and beaten to a pulp.”

Jamie tensed beside Claire, and she wrapped her hand around his arm. He met her eye and then looked over at Frank. They knew one day that night would come back to haunt them. It was true, Jamie had beaten Frank very badly, it had scared Claire half to death.

“I think I’ve said all I need to for now,” Frank finished and rose from his chair to join his lawyer.

“Now that we’ve heard from both the prosecution and the defendant, we’ll take a ten minute recess and then we’ll call the witnesses to the stand,” the judge said and banged his gavel.

Frank was first to move and he walked out of the room, followed by his lawyer, sparing no glance at either Jamie or Claire. Laying her head briefly on his shoulder, Claire sighed and closed her eyes. The worst of it was over, now all that was left was for Mary to speak on the stand and for the judge to decide.

“Ye did well, lad,” Ned smiled proudly and gave him a pat on the back.

“You really did, babe,” Claire smiled and kissed him. “We know that Frank is lying about the sexual harassment charges. Mary will tell her side of things and clear that up. And she can provide proof that he made her forge the documents.”

“I really dinna ken why he’s so bent on sticking to his story,” Jamie shook his head. “Does he really think he can win?”

“I suppose so,” Claire shrugged. “I always thought he was a smart man, but maybe now… he’s trapped in a web of his own lies.”

“Trapped indeed, Sassenach,” Jamie grumbled. “I need some water, I’ll be back.”

He left her, and Claire turned in her seat to find that Mary had moved up to sit directly behind them.

“Are you ready, Mary? You still want to do this?” Claire asked.

“Y-yes,” the girl nodded. “After hearing him lie about what he did t-to me, I have to tell the truth.”

“You’re a very brave girl,” Claire smiled. “I can’t possibly thank you enough.”

“You can thank me by letting me babysit for Madeline sometime,” Mary smiled. “She’s the cutest little girl I’ve ever seen!”

“Of course,” Claire grinned. “She seemed to like you the other day.”

A moment later, Jamie rejoined them and the judge took the stand once again. Ned rose from his seat, and said, “The prosecution calls Mary Hawkins to the stand.”

The young girl stood and walked slowly up to the stand to take the oath. She was a stick of a thing, and reminded Claire of a small bird. Now, it was Ned’s turn to question her and he approached the stand.

“Miss Mary,” he smiled kindly towards her. “Can you please tell the court what happened on November 6th, 2019?”

She nodded and began to tell the room everything she had told Jamie and Claire just weeks ago. The horrible details about how Frank pushed her against the wall, threatening to do worse if she didn’t comply. Hearing the story again made Claire’s stomach twist in knots and she would have given anything to be able to punch Frank, but this wasn’t the time nor place.

“And it’s your family that owns the laboratory where the test was done, is that correct Miss Hawkins?” Ned asked and Mary said yes it was.

“And not only does your family own the laboratory, but you are engaged to be married to Mr. Randall’s youngest brother Alexander?”

“Yes,” Mary said.

Claire looked over at Frank who was now fidgeting in his seat. It appears he hadn’t expected for Mary to be so forthcoming with the truth. Blood is thicker than water, that’s for sure, but when your own family threatens you and sets to ruin the lives of others… you do what you must.

“So as ye can see, your honor,” Ned said. “Mary Hawkins was threatened wi’ rape by Frank Randall so that she would forge the documents of the paternity test. Is there anythin’ ye’d like to add Miss Hawkins?”

“This wasn’t the first time the laboratory had forged documents,” she said into the microphone. “I was threatened to do it, but I’ve witnessed on many occasions documents being changed and large sums of money being exchanged.”

“Very interesting,” the judge said and looked at a sheet of paper in front of him.

Once Mary was finished, she and Ned took their seats. When the judge asked if Frank had any witnesses, his lawyer said no. So it seemed that Frank was really willing to do down with the ship, full steam ahead. All the cards were stacked against him.

“Upon hearing both testimonies and a compelling statement from the witness, I’ve come to my decision,” the judge said. Claire was shocked at how quickly he had decided, but they did have all the evidence on their side.

“It is my decree that Hawkins Laboratory be immediately shut down and a financial restitution of five hundred thousand dollars be rewarded to Mr. Jamie Fraser and Ms. Claire Beauchamp.”

Claire gasped and grabbed Jamie’s hand, squeezing tight. They had one their first battle. The lab would be shut down once and for all, and something like this couldn’t happen again. They both held their breaths for the reading of Frank’s verdict.

“In the case of Fraser versus Randall, I decree that Mr. Randall is guilty on both charges against him. The first being sexual harassment and the second being forgery of official documents which is penalized by a $40,000 fine and a three year prison sentence.” The judge banged his gavel and then it was over. Just like that.

Frank was going to prison for three years.

Claire felt something beside her and looked to see Jamie tugging on her shirt to pull her up into a tight bear hug. He squeezed her, burying his face in her neck. As they released, they saw two police officers putting Frank into handcuffs and they escorted him out of the room. He stopped walking and met Claire’s eye and gave her the most chilling smile.

“Christ,” she muttered. “What a psychopath.”

“We won, Sassenach!” Jamie kissed her cheek. “We dinna every have to think of Frank Randall again. We won!”

Claire hugged him again and then thanked Ned for all of his help.

“Och, twas nothin’ lass. Yer case was easy to represent,” he kissed her cheek and began to pack up all his things.

Mary came over to them to celebrate and Claire held her close.

“You did the right thing, Mary. I know it feels like you might have betrayed your family, but you just stopped a lot of bad things from happening.”

The girl smiled, “I’ll have to have a difficult conversation with my uncle and now I guess I’ll need to find another job.”

“Dinna fash, lass,” Jamie said as he slid his arm around Claire’s shoulders. “I’m sure we can find ye a position at Fraser & Co.”

“That would be w-wonderful!” The girl smiled and hugged him. “If you’ll both excuse me, I need to call Alex and tell him what’s happened. He’ll be anxious to find out what’s become of his brother.”

Jamie and Claire walked out of the room, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off of their shoulders. It hardly felt real. They had been living with this burden for weeks now, truly months. In the span of an hour, Frank had been sentenced to prison and they had been awarded five hundred thousand dollars.

They had to finish signing some legal documents, but once that was all clear, they walked outside into the crisp cool Scottish air.

“Do ye feel richer, Sassenach?” Jamie chuckled.

“It hasn’t quite sunk in yet,” Claire replied. “Besides, I don’t know what to do with all that money.”

“I’m sure we’ll think of somethin’, mo nighean donn,” Jamie kissed her temple. “I suppose we’d better get home. We have a lot of explaining to do to our family.”

“And I want to see Madeline,” Claire smiled.

“Aye, of course.”

Together, they climbed into the car and drove home, free of worries and filled with possibilities.

Chapter 27: I Smell Snow

[liquidthedefunctblog]

Mr Godot and the eternal Payne Chapter 1: Coffee Break

An Ace Attorney fanfic in which a legendary prosecutor guides a rookie

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

Godot stood at the counter of the Prosecutor's Office break room as he waited for the old and broken down coffee machine to start up. Ordinarily he wouldn't settle for this second rate "instant" stuff, but he was running out of his own blend and he had to conserve what was left for the trial tomorrow. Godot had stayed behind late at the office, making his final preparations for his first trial as a prosecutor. The case itself was nothing special, an urn stolen by an unusually popular thief. What mattered was his opportunity to defeat Phoenix Wright in court, and claim his vengeance. The machine finally started up, making a noise more akin to a ten ton truck or a double decker bus than a coffee maker, and his drink slowly dribbled out, mere drops at a time.

Godot jumped slightly at the sound of somebody humming, given the time of night he had assumed that he was alone at the office. A strange looking man in a grey suit opened the door and walked in. He gave a cocky smirk and looked at Godot.

"I don't believe we've met before. Part of the new batch eh?"

Godot ignored the man, wondering to himself why who he presumed to be a member of the janitorial staff was wearing a suit. A cheap one, but a suit nonetheless. Oblivious to his lack of interest, the man walked forward and held out his hand.

"Winston Payne. You?"

Godot didn't even look at the man, keeping his head locked directly forwards. He wouldn't normally be so rude, but he wasn't too happy about being interrupted by a man with seemingly no traits worthy of respect. Besides that, he wasn't interested in small talk right now. He had exactly two goals for the night, drink some coffee, and prepare a case that would destroy Phoenix Wright. He didn't intend to disrupt his progress towards either of these goals.

"Godot."

Payne stared at Godot for a few more seconds, before eventually getting the message and lowering his hand. After regaining his wits he restored his prior smirk.

"Mr Godot eh? Seeing as you're still around at this time of night, I'd guess that you're getting ready for your first case. Which one are you on?"

Godot grabbed his coffee as the machine stopped whirring. His tone was slightly less cold now that he realised there was no escaping this conversation.

"The Masque De Mask case, supposedly he stole a precious urn this time."

Payne nodded while making some strange hand motion above his thinning hair,

"And the defence?"

"Mr Phoenix Wright."

Godot's grip on the mug tightened as he ground his teeth. Payne carried on talking casually.

"Wright hmm? You know I'm something of a rival to him. I'll be honest, looking at the way he handles his trials I'm not too sure he's been running them honestly. Attorneys these days just can't be trusted not to forge evidence. Of course it's happening over here too, I'm sure you've heard of that "demon prosecutor" Edgeworth."

Edgeworth, where had he heard that name before? Godot pondered this as he took his first sip of the prosecutors office coffee. His first impressions were... not good. His face contorted as he swallowed down possibly the worst coffee he had ever drunk. Payne didn't seem to notice as he carried on his monologue.

"You know I'm something of a courtroom legend in my own right. Back in the day I was known as the rookie killer, I went seven years without a single loss. If you were a rookie defence attorney... well, let's just be glad you aren't one of them. Of course as a veteran of the prosecutors office, I feel obligated to give you some advice. Show you the ropes if you will."

Godot smirked slightly. So this was the one his kitten dominated while he was gone. He turned to face Payne for the first time.

"I remember reading about you now. Mia Fey defeated you in her second case as a defence attorney. And what have you achieved since? You haven't won a case in four years."

Payne gave an almost comical physical reaction to this, as he stuttered to defend himself.

"W-well, I can't help it that defence attorneys are cheating scum now, somebody has to stand for the truth!"

Godot continued his offensive, "Surely the truth would grant you a win here and three."

"Well- well..." Payne's tone shifted to a quiet, embarrassed one.

"I won a competition to name the prosecutors office hotdogs..."

Godot turned back around and took another sip of his coffee.

"I fail to see what you of all people can offer me."

Payne, desperate to restore his lost honour, returned to his strange stance and renewed his smirk.

"Then perhaps you lack vision my friend. I'll say to you now what I said to my brother before his first trial, "It's all in the evidence". If you can find one piece of decisive evidence and cling to it, the trial's yours. My brother took my advice to heart, and since then he's always managed to find the most incredible piece of evidence mere moments before the trial starts."

Godot kept his gaze on the far wall.

"By which you mean to say that his evidence lacks credibility?"

Payne did yet another of his comical double takes.

"You're not accusing Gaspen of-"

He cut himself off and returned to his prior pose.

"I'll just forget you said that. Anyway the other thing I wanted to tell you is this. Trust your witness. If the defence jumps on the witness and tries to pin the crime on them, don't intervene. Take a backseat and let the witness rebuke them with a decisive testimony. If you follow these two pieces of advice, the trial will be over in a day."

Godot gulped down the last of his coffee and placed the mug on the counter.

"I'm sure it will be," he said bluntly as he headed towards the door. Payne scrambled after him.

"Wait! Maybe we can talk again after the trial tomorrow? I don't get much conversation around here. Most of the rookies place too much stock in win records, no interest in the truth."

Godot opened up his office and on walking in made sure to immediately gain control of the inner door handle.

"Goodnight, Mr Payne."

Godot slammed the door shut and locked it, before walking back from it slightly. As he did so, a small business card slid under the bottom.

[lovemesomerafael]

El Amor Todo Lo Puede          Chapter 56:  Home

Source:  @peter-stone

Chapters 1-55

Laura knocked quietly on the door of Lucia’s apartment in the Bronx, feeling a strange mixture of excitement and sadness.  They had kept in touch, of course, for the two years Laura had been away, although after those first, hellish months, they hadn’t spoken quite as often.  Laura fully expected that they would spend time during this visit crying over their mutual loss, and she didn’t dread that. In fact, she and Lucia hadn’t been able to hug while they cried in all the time Laura had been gone.  Since the crying part was probably inevitable, Laura thought it would be nice to be able to put her arms around Rafael’s mother while they shared their pain.  

Lucia had tried to understand Laura’s need to run away.  At first, she had been confused and a bit hurt that Laura wouldn’t be in New York, where they could comfort one another.  Over the two weeks after Rafi’s death, however, as they had worked feverishly together to do all the horrible tasks that have to be done when someone dies, Lucia had seen in Laura a fear that she herself didn’t feel.  Laura was not only grieving the past, she was also terrified of the future.  Lucia wasn’t. Partly, the difference was that Laura was young, and had to figure out who to be, now that she had been left without the partner she’d chosen to spend her life with.  Rafael’s death had fundamentally changed who Laura was.  That wasn’t true for Lucia.  Losing her child, adult though he had been, didn’t change Lucia’s identity as his mother.  The other difference was that having another child wasn’t an option for Lucia, so she didn’t have to find the courage to try again.  

Over the past two years, something had happened that neither of them had expected.  As much as they had liked being mother- and daughter-in-law, they found that they also enjoyed being friends.  Lucia still felt motherly toward Laura, who also loved Lucia like a second mother.  But helping one another through their greatest loss had also forged a deep, lasting friendship between them as women.  Rafael was always there, between them, a shared love that united them.  But they found that, slowly and in stages, their conversations branched out to involve the rest of their lives, as well.  It was a lovely connection that allowed them to keep Rafael close – the two women who had loved him the most – and also allowed each of them to enjoy the other for her own sake.

When Lucia opened the door, she and Laura hugged (and cried) for a very long time before Laura even crossed the threshold.

 *************

Dinner at Amanda’s had started at breakfast time.  Laura wanted to spend as much time as possible with her friends from SVU, so they’d arranged to meet at the zoo in Central Park, where the kids could play while the parents talked.  Laura was shocked by how much they’d grown; both Fin’s grandson, Jaden, and Amanda’s daughter, Billie, were talking already.  They weren’t speaking full sentences, but they were certainly able to make their needs known.  Amanda’s daughter Jessie and Olivia’s son Noah both had vague memories that they had an “Aunt Lala”, but had really been too young to remember Laura.  It was great fun to get re-acquainted with them, and to discover Jaden’s and Billie’s personalities, made easier by the fact that Sonny Carisi was, by far, the kids’ favorite person and knew everything about them.   As soon as they saw that Sonny liked Laura, they decided to like her, too.  

While the older kids ran around like maniacs and the littler ones alternated between mania and meltdowns, the adults caught up.  Laura had cried as soon as she saw Fin, which she’d known she would.  He tried to play it cool, but the tightness of his hug and the amount of time it lasted told her he was just as glad to see her.

“Any idea what you’re gonna do when you get back to Chicago?”  He asked.

“I have a few leads.  I really loved the work I did for the feds; I might want to do something with computer crimes.  Or maybe I’ll go to the dark side and make a mint working in cybersecurity.  Regular hours, no one shoots at me…”

“Yeah, but you’d never get to go off on anyone.  Remember Reginald Skoggs?  You love that shit,”  Fin laughed.

“Oh, man, I haven’t thought about him in years.  But you’re right, that was fun.  Remember I had to change my clothes before Barba saw all the blood?”  

Fin laughed at that, too, and Laura noticed that the whole group seemed to relax a little, knowing that it was all right to mention Rafael’s name.  

“What I remember is you still owe me fifty bucks for not tellin’ Barba what you did.”  

Laura feigned a blank look.  “I don’t remember that.”

“Yeah, sure you don’t.”  Fin threw an arm around her neck and gave her a rough hug.  “Punk-ass kid.”  

All morning and afternoon, the SVU detectives shared stories of cases they’d worked and listened as Laura told them what she’d been doing.  Laura wanted to hear every story about the kids.  They had so much to talk about that it was actually after lunch by the time the conversation neared the subject of Rafael’s murder.

Olivia moved so that she was walking next to Laura while they headed toward the Polar Circle, where the penguins – the kids’ favorite - lived.  

“I thought we’d get to see you for Randolph’s trial.  I wasn’t surprised to see him plead out, but I was sorry to miss out on a visit from you.”  

“Thanks, Lieu. I knew he’d take a plea.  McCoy was going to bury him no matter what, so I think he just figured he’d save himself the trouble.  For a sweet man, Jack McCoy can be a scary SOB when he’s crossed.”

“Yes, he can,” Olivia agreed.  

“Anyway, it was better that way.  I really wasn’t ready to come back until pretty recently.  In fact, I might have stayed longer, except…”

“Yeah, I heard. You know, until Rollins told me the whole story, I just thought you and Stone were oddly close.”  

“And you were right about that,” Laura laughed.  

While Jaden and Billie napped hard in their strollers, Fin sat with them and napped a little, too. Liv and Amanda kept a close eye on Jessie and Noah, and Laura and Carisi stood leaning on poured concrete rocks, watching the penguins.  

“So I’m looking at all these kinds of penguins, particularly the macaroni penguin, which is really the coolest of penguinkind, and I’m thinkin’ that right there is evidence that God has a sense of humor.”

“Hmmmm. Deep, Carisi.  I don’t disagree, but I’m thinking whoever named them macaroni penguins gets an honorable mention.”

“Yeah, I could go there,” Sonny shrugged.  “And since you didn’t throw me over these rocks into the water, I hope that means that maybe you and God have made up a little?”  

Laura thought for a minute.  “There was this priest in Stockholm, Father Piär. He helped.  Probably not as much as you, but he did OK.”  She bumped Carisi fondly with her shoulder.  

“I don’t know that I helped any, but thanks.”

“Sure you did.  And I appreciate it.  I owe you.” Laura didn’t want the day to turn maudlin, so she changed the subject.  “So I noticed in your emails, you never mentioned any dates.  You didn’t become a monk or something, did you?”  

“Nah,” Sonny blushed.  “I just like to play things close to the vest, y’know?”

“Well, don’t. Tell me.  I want to know you’re happy.”

The smile on Sonny’s face, and the crinkles around his bright blue eyes told Laura that he would never want for romantic companionship for long.  “There’s no one special right now, but…  I’ve kinda been thinkin’ I’m getting a little old for dates.  Dean got married, you know.”

“I hadn’t heard that!”

“Yeah, married a surgeon.  They’re in L.A. now.  Anyway, I’ve been thinking I might be in the market for someone, you know, more permanent.”

“Any candidates?”

“Not right now. But who knows?”

“Just don’t get serious about anyone until I get to check them out.  Don’t rely solely on Amanda’s judgment.”

“If I have to wait until Amanda approves someone, I might as well hang it up right now.”

The rest of the afternoon went on like that, everyone enjoying the day and Laura getting a chance to talk one-on-one with each of them.

At dinner, there was plenty of wine and entirely too much food.  Sonny made something no one could pronounce, but it was so good everyone ate until they couldn’t possibly take one more bite.  Lucia joined them, and they all enjoyed themselves.  To Laura, it felt as though she’d never been away, which was just a little bittersweet, because it meant she kept expecting Rafael to walk in at any time.  

There was a sweet moment when Olivia was telling a story about an argument she and Rafael had, and Noah asked, “Is Rafael the same as Uncle Rafa?”  

Olivia told him that he was.

“I ‘member him,” Noah said.  “He used to sing the pirate song.”  

As much as Laura had needed to leave New York to escape the constant reminders of Rafael, it was lovely, now that she could, to be able to talk about him with people who had known and loved him.  There were a hundred stories about funny, biting comments he had made, demonstrations of his undeniable abilities, and his courtroom coups.  Lucia told some hilarious, adorable stories about him as a child that he would never have allowed her to tell, had he been there.  They all laughed, and shed a few tears, and toasted his memory.  The entire day was as special as any of them had hoped, and it was a perfect way for Laura to acknowledge the life she had loved in New York before she went on to begin a new life back in Chicago.

Amanda waited with Laura and Lucia at the curb for their taxi back to the Bronx.  She and Laura had exchanged many hugs throughout the day, but it still didn’t feel like enough.  They sat, side by side on Amanda’s stoop, with Amanda’s arm around Laura’s shoulder.

“Just remember, you need me to shoot Stone, I can make it look like an accident.”

“I thought it was Rafael you offered to shoot.”

“It was, but you never took me up on it, so I still owe you.  But I’m kinda hopin’ you don’t ever need me to shoot Stone, either.  ‘Cuz you look happy.  And I like seein’ that.”

“Me, too.”

“You take care of yourself, Parker.  You know you always have a home here, if you want it.”

They hugged yet again, both smiling, and Amanda pulled Lucia into the hug with them.

**********

The flight from New York to Chicago had seemed very short after the flight from Stockholm. And now, Laura was home.  She smiled even as tears spilled over, looking out the window of the airplane at the familiar landscape.  

She walked through the concourse toward Baggage Claim.  She reached the main terminal, passed the security checkpoint, and descended the stairs toward the row of baggage carousels, some surrounded by people and spitting out luggage which then circled slowly, some still and silent.  She idly looked out over the scene as she walked down the stairs.

She froze on the last step, her heart doing some sort of somersault in her chest and a large swarm of butterflies taking sudden flight in her stomach.  She whispered an involuntary, "Peter."

She stood, unmoving, staring at the tall, beautiful man standing near the baggage carousel for her flight.  As always, his muscular, athletic build and his square, masculine jaw stirred a deep longing in her.  She stared almost helplessly at him, just as she had done that day years before, when she saw him in the lobby at District 21, waiting for an appointment with Sergeant Voight.  She realized with a surge of love that the pain of missing Peter was over.  She was home now, with him, and there was no longer anything to keep them apart.

His hair was longer than it had been when she’d last seen him.  It looked so good she instantly wanted to run her hands through it. Had he let it grow for her, knowing she liked it that way?  Only when he looked up at her, perhaps sensing her staring at him, did Laura take the last stair and begin to move through the crowd toward him as his face broke into a wide smile.

They didn’t say anything at first as they came face to face, just took a moment to smiled at one another before they wrapped their arms around each other in a long, contented embrace.  People looked at them, some annoyed at these fools locked in a marathon hug in the middle of baggage claim, some grinning shyly at the apparently very happy reunion. Peter and Laura ignored them all. Somewhere in the middle of their embrace, they began to share whispered “I love you’s” among heartfelt endearments.

There were plenty of kisses and laughing as they collected Laura’s luggage and walked, talking animatedly, out to Peter’s car.  With so much to carry - suitcases, Laura’s guitar, her carry-on - they hadn’t been able to hold hands or put arms around each other as they walked, and with each step, Laura found herself more aware of wanting to touch Peter.  She noticed again his hair, just a bit shaggy, and the way it made her think of him in bed.  She watched the sexy way he walked, so athletic and confident, legs wide and striding quickly.  As Peter stored the luggage in the back of a new SUV he’d purchased at some point after he’d returned from New York, Laura stood close to him, just wanting to be near him and eager to have her arms around him again.  

He slammed the gate down and pulled her to him.  As he leaned down to press his lips to hers, she breathed in his scent: a clean, masculine smell of soap and a little bit of musky cologne highlighting a warmer, savory essence that Laura thought of as just plain man.  She reached up, sliding one hand into the hair at the back of his head and using the other to hold him close.  As their mouths met in heated haste, Peter’s arms encircling Laura completely, she felt herself pressed against the back of the vehicle.  She moved her legs to more fully melt their bodies together, feeling lust overcoming her sense of anything beyond Peter. He felt warm and firm, large and muscular, the beginnings of his erection evident as he moved against her.

He broke the kiss when they started to lose control of the sounds being drawn from them and the wantonness of their hip movements.  

“Get in the car,” he growled, and they quickly separated to slide into their seats.  Before even thinking about putting on seat belts, they turned to each other and their mouths met once again for the kind of kisses they really wanted, but couldn’t indulge in publicly.  Their intimate caresses became quickly more serious, more heated, and soon they were both moaning as Peter’s tongue teased Laura’s. Minutes later, Laura slid a hand up the inside of Peter’s thigh.  

He took her hand from his leg, lifting it to his lips and kissing her fingers, chuckling.  “You missed me.”

“I missed you like crazy.  And I want you.  Let me…”

“Not here.”

“Please?  We could get in the back…”

“I am not going to have sex with you in an airport parking garage,” Peter said, a little more gruffly than he meant to, because he was having some trouble resisting her suggestion in his current agitated state.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.  I think it was even this garage.  Remember when you went -“

“That was…  We were in our twenties then.”  He consciously tried to slow his breathing.

“And?  What are you, a grown-up now?”  Laura leaned in and began kissing Peter’s neck, slipping her hand from his and reaching toward his crotch.  “Come on.  I love you, and I’ve been thinking about you nonstop.  Let me touch you…” she purred.

“Stop,” he said, laughing but taking her hand again.  “I mean it.  You can do anything you want to me when we get home.  Now behave.”

She moved back into her seat, pretending to be grumpy as she fastened her seat belt.  “Behave.  Since when have I ever behaved?”  

“Just be patient. I’ll make it worth your while.”  Peter gave her a look that did nothing to cool her arousal.  “I promise.”

Seeing that he wasn’t going to relent, Laura settled into her seat, smiling contentedly. “It’s good to be home.”

“It’s good to have you home,” Peter agreed, reaching for her hand and intertwining his fingers with hers.  

The city looked beautiful to Laura, even in the dreariness of late fall.  There was a weak sunlight through breaks in the clouds, and there were still some trees with bright fall foliage here and there. Mostly, the city looked good to her because she had been homesick.  She noticed a new building going up on the downtown skyline and pointed it out to Peter, asking where, exactly, it was.  When he told her, she scrunched up her eyebrows.  “Wait, doesn’t that mean… didn’t you miss your exit?  I thought you lived in the Fulton River District.”

“I did,” he responded, looking at the road.  “I moved.”

“You moved? You didn’t tell me you moved.  When did you move?”

“A few months ago. Didn’t I tell you?”

“No.  How do you move, and not tell me?”

“I must’ve forgot. I told you, I’ve been crazy busy these last few months.”

Laura frowned. This was strange.  Moving is not something you forget to mention.  “Where do you live now?”

“Wilmette.”

“Wilmette!  You do not.”

Peter smiled and chuckled a little, but kept his eyes on the road.  “I do, actually.  You’ll see.”

“Peter, you… that’s… I can’t believe you moved to Wilmette and didn’t tell me.”

“I thought you liked Wilmette?”

“I do.  We both do.  Remember, we used to talk about living there someday.  That’s why I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I’m sorry, Sunshine.  Really.  I guess I thought I had.”  He lifted her hand from the console where their clasped hands had been resting and kissed it for about the hundredth time since they’d left O’Hare.

Laura shrugged slightly, but she was still uneasy.  He had told her that he’d been extremely busy over the months since he’d visited her in Stockholm, and with all that had happened between them, maybe he really had forgotten. But it still struck her as a very strange thing not to mention.

Several miles later, Peter exited the freeway and drove through the Village of Wilmette, a clean, leafy, cute midwestern town with lots of small shops and other businesses lining the streets.  He turned into a neighborhood of pretty houses, many of them brick, all set back from the street behind well-maintained front lawns with trees and shrubs.  Most of the houses had flower gardens up next to their foundations, although this late in the year there weren’t any flowers blooming.  He turned into an idyllic, peaceful street and began to slow down.

“You’re messing with me,” she said.  “You bought a house?”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling over against the curb.  “We’re here.”  

The house he pointed to was two a story brick, with copper awnings covered with verdigris over bay windows, one on either side of a rounded front door that sat at the top of a set of two steps.  There was a little patio in front of the door with wrought iron railings on either side. There was a chimney to one side, and it looked like there was another chimney at the back.  Peter got out of the car and came around to open Laura’s door as she simply sat and stared.

“Do you like it?”  He asked, a sweet, expectant smile on his face that almost hid a glint of mischief in his eyes.  

Laura stepped out onto the curb and stood, looking at the charming house.  “You didn’t forget to tell me you bought a house.”

He shrugged, pleased with her reaction.  “Maybe not. Maybe I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Peter, this is your house?  It’s beautiful!  It’s perfect! You really live here?”

“Got the mortgage to prove it,” he said, taking her hand.  “C’mon.  I want to show it to you.  We’ll get the luggage later.”  

When they reached the door, he opened it and then turned to her and lifted her up with one arm behind her back and one behind her legs.  

“What are you doing?”

“I’m carrying you over the threshold.”

All Laura could think to do was laugh.  This was… bizarre.  Unreal.

They stood in a small foyer with a flagstone floor, a little table with a lamp on it just inside.  Something about the table or the lamp, or maybe both, looked familiar to her, but she was so curious to see Peter’s house that she didn’t give it much thought.  The foyer gave onto a short hallway.

The first room they came to was a formal living room with a couch and some wingback chairs arranged around a fireplace.  There was something about the room that seemed…  Then she noticed the painting of a cottage in the English countryside over the fireplace. 

“I have that same painting,” she said, her voice a little unsure.  “I’ve never noticed that in your apartments, did you just get it?”

“Sort of.  Let me show you the rest of the house.”

He led her past the living room to the end of the short hall, which opened onto a large, sunny great room at the back of the house.  The room had a pleasant kitchen separated by a span of granite countertop from a family area with another fireplace.  Laura was astounded, her head swimming at the surprise of Peter owning a house in Wilmette, and the perfectness of the house itself.  

“Oh, Peter, this is great!  It’s… I love it!  Is this actually a wood-burning fireplace?”

“Yep.”  

Again, Laura had an odd feeling about the room.  It seemed like she’d been there before. 

“This is so weird.  I’m having the weirdest sense of déjà vu.  I know I’ve never been here before…  Holy shit, I know what it is!”

She turned to him to find him grinning like a fool. 

“Peter, your house is just like the one we used to talk about.  Remember?  When we lived in that fifth-floor walk-up in Evanston.  Now all you need is a dog named Marshall.”

Peter, now actually laughing, cocked his head toward a sliding glass door that led from the kitchen out to a patio.  “Back yard.” 

Laura felt herself go numb.  Her eyes got big and she just stood where she was, a confused expression on her face.  Her voice was shaky as she asked, “What’s going on?”

Peter went to the door and opened it.  “Come on.  Meet Marshall.”

She almost stumbled as she moved, uncertain and overwhelmed, over to him.  He put an arm around her back, enjoying every second of her reaction, but a little worried this might all be a bit too much.  He led her out onto the wooden patio, which had two sets of steps down to a small back yard shielded from any neighbors by high hedges.  She noticed movement to one side, and her eyes fixed on a red doghouse from which a Yellow Labrador Retriever puppy was sleepily emerging.  The puppy saw Peter and ran to the stairs, a little small yet to climb them easily. 

“Oh, look at you!  You’re so cute!”  Laura hurried over to pick up the puppy, who immediately began to lick all over her face.  She looked at Peter, eyes still wide, confusion and disbelief still very much evident.  “How old is he?”

“She is about three months old.”

“You named a girl puppy Thurgood Marshall?”

“I had to.  That’s the name we picked out.”

“I… what?”

Laura had just enough presence of mind to notice that Peter’s smile was heartrendingly handsome.  He was looking at her, holding the puppy, as though he was a child on Christmas morning catching his first sight of what Santa had brought.

“C’mon, let’s sit here for a minute.”  He sat her down on the stairs that led from the deck to the yard and settled next to her, their legs touching for their full lengths and his arm around her.  

“You OK?”  He chuckled.

“I…  You bought a house.”  She looked up at him just as the shocked, confused look on her face was replaced by something else.  “That picture.”

“Hmmmm?”  He asked, grinning again.

“That’s mine, isn’t it?”

“It was.  Now it’s ours.”

“Did you…?  What did you do?”

“We moved you in.  Everything you had in storage, we moved in here.  This is your house.  Well, our house.”  The grin became a radiant smile.

“Our house.”

“That’s right.  You live here.  With me.”

Peter realized he should have found a way to record this moment.  Her face was registering every emotion that tumbled through her head. He would have liked to be able to watch it again and again, for the rest of his life.  

“But… Who’s ‘we’?  Who helped you move everything in?”

“Do you really have to ask that question?  I could never have finished getting everything ready for you if your whole family hadn’t helped.”

“Our family.”

“Our family.”

“I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know what to say.  Peter, this is…”  She reached for him.  “I’ve been telling you for twenty years that I love you, but I’ve never loved you like I do now.  And not just because you bought me a house.  I don’t know how to say a bigger I love you, but… I love you bigger!  They don’t have a word for how I feel about you.  So how am I supposed to tell you?”  Laura’s eyes were overflowing with tears as she laughed into Peter’s shoulder.

“I know how,” he said quietly.

Marshall had been frolicking around their feet as they sat on the stair, and Peter reached out to her, taking hold of a little white ribbon tied to her collar, which Laura hadn’t really noticed.  He untied it and something that had been attached to it fell into his hand.  As he reached behind himself to take Laura’s left hand, she gasped. He pulled her hand to him and held a small gold band with a solitary diamond shining in the middle just off the end of her ring finger.

Laura laughed again through her tears and said, “Yes.  Yes, yes, YES!”

Peter laughed, too.  “Always so impatient.  I haven’t asked you yet.”

He took a deep breath, wanting to give this moment the seriousness it deserved.  As he looked into her eyes, he said, “I love you, Laura.  Will you marry me?  Will you make a family with me?  Be the mother of my children?” 

“Yes,” she whispered, suddenly unable to speak. 

She watched as he slipped the ring onto her finger.  “Peter,” she gasped, “Is this…  This is…  This is our ring.  From before.”

“Yeah, I know.  We’ll get a real one, I just needed one to propose with.”

“We will not get a real one,” she cried, suddenly finding her voice as she threw her arms around him again.  “This is the real one.  You kept this ring, all these years…  You will have to pry this ring off my finger.”

For the next several minutes, Marshall became increasingly excited because Peter and Laura were paying no attention to her.  They were too focused on each other, laughing, hugging, kissing, and telling each other over and over how much they loved each other.

“Peter, stop.  I can’t!  This is too much.  I’m gonna explode or have some sort of neurological event from happiness overload…”  Laura laughed breathlessly.  “How many of my dreams are you planning to make come true?

“All of them,” he answered.  “Didn’t I tell you?”

[thesourtastelingers-blog]

Restart

Title: Restart

Fandom: Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc

Pairing: Mastermind! Chihiro Fujisaki x Reader

Word Count: 1748

Trigger Warning(s): Suicide is mentioned, brief mention of an execution

~~~

How do you say this? Well your female best friend, Chihiro Fujisaki, had mysteriously disappeared. You're sad and gloomy on what had happen since the other students just accepts it that Chihiro is dead. Monokuma hasn't made an official saying on what happened to the Ultimate Programmer, but you're anticipating for the answer.

"Ding Dong a body has been found!" Monokuma called over the students

You're not willing to see who's the dead student and so you were the only one who didn't went in an investigation. You know being left alone would raise suspicion, but you ignore that. You're actually left alone just to plan your quiet suicide, no one should know, even your new best friend, Makoto Naegi.

Now since you're the Ultimate Chemist, killing yourself would be a breeze and you're willing to frame someone for your death and so you wouldn't leave any fingerprint traces. You just have to drink a dangerous dose of cyanide and you have to forge someone's hand writing for them to be framed.

You wore gloves just to avoid leaving fingerprints. You forged a perfect person's handwriting, Makoto Naegi, hey! Just atleast you guys could talk in the after life. You then slowly but carefully took the cyanide and you gulped it. The cyanide made you vomit but you weakly swallow the vomit, just for the scene to look like it was a painless death. Then the cyanide took your life by cardiac arrest.

3rd Person's Pov

Makoto Naegi became anxious at his best friend for not being part of the investigation and so he went to (Y/n)'s dorm room.

Naegi knocked, but to no response.

"(Y/n)! (Y/n)! Please answer!" Naegi's eyes started to fill in with tears

He then opened the door; surprised that it was actually open.

But his form started to pale when he saw his best friend unconscious and very, very, pale like a ghost.

"Naegi, we found more evidence to Celestia's death." Kirigiri entered (Y/n)'s room but her stoic figure shook down after she saw (Y/n) unconscious

Naegi was crying since his best friend unknowingly passed away.

Kirigiri frowned and she bit her lip 'Poor (Y/n)... Did they follow Chihiro's fate too?' She asked in her thoughts

"Upupupu~ Why are you brats sneaking to a student's room?" Monokuma entered the scene, he stared straight at (Y/n)'s dead body

"THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!!!" Monokuma's voice boomed

"What? Do you have a personal affiliation to (Y/n)?" Kirigiri asked as she wiped her stray tears

Naegi doesn't seem to notice Monokuma's presence since he's still mourning over his best friend's death

"Of course not! You're such a brat!" Monokuma exclaimed to Kirigiri

Kirigiri was about to say something until Monokuma cuts her off

"Time's up! It's time for a trial!" Monokuma announced

All the students entered the trial room while Monokuma mindlessly stared to nothingness since (Y/n) died. But in reality Chihiro was the one who's experiencing grief.

"Where is that commoner whose name is (Y/n)?" Togami cautiously asked

Naegi glared at Togami with glossy eyes.

"She passed away." Kirigiri answered as a shadow casted over her eyes

The students gasped and some are confused on the situation.

"Alright brats! Fess up!" Monokuma said

~~~

Chihiro has to hurry up the trial just so he could visit his best friend's "dead" body. He knew the "dead" bodies are in a comatose state and so Chihiro has to wake up (Y/n)'s body.

"Why does this has to happen?" The Ultimate Programmer asked himself as he pulled out his hair

"Do they want me to fall even deeper to despair?" Chihiro laughed like a maniac

"Umm, Monokuma?" Aoi asked at the monochrome animatronic

Chihiro looked back and he quietly groaned, but he sickly smiled.

~~~

"Monokuma, do you care about (Y/n)'s death?" Kirigiri asked as she stared at the bear's eyes, she's like staring straight to the mastermind

"Of course not!" Monokuma denied in his not-so-monokuma-voice, Chihiro knew he messed up, real bad, he forgot to press the button that emits Monokuma's voice

"I recognize that voice! It's Chihiro's voice!" Naegi pointed out

Everyone in the trial room gasped.

"Upupupu~ You caught me real bad, huh." Chihiro revealed himself to everyone next to Monokuma

"YOU MADE (Y/N) GO STRAIGHT TO SUICIDE!" Naegi furiously shouted as tears brimmed again.

"Explain the note placed at their bed." Chihiro took out a note, a note he grabbed using Monokuma

Chihiro gave it to Naegi and he went back to his throne.

Naegi clutched on the note as he scanned every word and sentence.

"Hey Naegi... Why is that your handwriting?" Kirigiri pointed out in disbelief

"Huh? I-I-I didn't plan in killing my best friend!" Naegi shouted

"Are you sure?" Togami asked Naegi

"I'm very sure!" Naegi defended

"This trial isn't about Celestia anymore! It's about (Y/n)." Chihiro smiled

"W-what?! No! We had so much evidence pointing to Celestia's death. Don't make up rules you commoner." Togami said but Chihiro just ignored the heir

"Voting Time!" He darkly grinned

All the votes came to Naegi. Kirigiri came to the conclusion it was a suicide but no one believed her since Kirigiri couldn't make that many valid points.

Chihiro darkly laughed and it echoed at the whole trial room.

"Guys... This is just suicide..." Naegi said as he hugged himself while tears flowed out of his eyes

"Upupupupu~ All of you were wrooooongg! DEAD WRONG! (Y/n) did commit suicide! You see, they used cyanide and they forged Naegi's handwriting! Kirigiri did got it right buuut more votes came in to Naegi." Chihiro smiled as used the mallet to press the button

"Punishment time~"

Every single student is dead in the most gruesome way. It's called the human blender, it's a self-explanatory title. Chihiro enjoyed seeing despair evident across their faces.

"I miss my (Y/n)..." Chihiro muttered as he checked his personal mastermind map to see the location of a certain room

"Huh?! The location is not found? (Y/n) could've been with me when I restart this game..." Chihiro looked down

"They would've been a perfect mastermind..."

"Time to restart the game to see my love again!~" Chihiro said as he went to the mastermind's room

He then pressed the 'restart' button for a new life and a new game.

~~~

"Hi what's your name? Well my name is (Y/n) (L/n) and I'm the Ultimate Chemist!" A certain student brightly smiled

A new fresh start to see Chihiro's love.

"A-a-ah, my name is Chihiro Fujisaki and I'm the U-ultimate Programmer." Chihiro stuttered but in the inside he's dying to see (Y/n) experience despair with him

"Hey, wanna visit my dorm room? I'll show you my chemicals i've created!"

"S-sure..."

~~~

But then (Y/n) got killed by Leon at the early stretch of the game... And so Chihiro has to restart again.

Then (Y/n) got killed by Togami at the final stretch of the game... Chihiro restarted.

Chihiro couldn't count how many times he had restarted the game. Maybe it was (Y/n)'s fate to die? Chihiro would never accept that fate. If Chihiro weren't the mastermind, would he and (Y/n) be together?

'But staying in the mastermind status would grant me access to many secrets...' Chihiro thought as his hand hovered at the restart button

"Happy endings aren't always fulfilled..." Chihiro grieved as he pushed the restart button

~~~

Chihiro was anticipating to meet (Y/n) again, but he saw they're replaced with a more basic character. Chihiro side glared at the more dumber yet obnoxious character, he's fuming in the inside since he can't meet (Y/n).

While Chihiro is in the mastermind's room he went closer to the restart button.

Before The Ultimate Programmer could press it a certain voice called out to him.

"Hey kid, are you willing to restart the game to meet again your Ultimate Chemist? 'Cause if that's the case they're not in the file anymore, since you're the mastermind in every single run. Give up your sacred title and you can meet (Y/n). Upupupup~" Monokuma stated

"I'd rather not be powerless if I finally get to have (Y/n). My main goal was for them to love and fall in despair with me." Chihiro explained his goal

"Suit yourself then, Upupupup~ But indeed I like your plan, it's like the Stockholm syndrome!"

Chihiro can't wait to meet his dear (Y/n) again, but he has to sacrifice a title just to get them.

"I changed my mind Monokuma!" Chihiro blurted out

The said monochrome bear turned to face The Ultimate Programmer.

"Of course, say goodbye to despair In the next run! Upupupup~" Monokuma waved goodbye as he restarted the entire game

~~~

Chihiro immediately woke up and he started to dash at the school's gym to meet the other ultimates and a more important person.

And there they are, (Y/n) is sitting on the floor while reading a book.

He approached (Y/n) to introduce himself to them.

"H-h-hi." Chihiro shyly waved to (Y/n)

(Y/n) looked up to the crossdresser "Hello! I have no idea why we're supposed to be here..." They muttered

"A-ah I wanted to introduce m-myself to y-y-you." Chihiro faintly blushed

"Oh, okay!" They smiled

"M-m-my name is Chihiro Fujisaki and I'm the Ultimate P-programmer."

"Hi Chihiro! My name is (Y/n) (L/n) and I'm the Ultimate Chemist!"

Chihiro has to slowly build up his relationship with (Y/n), now that he's not the mastermind anymore, he feels powerless and more fragile, but it was all worth it just to meet with (Y/n).

"I'm sorry Chihiro..." (Y/n) muttered

"Huh?" Chihiro questioned

(Y/n) just hugged Chihiro "I know this is awkward, but I was your best friend before you restarted everything..."

"H-h-how did you know...?"

"I'm the mastermind."

Chihiro widened his eyes 'This must be a miracle! Both of us will feel despair!' He thought

"Please be with me, for I don't want you to be executed or get murdered. Don't try and show yourself to everyone." (Y/n) said as they broke the hug

"Fake your death as I fake mine. Together we'll be guided by despair." They whisper to Chihiro's ear

Chihiro only gulped to their plan "Of course at least we're together..."

"Good... Watch Leon get executed at the first trial." They darkly smirked

Chihiro chuckled while he sat down with them on the waxed floor.

"Oh and I know your secret, that secret would be that you're a boy."

[twodaysintojune]

At the Edge of Change

Supernatural, Casbriel, Warnings - Fluff Second part of At the Edge of Time

Long Story Masterlist, One Shot Masterlist

Find me at AO3

“I want to be a lawyer.”

Gabriel and Castiel looked at the nephil like he had grown another head.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I… I want to be a lawyer. I have been travelling throughout the world for years now and I have done as much good as I can killing monsters but there’s so much we could do to improve the lives of every human being in the world if we helped rewrite the laws they work with… I just have to give it a try.”

“Jack, we’re celestial beings, we shouldn’t interfere with the human world that way.”

“No uncle Gabriel, you are celestial beings. But I am half a celestial being. Don’t you get it? The only reason I had stayed on the side killing monsters was because they were supernatural beings like I am. But I had been looking at it the other way around and I’ve realized that I have to work as a human too.” 

Castiel thought with fondness how Jack’s smile was still as bright as it had been when he had first met him. He was surprised at how he had been able to keep that core belief in humankind’s goodness, just as much as Sam had once.

“Well then, you’d better find out how to get some fake papers. Nobody’s gonna believe you’re over sixty years old.” 

Gabriel turned to Castiel with a shocked look while Jack beamed at him.

“Are you kidding me!? He’s the most powerful being in the world, can create whatever he wants from scratch, even angels, and you’re gonna let him throw himself at the eternally mundane and boring doom of a career in Law?”

“Jack is right Gabriel, he has to live as a human if he wants to understand how they work and how to help them best. The life of a hunter is a kind of way to live as a human but it’s not the norm. Millions of people walk around the earth never encountering themselves with an ounce of weird.”

Gabriel was stunned, he motioned to answer back but whatever it was he wanted to convey against the idea he realized that neither Castiel or Jack were going to be convinced by his points. He finally groaned and threw his hands.

“Whatever, do what you want. If your dad says you can then who am I to stop it.”

Jack looked at him for a second and turned serious.

“Uncle Gabriel, you are part of my family, of course I care about what you think.”

Gabriel looked at Jack stunned before flushing and looking aside.

“W...well I think it’s stupid but if you really want to I guess it’s ok…”

Gabriel approached Jack and placed his hands over his shoulders, he sighed a bit sad.

“And I know that your father would have been proud.”

Jack’s eyes trembled for a second before he smiled widely.

“But I’ll only be completely okay with it as long as you apply to Stanford.”

Castiel sniffed a bit. When he felt like he couldn’t love Gabriel more, he proved him that there was always something else that made him the best in the world. They bid Jack goodbye and asked him to contact them in case he needed anything. Gabriel had proposed to just snap his fingers to provide Jack with his papers and a bank account but he had said he could do it. Still Gabriel kept counting the days until the nephil gave in and called them for something. There was so much to deal with when it came to setting his existence as a normal human being in order. Birth records, school documents, bank histories. Gabriel’s head was hurting just by thinking of all of that but to his surprise the only moment they received a call was when Jack had received the date of his entrance exam. Maybe he was still seeing Jack as a child.

The next day, Jack appeared at the throne room with two boxes literally filled with books. The highschool papers he had were forged so he had not had to study up until that point. It was quite a funny sight to look at Gabriel and Castiel sitting on the floor writing down notes on some heavenly issues while their son hoarded the desk. Right now he was being schooled on History by Zepheruel.

“Okay but why I cannot write down what really happened to Cleopatra then?”

“You have to understand Jack, that we know what really happened because we were there to watch. That has always been our job. But humans do not have this insight. They have to look at the vestiges of the past and make conjectures on what really happened. Which is why you have to remember what’s on the book and work with that, otherwise you’ll get bad grades because you did not adhere to the knowledge they hold.”

“Even when that knowledge is wrong?”

“In History, there’s nothing much you can do unless you’re able to bring evidence of an event unfurling in a different way.”

“Very much like a trial.” Chimed in Gabriel, who was leaning against the couch, legs sprawled in front of him and a couple of notes scattered around him.

Poor Jack was having the worst of headaches with that. Fortunately for him, Math had been completely straightforward and he had loved that. You simply had to follow the formula to get the right answer. Castiel helped him when he got stuck at Literature and, to everyone’s shock, Gabriel pretty much gave him a master class on Physics and Chemistry.

“How are you able to demonstrate how each law works so well?” Asked Castiel awed at his partner. For him, and probably for all the other angels, the laws of movement were an inherent knowledge. They worked with them on instinct so it was extremely hard to explain them to anyone. 

The rest of the angels were just as awed as Castiel, Gabriel had started his lecture only with Jack and Castiel as attendants but eventually more angels arrived with other errands in mind but ultimately stayed due to the simple fact that they were witnessing an archangel imparting the understandings of god’s laws.

Gabriel snickered at Castiel. “Probably one of the few perks of arriving early to the party.” He winked playfully at him.

“Neither Michael or Raphael ever bothered to explain us any of that...” Said Haruel still impressed by all that had been taught.

“Yeah, that might not have been really high on their priorities.” Gabriel sighed and then looked at everyone. “Alright people, that’s it for today! Jack needs to rest to absorb everything he has learned so far. If you need anything with me I’ll be back in six hours.” 

With the makeshift class dispersed, Gabriel and Castiel helped Jack order his notes and sent him to his room. Once he was settled there Castiel sighed and walked towards their room, knowing perfectly well that those six hours Gabriel had imparted were meant to be shared only with each other.

“I really can’t believe that Jack is going to Stanford.”

“As long as he passes the exam that is.” Smirked Gabriel, following lightly Castiel’s path. 

A month passed and Jack presented his exam. He was extremely nervous. That day they all sat at a diner near the University when it all finished. Poor Jack looking just as spent as the day he had gone reckless and decided to create twenty angels at the same time.

He rambled on about the questions and the time he had been given for each of them and how he had totally forgotten everything about over half of the American presidents because he never really thought that it would be important to know about them even when they were on American land. Gabriel laughed heartily at this “Yeah, they get conceited like that.” was all he said about it.

Later on that day, they left Jack at the bunker after reassuring him he had done great and that he was bound to pass the exam. He deserved to lay on the bed and either fall asleep or binge watch the fairly new Dune series he hadn’t been able to catch up on while Castiel and Gabriel went back to Heaven. He had promised to call them once he received an answer.

Once both angels were back in Heaven, Castiel moved purposefully to their room. He wanted to relish the time they had spent together and going back to heavenly chores was not the best way to make that happen. When he opened the door, he couldn't help but smile joyfully surprised. Up until yesterday their room had been a very minimalistic concrete and burnished metal design that Castiel loved that opened up to a Japanese interior garden. Now, the door gave on to a bed of tropical foliage opening to a calm beach with soft pale white sand surrounded by hard rocks. Their bed falling close to the shore framed with a palm roof and light curtains flowing lightly with the wind. Castiel smiled widely.

“Tulum?”

“I know you liked it.” Whispered Gabriel fondly on his ear placing his hand over his waist and brushing a soft peck on his neck. “Go on, take off your shoes.”

Castiel didn’t need more prodding to comply, he kneeled to unlace his shoes while Gabriel did the same with his boots. Once shoe free, they took off all their layers until only a shirt and jeans were on. Gabriel was proud of the fact that he had managed to place Castiel into dark denim and sexy tight henleys after so many years, even the old beige overcoat had eventually been replaced by a soft and sexy leather jacket. The rest of their stuff was abandoned over a rock near the entrance. It wasn’t like there would be anyone near to steal them.

The sand was cold where shadows hit and really hot where sun landed but the way each grain of sand glided through the fingers of his feet was more than welcome after five months of constant work. 

“Tell you what, once Jack passes his exam we should take him out on a trip. Do you know of any place where he wants to go?”

“I haven’t asked him lately but I’ll do. I’d rather take him somewhere we both like though...”

They reached the tropical canopy bed and threw themselves over the plush pillows. Gabriel leaned close to Castiel to hug him while Castiel placed an arm behind his head and surrounded him with the other. Both angels sighed. They stayed caressing each other, each of them musing their own thoughts.

“You know Cas… Things have been going pretty smooth up here for a while.”

“That is because you are extremely good at managing Heaven despite complaining all the time and Jack’s aid in providing new angels has been invaluable.”

Gabriel huffed, Castiel knew he hated it when he was acknowledged as leader. Even after all these years some of the older angels still slipped off the “Yes, Sir!” his brother Michael forged in them for centuries when he was being particularly serious about something and it irked him a lot.

“Yeah whatever, that’s not the point.”

Castiel turned to look at him. Gabriel took in some air.

“The point is… Maybe we could let the rest of the guys deal with the daily ropes and just catch up if there was something really odd needing attention while we do our own stuff.”

“Meaning?”

“Well, you know… Get back downstairs, live a little… maybe put up a store of some sort.”

“A store?”

“I was thinking a bakery. Or probably a café. A café with freshly baked goods. Someplace where you could go at any hour and feel revived.”

“That would require the best coffee and the best pastries... maybe some pie.”

“Yes! The best pecan pie.”

Castiel held Gabriel closer while kissing his forehead.

“And where would we put that store?”

“Oh I dunno, somewhere crowded with lots of people.”

Castiel suddenly realized what Gabriel was truly trying to say.

“Crowded like a University?”

“Exactly! A University. With lots of students.”

“Someplace like Stanford.”

“Yeah, I mean we’d have to look around but Stanford could be good.”

Castiel smiled widely now while Gabriel shrugged like he had not been thinking about that for the longest time.

“I think I would like that.”

Gabriel turned to look at him beaming.

“What would we call the place?”

“Not something trite.”

“Oh… Guess I’ll have to cross ‘A Slice of Heaven’ out from the list.”

[avanneman]

Dirty Chinese try to prevent the U.S. from spying on them

Jerry Chun Shing Lee, a former case officer with the CIA, pleaded guilty to conspiring to provide intelligence information to the Chinese government. He did not admit to actually providing information. You can read about the case in this story from the New York Times by Julien E. Barnes. According to Barnes, Lee’s case “highlighted the growing aggressiveness of Beijing’s spy services,” a statement for which, unfortunately, the intrepid reporter offers precisely zero evidence.

“Mr. Lee’s contact with Chinese intelligence came in 2010, at the same time the C.I.A.’s informant network in China collapsed,” Barnes writes. “Intelligence officials have been divided over how the network crumbled. While some believed that the Chinese had hacked the covert system the C.I.A. used to communicate with its foreign sources, others believed that Mr. Lee had given the Chinese at least some of the names.”

A few paragraphs later, Barnes provides more “information”: “The case has received a high level of attention because of an increase in Chinese espionage in recent years. Kevin Mallory, a former official with the C.I.A. and the Defense Intelligence Agency, was found guilty in June. Ron Hansen, another D.I.A. official, was sentenced to 15 years in prison in March.”

Yes, we have three convictions in one year. But why does that prove “growing aggressiveness”? Maybe we’re just better at catching them, or, even, just trying harder. Of the three, only Mallory actually passed classified information (three documents of unspecified significance). To my suspicious nostrils, Mr. Barnes’ dramatic words bear the odor of what journalists—the hip ones, at least—call “source greasing”—writing what your sources want to hear to they’ll like and trust you and feed you helpful information down the road. Three convictions, one of them based on events that took place in 2010, are not exactly evidence of a “spy wave”.

I’m quite willing to believe that all three men committed criminal acts, though I can wonder at the severity of the sentences, because I’m also quite willing to believe that courts are often too eager to accept the government’s word in espionage cases—the old “if you knew what I knew” routine. Clearly, the Chinese sought classified information, but, from these three spies, at least, they didn't seem to get much.

And what about the fact that this espionage is, in significant part, a response to our espionage? After all, we used to have a “network” of informants—that is to say, spies—in China as well, and, presumably, have worked hard to revive it. And then there was that “amusing” incident back in 2002 when a special Boeing jet built for the president of China was discovered to be rampant with bugs. A Washington Post story that ran back in the day cited a “Chinese source” as claiming that “27 listening devices had been found, including devices in the presidential bathroom and in the headboard of the presidential bed.” Very clever, these Americans!

Meanwhile, the Trump Administration’s efforts to convince the rest of the world not to use electronic equipment manufactured by China’s Huawei Technologies Co. have been going nowhere. Bloomberg’s Todd Shields and Bill Allison tell the tale:

Attempts to persuade other governments to exclude Huawei equipment from the next generation of super-fast mobile networks have hit a wall—even among close allies. So far, only a handful of countries, including Australia and Japan, have joined the U.S.’s call to boycott the Chinese company.

Not a single European nation has done so, not even the U.K., triggering a scolding from U.S. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo in London on Wednesday. "Now is the exact opposite time to go wobbly," he said, invoking the famous locution that Margaret Thatcher, the U.K. prime minister from 1979 to 1990, used to spur the U.S. into sending troops to Kuwait after Iraq invaded it in 1990. “Would she allow China to control the internet of the future?"

Huawei, meanwhile, is piling up record sales, forging into new markets, passing Apple Inc. as a phone maker and cementing its position as a leading global supplier of telecom gear.

Today, of course, stocks are falling through the basement in response to Trump’s threatened butt-kicking of China over trade. Maybe all this “aggressiveness” stuff isn’t the way to go.

Afterwords Mallory was given a life sentence for conversing with, and passing three classified documents to, Chinese intelligence officials.1 He also received $25,000 from the Chinese, according to the prosecution. Hansen pled guilty to a single charge, “attempt to gather or deliver defense information”, took $800,000 from the Chinese government and was carrying classified information with the intent to pass it to the Chinese when arrested, according to the government.

UPDATE WashPost columnist/CIA mouthpiece David Ignatius cranks up the volume to 12, or even 13, in the Lee case in this pulse-pounding, albeit inuenndo-riden and fact-free tale of, well, something, titled "The saga of the Chinese mole reads like a spy thriller”, even though there was no evidence presented at court to show that Lee ever passed any information to China, either before or after leaving the CIA. But that doesn't stop Ignatius from unleashing a tale of Agency derring-do that almost covers up the possibility that, according to this report for NBC News by Tom Winter, Ken Dilanian and Jonathan Dienst, the CIA let the Chinese capture and execute 20 U.S. spies out of sheer incompetence. According to the NBC article, "One theory is that Lee may have helped the Chinese do that [identify U.S. spies]. But two former officials said the CIA's system for exchanging messages with its agents was shockingly primitive and subject to easy penetration by the Chinese.”2

Dave links to the NBC piece but leaves out the stuff about "shockingly primitive”. Instead, Dave ends with a florid, cloak and dagger finish:

Here’s a last Chinese riddle. Experts say that in the Thailand meeting [which provided information pointing to Lee], the Chinese operative asked the former CIA officer about cases that Lee shouldn’t have known about. Which leads to an eerie question: Was there another Chinese mole, buried even deeper?

Spy fact can be much scarier than spy fiction.

I guess it can, Dave. But here's a Washington riddle for you: which one are you pitching?

Mallory did not plead guilty. It’s a little hard to understand why this would be enough to merit a life sentence. Perhaps he deserved it. Perhaps the court just gave the government the ruling it asked for because spies are bad. ↩︎

The NBC article, written before Lee's guilty plea, contains all sorts of sweeping allegations that are missing from the Times article, written after the trial, that I cited at the top of this piece. ↩︎

[ace-and-spade]

When the Clouds Break Over a Stormy Sea and You See Heaven || Alma || Trial 5.4 || Re: Everything

Alma was half relieved at the support that she had gotten, and half furious. She had the same feeling when she learned what Yoon had done after what her friends had been planning, and now she felt the same way about the situation that she was in.

But when Meifen spoke she had an epiphany.

She was shocked with a harsh clarity, like light flooding through glass and starting to burn. She was filled with a feeling unlike she had before. She was coldly, calmly and perfectly enraged as she spoke.

“This entire trial has been one big God damn farce from the start. This whole situation has been an elaborate lie.”

Something behind her eyes burned as she spoke, she frowned and crossed her arms, looking around at her friends at she spoke and over to Yoon’s podium too.

“Let’s talk about exactly how weird Yoon’s behavior was, not just now, but through our time here. Recently it’s been the most odd, because well… Yoon had started taking pictures, and had started to talk about how he needed to get them for his managers. Earlier on too, Yoon was the one to buy both keys in Amora’s vending machine, even though we didn’t know what they were for. He also wanted to take the one I had from me, but I insisted on being the one to keep it so he couldn’t… Those lead to important rooms that gave us information about this place, and no one would really have a reason to want to prevent others from accessing that, would they?”

She paused. She needed to get the rest of her thoughts in order, this was a big thing and she needed to articulate what she wanted to say clearly.

“I think that, while not entirely based on their actions, Yoon was in on all of this to some extent. Think about it… They thought to seek the keys, they were talking about managers, they were recording our secrets, trying to find things about this whole situation that might have been off. I think that… Well… What if the goal here for them was to find out who was behind this? What if they had almost succeeded? What if that got them killed?”

She spoke with clear confidence. Suffice to say, this wasn’t an Alma that the rest of the class had seen before, maybe a glimpse or two, but nothing close to this… She had become a living deluge, coming down on the situation before them like it was the end.

“Things are clearly starting to fall apart around here, Amora is gone, and I believe what Meifen’s saying is true, Ariadne is forging evidence, and everything about this case is just… Weird. Meifen said earlier that there are things that make Yoon committing suicide at all unusual. The deleted messages, the clean cut, the fact that he was in the middle of editing… I think there’s a lot more to it than that, and considering Ariadne was seen acting strange… I think that things are starting to spiral out of control for the people in charge of all of this.”

She looked over to an empty podium. One that had been left standing a long while back.

“All of these favors… The situation around the game… I think Yoon may have been in on all of this for that reason… Or maybe not, but something was off there… I know that even Ariadne is just doing this as part of a favor, she told me so herself, and I think that Amora is part of that. I also don’t think that one of us did this, or that one of us is the one behind all of this - why would it be, if there were a way out? Think about it - Alistair had a clear way out when he killed, he would either leave and if he were in on it… Why couldn’t the person behind all this simply stage an execution?”

She looked over to Ariadne.

“Regardless, I think this whole situation is a big lie. So what do we do if they were killed by someone not standing here? What then? What now? Do we need to sacrifice someone to move on? If so then well…”

Her eyes narrow, and she speaks with complete conviction.

“I’ve decided to keep living, since there’s someone I need to bury.”

[aspoonofsugar]

How do you think the narrative handled Ging's character? I still can't get over the fact that he just believed Gon could overcome every challenge and survive with his friends' help. He didn't seem to care about his mental health. Seems like a bad shounen cliche. Will Togashi adress it at some point, I mean, deconstructing Ging like he did with Gon (who always got what he wanted because of his determination and optimism untill chimera ant arc) or maybe I just don't understand his character?

Hello anon! Sorry if I took a while!

So my simplest answer to your question on how the narrative handled Ging is: I think Togashi has just begun with him and so it is difficult to say how he will be used and explored in the future.

As a matter of fact the Election arc where Ging appeared for the first time is basically a short arc which serves both as a closure to the first part of the manga with Gon and Killua separating and each one ending a significant part of their arc:

And as an introduction arc to new characters like the Zodiacs who will be at the centre of future arcs. Among these characters Ging and Pariston in particular are set up as important and will probably get arcs of their own.

In short, right now trying to predict where Ging’s character will go or to give a final judgement on him would be equivalent to basically doing the same with Gon based on the first three volumes of the manga.

What’s more, I think that thoughts on Ging should be divided into two categories.

a) Thoughts on him as a central part of Gon’s arc since he has been Gon’s main motivation up until they met.

b) Thoughts on him as a character with his own arc and personal involvement into the main plot.

So I’ll try to give you some thoughts on him by foiling him with two other characters: Silva Zoldyck and Gon himself. In particular the first will help me analyze him as Gon’s father, while comparing him to Gon will help me trying to define him better as his own character.

1) Silva and Ging

Silva and Ging are the fathers of our two main characters and Gon and Killua foil each other in how they relate to their families.

Gon wants to become a hunter like his father, while Killua doesn’t want to become an assassin like his. These opposite attitudes are due to the different treatment they received from their parent:

Gon and Killua’s problems with their fathers are opposite.

Gon has been left behind.

Killua has been controlled.

These opposite style of parenting are at the root of Gon and Killua’s opposite flaws.

Because of Silva (and Illumi)’s teachings KIllua is prone to give up too easily, to be too prudent and to lack willingness:

On the other hand because of Ging’s challenge Gon feels motivated to put himself into dangerous situations:

He also feels pressured in proving himself as his fight with Razor shows:

What’s interesting is that both fathers seem to have realized at one point that the traits they have tried to make Gon and Killua develop have become too preponderant and have ended up damaging the two children too much.

This is what Milluki and Zeno say about Killua:

Let’s leave Milluki’s comment about Killua having friends out and let’s concentrate on the fact that he implies that Killua is mentally weak to which Zeno agrees with. This description is coherent with Killua’s tendency to be unable to handle psychological pressure and to run away:

However, he developed this tendency because he has been taught so as Silva’s speech above and Illumi’s needle demonstrate.

On the other hand let’s look at what Gon tells Ging during his breakdown when he meets his father for the first time:

Here Gon is expressing all his guilt over what happened to Kite. He considers himself the one responsible for Kite’s metamorphosis because he has internalized that he has to be strong and he did so because Ging put in front of him a series of challenges (the hunter exam, Greed Island and so on) which demanded it from Gon. The message Ging delivered to Gon wasn’t to be happy and to have fun, but to be strong and that he had to earn the right to meet Ging. This led Gon to basically develop an irrealistic vision of what he should be able to do.

Ging seems to have realized it to an extent and tells Gon this:

In this speech Ging stresses how what happened to Kite wasn’t Gon’s fault, but at the same time he still gives a lot of importance to one’s personal strength and invites Gon to become stronger once again. As you noticed this is a shonen cliche and it is the shonen cliche which was partly deconstructed in the Chimera Ant Arc: the idea that being strong matters.

Ging’s interest in Gon’s strength is once again hinted here:

He accepted to meet Gon, but he still set up a trial for him before their meeting. This trial is very minor considering Gon’s abilities and everything he has been through, but it’s still there.

That said, we should also consider that Ging was the one who told Gon this:

Basically he told Gon to stop and to try to figure out for himself what he wants from his life. This is not a bad advice and is probably what Gon needs to do now. Ging even underlines how Gon not being able to use nen is actually not too much of a high price to pay considering he got to basically come back to life. This is a different approach from the one he had shown up until that moment which emphasized the necessity for Gon to be strong.

So, do I think Ging has suddenly become a better parent after seeing how much Gon suffered because of his irrational challenges?

Not at all. His flaws at parenting are probably still there and his foiling with Silva helps us shading light on them:

As a matter of fact Silva too, like Ging, showed a strange change in his behaviour as a parent when he let Killua leave home. He told Killua he was free to do as he wanted and he even made him promise not to betray his friends. This is strange considering the fact that both Milluki and Illumi have commented multiple times that friends are unimportant. Why did Silva do it then?

He explains it immediately later: Silva let Killua go because he thinks this is the best way to nurture him as the next heir of the family. My personal theory is that he realized Killua’s tendency to run away and to change his mind continuously may go in the way of him inheriting the family business. It’s true the heir should give his life to the family, but it’s also true he can’t be completely subdued to one of his siblings like the Hunter Exam proved Killua to be to Illumi. In short, I think Silva’s intentions are to have Killua man up and to develop his personality more by using the friendships Killua forged as motivators. So we have a parenting choice that might make sense and might also have positive consequences (as we have seen it had for Killua’s development), but it is a choice which absolutely doesn’t change the fact that Silva is a horrible father:

Just after Silva’s heartwarming chat with Killua we are given evidence that he still considers Killua as an extension of himself. Let’s underline the fact that Ging says the same line here:

So, it makes sense to assume that, if Silva considers Killua an extension of himself, so does Ging with Gon. It’s just that in Silva’s case we know what he wants from Killua (him inheriting the family business), while in Ging’s case it’s possible he doesn’t want anything in particular from Gon if not thrill and entertainment:

Ging said so himself multiple times: he doesn’t care about the result, but he wants an enjoyable journey. It’s probable he left behind a series of hints Gon was free to follow or not. If he had followed them (as he did), Ging would have had fun trying to foresee his development, if he hadn’t… then never mind:

In short while Silva needs Killua to follow a specific path, Ging doesn’t care what Gon does. They are two extremes and they are both bad.

That said, in the interactions he had with Gon Ging was decent and gave him useful advice, but at the same time you can see how in his speeches there is still a lot of focus on strength and on one’s worth based on one’s talents. He is also never the one to start an interaction with Gon. Gon is always the one running after him or calling him.

Another point of comparison between Ging and Silva is their behaviour during the Election Arc. As a matter of fact both haven’t had an active role in trying to influence their children’s fates in that arc, but both have been hinted to actually know more than what they let on and to have observed their children pretty closely.

At first sight it may seem that Killua’s main enemy in his family is Illumi and Illumi is the character he has always clashed with since the beginning. However, this arc makes clear that, despite not having acted in any particular way, Silva is always there observing his children and monitoring them:

Killua assumes that his father simply wants to monitor Alluka and to find a way to control her, while Illumi wants to kill her. However, his phone call with Illumi shows how Illumi’s own plan to kill Alluka could come to be only because Silva set the terrain for it by declaring Alluka not a part of the family. If Silva had made clear that, despite being despicable, Alluka was to be considered a family member Illumi would have probably given up the idea of killing her. This is a minor detail, but it may suggest that Silva will be a more proactive antagonist in the future.

On the other hand Ging, despite showing absolutely no intention to act to save Gon, is implied to have known since the beginning how things would have turned out:

Pariston says as much. He realized Ging was sure Gon would have been saved and based his whole strategy to win the election on this assumption. At the same time I don’t believe Ging was sure Gon would have been saved because of a generic power of friendship trope. I actually believe Ging knew something about the Zoldycks and Nanika:

As a matter of fact when Ging feels Nanika’s aura he is implied to know that in that moment Gon is being restored. After all it’s by observing his reaction that Pariston becomes convinced of this as well. Considering Ging has been preparing for an expediction to the Dark Continent for some time now, I wouldn’t be surprised if he managed to discover about Nanika and the Zoldycks. Then, after knowing that Gon’s best friend happened to be Killua Zoldyck, it wouldn’t have been difficult for Ging to do the math and to deduce how things would have turned out in the end. Mind it, Ging’s assumption was probably nothing more than a bet. He treated Gon’s life as the election. He was sure that Gon would have been saved in the end, but he was also sure things would have developed in a certain way during the election and he was proven wrong when Pariston gave up his position immediately after winning.

So both Silva and Ging are flawed fathers. Yet, it’s true that the framing around them is different. When Silva speaks of Killua as his son he is framed as a villain, while when Ging says the same thing abt Gon he is filtered positively thanks to Razor’s flashback. So how should we read this difference? It’s too soon to say, but as you noticed in your ask Gon’s arc has been one which has been strongly deconstructed. Killua’s on the other hand has been clearer since the beginning. Killua’s flaw has been presented as a flaw pretty openly since the hunter exam, while Gon’s has been treated as a merit in the beginning and has been deconstructed later on. It has been made clear since the beginning that Killua’s family was a terrible one and that his arc was about breaking free from them. Gon’s journey to find his father on the other hand has been framed positively by the narrative and has been deconstructed partly later on with Gon finding Ging in the least climatic way possible and with Gon realizing he doesn’t even care that much about staying with Ging in the first place.

So I wouldn’t be surprised if by the end we were to discover that both Killua and Gon’s final trials will be to overcome their respective fathers, but in different ways. I can easily see Silva having a more traditional villainous role in Killua’s arc, while I don’t think Ging has been set up to be an antagonist. However, I think Gon has been set up to realize he doesn’t really need any particular relationship with his father to feel validated.

Let’s consider Jairo’s character for a moment:

It’s been foreshadowed he and Gon will meet each other which means that they will probably be foils.

The turning point of Jairo’s background story was to realize that his father didn’t care about him:

This realization together with the neglect and the mistreatment he endured day after day is what led him to start his criminal career. It’s possible Gon too will have to accept Ging doesn’t really care about him. However, I am expecting that by then Gon will have developed enough to realize he doesn’t really need Ging because he has his own support system made of people he met along the way:

2) Gon and Ging

Ging has been set up to be one of the main characters in the current arc and he has been given a goal:

But this is the same goal Gon had in the beginning i.e. finding a long lost relative who is exploring the vast world:

Gon faced his journey with the help of a trusted friend:

Ging is about to start his with a trusted enemy:

The Chimera Ant Arc deconstructed the steretype of the World Strongest Man through Netero who wasn’t able to win in a contest of strength against Meruem:

In this arc we have Beyond who is supposed to embody a different kind of hunter from the one his father was. Netero was a warrior. Beyond is a bold explorer:

All these elements may not lead anywhere, but they may also be hints that this time the story will partially target the figure of the explorer aka of the man ready to leave all connections behind in order to discover the world. If the story intends to do so then I wouldn’t be surprised if Ging and Beyond as representatives of this category will end up deconstructed later on. However, right now we are lacking elements. Like, is Ging’s wish to find Don reflective of his Man-Child tendencies (which he clearly has since he is sure he will never change aka never grow)?

We will hopefully get an answer soon, but for now these are the most coherent and objective thoughts I can give you about Ging’s character. He is foiled with Silva, but he is also framed far more positively than him. He has also been set up to be a protagonist and the setting up of his arc reminds me of Gon’s. I am pretty sure an important part of Gon’s arc will be to overcome his father’s shadow. I am not sure for now that being Gon’s father will be a central part of Ging’s arc or at least of a first part of it.

Thank you for the ask and I hope I was of some help!

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

Spinning Out

on ao3

He finds out from the news. It isn’t even him who sees it first; they’re in a hotel somewhere in Canada, not far off the Atlantic Ocean, all still overstimulated from the concert that afternoon which ended an hour ago. The last vestiges of caffeine have yet to work themselves out of Klavier’s system and he’s doing laps around the room while Daryan throws things at him when in a voice unusually subdued his best friend says, “Hey, Klav, have you checked the news?”

“Early this morning; what about?” he asks, and that was the last moment that his life was normal, inasmuch as his life was ever normal, which it wasn’t. But this – this was the second before he hit the ground. Icarus, golden child, a cliche; he flew away from a cage to chase the light but the only thing there to catch him were the broiling waves.

Daryan puts his tablet into his hands and the body of text blurs as he scrolls back up to the headline. He catches Gavin in the text, wonders what he’s done; when he reaches the top he sees that it’s a local Los Angeles paper that isn’t a tabloid. The other Gavin, then, doing as he does, and Klavier doesn’t need his friends pushing his brother’s shadow back down on him.

The headlining act, bold letters: Defense Attorney Kristoph Gavin Arrested for Murder.

Klavier sits down on the floor.

A damning lede: Kristoph Gavin was arrested at the district courthouse this morning on charges of committing murder in the early hours of the morning Friday, and the details, always the devil in the details, it goes on, it continues, like a sick joke taken just too far to be funny. Mr. Gavin, 32, was at the courthouse to assist as co-counsel to the lead defense attorney for the case, Apollo Justice, 22, a junior partner at Mr. Gavin’s firm. Over the course of the trial, the details which came to light pointed to the innocence of their client, but a far more likely culprit in the defense attorney himself.

He closes his eyes. Did Kristoph keep his frightening calm even as the jaws of the law closed in around him? Was he calm when he murdered another person, too, or was it spur-of-the-moment, a most dire expression of the rage that Klavier has always believed his brother harbors within him.

The court record suggests that Mr. Justice’s position as the lead defense was a last-minute switch as requested by the defendant, Phoenix Wright…

The tablet slips from his hands and he thinks to just leave it on the floor and himself leave, run away from it all, but he can’t ignore the growing sick feeling in his stomach, nor that name.

Mr. Wright, 33, was formerly known as a defense attorney of some renown before his disgrace almost exactly seven years ago, in which he was found guilty of presenting forged evidence in a trial and was subsequently disbarred.

They don’t mention that it was Kristoph Gavin’s own brother who caught Wright in the act of such. And no one knows that it was Kris who had that information to begin with. Did Wright find that out and frame him as revenge?

Still becoming public is what exactly is the evidence which placed such suspicion on Mr. Gavin.

Why wasn’t his first thought that Kris was framed? Why wasn’t his first thought denial? Why, until he saw Wright’s name, was he willing to accept it?

Further details about the victim as well are not yet known; the police gave his name as Shadi Smith, of unknown age.

This is a developing story and will be updated.

“I have to go back,” Klavier says, eyes closed again so he can’t see the look that Daryan must be giving him, pity and concern and now disappointment, surely, as he goes on to drag him out of the sky with him. He drops the tablet on the floor and stands, pressing his hand over his eyes, suddenly feeling the crash from the caffeine. “I need to go.”

“Right now?” Daryan asks. “Seriously, dude?”

“Now, or tomorrow, I have to – tickets, tickets, cancel everything, refunds, I won’t be mad if you and the guys find a singer and go as the Gavinners Without Gavin but we’re not fucking charging people for that, I’m bailing I’m sorry—”

“Why don’t you not do anything until later, or tomorrow?” Daryan says, which is a good idea, which means that in this exact moment Klavier does not want to hear it. “Because you’re seriously just going to drop us, and everything, because—”

“Because my own brother fucking murdered a man, yes, I am!” He believes it. Why does he believe it? Wright is involved; it can’t be legitimate. Wright isn’t allowed to be legitimate because that only fucks up everything more than it already is. “Because I’m a prosecutor and my brother is a defense attorney and murdered a man!”

“At least wait for the evidence, dumbass,” Daryan says, and Klavier stops at the door, realizing he’s right, wondering if the two in the room next door have already heard him yelling.

“I – you’re right, technically, but—”

“No, just stop there.” Klavier turns around, back against the door, watching as Daryan retrieves his tablet and sets it on the table. “I’m right, no technicalities. Wait.”

“I can’t wait.” Tomorrow, the trial is going to be tomorrow, won’t it? Planes back to LA aren’t in short supply, and he’ll gain back four hours crossing time zones. He could be there for a 10 am trial start. “If he’s being falsely accused, framed, I have to go help him. If he – if he—”

“If he really fucking just went and ganked some rando—”

“Then I – then my brother’s a murderer and I can’t just go on like nothing happened—”

Like the world hasn’t fallen out from beneath his feet.

“Sure you can,” Daryan says, far too blaise, and Klavier wants to scream at him. “When’s the last time you talked to Kris? What’s he done for you lately?”

When was the last time he talked to Kris? He doesn’t know – he doesn’t know. They don’t keep in touch; he doesn’t keep Kristoph updated on where in the world he is traveling now. They used to text daily while Klavier was studying in Germany. Kris was the first person who heard that Klavier had passed the bar and gotten his badge. They’re brothers but they were friends. It was why he didn’t question the information he got about the Gramarye trial. It was from Kristoph; of course Kristoph is a reliable source.

After, though – after, the lack of verdict haunting him, that was when he started to wonder. Of course Wright forged the evidence; unquestionable. That has to be true. Klavier needs it to be true. But why, how, did Kristoph know? And it was like he read Klavier’s mind, knew his doubts – and that old bridge between them he thought so sturdy burned instead. Which one of them struck the match?

“He’s still my brother,” Klavier says. He slides back down to the floor. Daryan is flopped on one of the beds, hanging half over the edge, looking over to Klavier.

“What’re you gonna do? You’re a prosecutor. You’re not just gonna march in there and demand to prosecute your own brother?”

“No; I wouldn’t make it back in time.”

“And, oh, maybe a billion other reasons why that’s not gonna work,” Daryan says.

He’s right, again. No one would trust Klavier not to have some sort of bias if he went in and insisted on prosecuting Kristoph’s case. If he was assigned, fine; he could try and be objective. But to actively seek that out -- no, they would think one way or another, he wanted to tilt the verdict.

“I… I just have to go back.” He doesn’t have a good reason. It’s a flight of fancy to think there is anything he could do, but in his heart he knows he needs to go back. “I need to. I’m going.”

Daryan seems to realize that he’s talking to a wall. “Sure, but two things. First, wait for some fuckin’ evidence before you start making calls, and two, you’re on your own when you do.”

“What?” Maybe if his head weren’t spinning he could figure out what Daryan was referring to.

“I mean, telling the other guys, telling the fans, fucking up everything – I’m not taking the heat for you on this one.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” They’re both silent. Sometimes they can say things in the silence but right now Klavier feels like he is looking at his best friend through a haze. “I’m sorry,” he adds. Daryan says nothing. “I’m sorry, but I—”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t start the self-flagellation.” Daryan rolls over so that he’s staring at Klavier upside-down. “I’m pissed at you but I’ll get over it. Save it for everyone else.”

“He’s my brother. I have to go.”

“Dude.” Daryan’s hands start moving around, patting the bed, like he’s looking for something to throw. “I said, save it. We’re not cool but we will be.

“Thanks.”

It feels weak, given the situation, but he doesn’t know what more to add. Daryan topples off the bed, grabs a pillow that was on the floor, and hurls it at Klavier. When Klavier gets it out of his face, he is grinning. “So if I got arrested you’d drop everything and come running too, right?”

Klavier rolls his eyes and tosses the pillow back. It does not reach Daryan. “You won’t because where are you that I’m not there to stop you doing dumb shit?”

“Well, maybe while the rest of you are hoofing it across the pond for some leg of a tour—”

“Nobody says ‘across the pond’.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk about people ‘saying things’, you fake Eurotrash piece of shit.”

Klavier laughs, and Daryan does as well, and for the briefest of moments, he can forget. Daryan is the one who sobers first. “It’s like, a week left this part of the tour. Wait that long, at least.”

He’ll still have to cancel everything down the line, starting with June, but just a week is –

— enough time for a sentencing.

“I don’t know.” Klavier pushes himself back onto his feet. “I… we should probably talk about this as a whole band.”

“Group meeting about what to do about Gavin’s douchebag brother!” Daryan yells at the wall. Klavier steps forward and grabs the pillow and swings.

He agrees to stick out the week, faced with the full pressure of the rest of his bandmates, which he starts to regret as the news articles updates and the evidence against Kristoph reads thin, even for an article for the layman concerned more with informing the public that he did it than explaining in depth how that conclusion was reached. He drafts an email to the Chief Prosecutor and then tables it. He drafts an email to the band’s manager and publicist and tables it, then sends it ten minutes later. He writes, rewrites, and rewrites again a tweet before deleting it. Daryan watches him, faintly bemused.

“Dude,” he says, “you don’t gotta… rehearse and re-rehearse every single fucking little thing. You’re so…” He trails off, searching for a word.

“Don’t you dare say ‘anal’.”

“Real mature, Prosecutor Gavin.”

“You happen to be laughing as well, Detective Crescend.”

“Perfectionist,” Daryan says, throwing a pen at Klavier. He has no idea where that pen came from. “Micromanaging stick-in-the-mud.”

“Maybe I should make it a video announcement,” Klavier says. “More personal, more genuine an apology. Family emergency, gotta put the breaks on the tour—”

“Family emergency, my brother’s a headass.”

“—because my brother’s a tire fire and I have to go back to LA—”

“An absolute shithead.”

“Quite the douchenozzle. Quite the nozzle of a douche.”

“I can’t believe you write our lyrics.”

It makes him feel a little better, for a moment, like he’s trying to stop the rush of blood from a bullet hole with a cork. It’s not going to work but it’s the right shape to give him the impression of helping. His heart is hemorrhaging on the floor of some shitty Russian dive and calling his brother an asshole is an asprin for the internal bleeding.

He doesn’t even know what the fuck borscht is.

He googles it.

Wait, he does, actually. He had it or something like it in Borginia.

“Get a grip, Gavin,” Daryan says, leaning over his shoulder and looking at what the laptop screen now displays.

“I have a grip.” And he does, but in a way that his life is spinning out of control so fast that rather than breaking free of his hands it has pulled him, clinging to the last vestiges of control, along into the vortex. He goes back to his email. It’s been seven minutes since he emailed his manager. That’s enough of a warning before he puts in a call. “I’ll do the video,” Klavier says. The Gavinners have a social media manager as well, but Klavier has always liked taking pictures and video and dumping them online himself. He should probably at least put in a warning before he does this time. “Once I make these calls.” He made a list. He’s already misplaced the paper.

“You want me to start drafting your note cards?” Daryan asks, ducking under the desk and retrieving for Klavier the sheet.

“I’m not writing fucking note cards. I can speak off-the-cuff.” He wouldn’t be a prosecutor if he couldn’t.

Daryan raises an eyebrow. “Shit, dude, you’re not gonna meticulously overplan your big public apology? You’re more fucked up right now than I thought.”

Klavier flips him off as he leaves for an empty conference room. He shuts himself inside to put in the calls, one by one, to everyone who keep the wheels greased, everyone behind the scenes who are about to find themselves in free-fall – and while he’s on the phone having hard conversations he could make one more. He’s a prosecutor. He wouldn’t have to pull many strings to get through to—

No, no. He’ll wait for him to call.

(Kris never does.)

[merrylittlehogwartsrp]

Can I get some FC suggestions + plot suggestions for Oliver Wood, George Weasley, and Marcus Flint? Pretty please and thank you so much!

Oliver Wood: Keahu Kahuanui, Hayden Szeto, Diego Boneta, Colton Haynes, Jacob Artist, Blair Redford, Jack O’Connell,

Is Quidditch all there is to Oliver? Certainly when we knew him in the books, it was his driving motivation and interest above all others. Did the war change that? He did leave the pitch long enough to join his former teammates in the Battle of Hogwarts, after all – but what happened next? When he got back to Puddlemere United, did he throw himself back into practice with a renewed fervor, determined never to let anything distract him again, going back to waxing euphoric about the Quaffle once again? Or does it all feel kind of hollow now? Or is that just what everyone else keeps asking, as though one stupid battle would somehow fundamentally shift his lifegoals and personality, and it’s frustrating because he just wants to focus on the game but every time he gives an interview all anyone wants to ask about is the war and the Chosen One – and yeah, Oliver knew Harry Potter. He thinks it’s a damn shame that the bloke is wasting his talent with the Aurors when he ought to be out here on the pitch! Honestly he just doens’t understand what’s wrong with other people and their priorities…or does he? Maybe for the first time, Quidditch doesn’t feel like enough?

George Weasley: Caleb Landry Jones, Cameron Monaghan, Oliver Phelps

The obvious: how is he doing without Fred? We’re going to outsource you first to some brilliant potential headcanons, then point you to the pertinent question of: what are the holidays like without his twin? Is George wallowing in misery and bleak despair, or is he overcompensating (or trying to) by going all-in on pranks and jokes and quips? Does he know how to be funny on his own? Are his jokes falling flat, inspiring only pity laughs (or is he just afraid that’s what’s going on)? How about his friendships: every one of those was forged with Fred beside him, so is it weird hanging out with Lee Jordan or Angelina Johnson now that he’s alone? Does he even like hanging out with his old friends, or is he avoiding them? Maybe he’s avoiding new people – maybe he doesn’t want to talk to anyone who didn’t know Fred, because what’s the point? They’ll never understand. Obviously there’s more to George than his twin, and not every plot you do with him has to revolve around his grief for Fred – but does George know that?

Marcus Flint: Rami Malek, Cha Hakyeon, Cody Saintgnue, Freddie Fox, Michael Seater, Tyler Posey, Sean Teale

Winning at all costs used to be Marcus’s modus operandi – but has that sort of attitude taken on a bit of tarnish now that most of his generation fought a war? Or do more people understand Marcus’s point of view now that they’ve had to deal with higher stakes? What drove him to such lengths to begin with – was it just a love of winning, or was he trying to prove something more personal? Maybe he wasn’t much good at schoolwork and the Quidditch pitch was the one place he could shine; maybe he was excellent at his schoolwork, and threw himself into Quidditch in order to give his brain a break. Maybe he chaffed under the weight of a blood-status that wasn’t quite good enough for his fellow Slytherins and Quidditch glory was his way to compensate for that – or maybe success on the pitch was how he lived-up to the burden of his pristine bloodline. We know that as of the 1930s the Flint family was considered the epitome of pure-blood society…but has that changed? Either way, how does that affect Marcus? And what is he doing with himself now that Hogwarts is behind him – is he still playing Quidditch? Reporting on it, maybe? Fashioning racing brooms or possible testing them? Has he left Quidditch behind him completely, a childish dream he gave up either willingly or otherwise? Did he get involved in the war? Certainly he never cared for mudbloods…but did he despise them enough to fight? Or maybe blood-status was just an excuse, and he joined solely for personal power…or just the chance to throw a few hexes around, a bully to the core? If he did get involved in the war, what’s his status now? Did he squeak through a trial, claim coercion or Imperius, turn state’s evidence, etc? Or is he living on borrowed time, waiting for someone to uncover what he did?

P.S. you are welcome to put Flint in the same year as Oliver Wood, as he was initially written (in which case you’ll need to come up with some excuse for why he was at Hogwarts for eight years!), or you may put him in the year below Oliver, as later editions of the books corrected him to be. We’re fine with either version of “canon” for Flint!

Obviously there are loads of different ways you can take these characters, and these are just a few ideas. We hope you feel inspired by the possibilities we’ve shared, not constrained by them!

[kittensartswriting]

Prologue: The Fall of cor Mantgamia

This is the prologue from The Bear Castle! First I thought about dividing it to three parts but ended up not doing that as it wasn’t THAT long after all.

Tagging @madmooninc and @teacup-universes! If you want to be tagged too, or don’t want to be tagged on the future, inform me! I’ll be very happy to tag others too :)

On the first autumn morning of frost of the year 495 begun the Fall of cor Mantgamias, who had ruled Cabalusia for a millennia. On that morning on top of an ages old grass covered barrow stood Julius cor Mantgamia before a mossy, yet so terrifyingly vivid, stone bear. Julius looked to the quartz eyes of the three meters tall bear, and the bear looked back. Around them on the field mist crept from the river with cautious steps. It evaded the barrow, perhaps wary of the bear guarding it. Flowers of frost coated the barrow in white veil like King’s star-flowers every spring. The first light of the sun had already brightened the firmament forged from ice. Rotten leaves and overripe berries smelled sweet. The world was silently dying so it could born again next spring.

This time Julius had no time to enjoy the autumn landscape. Instead more pressing things needed his attention. The letter he clenched in his only hand told about the matter that was serious by nature. He had come to the graves of his forefathers and -mothers, where his own father laid too, to seek answers.

“What would you do, father?” he asked aloud looking at the bear statue, that stood quietly before him. But he knew the answer already. Father always knew what to do. He had been so sure about what he believed in and never wavered, even when it meant dirtying his hands. Julius didn’t agree with father about many things but he respected his ability to make calculative and effective decisions. That was what he needed; help to make the right decision in a situation where only were wrong options.

Besides the respect Julius felt very little towards his father. Long after father’s death, Julius had both hated and loved him, but after years had passed he had learned to take a step back and respect him as a leader. It didn’t mean he would forget the funeral of his older brother and the look father gave as their eyes met. Then he knew he should have been the one in the coffin, not Faerathos. But he did understand why father didn’t see him fit to be the heir. He was soft and gentle, when Faerathos had been strong and fierce, just like father. Standing one’s ground and making hard decisions were most important features of a leader if asked from father. Sometimes, when the situation was exceptionally challenging, Julius still found himself failing in the latter.

Now the situation was exceptionally challenging. He knew what father would have done, but he lacked the determination. He was reluctant to start a civil war. And father would have done it for different reasons, not for his children and grandchildren. No, he would have started the war out of spite, to show he was the winner. It was the winning move. The question was, would he let his people die for his family? Cabalusians were not happy with Civitas or the Empress, but it didn’t mean they wanted to die for it. The truth was that he didn’t want to dirty his hands this way, but he neither wanted to watch by when his siblings died, not again. He saw father’s disgusted and disappointed eyes, as he shook his head and said: “If you cannot do the right decision, it is your clan, who will pay, and in your hands is their blood.”

One thing was sure, no one won battles by standing on a barrow. Julius had calmed down and it was time for action now. He made final look to the eyes of the bear and couldn’t help but feel the childhood fear tingling in his back. It was easy to imagine father’s soul rest in this ages old symbol of cor Mantgamia. Julius himself didn’t feel so comfortable carrying his family crest. After tearing his gaze from the protector of the barrow he turned to the stony castle, rising on a small island in the middle of a broad river. Most notable thing was almost 50 meters long pitch-black tower rising on the highest top of the island. The castle was old in tired, but it still managed to stand tall after long centuries. Cor Mantgamias weren’t the first ones to build the castle. The Black Tower was a reminder of the times when Ahinians had the control of these lands.

The morning was still young, but the courtyard was already full of bustle when Julius came in from the southern gate. “Your grace”, hailed the gate guards and bowed. Julius nodded back and went briskly past. Without stopping he entered the palace, climbed up granite stairs and stopped before the door of his wife’s chamber. He knocked, but gained no answer, then knocked again. This time there was sound of moving and then a “Step in”. Julius obeyed. In the chamber his wife had got up to sit on her bed. Like other rooms in the palace, the room had high sealing and it would have been well lit by long windows, if the curtains were open. The room was almost ascetic despite the richly embroiled wall papers and textiles.

Duchess Rigantona was still very handsome woman in her forties, although that was not the reason why their marriage was quite happy. Actually it was a loveless marriage, but they still respected each other and they made a very good team to tackle the political game of the Empire. Rigantona was much like his father. She was also cool and rational, even insensitive, but unlike the late duke, she despised traditions and stiffness. That was the reason why Julius so trusted her advice.

“News, I suppose?” she asked cutting the chitchat.

He nodded and gave her the letter. “Caerelus send this from Civitas. It reached me only few moments ago. The situation seems just as dire as you predicted.” He sat down on a chair next to the bed. Rigantona’s eyes jumped from line to line in a quick pace. A wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows to indicate that she was processing information intensely. The silence continued for few minutes until she had read the letter multiple times.

“As I thought, Caerelus must be imprisoned at this point. But this letter leads us to believe that he managed to find out something before that…” Her eyes looked somewhere through Julius. Suddenly they fixated into his. “By imprisoning your brother the Empress has revealed her intentions. It was always to execute your sister and her son, but now the Empress has to include your brother too into the execution. They will surely not get a fair trial. If she really did murder Emperor Maximus, she will do anything to keep it hidden. But she knows she has left us no options and she has to deal with all of us. In the worst case scenario her troops are already in their way.”

Rigantona said out loud what Julius had been afraid to hear. It was something he didn’t want to believe, but he had to, for the sake of every one. “Surely she hasn’t started the mobilization, we would have heard of it. We have still time to prepare.”

“If I was the empress, I would send a small – let’s say a few dozen men strong – elite troop ahead. Assassins. They would get here unnoticed before we could assemble our troops. I would bid them to sneak inside the castle walls in secret where they could strike deadly yet swiftly after the night has fallen. They would eliminate everyone inside, end your family line and cut the command. And then I would send my troops to secure the area. It should be easy after command center had fallen.” Rigantona didn’t waver. A cold stir fell down Julius’ spine when he looked into the emotionless eyes of his wife.

“I am certainly glad that you’re not the empress”, he said and let out a nervous laugh. “I assume that your answer to the situation is that we strike fast before they do, claim notable areas and trade them for my imprisoned family?”

“No, Julius, -” There was serious look in her eyes as she shook her head. “- you have to understand one thing. They are lost to us. Even if you won battles and the Empress kept them alive for a while for negotiations, she simple cannot leave them alive. For her it is about life and death. She needs to get the scapegoats of the Maximus’ murder dead and buried. I will make this crystal clear for you: Nothing will save Caerelus, Cassia or Amatus. They are as good as death. The question is will we survive.”

Julius grasped the stump of his hand. It always itched when he tried to clench his non-existing hand into a fist. She was right of course. For last weeks he hadn’t been able to face the possibility that his only remaining sister and her son could die. And now his little brother’s life was also on the line. It was still hard to face the reality, but necessary for survival. “Then what do you suggest?” He raised his beaten look into his wife. Maybe she saw his sorrow, as there were remains of rare empathy in her eyes.

“Send the children to Loches in care of my brother, suggest to your brother to do the same. I will send an express letter in advance. In that I will urge him to prepare a ship for the children, so they can be sent to South-Dirahin. We have to prepare for the worst. The Empress knows she has driven as into a corner. She will say our uprising is treason. We will be the enemy of the Empire. And she will use as justification for massacring us. We are running against time. Our only chance is to prepare in time for her attack. If we are too slow she has our bodies and evidence of our treason. The problem is, she has time on her side. Gods know how many days she’s had time for preparing. And for that we need something else. An ally. The only possibility is the North.”

Julius narrowed his eyes. “Dir’ahin?”

She nodded. “She will not dare to suspect that we would make such an alliance. And they are the bitterest enemies of the Empire, and for them it would be perfect if Cabalusia would fall into chaos. It doesn’t matter how we feel about the Ahinians or how long we have waged war against them, if we want to survive this.”

There was a brief silent when he bit his nails. “I suppose we should be quick about it?”

“Absolutely. There is no time to waste. It is all or nothing.”

He nodded fallen in thoughts. Rigantona may have been right about alliance with Ahinians, but there was the other thing to consider; Cabalusians had fought with Ahinians the whole Fourth Age and longer, even before the reign of cor Mantgamias. His clan, soldiers and the whole people would be enraged of even the thought and he needed their support more than ever. Rigantona wouldn’t understand. For her absurdity and emotionality of humans were unfamiliar and strange.

“Rigantona, I want you to make contact with Ahinians, in secret. They trust women more than men and no Cabalusian – no one – will trust them”, Julius explained carefully. Her annoyance grew immediately. She was about to demand, why would he say that people wouldn’t take the most rational way out. “Truth to be told, I do not trust them either, not a bit. But I trust your judgement. You will go to Loches with children and head to the North. There you can establish negotiations with them”, he said before she could speak her mind and then stood up. “You should get to arranging your departure. I’ll wake the others and inform them. We have to start mobilization as soon as possible. Let’s hope the hour is not too late.”

In the gracefully paneled study sat Julius. He leaned against the armchair, upholstered with velvet, with the stump of his hand and slowly smoked his pipe. His eyes rested in the coat of arms of cor Mantgamias, hanging on the wall behind a worktable; black standing bear against cobalt blue field. Two shiny arming swords from the Third Age crossed each other behind the coat of arms. “Fight with honor, shield with strength” was written in the arms with ancient Algonian. Is this honor? Do I have the strength to defend?

A knock on the door interrupted Julius’ thoughts. “Come in”, he said.

A young male servant stepped in and bowed deeply. “Your grace, lord Ignatus cor Mantgamia, count Geroen cor Mantgamia, sir Caiside cor Mantgamia, sir Quirinus cor Mantgamia and sir Sparrowhawk.” The servant bowed again and stepped aside. Julius’ brother, uncle and cousins and lastly Marcus stepped in. Marcus seemed small in the side of cor Mantgamias, who were known for their length.

“Have you gained new information? Is that why you summoned us?” Geroen, Julius’ uncle, asked with his bass voice. All of them had weary and worried expressions, only exception being Caiside, who was particularly bad at waking up in the mornings, and seemed only sleepy.

Julius nodded and waved in direction of table where the letter was laying. Geroe stepped next to table, his sons following, and took the letter. “Read it out loud, please”, Julius said. Geroe took a magnifier from his pocket even though he already had classes on. An eye sickness had left him half blind. He read slowly while his younger son, Quirinus, stirred restlessly next to him.

“Father, allow me”, he said at last and picked the letter without waiting for respond. Marcus stayed next to the door, while Ignatus stepped closer. “Dear brother, I have to write shortly this time. An arrest warrant has been made for me and I’m afraid the forces are already coming for me. I tried to unveil the truth in the limits of the law and show them that they have made a terrible mistake in respect to our sister, but I understand now. It was not a mistake, for it was all according to her plan. I found about terrible truth behind all this, but I cannot tell more in the letter. There is no justice here. It seems like nothing can keep them from executing me too. Maybe I was too naïve. Forgive me. Please ask forgiveness from Ignatus and mother for me. I have to send the letter before it’s too late. Farewell.”

Deep silence followed. It took a while for the words to truly sink. Suddenly it all seemed more real for Julius after hearing someone else read the letter. Breathing grew heavy. For a moment his eyes met with Marcus. The only working hawk-eye studied Julius and a concerned wrinkle appeared in his forehead. Julius turned from the intensive gaze to observe others. Furrows of Geroe’s face deepened; disbelief and rage twisted Quirinus’ expressions; sleep was gone from Caiside’s eyes, replaced by shock; Ignatus seemed emotionless, but his eyes were burning. They all had tried to persuade Caerelus to return to Cabalusia, but he had been unwavering in his conviction. He insisted always doing things the right and honorable way. How could someone destroy something so pure?

Quirinus was first to break the silence. “We cannot let them do what they want! We are the cor Mantgamias! Empress or not, there are rules one cannot break!” Others glanced at Julius, who stayed quiet.

“Quirinus is right, this is unacceptable”, Ignatus said. “Our sister, our brother. And Amatus. He is the rightful heir. We should have gathered our troops and demanded Amatus and Cassia’s liberation a long time ago.”

Julius shook his head. “You know full well that it would have caused a civil war. That is not something we can start with light reasons.”

Ignatus’ expression tightened. They glared into each other’s eyes, both unwavering and defiant. “Are you saying that our sister and her son’s execution is not heavy reason?”

“Yes”, Julius said. “It is to our people, to every Cabalusian bystander, who would be caught in the war. They have Angusian roots and spouses. They do not care, if one heir is switched to another. It won’t change their life even if they hated Angusia for it, but a civil war will change everything for them. They are our people, Ignatus.”

“So we let the Emeretiuses do what they want? And what then, when they come to kill us? Your children?”

Geroen stepped between them. “This is not time to quarrel. We have to make decisions. I’m sure we can all agree, that the situation is inflammable. The Empress will not step back – that is a fact.” It was hard to resist his tranquil soft voice.

Julius nodded. “We have come to the point, where war is inevitable.” He took the time to look every one of them in the eyes. Then he took a moment of break, placed his pipe on the side table and stood up. “The Empress doesn’t want a civil war here, because Cabalusia is important for the logistics of the Ahinian war. She wants this to stop before it really begins so she will strike swiftly and precisely. Like Ignatus said, she will come for us to disable the command center. Our only hope is separation from the Empire.”

Everyone looked at each other, searching for answers. It was easy to see what they were thinking. A small glimmer of hope awakened. Was it possible? For the first time after the Empire was formed, for the first time in five hundred years, Cabalusia would become independent again? It was almost too unreal to think, and Julius wouldn’t let them. “Our defenses are down. At the moment we have only my regular house guard, twenty men standing at watch. It won’t be enough if the Empress launches a big assassination attack. That could happen one of these days. We have to gather troops as fast as possible to shield us or the battle is lost. I will need you all to write to your retainers and soldiers, and ask them to take up their arms. Letters won’t be enough. You Iganatus, must leave to gather as much forces as you can. They will answer when a cor Mantgamia is putting trust on them.” He continued telling them about the plan to get the children and wives away. They thought about sending their mother away too, but they were sure she wouldn’t have any of that. He didn’t mention about Ahinians. Neither did he stress that Cassia, Caerelus and Amatus was already lost to them. They needed hope.

After others had left to make hasty letters, Marcus lingered behind. “Call all my house guards to the castle”, Julius said to him. “Tell them it is highest emergency level. Tell them to get ready for an attack, especially at night. If someone refuses to fight against the Empire, they are to be imprisoned.”

“Sure.” Marcus nodded. His amber eye pieced through Julius. For a moment he studied his expressions. “They can’t be saved, can they? She’d never let them go. The Empress I mean.”

Julius drew a deep breath. Heavy burden hanged on his shoulders. “We have lost them.” It hurt to admit that. “There are not much of us siblings left anymore. First went Faerathos, then Clementia and now this…” They both lowered their eyes on the ground. The silence lasted for many long seconds. Without looking at each other, they were thinking about the same thing; the day when young beautiful Clementia died and they almost killed each other. “Let us go, we have a lot to do and little time”, Julius broke the silence.

 How long had it been? The last time Rigantona had seen her brother? Maybe five years. Longer. Fiolew hadn’t yet been born and Valeri was very small. She did remember what her brother looked like; a cheerful man, with golden brown curls, always messy. Still she couldn’t form a picture of him on her head. It had been too long. Not that she missed home, a port city that smelled like ocean, nor was she so sentimental that she would have missed her family. It was only the conscience that bothered her, for she knew that others, especially her brother, were just that sentimental. In spite of all, she waited to see again her old home city, its narrow winding streets and the shore, where lingered the odor of fishes.

Carriages rattled against the cobblestone, when they crossed Fael River along the southern bridge. Children and the nanny, Miss Felina, marveled the last rays of the setting sun, which stained thin clouds with crimson.

“Will there be war?” Cassia, named after her aunt, asked suddenly and looked at her mother with earnest eyes of a child.

Rigantona nodded. “The independence war of Cabalusia. That is why we are going away. War is not a place for women and children.”

Valeri didn’t seem pleased. “We should be helping papa”, he said furrowing sternly. Rigantona couldn’t understand boys sometimes, not even her own. She wondered where the anger came from. Faerathos had always been calm and gentle, but Valeri was so angry all the time. “I could help father”, he added.

“11-years-old boy is more of a burden than help. We help best by leaving.” Rigantona tried to sound gentle.

“I can fight! Marcus thought me to use sword!” Valeri said raising his voice. He crossed his arms in rebelling and stern eyes narrowed. Even though he looked so much like her brother, Valeri didn’t have his balmy character.

“This conversation is fruitless. We are already going away and that is for the best.” Rigantona couldn’t stang for mindless insisting. When debating with children one couldn’t win by good argumentation, rather stubborn harping was the way to win.

For a moment Valeri seemed like he would continue protesting, but his little brother interrupted by pointing over the river to the castle and cheerfully shouting: “They’re fighting!” Rigantona turned to window and saw that Fiolew had been right, even though he didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. On the bridge they had crossed a moment ago, fought at least ten men. It was hard to see so far even if the bridge was lighted. She knocked on the shutter of the chauffeur. “Mister Donne! Please halt!” The carriages stopped and also the carriages behind them, where sat Ignatus’ family and Faerathos. “Stay in the cart!” she commanded her children and stepped outside.

She took small opera glasses from the pocket of her cloak and spied over to the bridge. Now when the clatter of horses’ hoofs and jolting of the carriages didn’t overpower all other noises, she heard the gunshots. Somewhere inside the castle walls the glow of flames danced against buildings. On the bridge soldiers were fighting amongst themselves. No, assassins dressed as soldiers were fighting the castle guard. It must have been a diversion to get soldiers of castle in outside of the wall. All was clear now. They were helplessly late. Even before the letter they had already been late. The assassins of the Empress had infiltrated the castle guard. Who knows how far the treachery reached. Now they were attacking everywhere at the same time, trying not to let anyone escape. Soon the resistance would be crushed and cor Mantgamia would be no more. Someone from the imperial family would be nominated as the duke of Cabalusia, probably the brother of the late emperor. Something heavy, perhaps the realization, had fallen on the bottom of Rigantona’s stomach.

“Mama”, Tacita squeaked from the carriages. “There are men on the edge of the forest. They are coming our way. Are they bad?”

Ignatus’ wife peaked from the hinder carriage probably wondering what Rigantona was doing. “Close the door!” Rigantona shouted to her and ran inside her on cart, wrenched open the shutter and said with hurry: “Forward. As fast as you can make the horses gallop.”

Whip snapped and the carriages jerked into motion. She evaded startled eyes of her children and turned to look from the small rear window to the raiders, who neared them by the minute. Fiolew sobbed as Miss Felina hushed and stroked his hair. All of them had their eyes on her and she recognized the same fear in them that gripped her too. It was a matter of time when the raiders would catch up. Four horses dragging carriages would never outrun saddle horses, even if they were the most pure blooded Cabalusian horses of all. She drew a pistol out of her purse and loaded it with a bullet.

Questions filled her mind as the silence prolonged. How exactly they were here already? The Empress wouldn’t have surely predicted this all? Maybe the letter was only her deception, to draw cor Mantgamias out so she could destroy them with excuse? Or maybe… No. Rigantona shook the thoughts of her head. Speculation was futile at this point, with these probabilities she would never know. But she wouldn’t accept her death easily, for a woman of cor Mantgamia wouldn’t go without a fight.

She broke the rear glass with the handle of the pistol. Tacita and Miss Felina squealed, Fiolew cried. Rigantona closed her eyes, took a deep breath and then aimed to the two raiders, who hunted them with rifles in their hands. Now they were so close, that she saw the foam in mouths of the horses and the blue uniforms of Bear Castle on the riders. Carriages speeded fast, so wind resistance would be a notable factor. If they’d just get a little closer… Now! She pulled the trigger and it went off with ear stunning bang. One of the horses fell down.

She did it. She actually did it.

“Mama! You hit it!” Valeri shouted with awe in his voice. She released her breath and couldn’t help but smile. The heavy weight of fear lifted a little. They looked at each other, uncertain if it was too early to rejoice. At least now they had hope. If she’d only manage to hit the last one…

In the corner of her eye, she saw the last rider aiming at them with his rifle. She didn’t hear the shot from the noises of the carriages and the tinnitus ringing in her ears. When the bullet pierced her neck she had only time to see blood glucking on her cloak and to think how stupid she was to not duck her head after shooting.