Scribings of an Aspiring Bard

Notes for Fandom Aid Auction

2012-11-08T13:21:05Z

Formats/Styles

I'm all about giving people choices, so here's something things I thought I could offer. If there's something else you'd like, feel free to ask - these are just the things that occurred to me!

Traditional Fan Fiction - You give me a prompt, and I give you a story. I'll write at least 100 words per dollar.
Choose Your Own Fan Fiction - You give me a prompt to begin, I give you at least 100 words and end at a place where I give you a choice as to what happens next, you make a choice, I write the next segment. I'll add an additional choice for every dollar.
Character Interview - There's actually a couple options here. You can ask questions of a character, or if you're working on a project and want help with character development, you give me a thumbnail sketch of your character and I will ask that character questions.
Letter to a Character - I'll write a letter/email (to you or to another character) as though I am a certain character.
Writing Prompts/Support/Pep Talks - if you're doing a writing project, I'll send you pep talks or come up with dares/challenges/etc to help challenge your muse and get you inspired. I can be general, or if you share information about your project I can be more specific.
Anything else? Please feel free to ask!

Also, I've seen some people like to have fan fiction written out and mailed to them, and I'd be willing to do that too.

Fandoms

Here are some fandoms I'd be willing to write for. I may also be willing to do others; these are the ones that happened to come to mind as I was making this journal entry.

NCIS
Harry Potter
Tamora Pierce
Fairy tales
Ace Attorney
Touched By an Angel
The Dark is Rising
Discworld
Something else? Please feel free to ask - these are just the ones that happened to come to mind.

Diversion to Discworld

2011-09-23T20:51:08Z

Title: Diversion to Discworld
Rating: G
Word Count: 4,288

Summary: On the Disc, Hex is running some particularly complex interdimensional programs. Meanwhile, at Hogwarts, several of the staff members are attempting to cast a particularly complex spell. When Snape bursts in at just the wrong moment and adds the twinging of the Dark Mark to the equation, the whole group is brought across time, space, and dimensional barriers to the Disc. Written for the Help Japan auction.

Notes: I wrote this for princess_lirin, who won 800 words from me in the help_japan auction a while back. She broke it up into two requests, and this one was for at least 400 words of a crossover in which several Hogwarts professors including Snape end up in Discworld. I haven't done much with crossovers before, but I had a blast with this one - and maybe got a little bit carried away word count wise!

* * * * *

The moment Severus Snape saw the werewolf skulking around the Hogwarts corridors, he knew he had to find out what Lupin was up to.

Even if it meant tipping his hand to Minerva McGonagall, who happened to be present when he sighted Lupin.

Snape had gotten to be pretty good at moving quietly. He was vaguely cognizant that McGonagall had shifted into her Animagus form in order to better follow him and keep tabs. If she hadn't been as astute an animal as a cat, he might have managed to lose her. As things stood, he didn't want to try and risk losing track of the werewolf in the process.

Lupin did not go to the Headmaster's office, nor did he go to the classroom where he had once served a term as Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. His course was more suspicious than that, taking him down an all-too-familiar path, where Snape had once chased Quirrell, where Dumbledore had once hidden the Philosopher's Stone. Snape felt a chill go through him at the memory; in his worst imaginings of the dangers of the werewolf, he'd never thought Lupin would turn to the Dark Lord, but he found himself considering the possibility now.

Lupin entered the chamber where the Stone had been kept, and Snape hovered outside the door, straining to hear.

“Headmaster?” That was Lupin.

“Ah, my boy, you managed to come.”

Snape felt a spark of rage at the werewolf, accompanied by a twinge of pain from his Mark, reminding him that he had intended to inform Dumbledore that he may be Summoned soon, as his Mark had been remembering itself to him through brief spike of pain every so often, an indication that the Dark Lord was considering Snape in particular or his Death Eaters in general.

Now was as good a time as any to inform the Headmaster. And if it just happened to coincide with walking in and getting a glimpse of what was happening with the werewolf, well, that was a bonus – or an unfortunate happenstance of timing, depending upon how one wanted to look at it.

Snape put his hand on the door handle, only to have someone else touch his shoulder. He whirled, wand out, to find himself facing McGonagall.

“I don't think Headmaster Dumbledore wanted you to intrude upon whatever it is he is doing with Lupin.” McGonagall was not even looking at the wand, acting as though it did not matter that Snape was threatening her.

With a huff, Snape lowered his wand. “You'd do best not to startle me, particularly when I am on edge already.”

“Did I manage that?”

Snape raised an eyebrow, but declined to comment further. He turned back to the door, reaching once again for the handle.

“Severus...”

He did not turn around. “I have a report to make to Albus Dumbledore concerning my duties as the Order's spy. So unless you are the Order's new expert in things pertaining to the Dark Mark and my duties as spy...”

McGonagall sighed. “Be it on your head, then.”

Snape had expected some measure of dismay or denial when he walked through the door. He did not expect the instant fear he caused; Dumbledore's bellow of “Severus, out!”; Remus leaping at him, Remus's hands on him, shoving him back out the door-

The pain from the Mark rose again, this time into the full pain of a Summoning.

And the world went white.

* * *

Ponder Stibbons frowned at the paper in his hand. “Oh dear.”

Something had gone wrong.

Something had been summoned and dropped into the city.

Something from another world entirely.

Protocol was clear on this sort of thing. Ponder Stibbons was responsible for telling the Arch-Chancellor, which meant trying to explain things to Mustrum Ridcully.

Who would probably then delegate him to go and inform Vetinari, as protocol also clearly stated that the necessary officials of the city must be informed in such a case.

“Oh dear,” Ponder said again.

* * *

As Snape drifted into awareness, he kept his eyes closed, kept his breathing even. If he was a prisoner, he didn't want to give up the advantage of seeming to be asleep when he was actually aware of his surroundings.

It didn't sound like a prison, though. Snape could hear the rumble of carts and the sound of voices. The air was heavy with some sort of scent – not as clean and crisp as Diagon Alley, but reminding him of that far more than the streets of Muggle cities. A street, yes, that was where he was. Laying on cobblestones. And there was someone else's hand on his shoulder. Why would there be a hand on his shoulder?

Memory returned then, still somewhat sluggish. Snape managed to keep from grimacing or jerking away when he realized it was probably the werewolf's hand on his shoulder. Instead, he slit his eyes open.

A little old man with a twinkle in his eyes that reminded Snape far too much of Dumbledore's was looking down at Snape.

“You seem to have made it through all right. That's something.”

Snape gave up the pretense of being unconscious and instead jerked himself away from the werewolf. Lupin groaned and stirred.

“Where is this place?”

“Ankh-Morpork. The biggest metropolis on the Disc.”

Snape glanced around him, not much more impressed with this than with any other metropolis he had seen. “I don't suppose you would have any idea how we came here?”

“A joint thaumaturgic disruption across both worlds. Nothing to worry about, I'm sure, provided everyone manages to keep out of trouble and such.”

Lupin groaned again, moving enough to distract Snape from glaring at the strange man. When he turned back, the man had gone, and Lupin was sitting up.

“Severus?”

“What were you playing at?”

“Playing...”

“What did you do that made us end up here?”

Remus winced, the contortion almost making Snape feel sorry for him. Almost. “It was more Dumbledore than any of the rest of us. And you.”

“I was certainly not-”

“The reason Dumbledore didn't involve you was because of your Mark. You came in when it was flaring, didn't you?”

“Rather it flared when I entered the room. You are not explaining.”

“I am trying – I still don't quite understand. Only that Albus asked for my help, because of the particular energies emitted by a werewolf – he was trying something, I think. Something to help Harry.”

“Why does it always come down to Potter?” Snape stood and brushed himself off, checking to be sure that his wand was still in his pocket. Thinking again, he pulled out the wand and tried a quick cleaning charm, breathing a sigh of relief when it worked. “We'd best see if we can gain some more perspective.”

“We'd best look for Albus, you mean?”

“You think he came through as well?”

“I would not be astonished, with the amount of power in that room...”

* * *

Something was resting against Hagrid's hand. Something small, with scales. Hagrid opened his eyes to find himself looking at a fine figure of a woman – not quite as large as his Olympe, but still plenty large and imposing for a human woman. What caught his interest even more was the scaly creature cradled in her hands.

“Blimey, what kind of a dragon is that?” he asked, gazing at it with awe.

“A swamp dragon, and you're lucky you didn't make him explode from the excitement. What are you doing in my dragon pen?

Dragon... Hagrid turned his head to get a better look around himself, and found several of the tiny dragons staring back at him. Blimey, they're all lovely little mites, aren't they?

The woman's face softened ever so slightly. That they are. Then she frowned. That still doesn't tell me what you're doing there.

Hagrid pondered this a moment. Bit o' magic gone awry, I expect.

You're involved with those wizards up at the University, then?

University? Nah. Hogwarts, best school o' magic around, particularly under Dumbledore. I'm Keeper o' the Keys and Grounds.

Never heard of it.

Never heard o' Hogwarts? What sort o' backwater is this, then, when you never heard o' Great Britain's finest magic school?

Ankh-Morpork, and I believe I read recently that we are the most cosmopolitan city this side of the Disc, so not quite a backwater at all.

Blimey, I must've hit my head harder'n I thought.

The woman considered him a moment, then, You may as well come in and we'll see what can be done about that. I'll warn you, though, my husband Sam is coming home soon, so you'd best not try anything fresh.

Last thing on my mind, Hagrid assured her. He had a feeling she would make an excellent colleague - in fact, she reminded him somewhat of Professor Grubbly-Plank, though this woman had more of her own limbs attached - but she wasn’t his Olympe.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore rarely allowed events to throw him mentally off-balance, and the moment he came to he was patting his pockets to ensure that everything important had come through with him. Wand? Check. Sherbert lemons? Check. He was ready to surmount whatever obstacle this place may offer him.

Now if only he knew what had become of his colleagues...

A glance around revealed that an eighth color had joined the seven with which he happened to be familiar, and was in fact hovering in a sort of mist around the closest building. Two men were hurrying towards him from that building, and Albus Dumbledore schooled his face into his most beatific smile.

“Here now, what are you doing on my University grounds?” one of the men demanded.

“I apologize. I intended no intrusion upon you.” Dumbledore fished in his robe pocket. “Sherbert lemon?”

“What?”

“Sherbert lemon?” Finding the packet, he extended it to the stranger. “They’re a personal favorite of mine.”

The man glared suspiciously at the packet. “They’re not healthful,” he announced after a moment’s consideration. “Which wouldn’t stop most of the others, I’m sure. but I want to be in prime condition when I go hunting the legendary phoenix.”

Dumbledore’s features darkened a moment, as he thought of Fawkes back home, and this strange man hunting him. He quickly smoothed away his discontent, though - it would not do to antagonize these people if they did happen to be key to getting him home, as part of him suspected they might. “Of course,” was all he allowed himself to say.

“Now, Ponder,” the man turned to his companion, who had until this moment kept his silence, “Is this one of them people from another world your lot brought here?”

“I believe so,” Ponder replied, flinching slightly.

“Well, then, I leave you to sort it out. I’m going to finish my morning jog.”

* * *

Ponder Stibbons glanced wistfully after Archchancellor Ridcully - not that he wanted to take a morning jog, but it would have been nice, just once, to have one of the senior wizards take a hand in solving some of the problems around the University. Perhaps not this one, particularly, as Ponder did have to admit that it was primarily his fault. But he was cleaning up the mess even when it wasn’t.

The stranger was still holding out the packet of sweets. “How about you?” he asked. “Would you care for a sherbert lemon?”

Ponder scowled. “No.” He hated when people treated him as though he were a child - he may look young, but he was more than capable. Although, come to think of it, the stranger had offered a sweet to Ridcully as well, so perhaps the offer was not a comment on Ponder’s youth.

“Very well then.” The stranger pulled one of the sweets from the blob, stretching it slightly in the process, then popped it in his mouth. “Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, at your service,” the man said around a mouthful of the candy.

“Ponder Stibbons, Head of Inadvisably Applied Magic, among other things, at yours.”

“Ah, excellent, Master Stibbons. Perhaps we might go over your end of the events that brought myself - and quite possibly a number of others, who I really must find soon - here?

When Ponder met Headmaster Dumbledore’s eyes, a twinge of dread assailed him. The level gaze was filled with cleverness and intelligence, and Ponder didn’t really like the thought that he might be attempting to explain things to someone who was actually cleverer than him, and who had a vested interest in the topic. Ah well, there wasn’t much for it.

“Come along to the High Energy Magic Building, then, and I’ll introduce you to Hex.”

* * *

Snape and the werewolf were innocently exploring their surroundings when they were accosted by a pair of guards. The first looked like he spent more time mainlining doughnuts than guarding, and the second made Snape wonder whether he was an unfortunate cross between a house elf and a goblin.

“Here now, you don’t want to be going in there,” the plump one said.

“That’s the Shades, that is,” agreed the other.

“The Shades?” Snape used the snide tone he had developed for use with particularly annoying students. Which just happened to be most of them.

“Where’re you from that you don’t know the Shades, mister?” Being eyed by the smaller one was not quite a pleasant experience.

Lupin answered. “Great Britain.”

The men looked at each other, and the round one said, “Magical accident? I think you might be some of the people Mister Vimes was talking about. I’m Sergeant Colin, and this is Corporal Nobbs, Nobby for short.”

A brief expectant silence. Remus, predictably, stepped in. “Remus Lupin and Severus Snape. Something magical happened on this side of things as well?”

“It’s those wizards.” Sergeant Colin gave a shudder, which was rather a lot of shudder considering his body mass. Then he shuddered again. “And we're to take you to the Patrician.

“Sarge?”

“Yes, Nobby?”

“Do we have to go to the Patrician?”

“Orders are that if the strangers are found, they're to be brought before him.” The man appeared to consider the matter. “Though I think that's really a job for the brass. The Patrician doesn't want to see our lot. We'll bring 'em to Mister Vimes, or Captain Carrot.”

“Good thinking, Sarge.

Snape briefly considered casting a surreptitious spell or two and getting away from the pair of guards, but decided to bide his time. They hadn't confiscated his wand, which meant that either they didn't consider it a threat (in which case he didn't like to tip his hand) or else they were not planning to bring him somewhere that he would be tempted to use it against people.

They led him to a guardhouse, where a young woman in sergeant's stripes was at the desk. “Got something for Mister Vimes, Sergeant Angua.”

“Thank you, Sergeant Colin and Corporal Nobbs.” The woman eyed both of them, but turned her attention mostly to Remus. She actually stood up and stepped closer to him, tilting her head slightly.

Why was it that the werewolf had all the luck with women? Not that Snape was really interested in this particular woman – but he remembered Lupin having more than his share of prospects. Probably something to do with how Lupin was distinguished-looking, while Snape had an oversized nose and nothing like a werewolf's metabolism.

Lupin actually stepped back, away from the woman.

“No, hold still.” She scowled, sniffing the air. Sniffing? Snape glanced at Lupin. His nostrils were twitching too, though he was not being so obvious about it.

“You smell... odd.” The woman slanted a suspicious glance up at Lupin.

“I'm afraid it would be terribly rude to inform you I was just thinking the same about you.”

The woman snorted.

Snape narrowed his eyes. “You'll have to forgive him. He's a werewolf, and they don't often learn proper manners.”

Lupin blanched, and Snape felt a smug satisfaction at having gotten back at him. But the woman's sharp gaze was now focused on Snape. And why were the other two men backing towards the door?

“Some werewolves have no manners,” the woman growled. “My father, for instance, would be eating you for breakfast right about now. You're lucky that I've sworn off that kind of behavior, or I might be tempted to make a snack of you myself.”

“You're a werewolf?” Lupin's voice broke in.

“Yes. I don't usually tell people... when they hear there's a werewolf in the watch, they usually look at Nobby over there... but since you're a fellow werewolf...”

At that moment, two more figures entered the room. The girl turned, and favored the larger of the pair with quite a welcoming smile. “Carrot. Commander Vimes.

“Who are these people?” Vimes demanded, glaring at Snape and Lupin.

“They were talking about Great Britain, Commander, and how they came from there. And we were thinking that maybe you would like to be the one to bring them to the Patrician, on account of Nobby and I aren't really the sort he likes to look at.”

Vimes narrowed his eyes as he looked at them. “Very well. Captain Carrot?”

“Sir.”

“You take over here. I'll bring Sergeant Angua to help me with our guests.”

Captain Carrot saluted smartly, and then Snape and Lupin found themselves being led back out of the guardhouse.

“We could take a carriage,” Vimes said, “But I'd just as soon walk.” And he started a jaunty walk, swinging his legs, whistling a bit.

“Commander's always glad when he gets a chance to walk the streets,” Angua confided in a low tone to them.

They walked until they reached a moderately imposing palace. More imposing was the coach outside, obviously expensive, branded with a “V.”

Lupin cleared his throat. “This Patrician... wouldn't happen to be a bit of a megalomaniac, would he?”

Vimes halted, spun to favor them with a predatory grin. “I think he'd consider that a compliment, yes.”

“Bent on obtaining power and immortality?”

“I've heard that said.”

“Rather snake-like?”

“You'll fear just like a pair of mice when you go before him.”

“And that's his coach, is it?”

“Indeed it is.”

“His initial?”

“Yes.”

Lupin and Snape exchanged bleak looks before Sergeant Angua started prodding them along. Snape felt again for his wand. Not that it would do him much good. Not against Voldemort. Particularly not a Voldemort who had managed to take charge of a whole city.

They were ushered into an audience room, and when they finally laid eyes on the Patrician they both breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief. Then Snape took a second look at the man and wondered if maybe he had relaxed too soon. There was something about the man that spoke of a kind of relentless determination, a cold cunning in his eyes, a look that Voldemort rarely got but one which meant trouble when he did have it. Snape was unaware that his own features were taking on a similar look, a mirror to this Patrician's.

“So. These are the visitors from another world.” The Patrician stepped forward to get a better look at them.

“Sir,” Vimes said.

“How very interesting. Is there a particular reason you came to visit our fine city?”

Lupin was standing there uselessly, leaving Snape to answer. “A magical accident brought us here.”

“Indeed. And what were your intentions upon arriving?”

“To find our way back home.”

“Ah, yes. I am certain the wizards at the Unseen University would be more than willing to help you.” The man's eyes narrowed. “My city runs well, gentlemen, and I will not have you clogging up the clockwork that makes it run.” Then he relaxed, marginally, although Snape doubted this man ever truly relaxed. “As long as you do no harm to my city, however, I have no objections to you being here.” He looked at Snape again. “I don't suppose you play chess.”

“On occasion.”

“Well. Perhaps we might have a game if you are here for any length of time and I can work myself up to the excitement.” One last look, and then the man turned away. “Do not let me detain you.”

And Vimes was hustling them out of there.

“What was that?” Lupin asked, sounding dazed.

“You could have said something.”

“I...” Lupin shook his head, like a dog shaking off water.

“Come along and I'll bring you to the University. And then I'm going home.”

* * *

Vimes considered that he had done his civic duty for the day. There had been another stranger with the wizards, who had seemed only too glad to have the others with him. And now it was getting to be the most important time of the day. Vimes quickened his step, wanting to get home in time, picturing young Sam in his blanket, waiting.

For once, he managed to arrive early. Just as well, as there was a moderate difficulty for his brain to process.

Sybil was not alone in the kitchen, but was sitting across from the largest man Vimes had ever seen. The man had a swamp dragon cuddled into his abundant beard, and was sipping tea from a cup that was dwarfed (no offense intended to the dwarfish race, I'm sure) by his immense hand.

“Wha-”

“Oh, Sam, there you are, good. This is Hagrid. I'm thinking of hiring him on as kennel help, if he's here for any length of time. He's got quite a touch with the dragons.”

“How d'ya do,” Hagrid said, raising his cup in greeting.

“I...” Vimes blinked rapidly, and felt his internal clock twinge. “I have to read to young Sam. I'll speak with you after that.”

Tonight's rendition of “Where's My Cow” went smoothly, as Vimes very consciously did not turn it into a rendition of “Where's The Strange People Who Seem to be Invading Ankh-Morpork?” With young Sam safely tucked in and slumbering, Vimes went downstairs to deal with the visitor in his kitchen.

“Do the names Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, and Remus Lupin mean anything to you?” Vimes automatically entered questioning mode.

“Yep. Albus Dumbledore's the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen.”

“Yes, he was talking about some strange places earlier, Sam. I thought he must have hit his head.”

“No. There was some sort of accident at the Unseen University, and the wizards brought them from somewhere else. The rest of them are at the University now, trying to figure out a way back.”

“Guess I'd better join them,” Hagrid said, looking sadly at the dragon cradled in his arms and giving it a couple pats. “Shame to leave these beauties, though.”

“If you have any troubles getting back, stop by here and I'll give you a job,” Sybil told him. “It is a shame – I'd send a couple back with you, but I'm afraid that with the excitement of inter-dimensional travel they might well explode.”

“Maybe I'll get a chance to come say good-bye. There, lad, you go back in your bed. Don't look at me like that. Don't I wish I could stay here and hold you.”

* * *

Albus Dumbledore peered at the readout. “Four of us? You are certain?”

“Hex is certain, and he knows better than us.”

“McGonagall was behind me,” Snape said.

“And Hagrid was in the room with us,” Lupin added, “so it could be either of them.”

“And you are certain that we all must go back?

“It's all or nothing, according to Hex. The universe wants to put you back where you belong, so it won't take a lot of power, but the universe wants you all back.”

Snape felt Dumbledore's gaze on him. “I know you were free from the Dark Mark here. Are free. And you do not know how much I wish that I could give you the choice to stay here, freed from past mistakes. Perhaps we could all find a place here...”

“Then our world would be doomed,” Snape replied flatly, touching his fingers to what had become, for a brief while, just a strange tattoo. “Potter and his friends can't be trusted on their own. They need all the help they can get.” Again it was coming back to Potter. “Even if you could leave me here...” Snape took in a breath, trying to picture living without people knowing he had been a Death Eater, without having to scurry to a madman's bidding every time his forearm twinged. “Even if you could leave me here, it would not be advised. You know the difficulties inherent in getting another operative inside the Dark Lord's fold. I am too valuable an asset to leave behind.”

“You are more valuable than you know.” For a moment, Dumbledore's tone and expression betrayed his true age. He quickly shifted back to the more familiar overly-energetic version of himself that they knew so well. “So, our mission becomes to find the last member of our party-”

“Here, Professor.” Hagrid walked in, trailed by Commander Vimes.

“Looks like I did the hard bit for you,” the commander said.

“His wife keeps swamp dragons. Beautiful creatures-”

If Snape didn't cut in, Hagrid would ramble all night, and they might never get home. “If we could all focus on the task at hand...”

That won him several looks, all of which he ignored.

“Very well, if you all would go stand over there, I'll just start putting the numbers into Hex...”

* * *

When Snape woke again, he was in the infirmary. Hagrid's snoring rattled the potion containers. Minerva McGonagall was standing over him.

“You all just vanished. I was worried about the lot of you.”

From somewhere else in the room, Dumbledore cleared his throat. “So good of you to worry, Minerva. And quite a tale it is...”

Choose The Adventure: The Bumbling Apprentice

2011-03-27T02:01:22Z

So far there's only one section of this example written. I whipped up the characters using the Risus system, which is a great little system and a quick read, though it's not necessary to know the system to read and understand this fic.

I may add more later ... I don't have a d6 handy at the moment, and I'm being too lazy to go look up an internet die roller/random number generator, so this is as far as I'm going at the moment...

Basic Situation/Premise: One day, when his master is away, bumbling apprentice Talben manages to fumble his way into trouble.

The Apprentice
Name: Talben

Description: A promising young lad that Master Wizard Alodin picked up from Yonder Village. Unfortunately, he isn't showing quite so much promise now that he’s officially an apprentice wizard.

Cliches: Bumbling Apprentice (4), Promising Kid from Yonder Village (3), Indifferent Scholar (3)

The Familiar
Name: Razorclaw

Description: As Master Alodin’s familiar, it’s Razorclaw who ends up on babysitting duty while the master’s away. However, not even the most cunning and devious familiar can manage to keep an apprentice who seems destined for trouble out of mishief.

Cliches: Snarky Familiar (4), Finicky Feline (4), Merciless Slaughterer of Stray Mice (2)

I knew we were in trouble the moment Master Alodin made the announcement: “I believe it is time for me to go on a journey.”

There’s been a lot of speculation why wizards like him go off and leave their fumble-fingered apprentices with no supervision to the minimal supervision that can be provided by us familiars. I have, of course, been sworn to utmost secrecy regarding the particulars of my master’s journeys, but I can tell you that the speculation ranges everywhere from those who think the wizards are off battling forces of unmentionable evils to those who think the wizards are more likely to be involved in some unmentionable activities themselves, ones which may or may not involve village lasses, laden tables, and/or copious amounts of ale.

He pulled out the obligatory traveling cloak (his was a wretched lime green in color, embroidered with orange and pink flowers so bright they seemed to glow), and thought to add, “I trust the two of you can stay out of trouble.”

Which goes to show that either he was being hopelessly naive, or else naively hopeful that his remark could provide enough luck, encouragement, or whatever to actually make itself come true.

Of course he had to vanish in the typical puff of smoke, leaving Talben staring stupidly at where he had been a moment ago. I was staring, too, but at Talben, and my stare was definitely much more wary than stupid.

“He’s really gone like that?” Talben asked me.

“Oh sure, act like he’s never gone on a journey before. You’ve seen him go like that. You must have watched that trick a million times before.”

And then Talben smiled. I would almost have sworn there was cunning in that smile, if I didn’t already know Talben for a foolish young man. “Yes, but he’s always given me chores before, and now he hasn’t.”

I could feel my ears flattening. What mischief was this apprentice about to get up to now?

“There is this one spell I’ve been wanting to try...”
“My sister told me I couldn’t conjure up a demon. I’m going to show her.”
“Let’s see what kind of potion we can brew up in Master Alodin’s lab.”
“I want to go down to the dockside tavern and meet the smugglers.”
“I’m going to go meet up with my... umm, someone, no one special that is... in the town.”
“I bet Master Alodin wouldn’t mind if we borrowed a few coins and took a trip to the market.”

Choose Your Own Fic: Sample One

2011-03-21T01:02:10Z

This is an incomplete work, mostly posted to show a sample of what I could possibly do for a sample of the sort of thing I could do for my choose-the-adventure offering at the help_japan community - also, a big thank you to mwestbelle, who posted the original offer of a choose-your-own adventure fic that I stumbled on while exploring the offerings in the words auction, which inspired me to make a similar (read: practically identical save for the fandoms bit) offering.

For this sample, I have selected an old trope of the modern fantasy genre - the youth who after a parent’s death goes to live with an erstwhile estranged uncle/aunt. I’ve decided to play with this a bit; I’m giving Daniel a younger sister to bring along, and only one parent has deid, but their father doesn’t feel up to supporting them both emotionally and financially at the moment on his own. Also, fair warning that this is unfinished - it serves the purpose of providing a sample of what I could possibly do with this sort of thing, but if I tried to write whole works to serve as samples with the schedule I'm on at the moment, I likely wouldn't get them posted before the auction was over.

Also, be on the lookout for another sample soon, probably using a Risus-style character, though possibly with a Burning Wheel sort of person, or possibly a fan fiction setting, depending on what sort of ideas occur to me and that I think I can get written up quick enough.

And I know that the pacing of this fic might feel a little slow - if you happen to win the auction, then we can talk about the pacing of your custom fic.

Daniel frowned out the window of the bus. The familiar identical houses of developments had given way to a jumble of woods, farmland, marsh, and houses that didn't seem to have anything in particular in common with each other except that they decidedly did not look like the developments in which he and Anna had been raised. Here was a stone building, falling apart, with a pair of goats in the yard. There was a cottage with wood shingles for siding, bristling with antennae and satellite dishes. Here was a bright purple house trimmed with gold that had a lawn so crammed with lawn ornaments it was a wonder that anyone could possibly get into or out of the house.

Anna, beside him, had fallen asleep some time before, and Daniel hadn't wanted to wake her. It would have been nice to have his sister to talk to, or to distract the bus driver, but he couldn’t make himself wake her up. Not when he was responsible for her. Not when he was the only one who would be responsible for her.

He had managed to deter the bus driver from getting too friendly by stating the facts bluntly. Their mother was dead. Their father didn’t want anything to do with them. He was sending them to live with his mother’s sister. They had never met her before. He didn’t think his mother would want them with their Aunt Kendra. They didn't get a say in it, though. It was only their lives, and the adults didn’t care what they had to say.

“You might want to wake your sister up," the bus driver said, bringing Daniel out of his own grim speculations. “We’re nearly there.”

If his mother had been alive, she would be giving him the look, waiting for him to use his manners and thank the bus driver. Since she wasn’t around to get shamed by his behavior, and since their father had abandoned them, Daniel felt no compunction to be polite to the stranger who was helping his father send them away. Instead he focused on his sister. “Anna. Anna girl, wake up.”

Anna stirred, and then she jerked upright and blinked her eyes several times before looking at Daniel. “What-”

“We’re almost there, he says.” Daniel jerked his head in the direction of the bus driver.

Immediately Anna was bouncing up and down on the seat, peering out the window, looking at their driver to ask, “Where is it? How much longer is almost there? When will we get to see it? Do we have to walk a long way? Are there cows there?”

“Up at the top of this hill. I’ll drop you off right in front of the shop so you shouldn't have a walk. I don’t know that she keeps cows, but there are some in the village that do, if you’re taking an interest.”

The shop was one of the buildings sided in natural wood, with a purple roof and purple shutters and a large garden in front. A series of signs dangled from thin chains: “Good Luck Charms. Fortunes Told. Herbal Remedies.”

“Here we are then. Need any help with your luggage?”

“No," Daniel said, though he would be wrestling with both his and Anna’s suitcases. He didn’t want help or sympathy from strangers.

“Come on, I want to meet our aunt.” As soon as the bus slid to a stop, Anna was out of her seat and at the top of the stairs that led down to the bus door.

“Wait for me. You’re supposed to stick with me.”

“Well then hurry up.”

As Daniel wrestled the suitcases off the bus, Anna waited impatiently at the end of the walkway to the store. Before they could approach, though, the store’s front door opened, and a woman dressed in jeans and a tunic emerged.

“Thank you for bringing them along," she told the bus driver, before turning her attention to Daniel and Anna. “And you’re Sarah's pair - your father sent pictures. Welcome to Greenbrook.”

How should Daniel respond?
1. Remain silent, basically ignoring her
2. Insult the name of the town
3. Respond to her, but in as few words as possible
4. Inform her that he’s only there for Anna
5. Tell her he doesn’t care if he’s welcome, he wants to be at home
6. Inform her that his mother wouldn’t want them staying with Kendra if she was still alive

“Greenbrook?” Daniel said, unable to help himself from sneering slightly. “Like the brook's so polluted and stuff it’s green?”

The woman just looked at him, her expression not showing any of what she thought. Anna was the one who tugged at him. “Danny...”

He had to remember that his little sister didn’t like that tone. She didn’t like it, and he was the only one she had left. “I’m not upset with you, Anna," he tried, which at least got her to relax slightly, though she looked from Danny to the woman and back again.

“Anna is such a lovely name - I’m glad my sister chose it for you." Kendra smiled when she looked at Daniels’ little sister. “Would you like to come in and see my shop and home?”

“Can we, Danny?”

Daniel shrugged. “Not like we’ve got a choice.”

“There is that," the woman said, “Though if you’d like I could call for someone to put your things away and tend the shop and we could walk to the village for an ice cream.”

Daniel fixed one of his nastier looks on her. “Our mother is dead, our father abandoned us, and you want to take us for ice cream.”

“Your father, much as it may not seem so at the moment, did not abandon you. And I know ice cream won’t solve anything, but sometimes it’s one of those things that you feel better for having anyway.”

So what shall Daniel do?
1. Get his stuff and stomp into the shop
2. Decide it might not be such a bad idea to test out his new guardian and see if she really will follow through and get them some ice cream
3. Tell Anna to go in with their aunt; he’s going to sit outside for a while
4. Tell his aunt to call the other person and have the other person bring them for ice cream
5. Demand to go to the village for pizza instead
6. Continue the debate by insisting that yes, his father did abandon them, and he doesn’t want to hear another word about it.

“Fine, we’ll go for the ice cream," Daniel said, letting the bags fall to the grass beside the walk.

Anna was looking at him like she couldn’t believe he was acting like he was, like she didn’t know what to do.

The woman nodded to Daniel. “Of course... Anna, would you like to get ice cream with us, or would you like to stay with Jerome and tour the shop?”

Anna at least was loyal, immediately grabbing one of Daniel’s hands in both of her own. “I wanna stay with Danny.”

“Very well then. A moment." Their new guardian went to the door of the shop and called in, “Jerome? I’m taking the kids down the way for ice cream, if you’d be so kind as to bring their bags in.”

A youth in his late teens appeared, slouching somewhat as he leaned in the doorway and looked over Daniel and Anna. Daniel looked him over, too. He looked like he had dressed cool, only shabby enough not to quite fit into the category of cool.

“You do realize you’ve already got a couple gallons in the freezer for them?” Jerome’s tone was more amused than anything.

“Still, it’s not quite the same as going to the ice cream parlor and getting it fresh.”

Jerome grinned. “You’re just looking for an excuse to get out of work.”

“Sure, sure. Guilty as charged. You mind?”

“Not at all, just so long as it’s clear that you’re being completely lazy.”

Daniel had watched them banter, trying not to be interested - but he’d never seen a kid teasing with a grown-up like Jerome and his aunt did. Adults always had the power, and hated the kids trying to get it. When kids talked back, there was usually some kind of consequence - detention or extra homework from teachers, a wallop or extra chores or getting sent to your room without dinner from parents. But this woman and kid teased back and forth like it happened every day.

Jerome stopped leaning on the door and came up to them. He held out a hand to Daniel as though they were both grown-ups meeting each other for the first time. “Hallo. I’m Jerome, and I work for your aunt when she needs an extra pair of hands around her store."

Should Daniel:

1. Act the part of an adult, shake Jerome’s hand, and introduce himself and Anna
2. Introduce himself and Anna, but shove his hands into his pockets
3. Ignore Jerome and stay silent
4. Ignore Jerome and ask his aunt what’s taking so long
5. Ask Jerome whether he’s in a gang
6. Tell Jerome not to bother with him, that Anna’s the friendly one

List of Fics

2011-03-13T03:23:00Z

Here's a list of some of the fics I've written:

Choose-Your-Own Fic Samples

These are unfinished bits of fiction that I've written to serve as samples of what a choose-your-own fic written by me might look like for those who are interested in bidding on my offering in the help_japan community. If you bid on my offering, I'm willing to go from whatever point of these fics, or work on another fic using whichever premise you like (provided it's one that I feel I can write at least somewhat decently for, of course!)

Sample One - Two kids going to live with their estranged aunt after their mother's death
The Bumbling Apprentice - When Master Alodin goes on a journey, he leaves his familiar in charge of bumbling apprentice Talben. What mischief could ensue?

Ace Attorney

Aroma of Old Books and Coffee - Diego/Mia; Diego interrupts Mia's research and they get a bit frisky. (~720 words)
Bonding - Iris comes to visit Maya and Pearl, and they have some fluffy bonding time. (~4,010 words)
Confessions - Edgey, Larry. Larry (Laurice) Butz has a bit of a confession and needs some advice, and goes to his friend Miles Edgeworth for help. (~790 words)
A Day in the City - Misty, Mia, Maya (and a brief Diego cameo). Misty Fey takes her little girls for a day in the city. (~1,070 words)
Dealing With Bullies - Franziska/Adrian, OC. Franziska and Adrian deal with their adopted daughter getting bullied. (~4650 words)
Homecoming 0 Phoenix/Miles, Trucy, Apollo, Maya, Pearl, Pess. Miles Edgeworth returns home from Europe and is welcomed home, family fluff style. (~1380 words)
Parenthood - Ron/Desiree. Ron and Desi reassure each other as they consider their newborn. (~470 words)
Phoenix and the Beast - Phoenix/Edgworth, ensemble. A re-envisioning of Disney's "Beauty and the Beast" using the Ace Attorney cast. (~16,360 words) (Two parts)
Trucy and the Surprise Sibling - Phoenix/Maya, Trucy, OC. Trucy panics when she discovers she's a (surprise!) big sister. (~1,290 words)

The Dark is Rising

Prince of Sheep - Bran/Barney. Barney's sketching leads him to Wales, and to a pale boy who jokingly refers to himself as "a prince of sheep." (~2,880 words)

Harry Potter

Belonging - During staff reviews, Albus Dumbledore speculates on Severus Snape. (~490 words)
A Deadly Addiction - Barty Crouch Jr's murder of his father. (~540 words)
Drabble: All Right - Remus, Sirius, James, Peter. (100 words)
Drabble: Distraction Technique - Remus/Sirius, Snape. (100 words)
Drabble: A Subtle Loss - Sirius, James, Peter; Sirius's mother. (100 words)
Drabbles - Two drabbles focusing on Luna Lovegood. (100 words each)
From the Writings of Rowena Ravenclaw - Rowena waxes philosophical about the relationships among the four founders of Hogwarts. (~390 words)
Hidden Wealth - Professor Sprout gives the first year Hufflepuffs their first Herbology lesson. (~830 words)
Insatiable - Quirrell goes hunting. (~810 words)
Justification - Dumbledore, McGonagall, Trelawney. Dumbledore defends his decision to keep Trelawney on his staff. (~320 words)
The Love of Power - A glimpse into the mind of Dolores Umbridge. (~190 words)
Making Lists - Remus, McGonagall, Dumbledore, Snape. The Hogwarts staff meeting before the beginning of the PoA school year, from McGonagall's point of view. (~1,630 words)
Of Snape's Choice - Snape, Dumbledore. A discussion between them after Snape has made a certain vow; written before the last book came out. (~580 words)
Reflected Glory - A bit about Professor Slughorn's personality. (~380 words)
Unacceptable Gilderoy Lockhart, Sprout, McGonagall. Lockhart finds the front page of his paper unacceptable. (~230 words)

Fan Fiction Experience/Possibilities

2011-01-29T03:14:39Z

In case anyone's interested in what I might be experienced with/what I might be talked into writing. Of course, just because it's not here doesn't mean I would never write it. I enjoy a bit of a challenge sometimes, and it's good for me to push my comfort level

Harry Potter

* I did a few fics focusing on Hogwarts professors for the Harry Potter 10x10 community. I'm particularly fond of Minerva McGonagall and Remus Lupin.
* I think there's a lot of potential with the Founders too, since we don't really know too much about them.
* The Mauraders era also has a lot of potential... though I've read and loved "The Shoebox Project" and that has the Mauraders era pretty well in hand

Ace Attorney

* I've got a fair few of these under my belt thanks to the PW Kink Meme, which is awesome because it includes a lot of gen requests and it's fun to write fluff and such

The Dark is Rising

* Mostly I've written these for "fic on demand." Certainly an underrepresented fandom.

NCIS

* I've toyed around with ideas for fics, though I don't have any I consider ready for public consumption as of the time I'm typing this entry.

Tortall

* I think at this point I've read all the Tortall books, and I love Tamora Pierce's writing. I just haven't gotten around to writing any fan fiction for the yet.

Circle of Magic

* And I've read most if not all of these as well. The only piece of Circle fan fiction I've written is not posted on this journal because it was pretty much just a school assignment.

Disney Movies

* I think I've seen most of them at least once. And if not, I can probably manage to watch whichever movie it is somehow. My favorites are "Beauty and the Beast" and "Mulan", though I think "Princess and the Frog" is going to work its way up there when I have a chance to watch it again.

Discworld

* My current preference for books to read, because they're just fun. I haven't read all of the books (yet), but I've thoroughly enjoyed those I have read. Of course, I'm not sure I could manage to match Pratchett's mastery of humor blended with philosophy in whichever fics I might write for the series...

Random Literature

These are a few books with which I'm at least passingly familiar:
* A Little Princess
* Secret Garden
* Little Lord Fauntleroy
* Lloyd Alexander's "Chronicles of Prydain"

Daria

* I haven't actually watched the show in ages, but I might remember enough about it that I could pull off a reasonable fic, especially if I do a bit of research

Fairy Tales

* It can be fun to retell/re-envision fairy tales. I love Gail Carson Levine's Ella Enchanted, for example.

Gilmore Girls

* I think I've probably watched most of the episodes at one point or another. The characters are fun and have a lot of potential for ficcage.

King's Quest

* An awesome series of computer games by Sierra.
* I don't think I've seen much fic at all for them. I really should get around to writing some...

Things I Enjoy But Won't Fic For

* I happen to know that George RR Martin isn't a big fan of people writing fan fiction of his characters, so even though I enjoy his work and am currently re-reading "A Song of Ice and Fire," I'm not planning any GRRM fics.
* And the same goes for Anne McCaffrey's books, even though there was a time I was quite into the Harpers of Pern. I heard a rumor that McCaffrey's eased up on her anti-fanfic stance, so I'm willing to attempt Pernese fan fiction, though I might have to brush up on a few of the characters

... I have the feeling there might be things I could work with that I'm forgetting to mention. If there's anything you want to know whether I'm familiar with (or suggest I should become familiar with), feel free to comment.

Filk: Tales of Harry

2011-01-26T02:19:45Z

Title: Tales of Harry
Fandom: Harry Potter
Description: Filk to the tune of "We Three Kings"

----------

Tales of Harry

-to the tune of “We Three Kings,” traditional carol

'Twas a night both dark and stormy
Harry learned of wizardry
Left the Dursleys, left with Hagrid
So he a wizard could be

CHORUS:
Oh....
Tales of Harry, brave and true
JK Rowling tells to you
All you have to do is read them
You can share in them too

Chorus

Sorted into Gryffindor
Great adventures are in store
And watching from the staff table
Was Albus Dumbledore

Chorus

Harry needs all his loyal friends
As he works to serve Dumbledore's ends
Love and sacrifice and caring
Harry loves those he defends

Chorus

Aroma of Old Books and Coffee

2011-01-26T02:11:40Z

Title: Aroma of Old Books and Coffee
Fandom: Ace Attorney
Characters: Mia/Diego
Summary: Diego makes it difficult for Mia to get her research done.
Notes: Written for the following request on the Kink Meme:

So this anon has worked at a library for the past few years and enjoys it very much. While shelf reading the non-fiction stacks at work today, a simple idea dawned upon me that I thought best to request of the lovely kink meme.

This anon would love to see two Phoenix Wright characters getting frisky in the secluded, back corner stacks. It would be lovely to have one genuinely attempting to find a book, while the other is making the firsts task quite difficult.

Klavier/Ema is this anon’s absolute favorite pairing, but Diego/Mia and Phoenix/Edgeworth are very close seconds. C’mon anon, make me blush at work tomorrow when I’ve got to look at those stacks again! <3
----------

Mia glanced from the scribbled sheet of paper in her hand to the spines of the books. “I know it has to be around here somewhere,” she muttered to herself, in a tone low enough that it shouldn't carry and disturb the other patrons. She reached for a volume with an obscured call number that looked like it had some potential.

“Of course it does, kitten.” Diego's unexpected voice from behind her made her jump slightly, knocking the book to the floor.

She spun to face him, hands on hips, giving him the best look she knew how – especially when she realized he was carrying a coffee cup in one hand. “Diego Armando, you are not supposed to sneak up on people at the library. Or have beverages in here.”

“But it's so much fun.” He stepped closer, closing the distance between them, making her back up into the shelves until she could feel the books pressed at her back, unyielding, and the warmth of Diego's body, which was almost touching hers.

“Diego, I'm trying to do research here.” Why wouldn't her voice remain level, calm? Why did it have to give in so easily to this man?

“Even the best lawyers take study breaks.” Dimly she was aware of him reaching past her to set his coffee on the shelf – wasn't that dangerous? But he liked to live dangerously, or on the edge of danger, and that could be so hard to resist – and then he was leaning forward, and the smell of him mingled with the smell of coffee and of old books, sending a thrill through her. He claimed her mouth with his, and she could taste his coffee – sweeter than he usually drank it, closer to her preferred blend, and she couldn't get enough of it, or of the firm body that pressed her further back against the shelves. Her hands were on his back, caressing it through the layers of vest and shirt.

His hands skimmed down her sides, making her shudder, and he thrust forward with his hips, driving her into the wall of books at her back. Her gasp of pleasure was muffled against his lips, and he murmured, “Shh, kitten, we've got to do this one quiet or we'll get in trouble.”

Mia nodded, gasping for breath as some distant part of her wondered how Diego could still seem so collected and in control when she herself was almost writhing. Or perhaps he wasn't as in control as he might have liked her to think, because the next moment he was devouring her mouth once more and his hands were fumbling at her belt, sending sparks shooting through her body.

Mia let her hands fall from caressing Diego's shoulders to his waist, where she began fumbling with his belt – and if one hand slipped slightly lower to feel how hard he was getting, that could hardly be considered her fault, now, could it? Diego bucked against the contact, pinning her more firmly against the shelving, and suddenly their belts were undone and he was lifting her into position, the world all him and the mingled aroma of coffee and old books.

*

Later that day, as she sat across from Diego in his favorite coffee shop, Mia could not help but roll her eyes at him. “You know, that's the third library you've gotten us banned from.”

And there was that smile, the one that reminded her of a lion after it had eaten, full of power and content. “But it was worth it, wasn't it, kitten?”

Maybe another woman would have scolded him – maybe she herself would have scolded another man. But this was Diego, and his smile called up one to answer it on Mia's own face. “Yes, I guess it was.” Then she leaned forward. “Next time, though, you're the one in charge of getting the research, because if I get banned from any more local libraries it's going to be too much of a trip to get any books.”

“Or we could just venture afield together. I've always wanted to check out some other libraries – I wonder if there's a record for how many libraries one has been banned from?”

“I'm not sure,” Mia said, and then she gave his a coy look. “I suppose we'll have to venture afield and look it up.”

Trucy and the Surprise Sibling

2011-01-26T02:06:04Z

Title: Trucy and the Suprise Sibling
Fandom: Ace Attorney
Characters: Phoenix, Maya, Trucy, OC
Summary: Trucy panics when she discovers she's (surprise!) a big sister.
Notes: Written for the following request on the Kink Meme:

Takes place post GS4; Maya comes to visit Phoenix and introduces him to the child he didn't know they had.

Trucy's POV - she can be happy to have a sibling, or extremely jealous, or whatever anon wants - it's up to you.
----------

Usually I go to my Daddy when I have a problem, especially when it's partly with him. But I'd only just found out what he'd been keeping from me, and he was in such a good mood about his friend Mystic Maya coming to visit that I didn't want to ruin it - I guess I'm kind of a softy sometimes.

Daddy told me Mystic Maya and I were going to love each other. I wasn't totally sure about that, but I'd already decided that if I didn't like her I could pretend I did for as long as she was visiting, because she was going to have to go back to that village of spirit mediums anyway.

My first impression of her was that she had a very loud voice, because I heard her yelling from the lobby. "Niiiiick!" No one called my Daddy Nick that I knew of; he was Mr. Wright or Phoenix.

I got to the lobby in time to see her jump on my daddy, looking almost like a giant purple moth attacking him with all her robes fluttering. "Nick! It's been way too long! And what's going on with this place? Don't you know anything about cleaning anything but toilets?"

That made Daddy chuckle, the one that gets on Polly's nerves because it means he doesn't get all flustered like Polly does, and like Daddy used to. "It's homey this way," he told her.

Then Mystic Maya noticed me. "Nick! Is that your daughter that you wrote to me about?"

Daddy followed her gaze. "That's my Trucy," he told her.

"Oh my gosh, Trucy, it's so good to finally meet you." She jumped forward and grabbed my hand, bouncing as much as I usually do. It's weird, seeing your own habits in someone else you've never met before, especially someone who's your daddy's friend. "I love the cape, and the hat. Nick says you're a really good magician, too."

I couldn't help but grin at that. "I do the best I can."

"Hey, has Nick been feeding you? Because I know sometimes he can be forgetful and not remember that a girl's got an appetite..."

She really did know my daddy. "I keep him in line," I told her. "I do all the business things. All daddy has to do is play the piano and poker, and sometimes sign things because I'm not old enough to do that yet."

"Good! I'm glad Nick's got someone like you taking care of him. And you seem like you can take care of yourself."

"Pretty much. And Polly, too."

"Polly? You mean you took that parrot? Where is it?"

"Not Polly the parrot," Daddy said. "Polly's what she calls Apollo - I believe I wrote to you about him, too?"

"Oh, that's right - the one around here who still actually has his lawyer badge."

"I could get mine back if I wanted."

I spoke up. "It's just that law's such a boring profession. It doesn't sound good on a flashy card. Though I guess it was kind of fun, helping Polly in the court."

"I used to help Nick in court all the time," Mystic Maya told me. "Oh, before I forget, there's someone both of you should meet." She turned back towards the door, and called, "Melia? Come out and meet Mr. Nick and Trucy."

One of the most adorable little faces I'd ever seen peeked around the corner. Okay, so maybe I say that about every kid, the most adorable. But this one - she had eyes just like my daddy's, which looked totally different in an innocent little kid's face than in his face. And she was wearing robes like Mystic Maya, and had her hair done in the same way.

"Nick, this is our daughter, Melia. Which would make her your little sister, Trucy!"

Two days ago I would have been thrilled to have a brother or sister. Two days ago I would have been jumping up and down with joy, planning out a routine so she could be my charming assistant. Now, though, all I could see was the video from the Jurist system, my Uncle Valant telling me that he'd framed my other daddy so he could get the tricks.

I turned and ran out of the room before I could say something stupid in front of everyone. I didn't go far, just to my room, where I could look at my picture of Troupe Gramarye and wonder if they'd ever really been as happy as they looked in that picture.

Daddy stuck his head around the door. "Trucy?"

"What?" I realized I was crying. I hated people to see me crying, even my Daddy. Especially my Daddy. I had to be strong for him, because who else was going to keep things together around here?

"Trucy, what's the matter?"

I could have tried lying to him, could have tried telling him everything was fine, but he could see through people if they tried to lie. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?" I snapped at him instead.

"Trucy, I didn't know Maya and I had a child until just now."

"Not about that - about my other daddy, and Uncle Valant."

"What about them?"

"About how they fought and ruined everything. How can I have a sister when all we'll do is fight and ruin everything?"

Daddy blinked, and then he came in and sat next to me on the bed, peeking at the picture I held. "Do you remember me telling you about Mia?"

"Yes."

"She was Maya's big sister."

"That's different. They're spirit mediums, the Feys, so they have to be in cosmic harmony or something, and get forbidden from fighting."

"Objection." He said it soft and gentle, which was weird after hearing the word so many times in Polly's Chords of Steel. "Actually, two of them. First, even if they did need to be in cosmic harmony, you're forgetting that your new little sister is a Fey."

Oh. That was right, she was. "But I'm still a Gramarye, and it's Gramaryes that were fighting."

"Which brings me to my second objection, because the Feys are not a universally harmonious family. Mia's mother and aunt fought bitterly about the title of Kurain Master, and when Mia saw this she decided that she was not going to fight with her little sister that way, and so she became a lawyer instead of Kurain Master and they got to be really close."

"So you think I can break the Gramarye curse, then?"

Daddy chuckled. "I think you can do just about anything you want to, Trucy." Then he got serious. "You'll always be my first daughter, Trucy. But I do have a responsibility to Melia now."

That made me laugh. "Daddy, you can't be responsible for an ant farm," I told him. "Which means that I'm responsible for Melia. I can clear off some floor for a sleeping bag for now, and it'll be like a camp-out, but she's going to need her own bed. She can share my room, she's my sister after all. And she's going to need some good assistant's clothes... except maybe that robe would work, we could do a spirit-channeling and magic doube act. And I've got to give her the tour - come on, Daddy, we can't just stay up here all day being rude to your guests. I bet they're hungry; we should take them out to Mr. Eldoon's noodle stand."

Daddy chuckled as he followed me out of the room and back to the rest of his - no, our - family. I let myself have a bit of extra bounce in my step. I was a big sister, and I was going to be the bestest big sister ever!

A Day in the City

2011-01-26T02:02:28Z

Title: A Day in the City
Fandom: Ace Attorney
Characters: Misty, Mia, Maya, Diego
Summary: Misty Fey takes her little girls for a day in the city.
Notes: Written for the following request on the Kink Meme:

Misty Fey interacting with her daughters when they're little. <3
----------

“Now remember, Maya, when we go to the city you have to always be holding my hand or Mother's hand.”

“Okay.”

“No running off.”

“Okay, Mia.”

Misty Fey smiled as she watched Mia lecturing Maya with all the gravity of her twelve whole years of experience, as Maya danced from foot to foot, impatient to be doing something. “What did your sister tell you, Maya?” Even though Mia had done an excellent job of outlining the rules, it didn't hurt to check that they had connected in Maya's mind.

“Don't run off and hold hands. Can we go?”

“Very well. We'll take the train, I believe.”

“You'll like the train, Maya. You can look out the window and see the trees flying past.”

“They fly?” Maya hopped on one foot and spread her arms as though they were wings, flapping them with a degree of enthusiasm Misty rarely witnessed outside her youngest daughter. “I wanna fly, Mia!”

“I don't think that's something we've learned to do with the Kurain technique, yet,” Mia said, glancing to Misty for confirmation. Then, before Maya could get too disappointed, she had swooped in and picked her sister up under the arms, and swung Maya around until she was staggering and they were both giggling.

“That's like flying,” Maya gasped.

“Like flying indeed,” Misty agreed. “Perhaps if you get bored looking out the window of the train, I'll tell you a story about another little girl who liked to fly.”

But Maya did not get bored on the train. She spent the whole trip kneeling on her seat, nose pressed to the glass, wide eyes staring at the world zooming past outside the window, reminding her mother somewhat of a puppy with its nose against a pet shop window.

“That was the best,” Maya informed her mother and sister as they disembarked the train. Mia had gone to take Maya's hand before the train had finished grinding to a stop, and she was the one who helped Maya navigate off the train as Misty followed them, keeping her eyes on both of them.

“I've got to drop some papers off, and then I'll take you both to lunch. There's a place nearby that I think you'll both really like.”

“Sounds great, Mom,” Mia said.

Maya wasn't paying Misty quite so much attention; she was focused on watching all the different kinds of people. Mia tugged her hand to get her to come along, and Maya obediently followed her sister, though she kept looking around. Misty led them to the office where she had met with the lawyers, and handed the envelope full of completed forms to the young assistant.

“Thanks, Mr. G. will appreciate this.” The youth glanced beyond her, to where her daughters stood. “Hey kitten.”

Mia frowned. “I am not a kitten, and it is improper to refer to the daughter of the Master of Kurain channeling as a kitten unless she wants you to call her that. And I don't.”

Maya looked up at her sister, then she glared at the young man and made a hissing sound.

“You'd best be careful,” Misty advised him. “Even kittens have claws.”

“So I see. Thanks for the warning, Mama Cat.” The boy bowed to them, and Mia tossed her hair and led Maya towards the door.

Misty led them to the burger place she had found, and slid into the booth opposite her girls. Maya climbed in first, and then Mia sat between her sister and the opening of the booth, providing a buffer between Maya Fey and the rest of the world.

“I'm glad to see you're able to stick up for yourself around young gentlemen,” Misty told Mia.

“That boy? He thought he was special, but I didn't see anything so special about him. And no one should call me or Maya anything unless we say it's okay.”

“Good for you. You're a strong young woman, and that's important. I'm proud of you, Mia. Sometimes I wonder if I tell you that enough.”

“I proud of Mia,” Maya announced.

“And I'm proud of you,” Mia told her. “And don't worry, Mom, I know you're proud of me. And Maya.”

“Yes, Maya's been doing very well on her first big trip to the city.”

The waiter brought them burgers. Maya poked at hers at first, frowning, but when she saw her mother and sister eating them she took a bite. “Yummy!”

“Swallow before you speak, please, Maya,” Misty instructed.

“Sor-” Maya began, and then she stopped herself and swallowed before saying, “Sorry.”

“That's my girl.”

“How do you like the city so far, Maya?” Mia asked.

“I like it. It's lots of fun and people. We should come back lots and lots.”

“Lots and lots, huh?” Mia glanced at their mother, one of those looks that Misty was learning to recognize as her thinking about saying something that her mother might not entirely like. “I was thinking maybe I would live in the city when I got bigger. For a while, anyway.”

“Could I come, too?”

“Someone would have to stay with Mother in the village and learn to be the Master of Kurain. But you could visit me a lot, and I could visit you.”

“I'd like to visit you in the city. But you shouldn't leave me.”

“It wouldn't be for a few years, anyway. But we can't both be Master, and I think you'd do better at it.”

Misty cleared her throat. “Mia's right, Maya. It wouldn't be for a few years, because she's much too young to go off and leave us now – and we'd miss her too much.” Misty paused a moment to smile at both her daughters. “Besides, I want both of you to remember that it's important, Master or not, to spend time away from the city and all the people so that you can connect with the spirit world, or else you'll have trouble with channeling.”

“Yes, Mother,” the girls chorused, for once doing an impersonation of a pair of angels.

“Now if you hurry up and eat those burgers we might have time to buy some ice cream before we have to catch the train back to Kurain.”

When they finally were on the train back, Maya fell fast asleep, curled against Mia's side. Misty beamed at her daughters, glad to know they were so close, glad to know there would always be someone besides her to look after her little Maya.

Parenthood

2011-01-26T01:59:12Z

Title: Parenthood
Fandom: Ace Attorney
Characters: Ron/Desiree
Summary: Ron and Desi reassure each other as they consider their newborn
Notes: Written for the following request on the Kink Meme:

How about some parentfic?
Two characters spend a day with their newborn child. Should be mainly fluffy. Any pairing you like.
----------

The first time Ronnie held his son, he was terrified. Here was this creature, this innocent and pure being he had created with Desi, who depended utterly on them for survival. And worse, Desi was scared.

He had never thought to see his love, the woman who easily took her life in her hands without a second thought as she flew around hairpin turns at death-defying speeds on her motorcycle, scared of anything. And yet she was, utterly terrified, so much so that she actually shook as the new baby was placed into her arms.

"I'll take care of you." Ron tried to sound brave, tried to sound like the strong provider Desi thought he was, rather than the goofball so many other people saw him for. "Both of you. It's going to be all right."

And that made Desi smile at him and stop trembling quite so much. "You're lucky you have Ronnie for a daddy," she told Raoul, who gurgled a bit. "I don't know what to do with you when you're so small." She looked at Ron, then, and held out the baby to him, a bit awkwardly.

Even though he had meant not to take the baby, not to hold his precious son in case he managed to mess up like he did so often other times, Ron took the precious bundle. "Hey, little guy." Somehow his arms seemed to know how to curve, and Raoul snuggled closer to his chest and made a sort of cooing, gurgling sound. "Desi, I think he likes me!"

"Of course he likes you. You're you. You're brave, and funny, and the sort of guy kids like - he's going to be scared of me, isn't he, Ronnie?"

Ron looked at Desiree, and frowned at the expression of uncertainty he saw there. No, that did not suit his Desi at all. He settled himself at the edge of her bed, still holding their son. "He's not going to be scared of you, because you're his mother. He's going to love you, Desi. And when he gets to be a little bit older, you're going to be the coolest mother at his school, because how many other kids' mothers ride motorcycles? All the other boys are going to be jealous."

Desi relaxed, even smiled a bit. "That'll be nice. I guess he should know he's got a superhero for a dad, too. You think we should let him tell the other kids, or make him keep it a super-secret?"

"I... I don't know." Ronnie glanced down at Raoul, and saw his son was drifting off to sleep. "I guess we've got time to decide, though."

Desi snuggled up to him, reached out a tentative finger, and brushed Raoul's cheek with the rare gentleness she shared only with the people she trusted most. "I guess we do," she said.

Phoenix and the Beast (Part 2/2)

2011-01-26T01:50:44Z

Title: Phoenix and the Beast (Part 2/2)
Fandom: Ace Attorney
Characters: Phoenix Wright/Miles Edgeworth, Mia Fey, Gumshoe/Maggey, Franziska, Dahlia, Sister Bikini, Pess, Pearl, Maya, Iris,
Summary: A retelling of Disney's "Beauty and the Beast" using characters from Ace Attorney
Notes: Written for the following request on the Kink Meme:

It must be done:
Beauty and the Beast
Phoenix Wright style.
Phoenix has got to be "Belle"
Other characters are up to author.
Gaston, Mrs. Pott, Lumiere, anon can even add original inanimate turned animate objects if need be.
----------

Phoenix had to admit that some part of him was awed by the sheer amount of information Gumshoe seemed to be able to produce about the precise methods of constructing each last corner of every last room, but while the volume might be of interest, the specifics of engineering were not particularly fascinating to a man whose studies had been in the liberal arts and law, and Phoenix had to struggle to appear interested while zoning out for most of the lecture.

“...and those stairs, pal, lead to the west wing.”

Phoenix almost missed the candle woman's surreptitious use of her flame to whip Gumshoe, but the words “west wing” had caught his attention. That was the one place I was told not to go... I wonder what he could be hiding...

Before he quite realized what he was doing, Phoenix had taken a step in the direction of the forbidden staircase, only to be halted by the pain of flame on his ankle. “Owwww! Hey!”

“You were forbidden from going there, foolish fool.”

“Ummm... hey pal, you like law books, right? How about we take a trip to the library?”

The library... I would like to know what kind of books that beast might have, and it might help me learn something about him. “Sure. Fine. That sounds great.”

Only when the pair of them went walking ahead of him, so confident that the suggestion had utterly won Phoenix over to their way of seeing things that they did not bother to look back and see that he was following them, did Phoenix recognize the opportunity. The library wasn't off-limits; he could ask them to bring him another time. But this might be his one chance to slip out from under their, er, Franziska's watchful eyes. I bet there are some valuable clues in that wing...

Once he was safely in the depths of the forbidden wing, well away from the threat of Franziska's whippings, he began to wonder if there really would be anything useful in here. Does anyone ever clean in here? Why is it so dusty?

Of course the dust did little to stop him, Phoenix being the curious defense-attorney-in-training that he was, and he poked and prodded at old boxes and furniture until he found something of interest. A painting? But why is it shredded like this? Gingerly, he took hold of several of the strips, easing them back into their places, and caught his breath at the rather melancholy face that now stared out of the canvas. E-edgeworth?

Before the meaning of the painting could truly sink in, a mysterious glow caught his eye, and he found himself inexplicably drawn to a glowing red rose further on in the room. Slowly he moved towards it, trying to remember if he had ever seen it before, ever seen anything like it before. Probably he should leave it alone; obviously it was supposed to be protected, otherwise it wouldn't be hidden under glass, right? But he couldn't resist its lure; there was a reason he had been drawn to the arts and a reason he had been drawn to Dahlia that had little to do with common sense and all to do with a love of aesthetics, as well as a touch too much curiosity at times.

Trying to calm the trembling of his fingertips, he touched the protective globe, began to lift it to get a better look at the fragile and lovely rose beneath...

Suddenly the glass was ripped from his fingertips, brought down fiercely and decisively back to its protective place, and he found himself staring into one of the most frightening faces he had ever seen in his entire life, and that included the faces of a handful of hardened criminals. “Why did you come here?” the Beast asked him, in a tone so low that Phoenix almost didn't catch it, the low tone with a hint of growl more terrifying than any roar.

“I-I didn't mean any harm,” Phoenix managed to stammer, and he meant to go on and tell the Beast how much he admired the rose – was it magenta? - and perhaps ask about the picture of the young man who looked vaguely like the Miles Edgeworth he had been seeking since he'd been taken away, but the Beast was already whispering again.

With each word the whisper grew louder. “Do you realize what you could have done?” The last word came as a howl, a beast's howl, filled with fear and anguish and pain.

“I-”

“Get out!”

The very force of the voice seemed to knock Phoenix stumbling backwards. “I-”

“GET OUT!”

When the Beast swung a paw at Phoenix, he decided now was probably not the best time to ask his questions after all, though by the time he had decided that in his head his body had already apparently made the decision for him and was scrambling down the front stairs and to the front door. And out the front door. He wasn't sure where he was going – getting out, yes, away from those teeth and those paws. Towards home and Mia, perhaps, or would the beast come hunting him? He was already in the saddle, galloping their horse (poor Mia hadn't even gotten to take the horse, how was she supposed to get around without it?) away from the Beast and everything to do with him.

Suddenly the horse reared and whinnied, a high whinny, full of primal fear, and Phoenix was suddenly on the ground, surrounded by the sound of snarling wolves. Quickly he scrambled to his feet, out from under the danger of sharp hooves, and snatched a branch from the ground. The horse was already fighting back against the encircling pack, sharp hooves connecting with the mangy sides of the beasts, head swinging back and forth like some kind of immense club. One of the wolves leapt at Phoenix's throat; he just managed to bring the branch up to knock the beast back, though the impact sent a painful jolt all down his arm. I don't want to die, Phoenix thought. Not here, alone, surrounded by wolves. Not before I know what that picture meant, what happened to Edgeworth...

And suddenly a roar more terrifying than any wolf could manage seemed to shake the clearing, and there was the Beast, leaping to the middle of the fray, swinging mighty paws that cuffed the adult wolves and sent them flying as though they were mere pups. The entire pack leapt on him as one; he bellowed in pain and rage and shook them off, beating them soundly each time they leapt back towards him, until finally the pack slunk off in defeat.

Phoenix opened his mouth to thank the Beast, perhaps to apologize for going in the forbidden wing, but the Beast suddenly slumped over onto the snow. “No,” Phoenix gasped, already bounding to the side of the – creature? man? - who had saved him. “D-don't die, not after saving me, not like this...”

His hands roamed over Beast's fur, seeking injuries, and he could feel the heaving of Beast's body with each deep breath; at least he wasn't dead yet. Most of the wounds seemed to be shallow, Beast's skin protected by his layers of thick winter fur, but the gash on his arm seemed particularly deep, and Phoenix undid Beast's cloak so he could tie it around the wound tightly.

That done, Phoenix took a moment to breathe and realize they were still relatively in the open, where the wolves could easily return if they happened to realize that the more fearsome of the group was badly injured and unable to fight. The stupid horse had gotten its reigns tangled, but that meant it hadn't been able to run off, and now Phoenix looked around for something he could use to bind Beast to the horse's back. There wasn't much, nor was there time to look for something useful, so Phoenix just struggled to lift the Beast into the saddle. It wasn't easy, especially as at first the horse was still spooked and shifted away every time Phoenix attempted to heft the Beast, and the Beast was much heavier than anything Phoenix had attempted to lift onto a horse before, but when the horse settled somewhat and the Beast half-roused, enough at least to twitch in helpful directions if not carry on a coherent conversation or lift himself, Phoenix finally managed.

The walk back home – was the castle home, now, already, to him? Part of Phoenix, the part that was coherent enough to think about such things and wasn't worried about wolves or the injured Master of the castle or the snow getting into his boots, was disconcerted to find such an abrupt change of perception, but of course he lack the luxury of mulling on such matters. Anyway, the walk back to the castle (whether or not it was home to Phoenix, though probably Beast considered it home) seemed one of the longest walks in his life. Occasionally the Beast would make a low, whimpering sound, and Phoenix would reach up and stroke the fur on his good shoulder, away from the gashes of wolves' teeth, and murmur soothing things at him. Who knew a Beast would need comforting?

By the time they reached the stable yard, the Beast was beginning to come to consciousness, and with Phoenix's shoulder as a brace managed to make it to his great chair before the fire.

“Bikini, please, some hot water for this?”

As the teapot obediently filled herself and waddled to a place by the fire, she said something about freezing waterfalls and blocks of ice.

“No, I need it to be warm. To get rid of bad things that might have gotten in the wound, so he doesn't take sick.” Not that it had ever helped Phoenix, but probably this Beast was made of something stronger, something that didn't give in to the common cold and cause weeks of sheer agony.

After soaking a clean cloth in the scalding water, Phoenix dabbed at the wound – or attempted to, anyway, as, at the first contact of cloth to wound, the Beast roared and yanked his arm away.

“Hold still,” Phoenix scolded, holding out his hand, staring at the injury. Honestly, how he can manage to fight like a demon against that wolf pack and then be afraid of a bit of hot water is beyond me...

“Objection! That hurts!”

Court games, huh? Phoenix knew how to play those (or, at least, he knew how to play them with Mia, and theoretically therefore knew how to play with other people who weren't his mentor and helping him along. But he wasn't a drama student for nothing, and figured that what he couldn't figure out on his own he could fake reasonably well.) “Objection! If you hadn't gotten yourself gashed...”

“Objection! I would not be injured if you hadn't run away!”

“Objection! I wouldn't have run if you hadn't scared me half to death back there!”

“Objection! I wouldn't have had to scare you if you hadn't been invading areas in which you were specifically instructed not to trespass!”

“Objection!” Okay, Wright, you yelled objection, now what? Is there anything else you can say? “Erm, actually, not so much objection as, um, thankyouforsavingmylife.”

His shy glance met startled gray eyes that blinked at him. Then, “Do not make a habit of running off into the woods and getting yourself nearly eaten by wolves.”

“I won't,” Phoenix assured him. “Especially as long as you don't make a habit of chasing me out of your castle into the maws of said wolves...”

At the Beast's warning growl, Phoenix decided the better part of wisdom at the moment might be to just shut up.

*

The meeting place had to be somewhere they would be able to lurk in a corner, with enough else going on in the background that the quiet voices of two women plotting would fade into the general cover of babble and laughter, but a corner dark and solemn enough for their purposes, and to conceal the things which may exchange hand as well as words. At the moment, Morgan Fey and Dahlia Hawthorne faced each other over a table in just such a place, mother and daughter wearing eerily similar masks of innocence over their cold calculations.

“I believe I may have a plan to make things worth your while, Mother.”

“A plan, is it?”

“If you manage to haul my dear cousin Mia off to the asylum...”

“Dahlia, how could you think to suggest such a thing to happen to my poor dear niece?”

“Mother, you know how they all talk, and how many people would think it was for the best.”

“I would be winning no ground with her.”

“No, but you could have her... interrogated. And if that doesn't work...”

“When. She is as stubborn as her scheming mother.”

“...when that doesn't work, I'll offer to help get her out if only my Feenie will marry me. That gets me close to him and therefore her, and I'll be able to look for your precious Pearl.” Or not, but you'll never know, and it's the closest you'll be able to come to recovering your precious favorite child...

Morgan Fey gave the matter consideration, delicately sipping at her tea. “I am quite shocked at what a wicked young woman you've become,” she said at last, setting her tea on the saucer. “Still, I suppose Mia has been getting a bit out of hand, and I wouldn't want anything to happen to my darling niece when my dear sister is gone...”

“You are a very wise woman, Mother.” A few more not-quite-pleasantries and the two women departed, off to further their own plans.

*

Edgeworth stood by the window, looking out at the snowy courtyard, which any other year would have been a lonely sight that he could use as a metaphor for the isolation of the people in this castle, but which now featured one ridiculously childish Phoenix Wright romping with Pess, who even in the form of a footstool had managed to retain his particular canine charms. Something about Wright's face, about the flush and the easy laughter, about the way Wright scampered and tussled...

In his mind, a much younger Phoenix called, “Hey, Miles, come and play. It's just snow, it's not going to hurt you!” - and he remembered it had taken both Phoenix and Larry grabbing his arms, as well as a gentle nudge from Gregory Edgeworth, before Miles would admit to anything as undignified as a snowball fight.

But his father – he had joined in, pelting all three of the boys with snowballs, until the three of them gave up on pelting each other and ganged up on a laughing Gregory Edgeworth.

And then...

No, he wouldn't think of what came so soon after, about what had doomed him to become the Demon Prosecutor.

Wright...

“You are staring out that window like a foolish fool.” Franziska's voice snapped him out of reveries, and he looked to see that both she and Gumshoe had managed to climb onto the nearby table, and were now hopping over to the ledge of his window, to see what he had been staring at.

“I never...” Could he really admit his confused feelings, even to these two? Then again, he knew he had their loyalty, whether or not he was responsible for them being currently trapped as household objects, and he owed them something for that. “I never felt like... like this... about anyone.”

“Then stop being a foolishly foolish fool and do something about it!”

She'd never had much patience for him, especially when he was involved in anything resembling moping. Still, she never used her whip on him – not unless her father's orders were involved – and she looked out for him. “Like what? What do I – what can I do for him?”

“Oooh, I know, sir, you could make him a whole giant box of weenies like I did for my Maggey! I bet he'd love that, sir!”

Franziska's whipping was half-hearted, and Edgeworth doubted it had really stung, compared to those she could dole out in her more irritable moods. Still, he was sure she recognized the detective's attempt to be helpful, and was offering him some slight mercy in exchange.

“Not everyone is foolish enough to be won by food. Particularly foolish peasant food.” She seemed thoughtful a moment. “Might I suggest the library?”

Edgeworth sighed. Usually his sister was at least somewhat more helpful, rather than just suggesting he look something up on his own. She knew he would try that anyway, with so many year under von Karma's roof – research was an essential von Karma skill to be perfected. “Do you at least have any ideas of titles where I should begin?” Because while research was an essential skill, research into the ways of friendships and romance was not, or, at least, not for von Karma's foster son.

“Personally I'd let him pick, see which foolish sorts of choices he might make, but if you'd rather just give him something – word is that he was studying to become a foolish fool of a defense attorney, and before that he was even more foolishly engaged in theater and such...”

Oh. She was being helpful after all. And if she could read minds she would be calling me a fool right about now... “Hmm, perhaps I shall just let him choose...” Or give him the whole run of the library. Though why I would do that...

*

Part of Phoenix objected to letting Master Beast blindfold him and lead him around the castle to some unknown place for some unknown surprise. But you trust him now. He's saved your life. So he had consented, and now he found himself led through corridors with only the echoes of the Beast's deep rumbling breathing, his own shallower breaths, and their footsteps on the hard stone to give him clues as to their location. His first reaction when Beast had taken his arm was to flinch away, but he had done his best to master the impulse within himself. Steady, Phoenix, remember, you trust him. And he was surprised, in part, to find how reassuring the feel of muscle and fur and warmth was to him in this darkness. Maybe I really do trust him.

Beast halted, catching Phoenix with his free arm in case Phoenix might fall. What's the matter, don't you trust me to keep myself on my own two feet? Then the arm moved away, quickly followed by the sound of a door unlatching and sliding open. No creaking? For such an old, mysterious castle I would have expected just a little creaking. Then Beast led him through, onto what felt like carpet.

“Can I open my eyes yet?” Phoenix didn't want to sound whiny, but the blindfold was starting to itch and he wanted to see where he was, what Beast was doing, what was around them.

“Not yet. Wait here.” Beast removed Phoenix's arm from his, and Phoenix heard the whisper of him moving away, felt the cold air replace Beast's warmth at his side with something that was almost a pang of regret. He'd grown used to the warmth, grown to like it, grown to like even the peculiar smell of the Beast (which actually wasn't bad, surprisingly enough; rather than smelling like an animal he smelled like odd spices and tea). With the Beast's scent gone, though, Phoenix could pick up the scents of the room in which he stood – parchment, dust, furniture varnish, maybe a hint of ink...

There was another sound, a velvety sweeping sound, and the air on Phoenix's face grew marginally warmer. Perhaps sunlight? Had Beast opened a curtain?

“All right. You can look now.”

Phoenix ripped the blindfold from his face, blinked his eyes several times to accustom them to the sudden brightness, and drew in a long breath only to let it out again in a long whistle of appreciation. Even the university library hadn't had so many books, so many shelves crammed with knowledge and stories and wonderful things, rising high above his head, covers glowing invitingly in the light admitted through the large window.

“You like it?”

Phoenix wrenched himself away from the breathless splendor of the books to look again at Beast. He seems so shy all of a sudden... “Of course I like it. It's the most wonderful thing I've ever seen! I've never seen so many books all in one place...”

“Then... whatever you like from here... whatever you want to read and whenever you like... consider it as much your room as mine.”

Phoenix had to restrain himself from springing at Beast and tackling him in a hug, but he let himself grin until he thought his face might split and said, “Thank you, thank you so much.” And then, because that wasn't really enough, but he didn't want to risk offending his host with an unwanted hug, he grabbed one of Beast's paws in both his hands and held it tight.

Startled gray eyes looked at him, and for a moment Phoenix thought he could see somewhere deep and hidden, a vulnerability that reminded him very much of his childhood friend Miles Edgeworth. The next second the gray eyes had shifted away and he was unable to delve further into the mystery. Squeezing the paw, he whispered, “Thank you, you don't know how much this means...” and then he relinquished his hold, letting Beast use the paw to grab his own arm as he continued to look away.

“You... are welcome.”

Neither of them realized that outside, a large collection of Master Beast's servants and compatriots had gathered to stare. “It worked, sir,” Gumshoe whispered.

“Of course it worked, fool.”

“What worked?” Pearl asked, looking to Sister Bikini.

“I'll explain that when you are old enough to attempt the third level of freezing waterfall training.”

*

At dinner, Edgeworth had just begun to gobble his food when he remembered he had company. Oh. Wright had a spoon in his hand, ready to begin eating like a civilized person. Since when had Edgeworth started gulping down his food like an animal, anyway? I thought if I was going to look a beast, I might as well act a beast. Now, though, he regretted not using his previously perfect table manners. I am not going to let Wright get the better of me, he vowed to himself, delicately dabbing at his face with his napkin, and lifting his spoon with a grip that would have been perfect, if his clumsy beastial fingers and claws didn't get in the way. Damn it, Wright, stop grinning at me.

The grin on Wright's face meant trouble. That was something nine-year-old Miles Edgeworth had learned the hard way. And even though this time it wasn't accompanied by the Butz, who would by this time be doing something much louder and more troublesome than just grinning, that didn't make Edgeworth feel much better.

Wright put down his spoon, and picked up the bowl with both hands, raising it to his lips and deliberately drinking out of it, all the time looking into Edgeworth's eyes. He managed a much simpler and less messy version of drinking from the bowl, and suddenly Edgeworth knew the look was a challenge. Dare you to drop some of your manners, Miles, a younger voice taunted him.

Well, Miles Edgeworth could certainly managed to look more dignified than Wright while he drank from a bowl. Placing his spoon carefully on the table, Edgeworth lifted his own bowl and took a delicate sip of the porridge himself. Wright's grin broadened, and it was then that Edgeworth noticed that some of the porridge had clung to Wright's upper lip, in a very undignified, very... no, he told himself, swallowing the porridge past a sudden lump in his throat. Wright was not for him; he was pushing it even trying to be friendly with the man, if Wright knew half the truth he would be long gone by now...

*

Phoenix had grown to love the courtyard in the winter, playing with Pess the dog-footstool, tossing crumbs to the birds and watching them flutter around and fly away when they were done eating. Only a part of him envied the birds and their freedom to fly away whenever they liked; he dearly wished he could visit Mia and make sure she was all right, even if this castle seemed as much a home as Mia's cottage to him now.

No use wasting time wishing for things you won't get, he scolded himself. Besides, you at least have friends here in the castle now, and a whole library of books.

“Here, take that... no, you're not supposed to fly away, you silly bird.”

Phoenix jumped a bit at the growl, not expecting Beast to be there in the courtyard, then turned to smile at him. He saw Beast trying to feed the birds, but his jerky and abrupt movements were frightening the poor little things...

“Here.” He didn't even stop to think before he took hold of Beast's arm, holding him in place. “Be still. Let them come to you.”

Beast's gray eyes were bemused as they looked at Phoenix, but Beast did as advised and froze, still as a statue. Phoenix released him and watched, grinning, as the birds warmed up to him, hopping onto his hands, then onto his shoulders and head. See? He's not so bad after all.

But there was something in those gray eyes as they watched the birds – something too vulnerable, something that seemed as though it was just waiting for things to shatter, for something terrible to happen. Well, we can't have that. Phoenix reached down, scooping some snow into his hands, packing it into a tight ball – really, it was amazing how easily he'd become comfortable with Beast, he considered as he let the snowball fly from his hand straight at the bird-covered Beast, sending feathers flying and winning himself a shocked half-roar.

Beast spun to glare at him, then scooped up a huge amount of snow in both arms. Uh oh. I probably should've thought this through a little better. Phoenix ducked behind a tree, peeked out to see where his opponent might be, and got an eyeful of flying fur and snow.

Before he had really decided what to do he was at Beast's side, reaching down. “Here, let me help you up. Are you okay?”

Beast made a sort of grumbling sound.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to get this covered in snow, I just...”

“Shut it, Wright.”

Well, that's a graceful way of accepting an apology. “Here, let me help you brush the snow off...”

When his hands first began running over Beast, brushing off the majority of the snow, Beast froze. Then, suddenly, he got a mischievous glint in his eyes and suddenly shook himself like a dog, sending snow flying in all directions, including all over Phoenix. “H-hey! Objection!”

“Served you right, Wright.” Suddenly something in Beast's expression changed. “Your cloak is inefficient for this weather, Wright, and you are shivering like a fool.”

“Well, if someone hadn't put snow all over me I wouldn't be!”

“Come on, Wright, let's get inside by the fire.”

*

Miles Edgeworth hadn't thought it was possible for foolishness to be so endearing. After all, fools just got in the way of perfection, or so Manfred von Karma had repeatedly insisted. But Phoenix Wright, shivering slightly because he had to wear his old worn-out cloak in the courtyard rather than asking Hannah for something more decently warm, did strange things to Miles' gut.

He remembered the sudden surprise of the snowball colliding with his face, and remembered further back to Wright as a child, refusing to let Miles sit aside and watch Wright and the Butz in their idiocy, but rather forcing him to join them. Then he thought of Wright's hands brushing the snow off his arm, how gentle he had been, the concern in Wright's eyes. Part of him had wanted to stand there and let Wright brush the snow off, but he'd been afraid...

“You know, I think I like the fire much better than that courtyard anyway.”

Trust Wright to ruin a perfectly good internal monologue. “If you weren't an idiot, you wouldn't have been covered with snow, and you would have asked Hannah for a more suitable outfit.”

“I like that cloak. Mia gave it to me. It reminds me of her.”

Miles refused to acknowledge the comment or the peculiar icy twist it created in his gut. Is there any possible way I could ever win Wright's affections away from that woman? Wright had been his first, his friend first – but he couldn't remind Wright of that, because he didn't want Wright knowing what had happened to him, wanted Wright to keep thinking well of the Miles Edgeworth he had known as a child.

“Hey, I know what might be fun to pass the time!” Wright picked up a book, one that Miles didn't remember having placed on that table... ah, but he'd given Wright access to the library, hadn't he? So Wright must have brought it out and neglected to return it – typical Wright, all over the place, but Miles found he really didn't mind.

“What exactly is that, Wright?”

“Poetry! I'm pretty good at reading poetry – I was a theatre major, too – and my old girlfriend used to want me to read her poetry all the time. She was a literature major.”

Miles wasn't sure what to make of the mention of an old girlfriend, or the thought of Phoenix reading poetry to someone else – however, he had to admit that Phoenix was rather good, if perhaps a tad overly dramatic in places, particularly with the poems involving sword fights. Still, Miles preferred those – and seeing Wright making himself out to be a fool as he bounded around the room – rather than the love poems, which made Miles' gut twist as he told himself over and over, He's not reading them for you, Edgeworth, get over it.

Reminding himself was harder, of course, when Wright insisted on constant glances towards Edgeworth during these particular readings, occasionally acting out bits and pieces that made Miles glad (for once) that his face was covered in blush-concealing fur. W-wright...

But he couldn't let Wright know what the poems were doing to him, how much he'd missed Wright and treasured the odd letter that managed to escape von Karma's censorship, how much he longed for them to be friends again, without any dark secrets between them...

Only when Wright began to flub words because he was yawning did Edgeworth suggest a halt for the night, which won a tired half-smile from Wright that made Edgeworth's insides squirm.

Tomorrow, part of him said, though he wasn't precisely sure to what it was referring. Tomorrow...

*

“...and that's why you must confess your love for Wright, little brother.”

Franziska von Karma was quite proud of the way she had presented her arguments: logical observations of her little brother's interactions with their guest, her own careful observation of the rose and its indication of their remaining time, carefully-phrased conversations with others in the castle regarding Wright and Edgeworth...

If left to his own devices, Edgeworth might wait until it was too late. That was his imperfection, that reluctance to believe in his capability, that hesitation, which had kept him from being able to keep pace with his big sister in the prosecutor's office. Of course she loved him despite his imperfections; he was her little brother, after all. But when those imperfections prevented herself and others from returning to their natural forms and looked as though they would doom the entire castle to an eternity as objects, well, it was her solemn duty as big sister to intervene.

“I... Ziska, I'm afraid...”

“Fool.” Although she used the words she considered to be among the most grave of insults, Franciska softened her tone, just for her little brother. “This is not the time to be afraid. Be bold and daring. Confess to him, before... before it is too late.”

Miles Edgeworth took in a deep breath, as though that would help him gain the perfection he so desperately needed. “I... all right, Ziska...”

“Go on, now, he's waiting for you.”

*

Edgeworth had to admire Hannah's skill at dressing Wright, and a distant part of him wondered if her skills had been wasted as a legal aide, and were not more suited to a career in the world of fashion. Somehow she had softened Wright's usually sharp edges, made him appear softer, less dangerous, more vulnerable. And when Phoenix caught Miles' eyes and smiled, it seemed to Miles almost as though he were meeting a lady love, crossing the ballroom in a dance as old as time, eyes never leaving the other's face, caught up in only each other so that nothing else mattered.

Before he really considered what he was doing, Miles had placed one hand on Phoenix's waist, used the other to capture one of Phoenix's hands, and begun to lead him around the ballroom in a gentle waltz to the hint of a tune that seemed to linger in the air. Phoenix stumbled at first, then adjusted, until Miles did not have to worry so much about their feet tangling or Phoenix falling and could just enjoy the way their bodies moved together, the way he was learning just the right amount of pressure to make Phoenix respond, the way Phoenix was learning to respond to each subtle change in the pressure and position of Miles' hands.

Somehow they found themselves waltzing onto the patio, where stars blazed brilliantly above a pristine snowfield. This is it, Edgeworth. This is your chance.

“So beautiful, isn't it?” Phoenix asked, leaning on railing, looking at the stars and snow.

Miles allowed his gaze to trace the curve of Phoenix's body towards the landscape, to linger on the soft wonderment filling Phoenix's face. “Yes, beautiful.”

“I'm glad to be here. I like being here.”

“Is there anything you lack? Anything that would make your stay here more pleasant?”

“No, I... Mia.”

“Mia?”

“I worry about her. She's like a mother to me, and was there for me when it looked like no one else would be. I want to know that she got home all right, that she's getting on all right.”

Is that all? I could show him that much... “Come with me, Pho- Wright.”

Phoenix opened his mouth as though he was going to speak, but Edgeworth did not give him the chance, hurrying from the room, making him rush to catch up. Through the corridors and to one of the rooms in the west wing, where Edgeworth kept his most treasured possession besides the remaining petals on the rose. “This mirror can show you whomever you ask to see,” he told a slightly breathless Phoenix, holding the mirror out to Phoenix.

“Show me Mia.”

Edgeworth wasn't sure what to expect, but it certainly hadn't been an expression of shock deepening to horror. “What...”

“They're – she's – they aren't taking good enough care of her! They'll kill her! M-mia!”

“W-wright...” Stay with me, I can hardly bear the thought of you leaving, but I can't bear seeing you in pain like this either – I know what it's like to lose a parent, too... “...go to her.”

“W-what?”

“I'm releasing you. Go to her.”

“A-are you serious?”

“Go!” He hadn't meant the last to come out as a roar, didn't want Wright's last memory to be of him being frightening – but apparently Wright took it for what it was meant, because he was hugging Edgeworth - I don't know how much of this I can take - before stammering, “Thank you for understanding how much she means to me...” and running off out of sight.

*

When Franziska von Karma asked her little brother how things had went, she had not expected his response to be anything even remotely resembling his half-hearted mumble, “I let him go.”

Of course, upon hearing that response, she could predict all too well the waves of discontentment rumbling through the castle. “He did what?” “Too little, too late.” “Why would he do something like that?”

Why indeed? If she had been herself – her normal, human self, able to stride into towns and terrify just about anyone with a glare – she would have gone after Phoenix Wright herself, dragged him back to Miles, and made him grovel at Miles' boots as she whipped him until he realized that he was nothing more than a dog to Miles' greatness, Miles' near perfection. “No one has the right to break my little brother's heart like that.”

As it was, she was forced to attempt to content herself with muttering variations of the word “Fool” and being extra liberal with the whippings she did dole out, until everyone in the castle was terrified enough of both of them to leave them alone.

*

No matter how cold she was, how sick she was, Mia knew that her rookie was her responsibility. “P-please, he's trapped in a castle with a beast...”

Of course, if she had been herself, she would have known how they would sneer at her, how they would look at her like she was some kind of insane person – but didn't even one of them have the kind of imagination and compassion it took to trust, even for the briefest moment, that there might be something more going on than their own limited experience? Diego... I miss you... you would have known...

But Diego wasn't here; Diego had been killed by that damn coffee he loved so much, when someone slipped some damn poison into it, and now she was all alone...

“You're not quite all there, are you?” The voice was thick with syrupy concern, but it twisted acidly in Mia's stomach. Dahlia!

“P-please! Someone listen, I'm not making these things up...”

And then Morgan Fey was there, taking Mia by the shoulder, steering her towards a cart. “My poor dear niece has been under too much pressure lately it seems. I'll just be taking her away where the only thing she'll need to worry about is how much of my jaw-droppingly huge strawberry dessert she wants to eat.”

Mia heard the unspoken second half, And where the only remaining daughter of the Master will not be seen again. She struggled, even when she knew she was too hazy and weak from fever to be able to do much good...

“Objection!”

And now she was hallucinating the rookie's voice. Damn it, why was guilt so messy like this? Why couldn't she just be able to handle things, to get things done, to just go ahead and save him like she hadn't been able to save Diego...

“There really is a beast, and I can show you evidence to prove it!”

Phoenix... Diego... Maya...

“Mirror, show me the beast!”

If this was a hallucination, it was remarkably realistic, as suddenly even the pressure of the hands wrestling her changed, and stopped moving her towards the cart...

“Such a horrible creature!” Dahlia gasped.

“N-no, he's not, it's not... he's gentle and good and kind...”

Phoenix, you really shouldn't be telling her these things, of all people...

“You love him, don't you?”

...and that tone is exactly why.

“I... I...”

“He's a dangerous beast, and he'll eat your children! We won't be safe until he's dead! Who's with me?”

The next thing she knew, she was in the cellar with Phoenix, locked away through Dahlia's justification that they were under the beast's spell and it was for their own good.

“Ch-chief? Are you...”

Mia sighed. “I'll be fine, Phoenix.” Even if my head is still spinning... but a lawyer must always wear a smile, even in the worst of times...

“Beast! They're going to... she'll....”

“Rookie.”

“Y-yes, Chief?”

“What did I tell you about crying?”

“Y-you told me...” Phoenix made a visible effort to pull himself together. “A lawyer never cries until it's all over.”

*

Pearl finally found her way out of the saddlebags. She was going to go to Mr. Nick, and demand an explanation of why he would leave his special someone, not to mention the rest of them. Only he wasn't in sight. She could dimly hear his voice, though, with a woman's voice – the woman who had first come to the castle - “Mr. Nick, you had better not be cheating on your special someone!” she yelled, as she hopped over to where she heard the voices coming from.

And froze. Someone had put a psyche-lock on the door. But who knew how to do that, around here, and why would someone who knew the Kurain technique be trapping Mr. Nick when he was the one who could save them all?

“P-Pearls?” came Mr. Nick's muffled voice.

“Mr. Nick, someone's trapped you in there with a Psyche-Lock!”

This announcement made them both answer at the same time, Mr. Nick asking, “What is a Psyche-Lock?” and the woman asking “How do you know about Psyche-Locks?”

Pearl wasn't sure which of them to answer. “Um...”

“Psyche-Locks are a part of the Kurain channeling technique. I told you my family were spirit mediums, right, rookie?”

“I never thought you were serious!”

“I was, and it's serious if they've locked us in here with one – unless someone out there can unlock it for us.”

“Pearls, do you think you can open the Psyche-Lock?”

“I-I think so, Mr. Nick!” For his sake, for the sake of getting him out so he could get back to his special someone and thereby rescue Mystic Maya, she would do just about anything. Now what was it Sister Bikini had told her about breaking open Psyche-Locks again?

*

Back at the castle, news of an imminent attack had everyone in a flurry. Franziska had taken charge, after her foolish fool of a little brother proved that he was good for little besides moping that Phoenix was gone and the rose was dying, signaling the end of the period allotted him to redeem them all.

“You foolish fool of a secretary, move faster, we have to blockade that door! You, scruffy, stop ogling the feather dusters and see how the kitchen staff is doing! You, nun, stop fretting about your little teacup and start worrying about the whole castle; we'll have time enough to look for her when the battle's over, unless we don't, in which case it won't matter, will it?”

By the time the mob broke through the makeshift barricade at the front door, Franziska had done her best, in the limited time offered her, at preparing the foolish fools for a surprise attack. And, of course, the element of surprise went off well (apparently none of the fools invading had been intelligent enough to realize that they were entering an enchanted castle and should thus be more than normally cautious), but she wished she had more time to prepare them for combat. Or had her old body back, with her familiar old whip. Then she would have shown these foolish invaders something to terrify them, something more frightening than even a beast of nightmares.

*

Miles Edgeworth had known that one of the invaders would find him, even up here on the roof where he came to be away from the twisting guilt at the yelling and shouting of the others who looked to him as leader. Part of him knew that he should be down there, taking care of them, fighting with everything he had – knew that Phoenix would probably be ashamed of him, moping up here all by himself, rather than down there. But Phoenix was gone, Phoenix had left him – and now that he had given Phoenix his freedom, there was nothing to draw Phoenix back here, away from his precious Mia.

“Go away,” he told the person who had joined him on the roof.

“You're a monster and deserve to die.” He did not argue. “And I am going to kill you.”

She used nothing more than a little dagger, almost a knife, and a shallow scratch that shouldn't have hurt, but made him roar with pain and spin at her, lunging towards her – towards where she had been – before he knew what he was doing.

“It's poison,” she told him, standing off to another side. “You'll die slowly and painfully, and from the the looks of it, alone. It's no more than you deserve.”

Miles knew she was right, that he had done plenty in his life to deserve this kind of death, but it could not stop the howl that tore from inside him, the mourning of those he loved, the howl filled with the pain of knowing he would never see Phoenix again...

“No!” That yell – yes, it was Phoenix. Gaping. Horror-struck. Reaching out, as though the mere stretch of his arm could bridge the distance between them.

He... he came back...

Sudden rage filled Miles, giving him new strength, strength to bat the woman away from him, to stumble towards Phoenix, whose face showed a glimmer of hope as Miles came towards him. Suddenly, the horror was back. “Behind you!”

Miles reacted before he could consider, lashing out, sending the woman toppling, down over the sheer cliff to a certain doom on the sharp rocks below. He hadn't wanted to kill her, hadn't wanted her blood on his conscience – but she hadn't left him alone; even when she had lost...

No... not lost... her poison was still in him, in his bloodstream, and the burst of adrenaline, having done its part in spreading the poison, was now wearing off. He was only dimly aware of Phoenix, calling him, as he faded...

*

Everything seemed to be swimming through molasses. Phoenix couldn't move fast enough; he watched as Master Beast slowly sank to the ground, heard the distant thud, wished there was a way to make his body fly as fast as his thoughts. He lurched to the ground beside Beast, feeling the stillness of his chest, but he was still warm, some part of him was still warm, he had been alive only a second ago...

“Don't leave me,” Phoenix heard himself whisper. “Don't leave me. I... I love you.”

*

In a quiet, dusty room, untouched by the chaos outside, a single rose petal drifts to the table below, joining the others. It was the last. The stem is bare.

*

Phoenix knows it is unmanly to cry. At least, some distant part of him must know that. However, most of him is absorbed in the pain of loss, of losing a new love, of remembering the others in his life whom he has lost. At first, he does not feel the gentle stir of muscles beneath him. When he does sense the movement, he draws back, staring, holding his breath – does he dare to hope?

Light blazes; Phoenix stumbles back as it blinds him. When he blinks his vision clear of light and tears, a man stands before him. “Wha... how... Beast...”

“It was me all the time, Wright. I was that beast.” Miles Edgeworth grabbed his arm with the opposite hands, looked away. “I suppose I'm back in my ordinary form now.”

And suddenly, before Phoenix could think through what he was doing, he was launching himself at Miles, locking lips with him. And Miles was kissing him back.

*

The two men had a wedding, of course – or a pledging of commitment or whatever one wants to call it. Franziska, despite being sick of the office, stayed long enough to give her “little brother” away in the ceremony, as Mia stayed to give Phoenix away. Both were issued invitations to live with Miles; Franziska had another life that called her away, and Mia had discovered that a certain prince slumbered in waiting for the princess who would wake him from his slumber. Maya Fey originally wanted to go with Mia, until she was convinced that someone from the family had to stay with Pearls, who would not go, and made the decision to apprentice herself to Hannah until she could become Mr. Nick's legal secretary. Sister Bikini reclaimed and severely chastised a terrified Iris, and returned to her original mountain retreat after performing the ceremony for the two men (after Phoenix had talked her out of her original vision of icy waterfalls symbolizing the trials of love).

However, all in all, things moved pretty steadily towards the “Happily ever after” one would find at the end of any fairy tale, even though as soon as one story ends, the next begins.

Phoenix and the Beast (Part 1/2)

2011-01-26T01:49:32Z

Title: Phoenix and the Beast
Fandom: Ace Attorney
Characters: Phoenix Wright/Miles Edgeworth, Mia Fey, Gumshoe/Maggey, Franziska, Dahlia, Sister Bikini, Pess, Pearl, Maya, Iris,
Summary:
Notes: Written for the following request on the Kink Meme:

It must be done:
Beauty and the Beast
Phoenix Wright style.
Phoenix has got to be "Belle"
Other characters are up to author.
Gaston, Mrs. Pott, Lumiere, anon can even add original inanimate turned animate objects if need be.
----------

Once upon a time, there was a young boy who dreamed of becoming a great defense attorney, but on the way he was hurt horribly and became instead a name feared in the courts, referred to in whispers as “the demon prosecutor.” It was said that he had lost his soul, and perhaps rumors were true, for even a frail old woman who claimed to be in desperate need of his help won no pity from him, until he realized that this was no ordinary woman and felt his first strong emotion in a very long time, an abject terror that he probably would never actually admit to in his life.

A voice, strange and yet familiar, from some memory long ago, told him, “Until you have proven yourself worthy of love, having learned to love and be loved in return, you will remain a beast. And if you do not prove yourself worthy before the petals on this rose have all faded and fallen, then you will remain a beast forever.”

And apparently this woman did nothing by half-measures, considering that what seemed like half the prosecution department as well as a few others (spirit mediums from Kurain Village, of all the ridiculous things) were transformed along with him, though not into creatures but rather into household artifacts. And thus it was that the universe's torment of Miles Edgeworth was proven to be not yet finished, but rather quite capable of some new and innovative methods of causing pain and suffering.

*

Part of Phoenix Wright was, of course, conscious of the gossiping around him. “That Mr. Wright's sure one strange fella.”

“That must be one fabulously fabulous book.”

“He's, like, always staring at a, what is it again, oh yeah, a, like, book.”

Normal, everyday gossip for the small town in which Phoenix and his mentor, Mia Fey, lived and had their law practice. As amusing as the people of the town could be, someday Phoenix hoped to rise above them and move on to greater tasks and adventures, which could explain why his nose was generally buried in some sort of study.

“Feenie! Hello!”

“Hello, Dah-”

Suddenly the book was snatched from his hands. “My poor Feenie, you'll get all wrinkled from staring at the book too long.”

Phoenix sighed. “I need to study if I'm going to be a lawyer, I've told you that already.”

But Dahlia was only half paying attention to him, flipping through the book. “How can you read this much? I don't see anything interesting at all in here.” Carelessly she tossed the book aside, and it splashed into a mud puddle.

“Dahlia!” Phoenix snatched the book from the puddle, doing his best to clean the mud from the cover. “You're supposed to respect books, you majored in English...”

“For the poetry, silly. I like it when people read poetry to me. You could recite me some.”

“Not now, I have to get back and help Mia with a case.”

“But Feenie...”

Dahlia Hawthorne really was disturbingly cute, and when she pouted just so Phoenix, like most of the men in the village, had a hard time refusing her anything. Still, the damp cover of the book, the concern that she had ruined it – as though he could afford another with his skimpy salary – helped remind him that, as enchanted as he had been when he first met Dahlia, she perhaps was not the model of perfection he had envisioned her to be. “I have to...”

“You could marry me,” Dahlia said suddenly, which was enough to send Phoenix into a temporary state of shock. Dahlia had the grace to look somewhat embarrassed, though the transition was suspiciously smooth. “Sorry, I know, I'm a bad girl for saying that and it's your job and privilege to ask me, not the other way around, but I was just thinking what a lovely engagement present that necklace would be...”

Why was she bringing up the necklace again? “You gave it to me, to hold our love forever.” The words were more like rote now; he wasn't sure if he had ever meant them beyond an enchantment with a lovely picture, come to think of it, but he was certainly not giving her back her gift in such away. The insult! And poor shy Dahlia...

His phone beeped, reminding him he had been due back at the office several minute ago. “I'm late, I've got to run!” Though he wouldn't have liked to admit it, he was glad of the excuse to sprint away from Dahlia.

Mia's shabby house doubled as their office, with Phoenix living in the loft above the barn because, despite the fact that he looked at his mentor like a mother figure rather than a romantic interest, sleeping under her actual roof would have looked a bit suspicious. He found Mia in the office basement, frowning at a chaotic mess of papers – it looked like he had attempted to do the filing again, except he knew quite well that he hadn't made this particular mess. “You all right, Chief?”

“Hmm? Oh, hi, Wright.”

“I'm not sure I fit in too well here, Chief. With the people and everything.”

That was enough, at least, to draw Mia's bleary eyes from her paperwork for just a moment. “Who said that?”

“No one. I just kind of... sensed it.”

“Oh.” Bending over, Mia once again began reading the various papers quite closely. “There's always Dahlia, isn't there?”

“I don't know, Dolly's – weird.”

“Weird?”

Phoenix rambled on a while about his relationship with Dahlia, how at first it had seemed perfect but then he had realized that if this was perfection he didn't want it, until he realized that Mia was not really listening but rather was much too absorbed in her work to take note of his romantic problems.

“How's the case coming, Chief?”

“Fine, I...” Mia trailed off, staring at the piles of paper. “I don't know. Maybe I'm really not cut out for this...”

“Don't say that, Chief!” Maybe Mia Fey wasn't cut out for the job of defense attorney, after the horrific cases of her past, but Phoenix remembered someone telling him, once, that a defense attorney was someone who believed in people, no matter what. Mia believed in him without question, even when no one else did, and Phoenix would defend her to the last. “You can do this!”

Lips curving faintly upwards, Mia slowly shifted her gaze back to the paperwork. “I'm glad you at least believe in me, Wright. I...” and suddenly her eyes grew large, and she snatched a paper off her desk. “I know who did it!”

Now the case was what filled their talk, and for the first time since she had agreed to take this case Phoenix knew Mia would get a good night's sleep. And none too soon, as the court date was scheduled for the next day.

*

Leaving Wright in charge was something of a frightening prospect, but then again he was quite eager to prove himself, and Mia Fey didn't think he was actually inept enough to do any permanent damage to himself or the office during the day in which she would be gone. Still, the motherly part of her couldn't help but rattle off a large list of things for him to be careful about, until Wright asked her whether she thought he was five (and she privately admitted that the possibility did tend to occur to her on occasion, though she was gracious enough not to actually tell him so).

As she rode out of the town and cast a last look over her shoulder, she saw Wright standing at the edge of town, waving, a goofy grin on his face. “Kick some butt, Chief!” he called after her, just before she turned the corner into the cover of the forest.

Hours later, Mia Fey wished she could be kicking some butt, and sorely regretted the supposed shortcuts through the forest. Was it getting dark, or was that just how thick the trees were here? If only she could be in court now – it would be safer than this strange place, she thought, or at least more familiar. Would they be worried about her by now? Would Wright be wondering about her, and what would he think if he saw his prized mentor like this, shivering and cold, tugging aimlessly at the horse's reins in an attempt to find a trail to the city court, back to the village, to anywhere that wasn't the forest.

A sudden howl disrupted her thoughts, and the horse jolted in fright and started to run. Mia, never the most confident of riders, could do little more than clutch at the saddle and pray to the spirits of her ancestors to keep her safe. “Help!” she screamed to the empty forest, and the echoes of her voice blended with the cries of the wolves. “Anyone! Help!”

Suddenly the horse whirled, and Mia flew from the saddle, landing in a drift of snow, soaking herself. Wet and frightened, she called out to the horse, but the hoofbeats were growing fainter as the howls grew louder.

Those familiar with Mia Fey would not have credited the hysterical scream bubbling in her throat to her, nor would they have expected anything like her panicked scrabbling through the brush, wolves seeming right at her heels. Either the spirits of her ancestors had been listening or some of her rookie's bizarre yet useful luck had rubbed off on her, but the moment before the wolves burst from the bushes she reached a wrought iron gate.

Somehow she managed to slip into the gate and force it closed, lowering a heavy bar into place between her and the wolves, escaping their frothing jaws. Still, she was not quite out of danger yet; the biting chill of the wind sliced right through her thin, soaked cloak, reminding her that she needed to find someplace dry and out of the wind and preferably warmer than the other side of the gate.

A gate and a fence meant a house, didn't they? A manor or a castle? That would be the logical conclusion, that there was something within the gate that the gate was meant to protect. Pulling her cloak around her, trying to convince herself it was warmer than it was, she made her way along the path from the gate.

Yes! She had been right; the gate and fence guarded something that could only be described as a castle. A rather grim and dark castle, one that she would not have liked to enter on a good day – but desperate times called for desperate measures. Perhaps they would show some hospitality to a hapless stranger, let her have some scraps of their supper and dry her clothing by a fire, give her some corner to sleep in and perhaps some direction as to how to find her way back home.

Trying to hide her trembling, she made her way to the front door and knocked.

Almost immediately, the door opened. No one was inside to greet her, though. She stepped inside, out of the wind, looking around in hope of seeing somebody, anybody. “Hello?” She thought she heard someone whispering. “Hello? Is anyone there? I got lost in the storm...”

*

“Hey pal, it's a traveler!” Gumshoe forgot, yet again, that he was currently in the form a (rather ugly) clock, and therefore supposed to be as still and silent as possible in the presence of any stranger so that he was seen as just an ordinary clock and not a rather hard to explain clock that could talk and move of its own will.

“Silence, you foolish fool!” If she wasn't busy impersonating an ordinary candelabra, Franziska would have taken the excuse to practice the arm of using her flames as a whip. As it was, she made a mental note to use the excuse when the next opportunity presented itself.

“Is anyone there?” the strange woman had the foolishness to venture further into the castle, and worse, to grab at Franziska and heft her rather dizzingly into the air.

“Hey, pal, put her down!” Gumshoe's voice rang out.

“What? Who's there?”

The speed at which the woman whipped around was dizzying, and Franziska decided that there was no further point in continuing the masquerade. “You foolishly foolish fool, put me down at once!”

The woman gasped when she realized she was being addressed by a candleabra, and carefully put Franziska down – only to pick up Detective Gumshoe and prod at him.

“Hey pal, that tickles – no, leave that closed, pal!”

“Sorry,” the woman said. “I never saw anything quite like you before. Are you trapped spirits?”

“You foolish fool of a foolishly foolish woman, don't ask foolish questions!” Franziska directed a whiplike tongue of flame at both the woman and Gumshoe.

“Ow!”

“Hey, pal!”

At least the woman finally set Gumshoe down. “That hurt.”

“It's what I do when foolish fools are foolishly foolish.”

The woman sighed, rubbing her hand, then said, “I got lost in the woods and I was hoping I could find a place to stay the night...”

Franziska was about to open her mouth to call the woman some more variations on fool as she denied the request, but Gumshoe was quicker. “Sure pal, I know what it's like to be down and out, have nowhere to go and all that, of course you can, owww!”

“Foolish fool! You are lucky that we can no longer have salary discussions, or yours would be in severe jeopardy at the moment.”

“Yes, sir.” At least Gumshoe had the decency to look repentant, with that foolish doggy look he got sometimes.

“...since this foolish fool has foolishly extended our hospitality, we must honor that.”

“All right, sir! I'll show the lady to a chair – this way, pal!”

This was one of those exceedingly rare and frustrating times in Franziska's life when she was at a loss for words as she watched Gumshoe and the newly arrived Sister Bikini (a teapot), Pearl (teacup), and even Pess the dog (footstool) conspire to make this foolish stranger comfortable and at home in her little brother's own chair, by her little brother's fireside, without a word of consent from their master. Still, she suspected that the rage burning in her would be as insignificant when compared to the rage that would ignite in her brother if – when – he discovered this, burning as dimly as her own candlelight burned against the blaze in the fireplace.

A sudden roar of rage confirmed her suspicions, and she stared on, partially horrified and partially proud, as the Beast lunged at the invader to his space.

*

“Feenie doesn't know it yet, but we're getting married today. Oh, I'm afraid I might be a bad girl!” Dahlia giggled and fanned herself a bit.

“Nonsense.” Morgan Fey beamed at her daughter, then sipped at her tea, before continuing. “None of my daughters could possibly be bad girls. I think it's quite good what you are doing for poor Mr. Wright, actually.”

“Yes,” Iris said, though she didn't sound quite as sure, earning her double glares from her mother and sister.

“I just hope poor Feenie appreciates all the trouble I'm going to.”

“And don't forget what you must find out from him before you kill him, my dear.”

“Oh, I know. You want your precious Pearl back and you think that Mia's mother might have had something to do with her disappearing, so I'm to use Feenie to get to Mia.”

“Excellent memory. Now, I believe you have a bridegroom to fetch? And Iris, as you are supposed to be dead, I suggest you disappear now?”

Afterward, Dahlia could never tell exactly what happened, only that she somehow found herself in a mud puddle with an off-key band playing a march for a wedding that was not going to happen, and Morgan Fey's stern glare on her.

Weighted heavily with this failure, Dahlia slunk to the pub, where Iris proceeded to attempt cheering her up by enlisting the admiration of all the gentlemen present, as well as the jealous resentment of the ladies.

*

Getting rid of Dahlia was not easy, and even Phoenix himself was surprised at how adamantly he wanted to get rid of her. Still, a marriage to Dahlia Hawthorne would mean he would be yoked to her for the rest of their lives, and thus be stuck in this annoyingly provincial town unless Dahlia decided she wanted to leave the life she had made for herself here, rather than being free to leave with Mia when she found them a way out.

As though conjured by his thoughts, Mia's horse appeared – but out of breath and riderless. Phoenix hurried up to the animal, a shock of worry going right to his belly.

“W-what happened?” Phoenix demanded of the animal. “Where's Mia?”

The horse just rolled its eyes at him. Great, how was he supposed to figure out anything from the horse? Still, it had been smart enough to find him – maybe it could bring him back wherever Mia was. “Hold on, Chief, I'm coming.” He remembered to duck inside for his cloak and gloves (Mia would be proud) and then he mounted the horse.

“Show me where you left her, please.”

Luckily for Phoenix, the horse seemed to know exactly where it was going. Unluckily, it was not along a path that Phoenix would normally have chosen to take, had he been the one deciding where to go. Nor did he like the wolf prints where the horse finally stopped.

Still, he managed to find his way to the barred gate, which had a bit of fabric caught on it. Wasn't this the same sort of fabric as Mia's cloak? Evidence! He tucked it into his pocket, wrestled the gate into letting him through, and debated whether he wanted to latch it against the wolves or leave it open in case he and Mia needed a quick getaway. In the end he decided to close it and latch it with a breakable looking branch, hopefully enough to convince the wolves the gate was still barred, but not enough to keep him and Mia from breaking through in a hurry if needed.

Then he made his way to the path and up to the castle, the foreboding in the pit of his belly magnified with each step he took, and only his determination to save Mia keeping him from turning tail and fleeing the scene like some frightened puppy. When he finally stood by the door it took him a moment, in which he drew a long breath and silently reminded himself that the entire reason he had decided to become a defense attorney was to save people, before he got the courage to raise his hand for a knock on the darkly looming door...

*

“I told you it was foolish to offer her a place to stay.”

“But sir...”

“None of your whining, Gumshoe.”

“...I thought we might have hope with her, sir.”

Gumshoe was astounded that this assertion did not convince Franziska to whip him, and dared to sneak a quick peek at her face. She looked unusually still, thoughtful, when she said, “No. You are foolish to hope for that chance. What is she going to see in my little brother, foolish woman, and what would he see in her? Besides which, she is too old...”

“But sir, time's almost out!”

That did earn him a lashing, and a rather painful one at that, but he supposed he probably deserved it for making a prosecutor consider something that she had already decided was not to be considered. “I am aware of that. I should never have foolishly visited him in this foolish country.”

“Awww, sir...”

Which earned him another lashing with the whip, and he was spared from more lashings at the moment when the door slowly swung open, for the second time in two days. Both stared at the young man who came in, slightly bedraggled, hair rising in what could probably be classed as quite a distinctive spike.

*

Pearl, the delicate little teacup, was nearly bouncing herself into pieces, she was so excited. “Sister Bikini, there's a boy in the castle, and he might be the Beast's special someone.”

“Ohohohoho!” Sister Bikini, a rather rotund and jolly teapot, beamed at Pearl. “You should know better than to make up stories. Mediums must train very hard and be very truthful!”

Before Pearl had a chance to respond, a very purple feather duster came bursting into the room. “Hey, did you guys hear, there's a boy in the castle?”

“See, I told you, and Mystic Maya's telling you now, and you'll believe her, won't you, Sister Bikini?”

“Ohohoho! Of course I believe the daughter of the Master.”

*

“Maybe he'll be the one, sir?” Gumshoe was almost afraid to speak, and grimaced in anticipation of a sound lash, but none came.

“I... it would be foolish to hope.” Suddenly she stirred to life, jumping down from their customary ledge. “We should watch him, though.”

He had gone running up the stairs, yelling “Come back” and “Mia,” and now Gumshoe and Franziska made their way up the stairs after him. Somehow the boy found his way right up the stairs to the tower dungeon. Gumshoe was impressed by his detective work.

*

Mia heard the rookie's voice through a thick veil of heat and cold and ringing in her ears and feeling like she was about to fall into a million pieces. At least it gave her something to go towards, whether it was into or out of a dream.

Out of one nightmare and into another, though she realized that she was perceiving her current reality now, lying on a thin layer of scattered straw over a very hard floor. Not much light; she was in some sort of prison.

“Mia?”

“W-wright,” she choked out, reaching out to grab hold of one of the cold iron bars, and then he was there, kneeling by her, familiar rookie face in a familiar look of concern.

“Mia, what happened?”

“A beast. G-get out of here. W-while you c-c-can.” Why did her teeth have to pick now to chatter, when she had to use her best lawyer voice to get the rookie out of here? He was her responsibility; if anything happened to him it would be her fault.

“Not without you, Mia. I'm not leaving without you.”

There was that cursed stubbornness again. She'd blessed the quality in a rookie defense attorney; Wright would never give up believing in a client. Now, though, the quality was just going to get him into trouble. “W-Wright...”

A bone-shattering roar shocked the room. “Who dares invade my castle?”

There was the Beast, in all his fury, and even through the haze of illness she could see Wright's face pale. But to the credit of his courage, if not his common sense, he stood his ground, between the beast and the cell. “P-please sir, c-c-can't you see she's sick?”

A wordless roar. Wright, get out! Leave me be and get yourself out!

“Let her go. She- she n-n-needs a d-doctor.”

“She is my prisoner, and I will not release her. Now get out!”

Wright skittered away from that voice, then stopped. Oh no, don't get any hero ideas. Let me die here; I've had my shot. And you're going to be something big one day.

“What if- if I stayed instead?”

“You?” Suddenly the creature was no longer roaring; suddenly it seemed downright – calm. Collected. Under control. “You would stay here?”

“No, Wright!” Why wouldn't he listen to her, why wouldn't he get himself out of here? “I've had my shot, you're too young, you don't deserve...”

He wasn't listening to her, and maybe it was his time with that theatre troupe or maybe it was something else, but Wright suddenly seemed very collected as well. “If I did, would you let her go?”

“Yes...” and suddenly the beast was looming, ablaze with its intense power, with hidden strength and fury, “But you must swear to stay here forever.”

*

Forever. Forever was quite a long time. Forever was... forever was never seeing Mia again, not knowing if she managed the next big case, not getting to go to her for advice or check up on her. Forever was no more walks through the village, which perhaps was a bit too familiar, but Phoenix realized for the first time in his life that perhaps there was something to miss in that place. Forever was never getting to pursue his dreams beyond this castle...

And yet, there was something familiar about the beast, something very familiar, something teasing at the edges of Phoenix's awareness. “Come into the light,” he said, softly, half a request and half a command.

He hadn't quite expected the beast to listen to him, to obey him and take a step – was that hesitation – into the shaft of sunlight that made its way into the dungeon. The face – all wild angles and fur – was somewhat frightening, but then Phoenix looked into the eyes and caught his breath. If he didn't know better, if he didn't know that Miles Edgeworth had compassion and understanding in his eyes rather than this cold and somewhat bitter look, he would have sworn he looked into the eyes of his onetime friend, the eyes of the man who had inspired him to become a defense attorney.

The eyes decided it. Ignoring Mia's whispered protestations, Phoenix said, “You have my word.”

“Done!” And before Phoenix could draw another breath, the creature was in the cell and hoisting Mia onto one of his gargantuan shoulders.

“Wait!”

Phoenix's plea fell on deaf ears, and in a rush they were gone, leaving Phoenix to stand alone in the room. Now that Mia would be able to get help, now that he had done his job in defending her, he felt... empty. Drained. Completely and totally alone in a strange place, doomed to live out the rest of his life in a small cell with no one left to talk to, as doomed as Mia's clients when she had lost their trials.

Mia... he hadn't even said goodbye...

*

Miles Edgeworth had thought that turning him into a beast, now visibly imperfect, ugly on the outside as well as the inside, had been the worst thing the universe could throw at him.

The minute he laid eyes on Wright, he knew he had been wrong.

Why must his childhood friend be here, bringing back the past, bringing back a time when Miles Edgeworth, Demon Prosecutor, had been filled with hope and promise and the dream of becoming a defense attorney?

Why now, when he could no longer scoff and simply turn the fool away, using for a shield the image that he had created, the shell of a man who no longer cared, but who was nonetheless perfect? Why now, when he was trapped in this ugly bestial form, visibly imperfect, rather than having all imperfection hidden behind a tightly controlled shell?

Why now, when the last hopes of Miles Edgeworth – and perhaps more importantly, though he loathed to admit it, the hopes of the others who had shared in this unwilling transformation – were all beginning to fade along with one slowly dying rose?

Fear hid behind fury, and before he quite knew what he was doing, Miles Edgeworth had made Wright swear to remain forever and had whisked away his other unwelcome visitor to his carriage, sending her back to the village where she could receive proper treatment away from himself and Wright. He didn't want anyone else around who might be able to guess, or help to guess, about his true identity.

Miles Edgeworth also knew how to get things done, and before he returned to the cell where he had left Wright, set in motion the word that no one - no one - was to give Wright any clue as to who exactly the Beast was, under threat of a very long and painful discussion with the Demon Prosecutor himself.

Franziska and Gumshoe were hovering outside the cell door, listening to the soft, almost whimpering, sound that came from the darkness. Gumshoe looked downright embarrassed, while Franziska looked as cool and composed as she had been every last day of her life. They both turned to look at Edgeworth.

“Neither one of you is to breathe a word of my identity to the prisoner, is that understood?”

“But sir, what am I going to call you?”

“Beast would be fine, Gumshoe.”

Franziska sniffed in ladylike disdain. “I do not approve, little brother, but then again I do not approve of being related to one in such – distressing – appearance, so I suppose I may as well pretend you are something else entirely.”

“And you believe I approve of being in such guise?” Miles Edgeworth growled, a low warning rumble.

“Um, sir?”

“What is it?”

“I-if you think he might be the one to help,” Gumshoe apparently lacked the mechanism for self-preservation that would have warned him Edgeworth did not like the way this was going, “then you should treat him right.”

Franziska's whip of flame was quick to punish, before Edgeworth had a chance to get his own vengeance. Nevertheless, he let his sister's audacity go with only a glower, and then said, “I don't know what you could mean, Detective.”

“U-um,” Gumshoe was now doing his best to inch away from Franziska, not an easy task for a clock, “M-maybe he'd like a nicer room. And a big dinner.”

Edgeworth snorted at the idea of taking romantic advice from the rather inept detective, especially as source informed him that Gumshoe was nearly as clumsy with his attempted courtships as with his investigations. Still, as he entered the cold cell he admitted to himself that, whether or not he wanted to see Wright, he did not like the idea of leaving his childhood friend to freeze in this cell.

When Wright saw him, he turned away, face flushing a bit. Was he...

“You didn't let me say goodbye.” Wright's voice was filled with raw pain edged with anger, and for a moment Miles remembered that elevator, and that he had never said goodbye to his father and how badly he had wanted to. “I'm never going to see her again and you didn't let me say goodbye.”

What was he supposed to say to that? Sorry? Sorries wouldn't make anything go away, wouldn't make anything better. Maybe he really was the beast he seemed to be, incapable of causing anything but devastation.

“...I'll show you to your room,” Edgeworth growled, trying to pretend he did not see how broken Wright seemed to be just from the simple lack of good-bye. How broken he was feeling at this very moment – no, he could not allow a chink in his armor. Wright could never guess who he was, what had become of Miles Edgeworth – and Franziska and Gumshoe were not too far off, and he would like it even less if one of them saw a chink.

Wright at least had the grace to stop sniveling so much in his surprise. “I thought... I was... to stay here.”

“You are my guest, and are free to go anywhere in this castle but the West Wing.” That was the sacred area where the rose was kept, and could be a refuge from Wright's presence whenever Edgeworth decided to take it. When Wright didn't move from the straw-littered floor, he added sharply, “Unless you'd rather stay here?”

“I... no...” And Wright was scrambling to his feet, following clumsily after Miles, still sniffling like he was still nine years old. Part of Miles wanted to make it go away, to apologize for upsetting Wright, but of course he was incapable of doing such a thing even if he had fully desired to do so.

On arriving at the room, he did manage to hold the door open for Wright, and assure him that the servants would take care of whatever he needed, but something in him, something hot and burning and twisting in his gut, did not allow for proper civility beyond that. “You will join me for dinner,” he heard himself growl. Don't make this any worse than you already have, except he could not stop himself, his pride and hurt and fear were all conspiring against him. “That is not a request!” And he slammed the door forcefully, and pretended that he did not notice Franziska and Gumshoe watching him with some degree of disapproval, and left Wright to finish his sniffling in the room.

*

Iris was beginning to grow quite concerned.

Dahlia never sat and stared at a fire without words, never wore an expression that seemed so lost and vulnerable, not without carefully arranging herself to the best possible version of her appearance. But this sulk, this was spontaneous and genuine, not at all arranged.

“...what's wrong?” she finally got the courage to ask her twin.

“Go away.”

“No. You're there for me, and I'm going to be there for you.”

Which won her a heavy sigh. “It's that Phoenix.”

“The one with the-”

“Yes.”

“The one that Mother-”

“Yes.”

“Oh, um...” Iris couldn't think of what exactly would make her sister feel better. “...sorry?”

“How can he resist me? Everything I try to do, he... he's not ordinary...”

“No man can resist you, Dahlia. You're the one all the men want, and there isn't a woman in the whole town who wouldn't want to be you, just ask any of them.”

Indeed, several side conversations were going on around just that theme, how lovely Dahlia was, however could that crazy boy resist her, if only this woman were Dahlia, if only that man could have Dahlia...

“So why can he resist me, then?”

“I don't know... maybe it has something to do with, er, Mia?”

“Mia...” and suddenly Dahlia was all cold, devilish purpose, her lips curling into something between a smile and a snarl. “Mia. You might just be smarter than I thought.”

“Dahlia, you have that look...”

“He'd do just about anything for our... dear... Mia, right?”

“Umm, I guess so...”

“So we have Mother haul Mia off to the asylum, and I promise to help spring her if he marries me.”

Iris wasn't entirely sure she liked this plan, but when Dahlia Hawthorne was your twin sister and she came up with a plot, there was really only one option open. “You are brilliant as always, my dear sister.”

“I know.”

*

Mia...

The Miles Edgeworth that Phoenix had known in grade school would never have been so cruel as to deprive Phoenix of someone he cared about without even leaving time for goodbyes. Maybe he'd seen Edgeworth's eyes, for a moment, in the eyes of this creature, but that had just been a passing fancy. Good going, Wright. You've sold your life to this creature all because you saw something that wasn't really there.

At least it had gotten Mia away safely. Or he hoped it had gotten Mia away safely. Though why I think I can trust him...

The guest room in which he had been left could probably have fit most of Mia's little cottage inside. The furniture – the bed alone – must have cost more than Phoenix could hope to earn in a year as a defense attorney. Then again, there wasn't anywhere else to sit, and the Beast had given him this room - he slumped onto the bed, trying to keep himself from crying, to remind himself that he was a grown man and grown men weren't supposed to cry, not for the sake of one missed goodbye.

“Oh my, my, my. I think someone could use some tea against the cold, before he has some hypothermia. Wa ha ha. Ho ho ho.”

I must be losing it now, if a teapot is talking to me. “Er...” And not only that, but I answered it.

“You may call me Sister Bikini. I make a rather attractive teapot, do I not? Ho ho ho.”

Great, a talking, preening teapot named after a visual I certainly did not need. “U-um, whose sister are you?”

“Ho ho ho. I am a nun of the Kurain Spirit Channeling Technique. Or was, until I got turned into a teapot. At least now I don't have to worry about hypothermia. Wa ha ha ha. Ho ho ho.”

Could you stop with the weird laughing thing already? And what is this Kurain Channeling Technique – it sounds familiar somehow... “So, um, how did you get to be a teapot, if you don't mind me asking?”

“My, my, my, a curious one, are you? Well, it is a very long story and I fear you would get hypothermia before I finished – Pearl!”

An adorable teacup bounced to join the teapot, looking for all the world like one of the most adorable children Phoenix could imagine, except in the form of what was almost quite an ordinary teacup, if not for the totally cute face peeking at him. “Here I am. Who's that, Sister Bikini?”

“Oh my, my, my, how rude of me. What is your name, good sir?”

“I'm...” ...introducing myself to inanimate objects, this is insane, “...Phoenix Wright, attorney at law.”

Suddenly, a bundle of vivid purple feathers burst out of a corner. “I'm going to call you Nick, then, because it's much friendlier to have nicknames, and you can call him Mr. Nick, Pearly!”

Surrounded by a chortling teapot, a giggling teacup, and an overly bouncy feather duster, Phoenix was at a loss as to what he was supposed to do now. Until the wardrobe suddenly moved, and he decided on a startled yelp as good enough for the moment.

“I shall call him Mr. Wright, as is proper.” If a wardrobe could sound condescending, than this one did. “Mr. Wright, I am Hannah Fright, and I used to be secretary to Mr. E- Beast. I now perform quite a different function but I attempt to retain my usefulness to him. The rather flighty feather duster over there is Mystic Maya-”

“Hey! I'm not flighty! Why would you do something like that and call me flighty?”

Pearls (she was too cute to call just Pearl, and for some reason the name Pearls just seemed to stick in his mind) clattered her disapproval, sending tea splashing. “Don't you insult Mystic Maya!”

“Easy, easy,” the wardrobe – er, Miss Fright – soothed. “I just wanted to say, Mr. Wright, that you were very brave to choose to stay here for the sake of your... mentor?”

“Mentor,” Phoenix confirmed, “And she was like a mother to me, too.” What little diversion the talking items had given him was gone, replaced by a twisting and sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Mia...

“And, of course, I am here to assist you in the selection of something appropriate for dinner...” She opened her doors and somehow began shifting through a broad selection of suits, each one looking like it had cost more than the price of all the clothing Phoenix had ever owned.

“...I'm not going to dinner,” Phoenix announced, crossing his arms and pouting.

“His Highness won't like that,” Hannah cautioned him.

To his surprise, the feather duster leapt to his defense. “He doesn't have to do everything the Beast says, and it's not like he's a real prince so you can stop calling him Highness anyway, Hannah.”

“Your Sister Bikini didn't like me calling him Master, and I am not going to call him simply Beast...”

“It's only because of the Kurain Master, so maybe you could call him Master Beast...”

The argument was cut off by the arrival of one (fairly goofy-looking) clock. “Dinner's ready, pal!” the clock announced cheerfully.

“That's Mr. Scruffy,” Pearl chimed in before anyone had a chance to react.

“Awww, pal, I asked you to stop calling me that. Can't you call me Detective Gumshoe?”

Hannah broke in quickly. “You'd best get changed quickly, Mr. Wright – I think this would do wonders for your eyes.”

“I already told you, I am not going to dinner.”

“WHAAAAAAT?” Gumshoe looked horrified. “Please, pal, you don't understand, I'd have to tell – them – that you aren't coming, and that would be very bad, and I'm begging you, pal...”

“I'm not hungry. Sorry.” Phoenix lay back on the bed. Actually, he was sick and his head was spinning with all these new things happening around him, and he really just wanted to be back at home on his own little pallet, or looking over case files with Mia again...

He barely heard the rest of what was said in the room, or the departure of Detective Gumshoe.

*

Miles Edgeworth did not like waiting. He particularly did not like waiting for Wright after he had gone to the trouble of extending an invitation to dinner. Perhaps because his mind was reeling with all sort of scenarios involving Wright discovering who he was, telling him he had never liked him and would never like him, confronting him with the truth of what had happened so many years ago...

“Where is he?” Edgeworth growled when the inept detective stumbled down the stair.

“Uh, sorry sir, he said he wasn't hungry...”

Before Edgeworth quite knew what he was doing, a roar of rage had erupted from him, and he was charging up the stairs, determined to bring Wright downstairs for dinner, where the civility of excellent food and expensive wine could, perhaps, help Wright get over his grief and help surmount the first hurdles of getting (re)acquainted with one another.

“Join me for dinner!” he bellowed at the closed door. I sound like a beast now, some part of him acknowledged, but only in a vague and distant sort of way, quickly pushed to the side.

“I won't.”

He tried the door – locked, of course. “Let me in!”

“Leave me alone!”

“You would be doing much better with that if he was out here and you had a whip,” Franziska informed him.

“You... are... not... helping....”

“Not like you to lose control like this, little brother. Why so touchy?”

If only she ever lost control, showed some chink in her armor, but his sister was a perfect von Karma through and through, giving Edgeworth nothing to use in snipping back at her. Instead he rounded on the significantly less controlled Gumshoe. “I suppose you have some terribly useful suggestions for me as well, Detective?”

“Uh, only that maybe if you asked, sir...”

He should not be taking relationship advice from this inept detective. He should not think that Gumshoe ever had anything worthwhile to say. But some long-forgotten part of Miles Edgeworth acknowledged that perhaps he was going about this the wrong way, and perhaps Wright would like to be asked, at the very least.

“Would you join me for dinner?” Perhaps his growl was still a bit rough, threatening, but it was softer. Surely Wright couldn't say no to...

“No.”

Softer, then. “Would you join me for dinner... please?”

“No!”

Once he could have asked with all the pleasantries required, in a much more flowery manner, a manner necessary for a man who dealt in words and twisting language to its most perfect use in his case – but Miles Edgeworth had long ago run out of patience, and with patience, he had run out of words as well. “Then you may as well starve!” he hollered at Wright, furious at his inability to control his guest, even more furious at his inability to control himself.

“If he doesn't eat with me, he doesn't eat at all!” he announced to whomever in the castle was listening, trusting that Franziska could spread the word of his – displeasure – to those who were not in immediately bellow-range.

Dimly, he was aware of Franziska assigning Gumshoe to keep a lookout, of her following him, but his only goal was to escape to his room, to take up the magic mirror and look in and see what Wright was up to.

“Show me Phoenix Wright,” he growled at the mirror, and it responded by showing Phoenix on the bed, looking ridiculously small with his knees drawn up to his chest.

Hannah was there, hovering, treacherously listening sympathetically to every word Wright said. Which, at the moment, happened to be, “I don't want anything to do with him!”

Such bitterness – he had never thought such bitterness was possible from Wright. Certainly he had never considered it could, and would, be turned against him. “It's hopeless,” he growled, restraining himself from hurling the mirror in a childish fit. “He's like the rest of them. He'll only ever see me as a beast.”

*

Even though Franziska had set Gumshoe as lookout, when she had followed Miles about halfway to his room she realized that she could not trust that particular detective with a sensitive task, particularly when he was so easily distracted.

As expected, she returned to find him quite engaged with one of the young women. Maggey Byrde, if she remembered correctly, whose current existence as a rather plain feather duster seemed an atrociously foolish pun on her last name.

Only a moment after Franziska's arrival, before she had decided what the most amusing way of interrupting and terrifying Gumshoe would be, the door opened and Phoenix Wright poked his head into the hallway. Immediately Gumshoe was separating himself from Maggey, looking at her a moment, then shouting, “Hey, PAL!” as Wright stepped into the hallway.

That was enough to make Wright pause and look at Gumshoe. It was also enough of an excuse to practice her technique in sending another finely controlled whipstroke of flame.

“Owww! Hey, sir, that hurt.”

Byrde was standing quite rigid now, something about apologizing and wanting to do her duty. Franziska thought about sending a lashing in the direction of the foolish girl, caught a glimpse of Gumshoe's expression, and decided against actually lashing the girl. “All foolish fools should leave immediately. This means you, Maggey Byrde!”

Which sent her scuttling away, and left Franziska to deal with another pair of foolish fools on her own. “I hear you are called Phoenix Wright, and that you aspire to become a defense attorney.”

“Um, yeah...” the fool was staring at her, sheepish and with a healthy amount of caution in his expression, but something in the twist of his mouth hinted that maybe, possibly, he was just a bit pleased that someone knew his name. Well. Franziska did not want him to get any foolish ideas about his importance.

“That is a foolish profession. Defense attorneys are all fools. One who seeks perfection must devote oneself to being a prosecutor.”

Franziska's words of wisdom brought only a furrowing of the foolish fool's peculiarly shaped eyebrows, and when he opened his mouth to spew out some foolishness, she rewarded him with a lash of flame. “Ow! Hey, that hurt!”

“That was for being a foolish fool,” she told him primly.

“Um, sir, aren't we supposed to be making nice for the guest, and, um, stuff?”

How dare that bumbling fool try to correct her, who was the embodiment of perfection – or would be, if she was not trapped in this foolish form? She sent a lashing his way, and almost as an afterthought, “That sounds like your job, Gumshoe.”

“Oh, er, sorry sir, um, pal, did you need anything?”

“I... I guess I'm a bit hungry.”

“Fool! The Master says you are to eat with him or not at all!”

“But, um, sir, if we let him starve, and I know what it's like to not have anything but instant noodles forever to eat, and can't we just let him have one little thing...”

“Don't blame me when the Master catches you foolish fools and decides to put you all in the dungeons.”

“All right! Come on, pal, we're going to get you a real feast, and maybe I can even talk them into singing and dancing...”

Franziska rolled her eyes, but really, what did she care if Gumshoe was going to make use of the foolishly large amounts of food that the chef had prepared? After all, it was her foster brother's order he was flaunting, and not hers, and perhaps that would teach the foolish fool something about personally making sure his commands were followed through rather than making Franziska do all the work.

She did wince at the foolish musical number the detective attempted to perform to accompany the meal, and was just as glad when the travesty was over, and their guest, now quite well-fed, could be sent back to his room.

“Thanks, pal, it's been so long since we had anything really useful to do, what with being-”

“Gumshoe!” Franziska snapped, worried suddenly about what secrets might spill from the onetime detective's mouth. “I am sure our guest is tired and would like to go to bed.”

“Actually,” the foolish fool said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I'm not really tired yet, and my head's still too – I'd like to see around this place a bit, before I go to bed, if that's okay...”

“You bet, pal! I'll give you the whole tour of everything!”

*

Continue reading

Dealing with Bullies

2011-01-26T01:02:07Z

Title: Dealing with Bullies
Fandom: Ace Attorney
Characters: Franziska/Adrian, OC
Summary: Franziska and Adrian deal with their adopted daughter getting bullied.
Notes: Written for the following request on the Kink Meme:

For Mother's Day, how about the ladies of Phoenix Wright becoming mothers themselves?

I'd love to see a female character have a child of their own (can either be a birth child or adopted) and just generally be all maternal and caring in their own unique manner. A lover or spouse can be in the story, but it's not utterly nesessary.

Bonus points if it's about Maya, Franziska, Desiree or Maggey.
----------

When Adele came home with a bloody nose, Adrian went for the first aid kit and Franziska went for the whip.

"What foolishly foolish fool did this to you?" Franziska growled.

"Th-they said that I wasn't wanted, that no one wanted me and that's why I got adopted."

"That's not true." Adrian dabbed at the blood with a wet cloth. "You are wanted very much by your family."

"They said it was bad that I had two mommies and no daddy."

"That is the most foolishly foolish thing I have ever heard," Franziska announced.

"But I don't have a daddy. You had a daddy, didn't you, Mutter?" Adele turned to Franziska with this question.

"Yes. But he was not... I told myself that I would be a better parent to you than he was to me. My little brother and I had nothing but studies and trying for perfection."

"You make me study a lot too, though, Mutter - and you, Mom. Study, study, study..."

"Because studies are important. But we also let you go to play with those foolish fools..."

"And they're kind of like fathers. At least, if there was anything you needed a father for, like telling off a boyfriend or something, they'd step in."

Adele grinned. "Except Mutter's going to tell off all my boyfriends with her whip. She told me. And she'll teach me, too, when I'm older."

Adrian gave Franziska a look of mingled fondness and exasperation. Franziska just smiled and twitched the whip in her hand. "I am sure Adele will prove adept with this when the time comes. And those father figures you mention will make excellent target practice."

"Only you," Adrian said, shaking her head. "Here, hold this cold compress on your nose a bit. I think it's stopped bleeding but there's no harm in making sure."

Adele took the compress and settled it on her nose.

"I'm still waiting for names," Franziska prompted. "No one is going to get away with giving my daughter a bloody nose."

"They didn't get away with it, Mutter. I gave one of them a black eye, and I kicked the other one down hard enough that I think he's going to be limping for a while." Adele squirmed a bit, and her voice got quieter. "I probably shouldn't've gone at them, though. They were just talking at me and I started hitting them. That means my nose was self-defense."

Franziska and Adrian exchanged glances. "It does, doesn't it? And she could get in trouble for hitting them..." Adrian reached forward and wrapped her hand around Adele's shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Not if I can help it," Franziska replied. "But Adele and I are going to have a very long talk some day soon about the proper use of fists and feet as opposed to other weapons, such as the words libel, slander, and harassment."

"And whips," Adele whispered.

"What did you say?"

Adrian stepped towards Adele, hovering protectively over their daughter. She knew that tone of Franziska's all too well.

"I said 'and whips.'" Adele lifted her chin and looked right at Franziska, as though daring her to carry through with the threat implied by her tone. "You use your whip on everyone from Detective Gumshoe to the judge. So maybe I should have used a whip on them."

Franziska stood for a moment, eyes narrowing as she stared at Adele. Then, suddenly, she hurled the whip aside. "You are right, Adele. I use my whip entirely too often, and I do not need it to be intimidating."

"I didn't mean..." Adele began, but Franziska held up a hand for quiet.

"I will show you that one does not need weaponry of any kind to be truly intimidating, and we shall work on that before I teach you how to use the whip."

"So I still get to learn, then."

Franziska smirked. "Of course. It's much too much fun to give up entirely, and not to share with my favorite daughter."

Adele giggled. "I'm your only daughter."

"Of course you are. You are still my favorite, though."

Adrian smiled to see that both her wife and daughter were content, and the incident of the bloody nose was all but forgotten. She stowed the first aid kit and slipped the rag into the middle of the laundry, then suggested the three of them go on an outing to the new German restaurant that Franziska and Adele had been wanting to try, perhaps with a stop for ice cream on the way home. The idea was met with enthusiasm, and with Adele's query as to whether she could start learning some of her Mutter's tricks on the way.

"Keep your eyes on her and you will," Adrian whispered as Franziska was storing her whip upstairs in their closet. "Sometimes I don't think she's even thinking about it and she's using them."

Adele nodded that she would do so, and then Franziska was back down and the three of them left for whatever adventures they would encounter.

Fin.

Bonding

2009-09-05T19:02:00Z

Title: Bonding
Fandom: Ace Attorney
Characters: Maya, Pearl, Iris
Summary: Iris comes to visit Maya and Pearl, and they have some fluffy bonding time
Notes: Written for the following request on the Kink Meme:

You know what anon would really like to see? Iris, Maya, and Pearl spending time together [spoiler] like a family. Please to be making it as fluffy and sappy and adorable as possible.

I will love whoever does this forever. <3

----------

Maya was trying to scan the faces of everyone on the platform, but of course it was Pearl who saw her first. "Iris!"

In a moment Pearl was gone, darting between legs and narrowly skidding around a precariously loaded luggage cart and into her sister's hug. When Maya finally managed to squeeze her way through the crowd, her cousins were enthusiastically making plans for the day.

"Don't worry, Maya, we already agreed that we'd drop you off at the collectors' store for a couple hours while we go to the bookstore and the park."

"Hey, you're already planning to ditch me? I think I should be upset at you."

Iris chuckled. "When you're debating over which Pink Princess figurine would look best with your Super Rare Collectors Icy Lavender Steel Samurai figurine, you won't even notice we're gone."

"That's our Mystic Maya, making sure she always gets the best matches! Some day I'm going to be just like her - but I don't think I want to spend a whole hour looking at Steel Samurai stuff."

Maya made a face that she hoped looked cunning. "Just you wait, Pearly, I'm going to have you never wanting to leave the Steel Samurai displays."

"I'm looking forward to it, Mystic Maya."

"Corrupting the innocent youth, what is this world coming to?" Iris winked at Maya even as Pearl objected to being called innocent, or youth.

"I'll corrupt you, too. Hey, there's a Steel Samurai movie playing in the theater, we could go to that."

"Haven't you already seen it?"

"I've seen it ten times in the theater, but Pearly's only been twice."

"It's all right, Mystic Maya. I was proud to help out Mr. Scruffy Detective so you and Mr. Nick could have some special alone time."

When Pearl's attention was distracted by a collection of brightly-colored balls, Iris took the opportunity to lean over and whisper to Maya, "You got Nick to take you to the movie eight times?"

"Nah," Maya whispered back. "He only came the once, with Pearls and me. But she insists on going off so we can have bonding time, and if Nick's busy and doesn't need me to be his assistant than it's the perfect thing to do."

"So you're not together with Nick, then?"

"No, it's just Pearly thinking we are. I thought you'd be with him?"

Iris shook her head. "Not after everything. We're more friends now. But if you want to be with him I can tell you just about everything he likes, or at least what he liked when he and I were together, and we could gossip about him."

"We are gossiping about him now," Maya said, then giggled. "But he does spend an awful lot of time with that toilet. Did he always do that?"

"I think so. I heard stories about him, anyway, and his cleaning all the toilets in the men's room at college. Between that and writing me silly love notes, I don't know when he did any homework."

"That's Nick all right, never getting down to what he really has to do. I can hardly ever get him to do his paperwork the right way."

"Are you talking about Mr. Nick? Don't they make a great couple, Iris? Oh wait - you were dating Mr. Nick, weren't you?"

"Don't make such a sad face, Pearl!" Iris bent close to her sister. "You know what? Maya might be a cousin, but I think of her more like a sister. And I think Mr. Nick's her family, too, whatever way you look at it. So we're all a family, somehow, and we're not going to leave you. Now, how about some ice cream?"

Pearl brightened. "Okay! I love ice cream. I think I want strawberry. What do you want, Mystic Maya?"

"Chocolate. You can never have enough chocolate. Hey, Iris, I'll pay for it!"

"You don't have to. I got a job at a bookstore. It doesn't pay all that much I guess, but I get to read all the books and the boss is very relaxed."

"That's great!"

"We should visit your bookstore! Can we, Mystic Maya?"

"Good idea, Pearls! But let's wait 'til she's working. Then we can break her out and take her and have some more fun."

Iris smiled as they made their way out of the train station and to the shops where they would spend their day. It was good to have family.

Confessions

2009-09-05T18:56:08Z

Title: Confessions
Fandom: Ace Attorney
Characters: Edgeworth, Larry
Summary: Larry (Laurice) Butz has something of a confession, as well as need for advice, and turns to Miles Edgeworth for help
Notes: Written for the following Kink Meme prompt:

I've read some wonderful fics featuring some of the male cast (Miles, Klavier, Kristoph...) being actually female-to-male transgenders. And when I thought about it, one character came to my mind...

Larry. What if the most loveable (yet so hopelessly unloved) man was once a girl/woman? Perhaps that's why he keeps himself as manly as he is? Perhaps that's why the type of women he's after dump him one after another? Perhaps there's something deep about Larry after all? (...or perhaps he's just as clueless about everything as he seems to be)

Something general, or something. Drunk or not-so-drunk Larry slips/tells the truth to Edgeworth who knew young Larry for such a short period of time that he didn't know/realize and thus has been clueless about it all this time? (Or Phoenix, but I think Edgeworth's more logical choice...)

tl;dr: I'd just like to see something serious and/or sad with Larry who has once been a girl and still gets dumped for being what he really is.

----------

“Edgey, I need to talk to you.”

“Why don't you bother Wright, Butz? I happen to be quite busy at the moment.”

After a moment, Miles noticed that Larry was still standing there. He also had not resorted to his usual whining that Miles had once again forgotten he had changed his name to Laurice Deuxnim. He sighed, tapped his pen on his desk. “Why are you still standing there, Bu- Laurice?”

“Nick wouldn't be able – he'd get all blushy and not know what to say. But I thought I might be able to talk to you. You're one of my two best friends, and I think you're the most likely to understand.”

“Is it pressingly urgent or can I finish up here first?”

“Um, you can finish here, that's all right. Just, you know, I'd like to talk sometime soon.”

“I'll finish these by five, shall we meet somewhere at six?”

“My place? Um, I know it's kinda weird, but I don't want to talk about it in front of a lot of people, in public or anything.”

“Fine. Leave your address with my secretary and I will be there at six.”

*

As he knocked on the door (not as bad an apartment as he would have expected from the Butz, really), Miles did have to admit to some slight curiosity. And that tone – had Larry ever had such a serious note in his tone before? Maybe Nick had heard it, but Miles couldn't remember hearing it before.

“Edgey! You came!”

“You don't have to be surprised. I said I would come. Have I given you reason to doubt me?”

“Oh, um, sorry Edgey, come in, it's just – well, the latest girl, Therese, she broke my heart and I don't know... she was so sweet and beautiful and wonderful just like an angel and...”

“Larry. You've been through a hundred of these breakups before. If you expect me to sit here while you babble on about your newest perfect girl and how she's dumped you...”

“No! Well, kind of. It's not that she dumped me. Well, it is, but that's not why I asked you here. Well, it is, but-”

“Larry. Would you arrive at some sort of point?”

“Laurice.”

“Laurice, then.”

“No, I mean – did you know Laurice is a girl's name? I thought maybe if I used it I'd get girls that didn't care, but it didn't work.”

“You aren't making sense.”

“I... Laurice is my birth name.”

“Your parents named you for the wrong gender? This is what this is about?”

“Yes, no, I, when I was born they thought I was a girl.”

“They thought you were a girl.”

“This is what I love about you Edgey, Nick would be getting all weird and blushing now, but you're calm and looking at me like I'm nuts, which I probably am, but I was born with girl bits and everything. You know.”

“You were...”

“But I didn't like being a girl and I acted like a boy, and I even had some operations done so now you wouldn't know I've got girl bits down there, because I don't really feel like a girl.”

“Ah.”

“Every time I start to get close to a woman, you know, and it gets where things might get intimate – well, I kind of have to tell them. And then they get all freaked out and I end up alone again, and it's really hard to pretend... I don't like telling them. I don't like always losing the people I love just because I don't have the right stuff down there.”

“...are you sure you wouldn't rather Wright give you advice?”

“Edgey, come on! You know he'd be all red and tongue-tied now, and wouldn't know what to say.”

“I'm not sure I know what to say either, except that if a woman runs away from you for something like that, then she's probably not the kind of woman you want anyway, and you should keep looking. I'm sure there's some steadfast woman out there who can manage to put up with you, and you need someone who can take whatever twists and turns you throw at her.”

Miles suddenly found himself an object of attack, as Larry grappled him. “You're the best friend ever, thanks, Edgey!”

“You're.... welcome.”

“That was what I had to talk to you about. Do you want to go out and do something now? Or hang out and chat?”

“Actually, I should be taking Pess for his walk. He'll be wondering where I am.”

“Oh. Right. Another time?”

“Most likely.”

As Miles made his way to his car, he allowed himself a hint of a smile. Who knew Larry – Laurice – had such hidden depths? Maybe there was hope for him after all.

Homecoming

2009-09-05T17:53:52Z

Title: Homecoming
Fandom: Ace Attorney
Characters: Phoenix/Miles, Trucy, Apollo, Maya, Pearl, Pess
Summary: Miles Edgeworth returns home from Europe and finds quite a welcome waiting for him at home. Family fluff style.
Notes: Written for the following KinkMeme request:
GS-4 PHOENIX AND EDGEWORTH. I want a family!fic, with Hobohodou, Apollo, Pearl, Maya, Trucy...PESS. I am so sick of the angst that GS4 has brought upon this pairing.

SO PLEASE ANON, DELIVER SOMETHING FLUFFY TO ME.

----------

Phoenix went alone to fetch Edgeworth from the airport. Not because the girls weren't eager to see him again, or because Apollo wasn't excited about meeting him for the first time, but because someone had to explain why Phoenix and Trucy hadn't been living in his apartment and spending his money. How with him away in Europe, there was just too much of him in that house, too much to miss. How Phoenix would probably never get out of bed but just lie there breathing in the memory of Edgeworth, how he would have lost his willpower and called Edgeworth home away from his important research, how nothing would have gotten done. And someone had to tell him the whole story about Apollo and Trucy, even the parts they didn't know yet, because Phoenix knew and Miles was his other half.

Of course, that all took a backseat to welcoming Miles back with a kiss that drew most of the eyes in the airport. Miles, equally conscious of the spectacle a hobo kissing a well-to-do gentleman made, said, "You could buy some new clothes. I could buy you some new clothes. We aren't poor."

"I like these. They're comfortable."

"Don't tell me. You spent all the money I left on some elaborate magic trick for Trucy again, didn't you?"

"Objection! Just because I did that the last three- four- times you left the country, doesn't mean I did it this time."

"So what did you spend it on?"

"Eheheh... nothing, actually."

"Nothing? Have you been feeding the girl? You don't look starved yourself - or have you been filling up at that bizarre excuse for a restaurant where you work?"

"We had enough. It was there if we needed it, but you know how Trucy is. And we've got Apollo now, too. I wrote you about him, yes."

"Yes, and I think there is a lot we need to catch up on. Just as soon as I rescue poor Pess from quarantine - he's really getting too old to show overseas now."

"You and your championship dog. Don't give me that look, I missed him too. Not as much as you, but I did."

*

On the drive home, Phoenix talked for most of the way. Miles was glad; most of his time abroad had been spent frantically working in an attempt to get back to Phoenix soon or else listening to Franziska complain about Phoenix's seeming lack of ambition to get his badge back. She didn't seem to understand that the badge had served its purpose for Wright, and now he was focused on other things. Sometimes Miles himself didn't understand, but Phoenix was happy, and however much Miles might tease him about the hobo outfit, it looked good - sexy - on Phoenix.

"Here we are. Home sweet home, now that you're back."

Pess sensed the excitement, sensed the drawing near to home, and barked his agreement. Chuckling, Phoenix let Pess out before going to take Miles' luggage.

"Mr. Edgeworth! Pess!"

"Pess! Uncle Miles!"

Two teenage girls bounded to the just-parked car, Trucy running to give Edgeworth a hug before she squatted down and devoted herself to wrestling with Pess. Maya Fey followed, somewhat more sedately, but still with a bounce in her step that looked odd coming from a woman in the heavy robes of Kurain's Master. She bowed. "We're very glad you're back, Mr. Edgeworth."

"Where's Polly?" Phoenix asked.

"Polly? The parrot?"

"No... oh, I forgot to tell you. Polly's what we call Apollo."

"Silly Daddy, you're supposed to tell Uncle Miles everything. That's how true love works, isn't it, Pearl?"

"Oh yes. And you better not forget anything, because then you could make difficulties in the relationship."

Miles glanced at Phoenix, but the beneficent smile had not left his face. "He's had quite enough to tell me that I can understand how a few details might have slipped through. Still, I would like to meet this Apollo. Where is he?"

"Oh shoot, you didn't leave him with the turkey, did you, Aunt Maya? Polly's not much of a cook." Trucy went running into the house.

"Since when are any of you cooks?" Miles looked towards Phoenix.

"Oh, none of us are, but I guess Trucy decided to make you something special for your homecoming. You know, because we all missed you."

"That's exactly right!" Maya nodded. "And I told her go ahead, because Trucy can do just about anything she puts her mind to."

Edgeworth raised an eyebrow. "Like the time she decided to learn to juggle using raw eggs in the living room?"

Maya chuckled nervously. "Um..."

"Or the time she decided that she was going to use my new cravat to test out the disappearing ink that didn't disappear?"

"Um..."

"All right, Miles, I think she gets the point. Let's go make sure there's no burning turkey feathers or anything in the oven.”

Trucy had managed to obtain a turkey without feathers, but there was still a faint odor of smoke in the kitchen, and a sheepish-looking young man standing with a fire extinguisher staring at a foam-filled oven.

Miles checked to make sure there were no open flames or other immediate sources of danger, and then switched off the oven. “This must be Polly, as I cannot think of a more apt situation to characterize anyone you would claim as a protege.”

The boy blushed. Phoenix grinned. “Edgeworth, meet Apollo. Polly, this is Miles Edgeworth, the man you've been hearing so much about lately. And this little rascal,” Phoenix bent down to the ruffle the ears of an appalled-looking Pess, whose eyes were fixed on the oven, “is his championship winning dog, who is probably smarter than the rest of us humans put together.”

“I wouldn't doubt it.”

“I'm sorry about the mess, Uncle Miles, I just really wanted you to have something special when you came back...”

“Aw, Trucy, don't look so sad!”

If any one thing could be found to ruffle Phoenix's carefully constructed aura of coolness (well, besides the things Miles did to him in the privacy of their own bedroom), it was a pout from his little girl. Miles could not help a slight smirk at the familiarity of the scene, but hoped the tone in his voice would be enough to smooth it over. “I appreciate the attempt, Trucy, truly I do – no, don't howl like that Pess, I know it must hurt your nose but you have a dog door, you can go outside and get away – why don't I just take us all out tonight? Someplace nice.”

“I don't know what happened. I shouldn't have let Polly alone with it.”

“H-hey, don't blame me.”

“Children, children.” Phoenix had regained his composure. “I'm sure Polly didn't mean to do whatever he did.”

Miles caught the desperate expression on Apollo's face. “Do they gang up on you often?” he asked.

“A-all the time, sir.” Apollo looked nervous even making the confession.

“Ah, but what these Wrights did not realize when they took you in is that now they no longer outnumber us.”

Apollo looked stunned.

“They do if Mystic Maya and I help them,” Pearl replied, in a tone very much reminiscent of the old days when everything was Phoenix and Maya together.

“Ah, perhaps. Now, who was it that put the turkey into the oven?”

“Trucy and I did that,” Maya said.

“And did you take out the giblets beforehand?”

“Gib-whosis? Like a monkey or something?”

“Not gibbons, giblets. A bag inside the turkey, that has various organs and things most people find distasteful and feed to their pets.”

Maya and Trucy looked at each other. “No...”

“There you are, then. The paper bag holding the giblets caught fire, and therefore it is not Apollo's fault at all. Case closed.”

Trucy looked about to object, then instead turned to Apollo. “Sorry, Polly. I guess I should know better than to accuse you before I know the truth.”

“That's right!” Apollo turned to Edgeworth, and smiled a bit shyly. “Thanks, sir.”

“Quite welcome. Now, who is ready to go out and get some real food?”

The girls stampeded, arguing over who was going to be able to eat the most. Phoenix winked at Edgeworth as they and Apollo followed at a more sedate pace.

He was home, and it was good.

Female Characters Challenge: Kira, human cleric of Pelor

2009-04-24T03:23:32Z

Title: Captive
Setting: Greyhawk
Character: Kira, human cleric of Pelor
Prompt: Celestial Phenomena 2 – sun
Summary: A young girl from a poor family is taken from her family by slavers, and the young woman she becomes reflects back on this time
Notes: I've played with time a bit in this one, as part of another exercise from The 3 am Epiphany

I can't remember how long I've been caught. I want water more than anything. My mouth is dry and my throat hurts from screaming.

Kidnapping, enslavement, the market for human flesh. The poor of the Hold of the Sea Princes have little enough to protect them from consumption, and I was a mere dockworker's daughter. Not that I had expected anything to happen to me; I already had two sisters and a brother who had made it to adulthood and stayed in the docks. Perhaps my parents were not as strict with me; slavers usually did not favor girls so young as I was at the time.

I couldn't feel my hands; they were stuck with manacles. Everything smelled like sicking up. People were crying and moaning and making noise.

Sometimes the sailors would give away little pieces of hard tack – not something a person looks forward to for a whole voyage at sea, but something different to us, a treat. That is what I sold myself for, a piece of hard tack. A taste of stale bread.

I heard different kinds of yelling, and screaming. Then the door opened and it was light and people were running down. One of them came to me. Around her neck there was a necklace that had a picture of a sun. He had a skin of water and let me have a drink. It was the best water ever.

At that time, I was mostly unfamiliar with temples and the gods, except in a very general sense – superstition, things one did and did not do that I had never directly connected to a higher power. Those who lived on the docks and took time to consider theology generally treated it with contempt; there was little enough divine benefit to be seen by those on the docks. I knew the tradition of tossing a spare copper to the sea for luck, and knew that it was bad luck to kill an amphibian found near a coin.

The man said he was a servant of Pelor and had come to save us. None of us asked who Pelor was. Another man opened up the manacles, and the Pelor man rubbed smelly stuff where I hurt and it made the hurting stop. We had to wait our turns and get asked questions. He asked me a lot about my family and where I lived.

Returning children to lives of poverty and suffering where they will continue to be in danger of abduction can break the strongest of hearts. But how can a child be kept from a family who waits and hopes for that child's return? How can every family be saved, when there is so much evil and it is so strong? We do the best we can, and can only pray that it is good enough, that our strength and Pelor's strength is enough to withstand what happens to us.

I asked if Pelor needed more servants. My sisters worked as servants sometimes. Maybe I could run little errands. I would like to be a servant to someone who dressed me so good. The man listened to me talk and then said that Pelor was not a person like I was thinking.

Even beginning to understand the concept of divinity took me a long time, but the certainty that I would like to serve this Pelor persisted throughout my struggle. The priest who rescued me took the time to continue his interest in my welfare, and when I was a bit older he saw to it that I was offered a place as a maid-of-all-work within the temple. The pay was not much, but I was able to spend time in the glorious surroundings of a temple, and could almost sense the holiness of the place. Not to mention the access to knowledge and tutors, people who introduced me to what it meant to serve Pelor. Thus it was that my journeys began.

Female Characters Challenge: Tenaya, temple servant

2009-04-24T03:15:18Z

Title: Farewells and Loose Ends
Setting: Generic fantasy
Character: Tenaya, temple servant
Prompt: Celestial Phenomena 4 – orbit
Summary: From the point of view of Tenaya's husband, from his deathbed
Notes: During this piece, I was also trying a writing exercise from The 3 am Epiphany that suggested a paradigm shift come to on a character's deathbed

Dying has a way of twisting around what the world means, what a man thinks is possible. Especially when dying means leaving behind a wife and two kids, one of whom is gone missing. I could have called for my son – I wanted him there, wanted to give him my fatherly advice while I still could, but I couldn't think of what fatherly advice I could really give him right now. So I asked for my wife instead.

Tenaya's maybe not the type of woman you'd picture someone like me with. I tend to be a front man, in the spotlight and focused on, while she tends to hang back and do her bit quietly and faithfully. When I first saw her, she was cleaning the floor of the temple, just doing her duty, but she was peaceful and peace was something I got little enough of, so I got to be friendly with her, and then more than friendly. She gave me both my kids, both of them more like me than their mom, which isn't always to their credit.

She comes, stands by me, not speaking but taking my hand in both hers. I think that she must be wobbling somewhere, unsteady, because the whole world is unsteady, but she does not let it show, except for a bit of glisten in her eyes.

“You know I'm dying.”

“I know.”

“And you know I can't come back here.”

“I know.”

“Lyraus will be fine in the temple. They can give him what he needs. It's where he belongs.”

“He will miss you.” I see the first tear roll down her cheek, and reach up to touch it. Warm, soft. Tenaya hardly ever cries.

“The temple's not going to be able to spare anyone to look for our Lysria, though. They think she's old enough to be on her own.”

“She's only twelve. That's still a little girl.”

“Not quite little. Big enough to get herself in trouble. But I agree, she can't...” and I lose my breath, and have to cough and choke to regain it. “She can't take care of herself. She needs...”

“Someone to go after her. I know. I will call your brother, or your mentor-”

“No. You.”

Tenaya looks at me in a way she has never looked before. “I must stay and tend your grave.”

“Our son... can do... that.”

“I... you know that I am only a woman. That I am only a servant woman.”

“No. Not only... not only a woman. You... you are... strong. You... can...”

Every word was labor, but as I spoke them I could see her transformation, from a maid scrubbing the floor to a capable leader, to something I had once thought impossible for a woman.

“I can?”

“You... can... save... Lys...”

Tenaya's gaze softens, and she lays a hand alongside my cheek. “All my life I've only known how to circle someone greater than myself. I don't think...”

“You must,” I manage, and then my gaze begins to dim.

But as my life fades, I can see a new resolve forming along with grief on my wife's face. As I slip into the darkness before eternity, I know that she will succeed, and that our daughter will be safely returned to her mother's arms once more.

Even if a woman has to do it.

Female Characters Challenge: I'tidal Kader, Bakluni woman

2009-04-24T03:05:32Z

Title: Destined
Setting: Greyhawk
Character: I'tidal Kader, Bakluni woman
Prompt: Celestial Phenomena 5 – comet
Summary: A conversation as I'tidal is prepared for a life of exile from her people.

“I always knew you was destined for big things,” Auntie Tevva says while she braids my hair. “Always knew it. No one else believed me, but I always knew.”

I look at her without speaking, taking in a deep breath of the fragrant oil she uses to keep her skin soft and smooth.

“When you was born, I saw it. Istus gave me a glimpse of her spindle in the sky, and I knew it was your birth omen. I told your parents, said to name you Kader, for your fate, your destiny. They did not listen to me, laughed at me – you was just another child, they said, a blessing but no destiny. They think I be just a crazy old woman. What you think of that? Your old Auntie Tevva, just some crazy lady?”

I trace a circle with my finger and do not speak, fixing my eyes on my finger instead of Auntie Tevva.

“I don't mind what you think of that anyway. You thinking I am crazy ain't going to change your destiny, Kader. I get to call you that now, cause of you going away. Proves I was right, that you got some destiny, though I can only pray it's for good. You got to know what a comet means, can mean that is.”

At times a comet is the best of omens, at times the worst. I glance briefly at her; she is reaching for one of the hair ties.

“Your parents thought I'tidal a better name for you, get you a distance away from your crazy aunt. Temperance, moderation – named you to spite me, in some ways. Or maybe they was scared, scared of what it might mean, what you might become. I be scared for my baby girl, someone saw a comet time she was born.”

Auntie Tevva ties my last braid, then leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. Her lips are dry and warm, and I can feel them even when she stands straight again.

“Then you get accused of taking sacred objects from the temple of Istus, and exiled from our people. What does that say, Kader, about you and destiny?”

I stare straight ahead, telling my face to stay calm, like an oasis. Auntie Tevva begins putting things into a satchel – some of her skin oil, fragrant herbs, scarves, tea – treasures of my people and of memory.

“I should not be giving you these things, should not be sending you from us in such a fashion. Time was you would be cast into the desert with nothing but your clothing, and left to die. Things were that way when I was a little girl.”

She hands me the satchel, and I wrap my hands around it and look at her face again. Probably this will be the last time I see her – the woman who acted as second mother to me, who taught me herbs and healing. I try to memorize her face, what I do not already know of it.

“You be missed, Kader. I going to miss you lots. You look out for you self, hear?”

I nod to her, and then she takes my arm and leads me out of her tent, to where a caravan is waiting to escort me out of my people's homeland. No words are said as she hands me over to the caravan master, who puts me into a cart – to let me ride on the back of a horse would be too much honor for one accused as me; I am no longer one of the Bakluni people, no longer worthy to ride as the wind, but must be confined.

A guard rides with me, leaning against the wall, watching me. “I can't ride with our people cause of you,” he tells me, but there isn't too much of an edge in his voice; he's calm, he's good at being calm. “I think you owe me at least your name.”

“Kader,” I tell him.

Female Characters Challenge: Senna, Suel rogue

2009-04-24T03:02:04Z

Title: Once Upon a Time....
Setting: Greyhawk
Character: Senna, Suloise rogue
Prompt: Celestial Phenomena 6 – nebula
Summary: A young woman captured for treasonous acts is given the chance to tell her captor a story and thereby win her life

Lord Sven Jeziram sat stiff-backed atop an imposing throne, garbed in scarlet silks and flanked by two grim-faced guards. He watched impassively as another pair of guards dragged a young woman into his throne room, half-smiling as she fluttered against their restraint like a moth might flutter against a spider's web. When the guards reached the base of the steps leading to his throne, he spoke a single soft word, “Enough.”

The girl stopped her struggle and looked at him; she had pale blue eyes rimmed with equally pale blond lashes, and was dressed in common rags.

“My lord, she will give us no name,” one of the guards said.

“Then we shall have to give her a name, shall we not?” Lord Jeziram rose from his throne, and descended the steps with a carefully trained and predatory grace. He circled her, looking her over from all angles, aware that she turned her head to try and watch him even as the guards held her pinned in place by her arms. “Hulda. Hidden, because so much of you is hidden from us – but I will find it, will I not?”

At that, she turned her head away from him – but he had already turned his back to her, motioning to the guards who held her. They dragged her behind him as he made his way across the throne room to another room, one he saved for private audiences. “You may put her in the visitor's chair and leave us alone,” he told the guards.

“But my lord, if she tries something...”

“I will deal with her then.” Lord Jeziram twisted the ring that circled his right middle finger, a platinum band with a blood-red ruby. “I can summon help easily enough, if I need it.”

“Yes, my lord.” The guards shoved her into the chair and made their way to the door, each pausing one last time to look worriedly at Lord Jeziram and then to glare at the girl.

Lord Jeziram waited until the door closed to move to a cabinet, where he extracted a pair of silver goblets and a bottle of red wine. He carried them to the chair across from hers, and set them on the elaborate table that stood between the chairs. “So, my dear Hulda. I am going to give you one chance, and one only, to survive.”

“What do I care for your chances and games?” The girl spat at him, though she missed.

“You might care if there is someone you wish to return to, something you wish to accomplish. Or you can die here, quietly alone, no one to know or mourn your passing. It is entirely your choice.” He removed the cork, poured a sampling of the wine into each goblet, then re-corked the bottle. “From Celene. Good vintage. Would you like a goblet?”

“No.”

“Suit yourself.” He swirled his own goblet, took a sip. “Ah. Excellent vintage. Now, where was I? Ah yes, your chance to survive. I am a man who is, shall we say, not easily amused, and I look for diversions to pass the time.”

“Diversions like your breeding program and the arena.”

“Ah, no. Regrettably, I do not take as much pleasure in those as I might like – they are simply business affairs to me, and I crave entertainment of a more innocent sort – stories, per se. I would like you to tell me a story, Hulda, one that can keep my interest if you wish to live. I shall even give you a beginning – 'Once upon a time, there was a girl child born to the Suloise people.'”

For a moment he watched her, raising his eyebrows as she continued to glare silently at him. Then he set down his goblet and sighed. “Very well, I suppose you must be executed after all. Such a pity to waste your life like that.”

“Once upon a time there was a girl child born to the Suloise people.” She spoke the words quickly, as though they were missiles she could hurl at him. “Her parents were nobility, and she had a big brother as well. Both parents were busy with their noble duties, and so the children were raised by a servant woman, who was not fully Suloise in her blood, but whom they learned to love.”

Lord Jeziram lifted his goblet again, and leaned slightly forward. “A promising start. Continue.”

“When her brother grew old enough to begin an apprenticeship, he began to grow away from the girl and the servant who raised them, and they fought about what was important. The girl felt as though she had been abandoned by her brother, who she loved. And worse, he told her parents that she had an inappropriate affection and respect for the servant, and the servant was dismissed and not heard from again. He had forgotten all the good times they had experienced, all the things that the servant had done for them-”

“Enough of that. I asked for a story about the girl, not about a servant or her brother.”

“Fine. If you can't take it how it is-”

“I suggest you keep a more civil tongue in your head or you may just find yourself losing it. Now we have the girl, when this servant is gone.”

“She mostly gets left to herself, because her family doesn't have time with all the research and they don't want her getting attached to another person with impure blood, so they're not going to hire anyone but a pure Suel to take care of her and pure Suel are rare these days. That gives her plenty of time to sneak away, to see the things that her family tries to hide from her – the breeding pens, the people kept like they are animals, the servants of mixed blood in the fields and kitchens who tell her things her family probably never even considered.”

“Dangerous. Treasonous.”

“She gets to understand that the Suel aren't the only people with brains, or with powers, or who can manage to be in charge. In fact, the Suel destroyed themselves with their own decadence, when they should have been making allies of the Bakluni-”

“Did I ask for treasonous propaganda?”

“I'm only telling you the story – only telling you what she found out. And that she hated her family, even her brother who she'd once looked up to, because they were all monsters at heart. She packed her plainest clothes and what jewelry, coin, and food she could manage and left her family's estate in the dead of night. She knew enough about sneaking around from her visits to the servants' quarters that she avoided getting caught, and she went away in search of a place where she could live with other people in peace, rather than as an ornament to a system of corruption and decadence.”

“Where did she go?”

“North. To- to Keoland, where she was picked up by a forest patrol. They asked her all kinds of questions, and in the end finally gave her into the care of a merchant who also dealt with documents in Suloise. She translated for him, and he provided her with a home and food. It wasn't fancy like she was used to from being noble, but it was simple and good and she made real friends there.”

“Why isn't she still there, with these supposed friends?”

“It wasn't any of her friends' fault. It was wanting to make things right – it was the merchant's kid, his little boy, who got kidnapped and shipped south by slavers. Some documents were recovered, and she recognized the handwriting on one of them as being that of a family servant. She decided that she was going to use what she knew to get the merchant's son back; he had given her a life, so saving his son was the least she could do for him.”

“Not entirely successful, though, was she?”

“Why can't you just let it be a happily ever after?”

He swirled the wine in his goblet, watching her.

“Fine. No, it didn't go according to plan. She messed up and got herself caught by the guards. Fought them to give the kid enough time to scoot away into the woods, but she got caught herself and dragged into things again.”

“Bloodied up a pair of guards.”

“She knew something about fighting. It wasn't what she wanted, but she had to do what she had to do.”

“And now your story needs an ending, I suppose. Though perhaps not a happily ever after.”

“It's never that simple.”

“No, it is not.” He stood, and paced to one wall and then the other. “I've always been fond of you, Senna, and I would hate to see such a finalizing end as I could give here.” He glanced at her, then strode over to a relief carving on the wall. “You must go quickly from this place, and you must speak of this to no one. And you must swear never to return.”

“Sven?”

“Swear.”

“Fine, I swear, but...”

Lord Jeziram fiddled with the carving, revealing a secret door. “Go. Follow this passage; it will come out under a rock near an abandoned guards' shack. You must forget the way here. Do not think to use this against me, because it will no longer be accessible to you by tomorrow. Get yourself away.”

“Sven-”

“Go. Now.”

“Thank you.”

Long after she had vanished into the shadows, Lord Sven Jeziram stood staring into space, expression guarded, watching the secret passageway.

A Challenge to Myself

2009-03-20T15:06:05Z

Looking at media and my own writing, I'm not sure if I know how to write a strong female character without her turning out to be some sort of Mary Sue. And most of my characters I've made for roleplaying games have basically been "geeky bard with all kinds of knowledges" - something which I love to play, but perhaps it is time to branch out. Thus I've decided to work on creating characters who could fit into a roleplaying game, probably focusing on D&D's Greyhawk (though not necessarily D&D rules; I'm also quite fond of GURPS). In the style of theme community challenges, I will write up tables and then write something that hopefully will give a sense of a character for each prompt. I'm not going to worry about creating all the details and game rules for the purpose of this challenge; I can worry about that at another time if and when I choose to do so.

Without further ado, here is my first chart:

Celestial Phenomena

01.	moon	02.	sun	03.	stars	04.	orbit	05.	comet
06.	nebula	07.	black hole	08.	meteor	09.	constellation	10.	planet

Prince of Sheep - Dark is Rising challenge fic

2008-03-25T03:15:43Z

Title: Prince of Sheep
Notes: I was going through my old fic files and came across this piece, half-completed for a challenge I'd discovered at fic_on_demand. I decided to finish and post this there, and cross-post it here as well.
Requested by: shanaqui
Fandom: The Dark is Rising
Pairing/Characters: Bran/Barney, with mentions of other characters

*

Occasionally, Barney would take a break from planned drawings and artworks – which were now the meat and drink of his life at art school – and would instead draw whatever happened to come from his fingers. Oddly enough, the drawings done with the least thought seemed to be his best works, and seemed to contain an eerie ability to reveal more than Barney thought he knew. For instance, there was that time his picture just happened to be of Jane, holding a baby in each arm, done a week before she announced to her family that she and her husband were expecting, and a full month before even she discovered she was expecting twins.

This time, his subject certainly wasn't Jane. The straight lines of the body seemed to indicate that the subject was male – and then Barney's hand moved to sketch in the eyes, and he would have known the owl-like eyes anywhere. Bran Davies. The way Bran was standing, and the expression on his face, seemed to speak of arrogance – no, not arrogance. Nobility, royalty, a kind of rare self-confidence. And there was something on his head, a kind of headband – no, a circlet. A crown – not a king's crown, but a princely coronet.

One of Bran's hands was resting on his hip, while the other dangled at his side, holding something – casually, something comfortable to him. A sword. Not just any sword. A flaming sword, one that Barney might have expected to see in King Arthur's hand – but it fit Bran, as though boy and sword were made for each other. A curious excitement flooded through Barney. He'd never considered it before, but Bran seemed to fit the Arthurian legends perfectly - “Bran Pendragon,” Barney whispered aloud, and the name seemed to ring with a kind of truth.

And now he desperately wanted to see Bran, in person, not just the friendly letters and cards that passed occasionally between Bran and all the Drew children. Barney wanted to show this picture to Bran, to ask him what sort of other world he belonged to, wanted to offer himself to the modern-day Pendragon in whatever capacity he may be desired.

And he wanted to do it alone, he realized with a twist in his gut. He wanted to do it alone, and hoped Bran would require someone to – no, he wouldn't permit himself to dwell on that. First of all, he had no idea if Bran even liked boys in that way – if Bran even liked anyone in that way, come to think of it. And if he did, then wouldn't it be Will Stanton he chose? He'd known Will first, and somehow they seemed bound together.

Well, Barney would take the next opportunity to see Bran, anyway, and show him the picture even if it meant nothing.

*

Sometimes Fate seemed to have an excellent sense of timing, Barney reflected the next day. He had just received a chatty letter from Will, talking about grad school and this and that – but the most important thing that Will mentioned was that his Welsh relatives were looking for an extra pair of hands on the farm during Barney's spring break. “It won't be for much, and they can teach what needs doing – they wrote Mum asking if any of us were free, but of course I've got other plans made up and the others are all off doing this or that. They could hire someone for the little bit that needs doing, but I think they were hoping for a bit of companionship now that their boys have flown the nest, as it were, perhaps even more than a helping hand. I know you loved Wales when we were all there before, and I think you would find plenty to sketch there if you did go – so I'm enclosing my Aunt Jen's address in case you are interested.”

Of course Barney was interested, and he immediately dashed off a letter to Will's Aunt Jen, as well as a note of thanks to Will.

*

The first task the Evanses set for Barney was to accompany Bran to the pasture, to help keep watch over the sheep. Bran had mentioned that being in the pasture was rather a quiet activity, and he tended to bring along something to keep him busy, as the sheep required very little attention unless there was a predator about, they were being moved, or there was a lamb being birthed. Barney filled his backpack with his sketchpad and drawing kit, and Will's Aunt Jen gave him a bagged lunch to add to his supplies, and then it was off to the pasture.

Bran was already there, perched on a stone wall and surveying the flock as a monarch might look over his people. The early morning light slanted at just the right angle to hit his hair and make it glisten with gold, as though Bran wore a crown of light – and suddenly Barney yearned to just freeze time there, to bring his easel and paints, and to spend an eternity committing to memory and canvas this moment, this image of sublime beauty.

Then Bran turned his head and sighted Barney. A grin spread cross the pale features, and Bran stood to welcome Barney. “You're here, then, bachgen. And you've grown.”

Was that a gleam of appreciation in Bran's eye as his gaze swept over Barney's frame? Barney wanted it to be, but dared not hope. “I'm here,” he said simply, not knowing what else to say, not now that he was confronted with this reality and yet everything seemed only half-real, half a figment of some unseen and unknown world, and Bran the most enigmatic piece of the entire puzzle.

“So, Barnabas. I'd tell you about my life since I last saw you, but it's been mostly sheep, and then more sheep. What has been happening with you?”

“Art school, mostly. Some sketching.” Barney pulled out his pad, shrugging.

“May I?” Bran reached for the pad.

Suddenly Barney was nervous about showing his sketch to Bran, nervous about what he would say, even nervous that he might laugh. But he could not deny Bran anything he wanted, could not help but stretch his arm and place the sketchpad in Bran's outstretched hand. He did say, “They're just doodles, some of them,” as a sort of excuse before Bran opened the pad.

Barney studied the pale face as Bran looked over the sketches. Yes, Bran certainly had a kind of otherworldly, princely look to him – but within that look he held countless nuances of expression, more than anyone who did not known Bran would think possible with such a pale face and such strange eyes. Mirth sparkled, golden, in his eyes as he looked at a caricature of one of Barney's professors. When he came to Jane and the babies, there was a kind of loving tenderness that softened his arrogance. Then he came to the picture of himself, and immediately Barney found Bran's expression to be unreadable, to retreat back into the fierce and noble look Bran wore with strangers. “Odd choice of subject matter, this,” he said, and his voice gave away nothing.

“Sometimes I just sketch, and whatever comes out, comes out.”

“The freakish sheep farmer as some sort of prince. You've been too kind, though – I don't think I look nearly macabre enough.”

“It's not supposed to be macabre.”

“No. With this, you'd almost think I was some sort of Prince Charming or something.”

“Well, why not?” Barney's stomach did a half-flip, half-turn as he heard the words leave his mouth.

Bran turned the full impact of his tawney gaze onto Barney. “And what princess will have me for her own, then, for her gallant rescuer? What princess won't flinch away at this pale boy, and think him a monster just like the one he killed for her?”

“Maybe not all princes need a princess,” Barney dared venture.

“So I'm a prince to spend his life alone, is that it? It almost suits me, then, I suppose – a prince of sheep . . .”

“Or with someone who's not a princess.”

“A slave?”

“Someone who loves you. Maybe it won't,” Barney swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Maybe it won't be a girl.”

“Ah! So you'd pair me up with a gentleman, then? Very well, Barnabas Drew, let's hear who you'd match me to – and before sure and choose wisely, mind.”

“Er . . .” Barney couldn't bring himself to say his own name, so immediately fell back on the next person that came to mind, the one he would have bet most likely to have any sort of romantic entanglements with Bran. “Will?”

Bran spluttered. “What!?! Will??”

“Well, you're close, aren't you?”

“Close... he's like a brother to me. I don't see him... he's not... he might,” Bran finally said, calming down just enough, “Because he does things, sometimes, that no one can understand, but it wouldn't be...” he spread his hands wide, lost for words, but the eloquence of his expression was more than any words.

“So then...” Barney still couldn't bring himself to suggest his own name, didn't quite have that courage. “Well, my prince, what would you want, then, in your not-princess?”

“Now you ask me what I want.”

“Yes.” And suddenly Barney felt taken by a silly mood. “I must know your requirements so that I might scour the land for an appropriate consort for my dear prince.”

“Prince of sheep, you might say.”

“Fine, my dear prince of sheep, but quite deserving of an ideal consort.”

“Let's see. I want someone who knows how to laugh and to dream.”

Barney pretended to scribe those points on an imaginary list with an imaginary quill, winning a slight smirk from Bran. “Someone with an open heart and mind.” Another scribble, then Barney went back to watching expectantly. “Someone involved in the arts, I think, who can understand how I love the harp. It wouldn't have to be music, though, just something...” and the tawny eyes went to the sketchbook, Bran's expression almost wistful.

Barney felt a slight bubbling of hope in his chest. “Someone younger or older or the same age?”

“Certainly not a child, or a dying old man, but a few years either way makes little difference.”

“Appearance?”

“Well, I do get tired of being the only light-haired one about. I wouldn't mind a blonde, for all that.” And now Bran was looking thoughtfully at Barney.

“An art student, maybe, a couple years younger than you?” Barney felt as though he was talking around his heart, which was in his mouth.

“Mmm, I like the sound of that. Is he anywhere near as clever and clear-sighted as you?” Bran asked.

“Oh, quite exactly like me,” Barney replied, and before he knew much of what was happening, Bran was with him and their lips were pressed together.

Never had he known a kiss so sweet, so fiery, so – beautiful. If only it could go on forever, his hands feeling the lean muscles of Bran's body, the dance of their lips, like a conversation, like a kindling fire, like crystals and harpsong and more involving than even the most intense artwork Barney had ever done...

Finally, though, Bran broke the contact of their lips, stepping back slightly – keeping his hands on Barney's hips, not too far back, close enough that Barney could feel his warmth but not as close as Barney wanted him to be. For a moment he considered pushing himself forward to resume the contact between their bodies – that would have been nice – but he could not make such a demand of his prince, who now studied him with soft light in his eyes, an expression that Barney very much wanted to capture but felt beyond his ability to portray.

“D-do you find your consort acceptable, my prince?” Barney finally managed through swollen lips.

“Quite. In fact, I would love to continue kissing him, despite the fact that all my royal subjects are looking on, but I fear that I might get just a bit carried away.”

“That's...” Barney had never seriously considered making love before, but suddenly found that he wanted to, never mind what other people might say or think. Bran was all that mattered. “That's fine.”

“Not here. Later.” Bran pressed a fierce kiss to Barney's lips that was over before it had begun, and then released Barney and stepped back. “We'd best keep our heads; occasionally someone will come up to check on things or do some work in the area.”

What did it matter if anyone knew how much he loved Bran, how he would do anything for Bran?

No, it did matter. Barney suddenly remembered that Bran's father was a deacon – would Bran hate that Barney had shared kisses with him, had lured him into kissing him? Was he already starting to resent Barney for his slips?

“Don't look like that!” Bran said sharply. “You look like a puppy who's wet in the house. Bah! I'm sorry if you didn't want that. I'll stay away from you, if you like, just don't hate me.”

“No,” Barney said, suddenly not sure of what to say or do or feel. “I-I didn't mean to make you kiss me. I liked it. But I don't want you to get mad, because of your father...”

“My father...” Bran began, then stopped, looking suddenly lost for a moment – an expression that vanished a moment later, and if Barney didn't have such a good visual memory, he would have sworn that the lost expression had never flickered across Bran's features. “You worry about Owen Davies,” Bran said.

“Isn't he a deacon? Isn't it... this... a sin, or something?”

“I suppose he would consider it so, yes. That does not mean that I do. There is more in heaven, earth, and hell than Owen Davies will ever know.”

“So you're not going to be angry with me, then?”

“Of course not – not for that, anyway. Though I wouldn't like you to go telling just anyone. There's folks that will understand and folks that won't, quite, and I'd like time to be prepared for the second sort.”

“I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to.”

“We'll see who we can tell, and decide together, my lovely consort.” Bran reached out and touched the tips of his fingers to Barney's cheeks, which burned with a cool fire and made Barney's heart thud against his ribcage. Part of him wanted to reach up and capture Bran's hand against his cheek, but his arms betrayed him and would not move, and all too quickly Bran let his hand fall again. “Go to your sketching, then, Barnabas Drew, and we can talk about things and get to know one another better, for I fear we know little enough of each other as it is, especially considering our situation.”

So the prince of sheep perched on his post and watched as Barney sketched, and they talked a long time, and traded looks and smiles and secrets. Barney found himself telling Bran about how he had first been kissed by another boy at art school, after they both had had a bit too much to drink, and how he had liked it better than kissing girls and been afraid to tell anyone, even Jane, who seemed to know him best and who he thought would be the most likely one of his family to understand. Bran told him about sneaking to a harp competition knowing how much it would hurt Owen Davies to be disobeyed by his son but not even caring beside how much he wanted to play, and about how the harp was his closest friend when he was a child, besides Cafall. Barney told him about being the youngest, and how much it hurt him when Simon and Jane thought he was too young for their games and would go off and play without him because he was the baby. Bran confessed his hating the isolation bestowed upon him by his pale skin and rural lifestyle. Barney confessed his adoration of Bran's otherworldly appearance, and they debated fairy tales and mythology until the time came to bring the sheep back to the fold and go for some supper.

“Da's going to be away this Wednesday. Perhaps you should come and help me with my chores then.” Bran smirked.

Barney's heart raced. “I'd love to.”

“For now, though, I fear we must walk our separate paths a while. Give me one last kiss before we part, for I seem to remember being the one who always starts our kisses, and I think it is your turn.”

“We've only had two,” Barney retorted, and then he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Bran's just as he had been longing to do. He grabbed Bran's shoulders and tried to pull him even closer; Bran ran his fingers through Barney's hair and rested them at the nape of his neck, sending electricity pulsing through his body.

Reluctantly, they parted. “I wish a kiss could go on forever,” Barney sighed.

“Nothing is forever, Barnabas Drew, but what comes after may well improve on what comes before.”

And so they parted, each boy looking forward to their next meeting and a bright tomorrow.

From the writings of Rowena Ravenclaw:

2007-01-02T22:03:13Z

DISCLAIMER: I'm not Rowling or anyone affiliated with her in any legal or official way. I am making no money from this.

I fear that even now those who record our lives and tell our tales neglect poor Helga. Salazar is, of course, the ideal of a Pureblood from a great and noble family, and Godric is brash and exciting enough to capture many imaginations. I have even heard my own name mentioned from time to time, along with the idea that somehow I am (forgive my for my seeming immodesty, but I report this only in the interest of telling a full and honest account) the most brilliant witch who existed. But never have I heard Helga mentioned, save in passing, as one of us.

And yet, without Helga, none of what we built – none of Hogwarts – would be at all possible. While she may not be as bold as Godric, as rich and well-connected as Salazar, or share my degree of knowledge, Helga has truly been the backbone of our quartet. No task has ever been too tedious, too menial, too distasteful for our Helga, and many time when the rest of us were resting she was laboring. Helga alone has shown the necessary patience to deal with Godric and Salazar when they begin to argue.

Nor do those scribes recognize Helga's own unique brand of wisdom and insight. While I am more adept at manipulation of magical energies than she, she is the one who sees hidden depths in even the most seemingly mediocre of students and coaxes them to become more than any of the rest of us thought possible. My students will be the ones who formulate strategy, Godric's the ones who do great deeds, but Helga's will be the glue that holds Hogwarts together, and that fills all the places the others will not. On Salazar's students I withhold my judgment, for they are not as well known to me. They tend to keep to themselves, but I do know that he favors only those he considers to be of the purest blood, and argues fervently against the inclusion of students without at least one wizard parent's influence in his or her life. This is the issue on which he and Godric are most passionately divided, and were it not for Helga's mastery of diplomacy, particularly with Godric and Salazar, I fear that this conflict may tear apart our friendships, and even the school which we have labored so intensively to create.

bardiclog @ 2006-11-07T22:09:00

2006-11-08T02:09:28Z

Title: Research
Word Count: 100
Challenge: 69 - Bertie Botts
Rating: G

“Why do you need so many boxes of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans?”

“I'm working on an article for The Quibbler, about how they can be used as a divination tool. I have to do some research of course.”

“Research?”

“A study, if you will. Whomever likes is welcome to be a participant. Shall I add your name to the list?”

“Does it involve eating them?”

“Everyone's been asking me the very same question. Of course it does, and everyone may have as many as he or she likes, courtesy of The Quibbler's research fund.”

“I'm in, then.”

Luna smiled.