#franziska is really hard though????

[m0th-hours]

this au is a few months old now but im gonna introduce it anyways >:]

so like

me and a friend we're both into OMORI and Ace Attorney, and as a joke during a gartic phone session she joked: "omg what if miles but sunny"

so yeah thats a thing now!!!! BECAUSE IT SOMEHOW FITS???

This Unnamed (ish, its named after the MC, but idk i wanna name it somethin else) AU is a crossover AU where instead of Sunny pushing Mari down the stairs, it revolves around the DL-6 incident.

Here are some basic details:

MILES takes on the SUNNY role, however I do imagine him just disliking crowds and often takes nightly walks ((cough cough this is how Turnabout Goodbyes happens in this au)) instead of being a complete shut in. Still not mentally the best though, because he got 0 therapy for his traumas

PHOENIX takes on the BASIL role, where in this AU he too got involved with the whole DL-6 Incident!!!! yayayayay trauma buddies! Poor mans originally wanted to just be a photographer but became a defense attorney :[

FRANZISKA is AUBREY. No questions asked it just... fits. Absent parents, anger issues... The only difference is that she's the same age as the rest.

LARRY is KEL. He took up boxing as a kid, and he's just a lil guy who is awful at reading the room,,,

we dont have a HERO role unfortunately :[ miles doesnt have enough friends lmao

GREGORY is MARI for obvious reasons,, the friend group's dad figure,,, definately gets them mcdonalds

While i know that according to the wiki, miles can play the piano and flute, he plays the viola in this AU bc we need more viola representation as a viola player myself /hj

the omori kid is named MIKKO which is ironic as i didnt know at the time that here on tumblr there's a person in the omori fandom who goes by miko so thats a thing lmao,,

I'd talk more about headspace but my lil brain isnt up to it rn,,,,, will do it though,,,,

[box-dwelling]

As someone who went to Germany and spent like 70% of the time in churches, Von karma sibling growing up Christian head canons is so fucking personal to me

[raven]

the women of tumblr polls fucking suck you people are so stupid

[ot3]

ace attorney characters: do they fuck good?

phoenix: what he lacks in skill and experience (and i DO believe he lacks these things at least until he starts fucking kristoph on the reg) he somewhat makes up for with enthusiasm and taking direction well

mia: i do think she was partying hard at law school almost rumspringa style after getting away from living as a Mountain Nun so yes

maya: i do think she could fuck like a champ but u gotta be in to her clown antics or it's not gonna land. kinda girl who would strip naked and hten u see shes got like eyes drawn on her boobs with sharpie

gumshoe: i think that he's so The Type of whoever is gonna be sleeping with him that it almost doesn't even matter. he's probably fine though. hes a nice guy.

edgeworth and franziska: sharing a slot because they share an answer. no, for identical reasons. they're such neurotic perfectionists that sex terrifies them because there's not any way to practice before someone has to see you do it. they need someone who can love them the way a tween girl loves a Problem Horse to blossom into their full potential

larry: no.

lana: no because shes a workaholic and shes just trying to get it over with half the time because she's got other shit to do

ema: to repeat myself from earlier i think she kind of sucks and kind of doesn't give enough of a shit #depressiongirlswag

apollo: yeah i think apollo fucks

klavier: this one's really hard to me because i do think klavier is giving it his all but due to him being hot and famous i'm just not sure he's ever gotten honest feedback in this department so i really can't say. i think odds are decent that he's mid and coasting and if he ever knew this it'd devastate him

kristoph: unfortunately for everyone i think the answer is yes but only if his entire personality isn't a dealbreaker for you

lang: obviously. next question.

justine: yeah

asougi: not as good as he thinks he is. once again the hotness is doing a bunch of heavy lifting

ryuu: i know he's a freak in bed but i don't think he knows he's a freak. despite or perhaps because of that that i think he's kind of a savant in this department since it's the version of reality that's funniest for me.

van zieks: pray forgive his discourtesy of getting glass shards and red wine stains on the bedsheets and also just generally staring off into space like a brooding widow during these carnal acts

sholmes: the attention span is just too fucked he's that post about leaving someone tied up in the other room and then forgetting. if you could get him to stay still long enough the dick would probably rule but you can't. you just can't.

[bblueraven-and-fandoms14]

Can we talk about how crazy Phoenix Wright's actions are in the trilogy like wdym you found this man you met for like, maybe a year when you were a kid, and decided to pursue him and follow him so deeply you changed entire career paths just for a CHANCE at meeting him again. This is a bit creepy!! At the very least just, crazy. And he came in preaching about how much Miles changed and searching to "save him" like Phoenix Wright!!! You very-close-to-stalker-status man!!!

But what really gets me is that Miles CAVES. Miles, dare I say it, Liked It. And this is what I want to talk about because. Can we talk about how lonely, and isolated, and just mentally not okay Miles was that this affection, although it takes him aback at first and does alarm him in some way, doesn't alarm him because it's insane but because it won't allow him to keep up his current way of life 😭 Miles last memory of healthy affection was his father and that has been tainted beyond belief. So imagine you're doing bad mentally, you are incredibly lonely, affection has been hard to come by, and a man appears that says "I care and I'll save you trust". Forget you haven't seen him in years and forget that you aren't thinking deeper about the fact he claims friendship status even though it's actually been very brief in the past and, again, YEARS since you've either thought of him or even looked at him. What would you do?

Like just. Miles matched his freak, he did, but I think he matched it because to him it was salvation. Because he had nothing else in his life so he took one of the first things given to him without condition, freaky/creepy/a bit insane or not 😭 I think about this all the time. Miles clung because he had nothing else, there was very little else, and so he accepted it in the end. Ik he has Franziska and Gumshoe but those, at least in so far as the first game, will always be at a distance because of the way his life has worked so far. Phoenix Worked because he kinda forced himself in. He said I Will Love you and I Will Save you, thank you, idrc about your protests, sorry but im attached. And that's, good intentions or not. A bit crazy 🤔

I love Narumitsu guys and I especially love is-kinda-obssesive-crazy-unhealthy- sometimes-and-it-only-gets-worse narumitsu and Phoenix Wright God bless.

[nyaagolor]

Franziska being Nick's weird little girl in Bridge to the Turnabout lives rent-free in my mind at all times

-

The two of them are sitting on the snowy bench watching Phoenix for at least five minutes before Franziska finally says something.

“He is depressed,” she announces matter-of-factly. Gumshoe can’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

“Finally, people are making SENSE around here, sir!”

Franziska continues without acknowledging him. “He misses his vierd little girl.”

Gumshoe’s face falls. “The spirit medium, you mean? That’s not a good way to describe her.”

Franziska twirls a hand in the air like that will untangle the words in her mind. “No, Phoenix, he… hm. He is always… he has those vierd little girls following him around always. Maya, but also the little one. I have seen it many times.”

Gumshoe thinks about it, and realizes Franziska isn’t exactly wrong. Phoenix does always seem to have some kinda buddy with him all the time— one of the Feys, usually, but even his Maggey stood beside him during her trials.

“You think it helps him focus? Like a little rubber ducky you talk to when you gotta get the words out right?” he says. 

Franziska glares at him coldly. “You are the only fool who would do something so foolish.”

Gumshoe slumps a little, and Franziska twists her whip around in her hands.

“However. You may not be incorrect. Phoenix Wright is a foolish fool, and his foolish tendencies are somewhat mitigated by the presence of his… strange female companions.”

“His… do you mean friends?”

“Silence,” Franziska commands.

The two of them sit there in silence again before Franziska, eyes locked like searchlights on the back of Phoenix’s head, stands up suddenly with her mouth set into a hard line. She cracks the whip in the snow and strides towards him, her heels crunching in the powder.

“PHOENIX WRIGHT,” she commands, and he jumps with less of a start than normal. He really IS depressed, it seems. “I will be assisting with your investigation.”

Phoenix looks less than thrilled, sputtering protests as Franziska stares coldly up at him, and it is at that moment that Gumshoe decides he could use a little cocoa right about now.

By the time he returns, Phoenix seems strangely back to normal, muttering over seemingly random knickknacks he insists are “evidence” and shuffling through his chickenscratch notes like there’s anyone capable of reading it. He taps one of the pages and looks up expectantly. Though Franziska does nothing but offer him the same steely gaze, Phoenix seems satisfied enough, smiling to himself and scribbling furiously in the margins. Franziska catches Gumshoe’s eyes, notices his smile, and quickly turns her head, fingers curling around the handle of her whip. Taking a sip of his cocoa to hide his grin, Gumshoe pretends to be busy with investigating.

[wherewolfwasteland]

Miles probably assumes his father would be disappointed that he never became a defence attorney like him but honestly I

think greggory would be super proud of his son. Despite all that his baby miles had to go through , his baby fended for himself for years, looked after franziska as if she was his own sister even though she was hard to manage since they both had a lot of struggles. And Despite always saying he only cared about winning and perfection, even from the start he only cared about the truth and wouldnt let his feelings get in the way of that , regardless of if he was aware of it or not . On top of that despite his "colder" exterior he is a man that many people can trust and lean on without judgement. We all know phoenix is a sassy little shit (which is great) but miles is truly open minded and unjudgemental . Anything he might say that comes across as judgemental is more ignorance which he quickly fixes (eg. "I guess short people have feelings too- AAI1) and he is really a good guy . He is always fair and just. Which in turn makes him a great prosecuter rather than a defensive attorney who has to believe In clients despite most of the time lacking evidence . I really think that greggory would be more than proud of his son for having great morals (like himself) and going his own path .

Also I know he'd love phoenix the little shit that loved and supported his son while he was unable to himself

Yeah anyways I could talk about this forever and ever but for now rant is over

[inbarfink]

The answer to the question of ‘is Manfred von Karma German?’ Is actually a surprisingly complicated one. 

Because in the original version of ‘Ace Attorney’ he is supposed to be a local. That is to say, Japanese. He has a Japanese name (Gō Karuma), he has Implied Off-Screen Japanese Ancestors implied in TGAA2, we pretty much exclusively see him prosecuting cases in Japan, and official media created by official Japanese creatives primarily shows him living in Japan (eg. the Anime).

And then you have Mei/Franziska. Who, in the original Japanese version, was born, raised and studied law in the USA. (And yes, both the Japanese and Localized version say born, I checked).  And she does occasionally refer to herself as Separate and Different from the ‘local’ Japanese characters, there’s this little piece of official art riffing on how much she differs from Larry/Yahari’s idea of an American Woman.

 But she also still has a Japanese name (although I’ve seen some speculation that ‘Mei’ was chosen for the character because it’ll be an easy name to Englishize as ‘May’) and is, you know… still the daughter of the guy we exclusively see running around Japan. The only scene they have together in Game-Canon is when Mei is visiting Japan for vacation in ‘Turnabout Reminiscence’. So while the implication is that Mei did spend most of her time growing up in the US, we don't know how much time Gō spent there. 

And then the American Localization came along, switched Japan to America and America to Germany and then also added the extra wrinkle of giving Gou Karuma the decidedly German-sounding name ‘Manfred von Karma’. Thereby giving him a much bigger implied connection with the country-where-his-daughter-was-born-and-raised then the original, even though every other piece of textual evidence remained the same. He is STILL only seen prosecuting cases in 'America' and, if you add in the Anime narrative and TGAA2 espacially, the plot really doesn't make sense if you assume he lives for any significant amount of time in Germany.

Sure, with the name and all it's hard to deny that he probably has some relation to Germany, but with how the actual text of the game work it's easier to say he's a German expatriate or just an American of German ancestry, then how the Fandom often depicts him - as a man who lives and work in Germany and only occasionally jumps over to also do some work in Japanifornia.

But.... then there's the whole thing with Franziska/Mei being born and raised in Germarica. And I would like to say something like, ‘well, considering this fact, obviously regardless of version Manfred still did actually do lot of business in both Japanifornia and Germarica and spent a lot of time in both countries. It's really just a matter of us not seeing his Amerigerman cases cause they are all obviously Off-Screen for our manin characters. And while Gou Karuma might come across more as a Japanese man who occasionally also works in the US, the changed implications of the name means that Manfred von Karma is probably meant to be read as a German man who occusionally does work in the US. Because OBVIOUSLY he must have spent many years in Germarica considering his own daughter was born and raised there.’

But I can’t.

Because if there is one character who would watch his wife give birth in whatever country has the best law schools and then fuck off back to his homeland while leaving his baby to fend to herself across the the Pacifitlantic ocean - it would be fucking Manfred von Karma!

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 6, In Which You Try To Look Away (It's Harder Than You Thought)

AO3

by the way, I saw today an art on twitter which is extremely Raul-coded

I am not a murderer, you thought as you ordered the ATM to give you another two hundred euros.

Even if I am, that guy deserved it, you thought as you re-inserted the card to give you two hundred more (damn those limits per withdrawal).

Even if he didn’t (and he did), nobody is going to miss him, and his fiancee will move on to the next lawyer in Oliver Peoples glasses soon enough, and besides, people die in freak accidents all the time. 

Even if they don’t, well, if every death wish resulted in an actual death, humanity would be long extinct and that wouldn't be your fault, would it now?

With that comforting thought, you pocketed the last of your ten thousand euro goal, tired from having to repeat the same task for almost an entire hour. Anything can happen, Raphael could cut off access to his account on a whim, but cold hard cash was something you could hold onto even if you fell from his grace.

"Ms. Berger," came a voice on your phone with a strong French accent the moment you picked up. It was Raphael’s banker, Francois-something, who gave you the PIN in the first place. “Would it be easier if we delivered cash directly to you? Your withdrawals keep triggering our petty theft alerts."

"Oh no, thank you," you replied, trying your best not to sound like a petty thief. "I have enough for now... I think."

“As you wish,” came his slow reply.

"But uh... could you help me make two bank transfers?" You asked after a pause. "One to my mother, Franziska Berger… (how much how much how much?) ten thousand euro, I’ll send you the details… and one for the stray cats shelter... (how much how much how much?)… five thousand euro?"

Too much? How do you quantify the cost of accidentally-on-purpose getting some useless yuppie run over by a bus in terms of absolving your sins? 

Five thousand felt somewhat stingy.

“The stray cats?” The banker repeated back at you as though questioning whether this was some sort of coded drug deal.

“Yes,” You replied firmly. “They do incredible work. Ah! The kids cancer foundation, too. Five thousand. No, ten".

That seemed about right for the guy’s life.

"Ah, you meant charity. Of course," Francois replied, relief and amusement in his tone. "Lovely, great for the ESG rating. Make sure to get an invoice for the tax refund."

It didn’t quite sit well with you to use stray cats and kids for tax refunds, but you still said yes and stashed the money deep down the rucksack. You got a bit of cash for now (soon you will go for more, because who knows), but it’s still not an income source. 

What could be? Should you ask Raphael to buy an apartment in your name, or two? You could rent it. Or a company? Tenebris, for instance. Just imagine their gobsmacked faces - especially after they gave you the boot without even a severance package.

That was a delicious thought.

You let it simmer as you sat down in an tourist-trappy Italian restaurant in the city centre, just about to order an Aperol Spritz when your phone began to ring again. You are in high demand these days.

"Anya!" Your mum gasped on the other end of the line. “I saw you on TV!"

Sure, the accident was all over the news channels. Some blurred out the dead body better than others did. You would bet your last cent that the unedited version got more views.

"Yeah, gruesome," you grimaced.

"Gruesome? Why? Ah, you mean the guy. Well, that happens all the time; they really give driving licences to anyone these days. I do hope the driver rots in prison for what he did to this poor young man. Anyway, no. I called to say, I saw you and Raul on the news”.

She managed to infuse an uncanny amount of innuendo into the last sentence.

“Raul is such a handsome man, Anya”, she sighed wistfully. “Quite the catch you got there, huh?”

There we go again. 

“What, way out of my league?”, you joked dryly. “I’ve been told that”.

“Oh, no, what nonsense! You are such a pretty girl!” Your mother protested. “More importantly, a good-hearted girl raised right; I am glad there still are decent men who still appreciate that. Did you meet Raul for a lunch?”

“Oh no,” You replied nonchalantly. "We actually… ah, we actually went to a church. He introduced me to his pastor."

Your mother sucked in an audible gasp like she'd won some kind of maternal lottery.

“His pastor, already? I am so happy for you, sweetie.”, she finally managed to say. “This is like a fairy tale come true”.

Yeah, a Grimm one.

“Sort of”, you chuckled. '“By the way, you will receive a bank transfer soon, ten thousand euro, don’t be afraid. It’s… well, take care of your health, okay? Get a decent dentist this time, a private one”.

“Where do you have the money from? Is it his?”, your mum suddenly sobered up. “Anya, what on earth is he paying you money for? I hope you are not doing anything… anything…”

"No," you cut her off and licked your lips, recalling the last thing that passed between them. “Mom, please! It's not his money, it's my company’s – long story.”

One that you haven't come up with yet.

Besides, if Raphael was giving you ten thousand dollars (thirty-five thousand in total with your other expenses for the day) for one blowjob, then you definitely had a successful career, just not in the field you had planned on.

“Okay,” your mum replied. “But still...you don’t need to...why don’t you buy some nice dresses instead? What on earth was that t-shirt you were wearing to a church?"

“I am hanging up”, You threatened half-heartedly.

You didn’t. You listened in the background to the story of how your mum’s school friend called her to say she saw “her Anya” with a very handsome man on the TV, nonplussed by the fact there was a scattered corpse in the background. 

In the meanwhile, you opened Google on your phone. 

You didn’t fancy doing that before - annoyed by that fake persona Raphael had created. But since he obviously put that much effort in it, it’s worth looking up what he had been up to and for how long.

Nothing good, for sure.

"…Raul D'Avergni, managing partner of an international law firm, inherited the private equity conglomerate, Avernus Capital. This transition was precipitated by the unexpected and tragic passing of his father..."

"…By December 2024, D'Avergni's high-profile liaison with Isabelle Arnaud, actress and socialite, had unceremoniously ended..."

No. Who? No. You didn’t need any ex-girlfriends.

"…Ms. Arnaud levied abuse accusations against Mr. D'Avergni…”

Oh, no…

“…she retracted her claims within a mere twenty hours and ensued a public apology for any harm inflicted upon D’Avergni’s reputation..."

Hmm.

"…her psychiatrist intervened on her behalf. Evidently, Arnaud was grappling with severe mental health issues that led her to make unfounded allegations..."

Raul likes them crazy, they said? Or makes them crazy?

"…Ms. Arnaud now resides in a high-end medical institution in Monaco, focusing on her mental health issues..."

What did Isabelle look like, you wondered, as your mum finished her talk and wished you a good day. You typed her name into the search bar, holding your breath in anticipation as you half-expected to see Hope's face staring back at you.

The woman clinging to Raphael's arm at some fancy film premiere bore no resemblance.

Your stomach sank as if it had plunged into the depths of hell.

She was exactly the type of woman Raphael should have on his elbow; a timeless beauty, but something more Renaissance like, the kind of faces humankind seemed to have stopped producing. She was in her mid-twenties, as well, but… hell, you could not hold a candle to that. Few could. 

Not even the Tavs. She resembled her namesake, Isabelle Adjani, in her youth, maybe even better.

The pictures showed her laughing and looking deeply in love while gazing up at Raphael, while he offered only a very formal smile to the camera. So not Hope then. Nothing like their story. She was in love, he wasn’t. 

Good.

Later snaps by paparazzi painted a different picture: a gaunt woman hidden behind oversized sunglasses and swallowed up by her hoodie, clutching to her coffee cup. 

With a swift click, you banished Isabelle from your screen and plunged further into Raphael's (Raul’s) life story.

You found a photo of Raphael in his twenties (yes, just like the Tumblr post you hated, and no, you wouldn't have fucked him at that age), caught up in a minor scandal in Sankt Moritz (apparently his fraternity brother had pissed on the Swiss flag), more gossip, his philanthropic affairs for local theatres and art galleries, numerous articles praising his professional achievements, and interviews with Lawyer and WSJ and the like. There was mention of a brief marriage and divorce in his early thirties, but when you tried to Google the woman's name, nothing came up.

The whole thing left a sour taste in your mouth. This was someone's real life story, not a fictional character. Raphael wasn't just some wealthy corporate jerk; he was a half-devil from Avernus, which was infinitely better and more sympathetic.

You were well aware that Raphael wasn't exactly a good guy. But he had his rules; he had to have his rules. As for the whole thing with Hope though... What exactly was she? An idea? A person? The fandom barely discussed her, and what little they did, you didn't like; all horrible takes, every single one.

The whole plot felt half-baked.

Anyway, what seeing Isabelle did motivate you to do was to take a real stroll down the city's most expensive boutique street.

Now, the first thing you bought was not because you wanted or needed anything, but because Raphael expected you to. You were not much of a materialist anyway; you were ideologically opposed to consumerism. These things were overpriced, generally not worth it and, on a larger scale, represented everything that was wrong with society.

You decided to enter a Valentino store out of curiosity, as you had never been inside one before. The saleswoman's disdainful look at your T-shirt motivates you to buy a black dress with a white collar, not necessarily because you liked it, but because you want to prove that you can afford it, despite the price tag of two thousand euros. 

Well, you liked it a little. The wool and silk blend was great to touch.

The details of the rest of the shopping trip became a bit hazy. You had your reasons; the consort of an Archdevil Supreme had to look really nice. If you couldn't be as pretty as Isabelle, you could at least dress as well as she did. So you started with some nice blouses and trousers, and a (just one) jacket. With that, you needed shoes. With shoes, of course, you needed a bag. Now that you had a bag (you closed your eyes as the price flashed at the till), you needed some jewellery (you needed to see what all the fuss about Tiffany's was about). And, of course, you needed make-up. 

At each shop, the sales assistants smiled wider and wider as you piled more and more bags onto your arms. By the seventh stop, it felt like their smiles were entering uncanny valley territory. 

Eventually, the banker would call you, right? But when exactly would that be? You tried to find out, but failed. It had to be over forty thousand.

The thought made you dizzy. In one day you had spent your entire year's salary. Now all you could do was hope that Raphael wouldn't make you work off the debt somehow. Unless it was the kind of work your mother suspected you were already doing for him.

You came out of the last shop with five bags and the feeling that you were a very shitty socialist. Since you couldn't carry any more, the shopping concierge (apparently it's a real job) offered to store the bags until your driver picked you up, and just as you were about to say which bloody driver, whom do you take me for, you remembered that you actually had one.

"Mrs Berger," the receptionist said cheerfully the moment she saw you in the door. "Nice to see you again! How can I help you? Oh, yes. The driver, of course. Yes, of course, let me put you through to Mr D'Avergni's personal assistant".

Oh, it's Mrs Berger and my pleasure? They were wondering if the rumours about you wanting the guy to be run over by a bus were already out there. The personal assistant's name was Camilla, her voice was the embodiment of professionalism, and she was the one who could take you to the driver, who was there in no time.

His name was Yuri and he was more talkative than you would have liked. Gruff, huge, way too big for the car he was driving (any vehicle known to man would be too small for him), with a deep booming voice and the face of someone who had spent half his life behind bars.

"Have you seen that poor bastard? All over the main road," he remarked as he passed the street cleaners. "Probably too busy fiddling with his phone to keep an eye out."

"Mghgm," you offered. 

"So, are we stopping by your place first, Miss Berger? Boss said you wanted to get some things first. Are you moving in?"

"Am I?" You ask, surprised by the news yourself, and then think to yourself: "Why not?”

Why the hell not.

****

You didn't waste any time. With a tidy suitcase in tow, you were out the door of your apartment before Yuri could get too bored. You packed the essentials - toothbrush, laptop, documents - and a few other things that suddenly felt crucial to your life.

Out the car window you watched the cityscape change from urban jungle to manicured suburbia and finally to a small gated community. The driver talked politics (he had exactly the kind of convictions you'd expect), then about how amazing Raul was (and how extremely open-minded he was to give an ex-con a job), before returning to politics. 

You didn't ask what crime Yuri did his time for. 

You knew it was Raphael's house the moment you saw it through the car window. Who else would live in such a place? Not a house, that's too boring a term; a villa, all intricate stonework, marble and terracotta, such a flamboyant display of wealth that it should have been taxed just to exist. 

Only a devil or a mafia don would call such grandeur home. So much, too much, theatrical to the point of grotesqueness; no real person could possibly live like this. You couldn't help but wonder if Raphael had been influenced by the films he had seen - perhaps he had developed a taste for modern cinema.

He must have liked The Godfather.

This place. The fountains, the statues (classical, Roman, as if sculpted by the ghost of Michelangelo), the gardens. You wondered how many souls it took to keep this whole thing running.

The gates opened and the car drove you into an underground car park that was already very busy and very Italian: Ferraris, Maseratis, Lamborghinis. You counted; eight. Who needed eight cars? Not even one for each day of the week. 

The lift took you up; Yuri left your shopping bags and suitcase in the foyer and said goodbye.

You'd never set foot in such a house before; the closest you'd ever come was drooling over Sotheby's property listings.

Why would anyone need all this space? For just one person? It was at least six hundred square metres; and the guest and service house looked like another two hundred. The kitchen and dining area was three times the size of your apartment.

You could play golf here.

For what it's worth, the villa didn't remind you of the House of Hope. Firstly, it was completely empty; the servants, if they were in there, managed to make themselves invisible. Second, it lacked the baroque, replaced by the dolce vita and flair of a Lake Como residence. Thirdly, there were no self-portraits, not even pictures, nothing to suggest that the man who lived here had a face, a history, let alone a family.

The first floor was devoted to entertaining guests: the kitchen, the dining room, the library, the ballroom (you guessed this kind of rooms used to be called ballrooms, he even had a piano in it). The second floor was half-locked, except for the master bedroom (the bed easily could accommodate two orthons and a cambion sandwiched between them) and the dressing room. 

There was also a basement - the entrance blocked by a number lock. You considered trying the PIN combination, but decided you didn't want to snoop down there... well, you wanted to snoop very badly, but you didn't want to face the possible consequences. Unless they resembled those in his private club.

So you roamed both floors twice before staking claim to your new sleeping quarters in the master bedroom by putting your suitcase down there. You checked everything else in the room: Raphael's bedside glasses, his choice of books (predictably, Machiavelli, but not The Prince, another book you had never heard of called Mandragola), even his dark silk pyjamas, which lay on the chaise awaiting their owner's return. You open his drawer: hand lotion, velvet sleeping mask, lubricant, two opera tickets (Götterdammerung) from about a month ago... 

Then curiosity led you to look under his bed, where he indeed had something stored: a large black storage box.

Oh, you just had to have a look. 

Just to get an idea of what’s on the evening programme.

Handcuffs, the real kind, the police kind, metal ones. The thought of all the women (and men) who might have been bound with them, as jealous as it made you feel, was titillating. A whip and a crop. Yes, that works for you. And what's this? Butt plugs? Only if they were still sealed in their original packaging (you were not into that kind of hand-me-downs) and way smaller. A chastity belt? Well, that's... intriguing, but probably not in your first month together. A hook? That can stay where it is.

At least nothing too extreme like needles or enemas or any of the other disgusting things you sometimes saw on weird porn sites.

Underneath all that, toys and accessories, lay another plain black box. Oh, a box in a box. Something was written on it.. 

GOOD EVENING CURIOUS LITTLE MOUSE

"Good evening," you said as you opened the lid.

Then promptly closed it again.

"No," you said. "No, no, no. It was just a fic I read and liked, I was very horny, but it's not really my thing. No, thank you. Just because I didn't have a father doesn't mean I have daddy issues. I don't care about the guy, he never cared about me, end of story".

You took a deep breath before opening the box again, hoping that the items inside had disappeared. 

But to your dismay, they were still there: a velvet collar adorned with "Daddy's Little Mouse" in shimmering gold thread, a headband with mouse ears, red lace cobweb-thin lingerie and a tail-butt plug (thankfully still in its original packaging and on the smaller side). The tail was furry and tipped with white, so you must have been a dormouse.

All of the toys were top quality, handmade, and incredibly vulgar. Well, no surprise, having seen what Haarlep was wearing in his house.

You closed the box shut again.

"I'd rather cook us something to eat," you suggested, getting up. "Some pasta. I bet you like pasta?"

You definitely liked pasta and hoped that Raul (Raphael, Raphael) would not have you hanged on the hooks and tortured for your very non-Italian interpretation. You hoped in vain, because he chimed in and tried to stop you from committing a crime:

"Working late. Don't bother with dinner. Take some time to relax and enjoy yourself. R".

As you descended the stairs, ignoring his text, you wondered - did he ever cook? Or was his kitchen just for show, with the real work done in the servants' quarters (do they still call them quarters?).

You forgot that question the moment you saw what was lying on the marble kitchen counter.

The same box you had left upstairs, still with 

GOOD EVENING DISOBEDIENT LITTLE MOUSE 

on it. 

You blinked and took two large steps back. 

The box seemed to crawl forward in response.

You shrieked; this was a bit too much. Raphael's presence, the supernaturality of it, had been subtle before; now it was becoming a bit performative.

"I got your hint," you said, your voice a shaky laugh. "Don't scare me, please. Please."

The box stayed where it was, but it radiated an energy of impatience, as if it might jump at you if you neglected it any longer.

“Fine,” you conceded, coming a bit closer. “A little romance would’ve been nice but…”

"Setting romantic atmosphere," a cheerful female voice said.

who the fuck who the fuck who the fuck

Alexa. 

Fucking smart home systems. The lights dimmed to a soft orange glow, the heavy curtains closed with a soft whoosh and a familiar tune echoed off the walls, the ballroom piano playing in the distance:

I put a spell on you

Because you're mine

The melody was familiar and so was the voice behind it - smooth, silky and oh so captivating (the adjectives you would use to describe it could fill many romance novels). A deep, rich baritone. You chuckled - had Raphael discovered blues? It suited him. 

You know I cannot stand it

You running around

You loved his interpretation of the song. It felt so intimate, him singing to you, so... very, very special. Your fear vanished in an instant; you poured yourself a glass of wine and took a luxurious sip.

"I'll put these on for you," you laughed, putting all the flirt you ever had in this laugh. "But don't expect me to call you 'Daddy'."

There was no protest; Raphael was too busy singing, pouring his entire soul into it. You made yourself busy too; stripping. You weren't very skilled (any skilled), but the thrill of being watched by him awakened something in you. You caught your reflection in the mirror and damn, you were hot. 

Shrugging off your shirt and sliding down your plain black briefs, you swayed your hips at your reflection as the wine worked its magic on your mind. For once in your life, you felt genuinely attractive; he made you feel genuinely attractive. The sexiest you'd ever been. 

Slipping into the silky red lace lingerie he had chosen for you (splurged on, because it was a La Perla) - you fastened the collar around your neck. A long golden chain dangled from it, wrapped twice around the hook and cascaded down your back. Then you put the mouse ears - not cartoonish, not Minnie Mouse ones, but real fur and incredibly lifelike - on your head like a headband. 

You looked like...well, precisely what your mother suspected you were doing to pay the bills. But at least high-end. Very high-end. The only thing worse than being an escort is being a cheap one.

But there was one more item left in the box.

"Ehh," you said at the sight of the mouse tail, especially the part that was meant to be inserted. "I'm going to need... I'm going to the bedroom."

It had been ages since your last foray into such play; back when you were with that boyfriend who constantly pestered you about anal and found it somehow arousing to "accidentally" (sure, mate) poke you and mumble an insincere "oops, wrong hole". 

You didn't stick around much longer after that.

Stretched out on Raphael's sumptuous bed, you slicked up everything - the plug, your pussy, your arse - with copious amounts of lube. First, some warming. So you began to rub yourself, two fingers finding their familiar way to your clit. You couldn't shake the crawling feeling of being watched, every inch of your body scrutinised by unseen eyes.

"Raphael," you called out into the empty room, desperate for some form of interaction or response. "I would love it if you would join me... or say something pleasant”.

Now would be the perfect time to call me a good girl.

But there was no response, just an eerie silence in the room. Feeling too naked and too slutty, you pulled the blanket over you, a makeshift barrier between you and his eyes. Under the fortification, tucking the tail in seemed less daunting.

Before you could get down to business, there was a jerk at the blanket, which fell to the cold floor, leaving you bare again. Then another tug on the chain attached to your collar, pulling you closer to the bedpost.

"I'm sorry," you gasped breathlessly, both hands instinctively reaching for your collar. "I won't hide."

The chain didn’t let go, making a point out of a slight pressure around your neck. Taking a deep breath, you focused on the task at hand, stroking your clit as you guided the plug inside you. 

You told yourself to relax and take it slow; just imagine it's Haarlep. How many times had you dreamed of being squeezed and stretched between the two of them? It was always Haarlep who took you from behind; it just seemed more their style.

The plug slid in deeper. It didn't hurt, and the little discomfort it caused added to the excitement. 

Damn, this is so dirty. 

"It's in," you said as the plug settled inside you. "All the way in. What's next?"

The words were barely out of your mouth when the golden chain, suddenly a snake-like lasso, wrapped tightly around your wrists.

Pulled them towards the bedpost, stretched out and bound tightly to either side. Fear gripped you and you clenched around the plug, pulling your knees tight together.

Tightly. Very tight. A little too tight. You tried to wriggle, the metal biting your skin; you could move your hips a little, but no more. 

You couldn't get out yourself, which was not good news when you were alone (well, almost) in a very big house. Your mind immediately thought of that girl in Gerald's Game.

"Raphael?" you asked. “It’s not that kind of game, is it? It’s a nice game? Can we play a nice game?”

He did not answer, but you heard footsteps. Footsteps coming down the long corridor. Confident, quick and very purposeful.

Stay calm, stay calm, it's him, it's him, who else could it be? Haarlep? The orthon? The driver? 

The door swung open.

It was Raphael, and he was visibly surprised to see you in this state, which was absolute bullshit considering he was responsible for tying you to this very bed. 

"Well, I'll be damned," he said, covering the distance to the bed in two strides. "What a welcome home surprise, piccola." 

Raphael gave you a lecherous, wet-lipped smile and knelt on the bed between your legs. There was something boyish about it, an expression you'd never seen in the game, as if he'd just found his first bike under the Christmas tree.

You searched for “piccola” earlier today: “baby” or “little girl” in Italian. 

"I'm not going to call you Daddy," you repeated, and Raphael shook his head and laughed, not seeming at all horrified at the thought (and he should be).

"I have some compelling evidence to the contrary, Daddy's little mouse," he teased, his fingers playing with your collar. 

"Anything but Daddy," you pleaded. "That's just... demeaning."

Weirdly incestual, too. You haven’t even seen the guy, not a photo, not a… (don’t think of him why the fuck would you think of the old bastard now).

“This is the whole appeal of it, is it not?”, he said. “How would you prefer to address me then?"

Raphael? Something told you that telling him that would make him very angry, and you weren't exactly in a position to want an angry man on top of you. Raul? No, that name just felt completely wrong and made you feel like you were in a Spanish soap opera. 

Raphael began to unbutton his shirt one button at a time, revealing a white undershirt, which he then took off. 

His physique was impressive for a man of his age; not those bodybuilder abs from bg3 but a well-toned body shaped by workouts and diets, which seemed to be very much at odds with his indulgent ways. Rough brown hair spread across his chest and lower abdomen against honey-tanned skin. Every inch of him seemed so put together, so perfectly groomed.

"Master," you finally decided (there was this one fanfic…) as you spread your legs wider in an invitation. 

"Master?" Raphael seemed amused, his fingers tracing the lace of your bra, teasing your hardened nipples through the fabric. "Such flattery. So this makes you my slave girl? Tied up and ready for me to use as I please?"

Reading Raphael say such things was one thing, but hearing him actually say them in real life made you feel embarrassed. It was a bit, ugh... 

“You get flustered easily for someone who waited for me dressed like this, little mouse,” Raphael raised an eyebrow at your see-through lace. “Topolina." 

He wrinkled his nose and laughed, as if the word was funnier in Italian, and poked the tips of your mouse ears. You wanted him so badly that your lips caught his as he came closer and you pushed your tongue into his mouth. He kissed your back, his hands moving up and down your body. 

"How the hell did you manage..." he mused aloud as he studied your bound wrists.

His fingers ventured between your legs, and the moment he stumbled upon your tail, his whole body twitched with excitement, his breath catching in his throat as he traced the soft fur to reach the base of the plug. 

The playful gleam in his eyes was replaced by an intense, wild desire.

"Merda," he breathed out. "Look at that. Aren't you a dirty little girl?"

You cringed at how pornographic the line sounded (his suddenly much thicker Italian accent didn't help), but Raphael seemed to find it excruciatingly erotic.

In one swift motion, he lunged forward and forced your legs apart, his hands pulling your knees towards your chest, folding you in until your muscles screamed in protest at the stretch. 

Without warning, he thrust deep inside of you. You gasped in surprise; no preliminaries, no foreplay, no taking it slowly, just raging, explosive lust.

Fortunately, your own fingers had done their job earlier, so despite the brutal force of his first thrust, pleasure surged through you, along with a sharp twinge of friction as his cock rubbed against the toy lodged inside you.

He seemed to relish the sensation and so did you. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as your body arched beneath him; stretched and pinned by his weight, trapped, surrendering to the relentless pounding that followed - raw and invasive and yet so fulfilling.

You were so looking forward to coming again from his penetration alone. The mere thought made you pull harder on your restraints, craving the delicious pain of being bound. The furry tail must have tickled his balls because he tucked it under you so that it would tease you instead. 

"Cross your ankles behind my back," Raphael rasped into your shoulder as he grazed it with his stubbled chin. "Yes, just like that... now tilt your hips."

You responded with your most submissive “yes, master”, making his cock twitch inside you, and then sifted your hips to better accommodate his pleasure. Wrapped your legs tightly around him, pulling him in deeper, pain-pleasure soaring through you. You sniffed his hair. 

His cologne (worn leather, cherry liqueur, bitter almonds) smelled so good oh so good.

He slid his arms underneath your arse, lifting you towards him at every thrust. 

Raphael said few words after that, grunting and thrusting and thrusting. Something about him was different this time - something very human - from how his sweat-soaked hair stuck to his forehead to his expressions of sheer lust that bordered on comical at times. 

One thing remained the same - the pleasure his pounding brought you, the familiar hooks of approaching orgasm - not any orgasm, the orgasm of being with him, his sharp talons - sinking inches deep into your flesh again. 

fuck does he feel good

rough or tender it just feels so good

his cock his tongue his breath on your neck

You screamed "fuck me", then once again, louder, not caring how obscene you sounded, and bit his shoulder without a second thought. 

The scream that escaped you was higher pitched than you had intended.

do whatever whatever you want whatever you want with me

Raphael's face creased with annoyance as his strong finger pressed into your cheek. "Easy…easy… piccola... I appreciate…. a good performance… not …overacting," he scolded as he went at you harder, pushing you to the point of pain.

hurt me

fuck me fuck me harder

You would have protested at the implication that you were pretending, but you were too busy coming under him, his hand clamped over your mouth before your temporal insanity could drive you to actually call him ‘daddy’.

If he wanted you to why wouldn’t you he is so sweet to you oh so sweet to you

The scream was swallowed by his palm as an orgasm, brutal in its intensity and lightning-fast, ripped through you, whip-snaked it. You greeted your release with a wail, biting into his hand. Raphael paused mid-thrust, apprehensive of how your pussy convulsed around him and your leg spasmed uncontrollably - if this was a performance, you deserved an award.

"You weren't pretending," he panted, awe-struck. "My apologies. You were not".

The realisation frenzied him; he spilled within a minute after, rutting into you with intensity belying his age. Utterly spent, he collapsed on top of you, his breath, cherries and tobacco, warming your throat as his cock softened within you.

"I may have gotten a little carried away," he said, sounding embarrassed and slightly apologetic as he lay down beside you. "But it seems you're more than content."

You eagerly and quickly nodded.

"Are you that... passionate with every man?" He asked as he helped you free your wrists - jealousy creeping into his voice at the mention of that mysterious 'every man'.

You couldn't help but laugh at the question. "No," you replied. "Far from it. You are not just any man. You are anything but."

Raphael let out a sigh of relief and kissed you, making no effort to hide how much your compliment pleased him. 

When you parted, you hopped awkwardly off the bed - the odd gait one adopts when they have a plug in them (no way were you going to remove it in his presence, no way) and cum was trickling down your thighs. 

Shit, the condom. Now you forgot to ask him to wear it.

Would he have?..

Ah, screw it. Google says Plan B is effective for up to 72 hours after unprotected sex, so you'll take it tomorrow - for tonight and last night. You'd never been this careless before, but hell, you'd never murdered people with a mere thought or slept with an Archdevil of Hell.

Raphael was still lying there, basking in the afterglow, when you returned.

"I have to admit, Anya... I'm seriously thinking of proposing," he murmured with such tenderness as you snuggled against him that you wondered if Raphael really was incapable of love.

"That would be quick," you replied, but made it sound like you wouldn't mind at all.

"Quick?" he scoffed. "A man knows what he wants in a woman the moment he sets eyes on her. Unfortunately, there are very few left in your generation."

You smiled, already dreaming of being the Archduchess of Hell, and half-dreaming in general from sheer exhaustion and satisfaction. 

"They lied about you being bad in bed," you murmured as sleep began to take over. "I knew it was all bullshit."

"They?" He asked, his face contorting into a scowl at your sentence. "Who are they? Anya, for God's sake, stop reading those trashy tabloids."

You closed your eyes for a moment. When you half-opened them, you saw him on the balcony outside, in a black silk robe, AirPods in his ears and a cigarette in his mouth. Behind him you could see the smoke and fire of the Avernus mountain ridge, the fireballs cascading down from the sky. Beautiful. 

Raphael gestured with his free hand, aggressively, and you listened a little closer; fortunately he was more than loud.

"...we will bleed them dry if they dare to break our agreement..."

"...they knowingly and willingly accepted our terms, they will choke on the consequences..."

"...all must pay their dues, sooner or later..."

"...an army? We have our own army..."

A yawn escaped your lips as you snuggled deeper into the plush pillows of the massive bed. Everything, except the AirPods, fit perfectly into the image of Archdevil Supreme.

You felt so chosen, so alive, so gloriously alive, and your life had just begun.

"Are you coming soon?" you called out as you tried to think of an appropriate nickname for him - something intimate, but not too cheesy. Darling? Baby? Sweetheart? Love? My favourite devil?

But he beat you to it before you could decide.

"Soon, my love. Rest," he blew you a kiss. With a loud click, he shut the glass door and cut you off from hearing the rest of their conversation. You let out a contented sigh and rolled over onto your side, drifting into a peaceful slumber.

"My love," you said in your sleep. "Raphael called me his love”.

****

The urgent need to go to pee woke you. The time was a mystery, but it must have been late enough for Raphael to have gone to bed too.

He was pressed close to you, his hand cupping your breast. You looked over your shoulder; asleep, peaceful, in buttoned pyjamas, and it was the one moment when he did not look threatening at all; vulnerable, if anything. You kissed him on the cheek and he smiled in his sleep and held you close. 

When you came back from your short (not really, a good thirty metres to the toilet) trip to the bathroom, you snuggled closer to him, preparing to doze off again, and then you heard something.

You listened closer, thinking you had dreamed it first.

Soft, gentle whimpers. You recognised the voice. You didn't know how, but you did. Something childishly cheerful and slightly mad about it.

Oh, no. No. You were happy, spooning with Raphael, and you didn't need this shit right now, especially when things were finally going so well.

Hope, please, you begged.

You got all your happy endings, so many of them, wonderful endings where Raphael was killed by the player and you got to live and your revenge and whatnot. Can I have one too, please? Without you whining and making me feel guilty for something I didn't even do?

"My love," you asked Raphael softly, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his side. "Can you let her go?"

"Mmm," Raphael murmured in his sleep, "Sure, piccola. Whatever you wish for."

You waited for him to act, but he only tightened his grip on the blanket and shifted slightly.

"You have all the hells and the crown and everything (and me). You don't need her anymore," you tried again. 

"Anya, let me sleep," Raphael mumbled into his pillow, away from your voice. You tried to hide from her voice under your pillow as well, but you could still hear the soft, painful moans. 

Ugh. 

They were very, very far away, but still there.

"She's still wailing," you complained, taking him by the shoulder and shaking him a little. "Raphael? Raphael?"

 "Who is wailing?” he groaned in pure frustration, and then made a half-hearted attempt at listening. “Ah, merda, not that bloody bitch again! I swear, I will plug that hole myself!"

You tried to make sense of that sentence and couldn't, but what you did get was that it promised Hope nothing good and sounded vaguely vulgar, which was even worse. 

"Don't hurt Hope," you begged, appalled by his threat. "She doesn't deserve it!"

"I don't deserve it either," Raphael retorted before turning away from you. "Please be quiet."

He should direct this request to his prisoner. 

What had really happened between them? You didn't think his obsession with Hope was sexual because, well, because, for example, he fucked you and you both enjoyed it, so he was definitely into consent, and Hope was more like a metaphor, a concept, a point to be made, and some shitty fucking rushed Act 3 writing.

"You... you didn't hurt her like that, did you? There was some talk... With that boudoir line... It was misinterpreted... right?"

Right. He may be evil, but he is lawful evil. He believed in consent and seduction, not violence. 

"I haven't hurt anyone, what in damnation are you talking about?" he growled through gritted teeth, and you let out a small sigh of relief.  "But if I don't get some rest, I might."

He hadn't hurt Hope. He wouldn't lie. He cannot; devils can deceive, but not outright lie. You read it somewhere.

Okay, he's not going to let her go and he's not going to help you and Hope was certainly not going to shut up. You have to go to her. And say what? Say what? Sorry for your predicament and the centuries of torture, Hope, but could you please be a bit quieter, me and Raphael just had sex and are trying to sleep? 

Let her go? And lose his favour, his credit card and the place next to him in his bed?

Yes, come on. It would be the right thing to do and you would do it. 

Where was she anyway, you wondered as you walked down the stairs. In the cellar? Hanging from the ceiling? You still don't have the key to the cellar. When you reached the ground floor, the kitchen, you realised that the noises were not coming from the cellar - they were coming from outside.

Outside? Did he hang her on a tree on this cold April night? 

You put on his trench coat and slipped into your sneakers. This was so unnecessarily evil, you thought, suddenly feeling much less happy about everything, especially as the pained whimpering got closer. Hardly human, you thought, more like a creature trapped and desperately trying to free itself. 

Yes, definitely more of a creature.

In fact, it reminded you of a dog. You searched the darkness of the night, determined to find it, and there it was: a dachshund wedged between the ground and a large, weathered fence, whimpering into the still night. 

The poor thing must have thought it was quite the burglar, trying to burrow under a hole in the fence to pull through. But it only managed to get itself stuck.

"Oh, poor baby," you said as you approached the dog. "Let's see if we can get you out."

You pulled on the fence to widen the opening and the cub was free.

It licked your hand in gratitude. Dogs love you. All animals do, and it's quite mutual. You had a harder time with people.

There were distant, panicked cries for Steffie somewhere in the distance; the owner was out on a rescue mission. You took the dachshund in your lap and went to meet her.

The woman was in her sixties, dark brown hair, a very aged beauty, and she looked a bit funny in her fur coat and slippers. She had tears in her eyes. Steffie ran to her as soon as she saw her.

"You silly little girl," she scolded the whining, complaining dog in her arms. She had a thick American drawl. "Why do you keep going back to his house? What's so special about him? I told you he was bad news!"

"Is he?" You asked the question when you knew the answer.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she stammered, forcing a smile to her lips. "I didn't mean it like that. You're Raul's new girl, aren't you? Samantha. I live down the road. Sorry about Steffie, she's very... adventurous."

There were exactly three houses on the street, a mile apart each.

"You meant it like that," you said. "If it's about Isabelle, she's apologised and withdrawn her accusations".

There was a pause, and Samantha's perfectly friendly smile cracked a little.

"Well, in that case," she said, before adding with forced cheerfulness, "thank you for looking after Steffie, sweetheart! You take care now."

She tried to walk away, but turned back; she was as curious as her little dog.

"I was walking Steffie when that French girl ran out of his house," she said, unable to resist the urge to gossip. "She was naked and babbling like a lunatic. She had blood on her, too".

"Did she scream something about the devil?" you asked after a pause.

"Devil? No. Not that I speak French," said the woman, making a last attempt to walk away, but failing. "Listen, I have a daughter about your age. And if some guy - ANY guy - tried to put that kind of crap around her neck, I would chop his arms off".

What did she mean? 

The collar. 

She meant the "Daddy's little mouse" collar you still have around your neck. 

Oh, don't kink shame me, you were going to say, but that kind of talk sounds ridiculous in real life. She managed to shame you very badly, so you hid the collar under your trench coat and mumbled, "I put it on myself".

That actually made her look at you again. Steffie looked at you with the same expression. 

Everybody's out to guilt trip you - Hope, the dog (the dog you saved!), the neighbour, the guy who got thrown under the bus, and you've done nothing but enjoy some devil sex.

The woman finally decided it was time to go, muttering "You need Jesus, sweetheart" before she left.

That's your God who kept women in collars and on leashes for centuries, not the Devil, you thought bitterly, and unlike the Devil, he didn't even fuck them. 

Well, only once.

***

You were back in the en-suite bathroom, washing your face in the marble sink.

Who the fuck was this man, really? What the fuck was happening? 

Your hand shot out, yanking open a cabinet door. An array of men's grooming products stared back at you - cologne, razor, facial moisturiser and scrub, deodorant, shaving gel, sleek, expensive bottles. A man took care of his looks.

Another cabinet creaked open under your touch. 

Your eyes darted to the label on the bottle - Risperidon. You had no idea what it was, but you memorised it for a future Google search, repeating it under your breath like a mantra. 

"Are you rummaging through my belongings, nosy little mouse?”

He was dead asleep last time you checked!

You jerked, closing the cupboard and stumbling back to the bathroom sink, gasping for breath. "No," you stammered, turning to find him standing in the doorway. "I mean... yes. I can't sleep. I thought you might have some pills."

His eyes were canny; he didn't swallow your lie and made no pretence of doing so. He bridged the gap and hugged you from behind - frighteningly strong and wanting every ounce of that power to seep into your bones. His strength made you realise just how much of a level 1 human NPC you were.

"You don't have to violate my privacy when I'm not around, Anya," he whispered against your skin as he began to trail soft kisses down your neck. "If there's anything that's bothering you, just ask me directly. I want us to be honest with each other."

What was in the cellar? What kind of work does he do for you? Did he rape Hope? Or was it Haarlep? Where is Haarlep, by the way? Why does Raphael want to play Raul? 

"What happened to Isabelle?" you asked. 

"Ah, I see. Is that why you asked me if I had hurt anyone?" he said. "Is that what the tabloids told you?"

You nodded.

"Isabelle had an addiction," he admitted, the crow’s feet showing themselves. "It spiralled out of control. She had… a bout of psychosis, a mental breakdown. Made false accusations to the press. She's now getting the help she needs, poor girl”.

"Why was she covered in blood?" you pressed, looking at his reflection in the mirror as an infernal light danced in his orange eyes.

For all the fire in them, they seemed icy, impossibly cold for a man who had called you my love less than an hour ago. "How did you come by this information? You seem to know more than one would expect of you, Anya. There are things about you that make me... wonder. I have been giving you the benefit of the doubt, perhaps foolishly."

Your breath caught in your throat. “The neighbour”, you said. “Your neighbour told me”.

The truth you’d spilled slaked him, but only a little. He looked at you, jaw hardened.

"Samantha? I’ll have a word with her. Very well, we were making love when Isabelle had a psychotic episode."

Making love? Really? He did not make love to you.

"She lashed out at me," he continued. "It was my blood, Anya. I would never hurt her or any other woman. Without their consent, that is."

But that couldn't be true, because there was Hope - and many others who owed him, and Raphael might have been many things, but not a liar, and yet here he was, lying right to your face.

He did hurt people. Whether they deserved it, whether they brought onto themselves, that was a different matter, but he did hurt them.

"If you need proof, you can take a look at the psychiatrist's report," he offered coldly. "The authorities got involved... unfortunately."

"I believe you," came your shaky reply. 

You desperately wanted to. 

Raphael’s eyes flickered.

"Trust goes both ways, Anya," he whispered in your ear, running a finger along your collar. "If you do not trust me, then I will be forced to ask some very unpleasant questions myself. Do we understand each other?"

Which questions? He knows everything there is to know about you. He knows your browser history.

“We do”, you said, still looking in the mirror. “Of course we do, my love”.

"Is that so?” he smiled. "I suggest we go to our bed and put that theory to the test."

[tacobellabeanburrito]

WEE WOO WEE WOO

Hey guys! I made playlists for both Phoenix and Miles! (Explanation for certain songs and rant under the cut)

There's some songs I couldn't add to Miles' playlist (Like the song "Decree Of A Prosecutor" from Turnabout: The Musical) that I really wanted too, but they weren't on Spotify. I got some other songs in there to make up for the ones I couldn't get in there, though.

I tried to do a thing where the songs go in the order of their lives? Like, in chronological order from when they were kids to present day? I thought it'd be cool and it's much easier to wrap my head around than just placing songs on the playlist. I like it having an order.

I also did a thing where some of the same songs are on both their playlists, and where a lot of the same artists are on both playlists because I like symbolism and shit. Some songs I took from other's playlists cause I wanted to make them have an equal number of songs and some I took from animatics and shit too.

Also, a lot of these songs aren't on a lot of the regular Miles and Phoenix playlists you see... BUT I LOVE THEM AND THEY FIT PERFECTLY OK? I also tried to do a thing where I put songs that I personally think they would listen too.

(Also lmao I took some of these songs from Stan and Ford's from Gravity Falls playlists on Spotify cause they really work together like...)

I wanna talk about their songs soooo badly guys.

I'll talk about a couple of them cause I wanna so badly.

Phoenix's Playlist:

I had an easy time finding songs for this motherfucker, and a lot of them are really good. There's a couple of songs I wanna explain though.

"The Great Pretender" is the most fucking Phoenix song ever. Like, holy shit. Kind of theater kid esc because "Pretending" yk? And it feels like he's always putting on a show and shit I don't know. Perfect.

"My Girl" and "Count On Me" are Pearl and Maya songs respectively. I see a lot of people do this thing where they make playlists for characters and only put songs based on the romantic relationships with that character and like. Uh. No? What about their family? What about their friends? People forget about that a lot and I don't like it so "My Girl" is kind of a Pearl being Phoenix semi-daughter song and "Count On Me" is a Maya best friend song.

OK SO, also "Poison" from Hazbin Hotel is on here and listen, I don't know if Phoenix would listen to this song BUT GODDAMN DOES IT GO WITH HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH KRISTOPH PERFECTLY. I put a lot of Krisnix/Kristoph songs on here ("Vampire" and "Wolf In Sheep's Clothing" mainly) because holy shit I love toxic tragic yuri.

Oh also, "Never Ever Getting Rid Of Me" is the most Phoenix/Feenie song ever. Everyone always goes on and on about how "When He Sees Me" is a Miles song and it is BUT NOBODY IS TALKING ABOUT "Never Ever Getting Rid Of Me" GIRL IT'S RIGHT THERE HOW DO YOU NOT SEE IT?

Miles' Playlist:

My boy's playlist get's soooo sad. Swear.

Ya'll don't get how much "The Run And Go" is SUCH a "Turnabout Goodbyes" song. It's so fucking good and it fits my boy so well. Just please, PLEASE LISTEN TO IT.

"Where I Want To Be" is a huge Miles song. I imagine him signing it when he's about ready to do his whole "Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth Chooses Death" thing it's soooo good. Also it's from a musical called "Chess" GUYS COME ON.

"Business Man" is soooo him and Von Karma.

"Wait For It" Please for the love of God that is such a Miles song. You guys don't know how much Hamilton has affected my view of these gay lawyers.

"Puppet Boy" Also slaps so hard.

"Death As A Fetish" is also a really good one for him.

Oh ok, so "Dear Sister, Your Brother" is a Miles and Franziska song that I absolutely love. People don't give this song enough credit.

Ok so "Brown-Eyed Girl" and "Vienna" are Kay and Sebastian songs respectively. Love them soooo much. They deserved a couple songs on his playlists because they are his children.

"Karma" is self-explanitory.

OK FINALLY WE'RE ON TO BOTH OF THEIR SONGS.

Fucking love putting Jet Lag on both of their playlists cause it fits them soooo well.

Also "Best Worst Mistake" from If/Then is their anthem. Like. Holy shit.

I love "If You Were Gay" from Avenue Q for them. They're so stupid and it fits them.

Um anyway, that's it.

Oh also, the friendship songs at the beginning aren't for just Miles and Phoenix. LARRY IS A PART OF THEIR GROUP TOO.

Oh also the two “Family” songs on both of their playlists is just me saying “EVERYONE IN THE WRIGHT ANYTHING AGENCY AND THE PROSECUTOR’S OFFICE ARE FAMILY”.

Also guys, I soooo badly wanted to put "Objections" on here but I couldn't find it on Spotify (Go figure) I'm guessing a lot of you haven't heard it before? Or maybe have? It's a fanmade opening for Ace Attorney and IT SLAPS SOOOO HARD. It's old but soooo good guys. Guys. Ya'll need to get in on the fan songs seriously.

I DON'T HEAR PEOPLE TALK ABOUT "TURNABOUT: THE MUSICAL" ENOUGH. Not the Random Encounters musical, but like, the actual one.

Anyway! Long rant over, tell me what you think of my playlists!

"Objections" fan made anime theme ^

And check out "Turnabout: An Ace Attorney Musical" Cause GODDAMN THAT SHIT I BALLER!

[aseriesofunfortunatejan]

This isn't like. From a deep and careful analysis. But I never felt Bratworth was mischaracterised, neither do I now that I've replayed AAI, because this case takes place before his beginnings as a prosecutor. While I think it can be argued that this is him on a good day - and I think that is sweet, considering that this is how Gumshoe decided to latch onto him through thick and thin - I don't think young Edgeworth has to be bitter and mean to be better fixed by Wright in the future. This is also true of Franziska, who has a huge ego and bad manners, and yet still helps Edgeworth in front of her father, or is sweet towards Kay. They don't have to be full-on villains to be reformed in the future - they're flawed young individuals who are being influenced by a terrible person, and will continue to be so for multiple years.

I think it makes sense that once he actually became a prosecutor, Manfred's pressure to present publicly as perfect to protect the von Karma name became more intense. And that case after case of enduring both his and public pressure - because to his shock, the von Karma methods aren't seen as "right" by the outside - he will grow bitter and build a routine that is hard to leave. Faced by how difficult it is to admit that what he's been taught and thankful for for most of his life is actually wrong, he will lean hard into denial. That he thinks his clothes are normal and is shocked to be mocked by outsiders is representative of that dissonance.

Just like he stood out to Wright for being just as a child, young Edgeworth still had his own personality and past influences, even though the present was shaping him in another direction. I think that it's fair enough that at the time of AAI's flashback, he wasn't yet at his worst. Especially due to his age - how many are the people who Really Go Through It in their early 20s?

And if Mia saw him at his worst, he still had a better and a best. His worst may very well be in the courtroom, should we remember what he is being taught and by whom.

[hannahwashington]

NEW DREAM JOURNAL POST ALERT!! Here it is:

I was Phoenix Wright. I was working on a case with Maya, but we had to do some investigating in the dead of night at some old dusty building. As we were walking around with our flashlights, we run into... Edgeworth! he was lacking his jacket and had his sleeves rolled up. From what I could see, he had really grown out sideburns and had hairy ass arms. Anyway, he was like "wtf are you doing here" and we were all "wtf are you doing here" and after a bit of back and forth we decide to continue our investigation together.

After a while, something goes bump in the night. In fright, Maya and I drop our flashlights, and Edgeworth urges us to start running. Maya's ahead of me when we go, and we follow the moonlight shining through a line of windows. I look back and see nothing but darkness behind me, but I didn't stop running. eventually we all run into a place that looks like a boiler room, and i close the door behind the three of us.

It's a quiet moment, and Maya asks, "What WAS that!?" and I answer with "I really don't think we want to find out." Also, it should be noted that I (Phoenix) talk with a Bostonian accent. This is a VERY important detail. Anyway, it's quiet for a moment, and I (because I am Phoenix) take a goooooood look at Edgeworth and his new look. His ears are pointier, his teeth seem sharper, and he's filling out his clothes a lot more than he usually does. Yes, it's EXACTLY what you're thinking.

Before I connect the pieces, though, something bangs heavily on the door. The three of us freeze, holding our breath. The hinges of the old door rattle with the force. However, a voice then comes from the other side: "Hello? Please, let me in! I need help!"

The three of us are still unsure, though. I look to Maya and Edgeworth. Miles is staring hard at the door, but Maya has moved herself behind me and is looking up at me. "Come on, Nick," she whispers, giving me a little shove. I roll my eyes but comply, quietly going up to the door and peeking through the peephole as if I wasn't experiencing a horror movie. Looking through it, I see... a girl.

The white/grey haired girl from the splash screen when you open the Ace Attorney Phoenix Wright trilogy, actually. Thing is, when I originally made this post I didn't actually know her name, but I was just told that her name is Franziska, so what I called her originally in this post (Grey) will now be changed accordingly. Franziska asks that we please open the door, and while I'm still not trusting of the whole situation, I see that it's a regular person and open the door. Maya and Edgeworth immediately give their complaints about this course of action, but before I can correct it Franziska shoves her way inside and closes the door behind her. She smooths out her clothes and brushes off dust from her collar, then looks to address us.

"There is sinister power at play, here," says Franziska. Before we can ask what she means, Edgeworth starts moaning and groaning from his spot. We look over and there, standing perfectly in the middle of a moonlight square, is Miles - holding his body and writhing. He falls to his hands and knees and his groans turn to pained cries as - you guessed it - he starts turning into a werewolf. I'm scared but I also can't help but find it kind of hot. Franziska is all like "There it is" and shoves me behind her as if to protect me (but I'm like, a good foot taller than her). Maya joins the congo line and stands behind me.

Soon, the transformation is complete, Edgewolf towering above us. He regards us, a snarl playing on his lips. Franziska is wearing one of her own. Then, Edgewolf says, "Come on, what are you all playing at? I'm dignified. I don't do mauling."

Jaws on the FLOOR. We're FLABBERGASTED. Edgewolf groans and motions for us to keep moving, and to stop gawking. After a moment we do, but we carry on in our Scooby Doo looking conga line. Maya whispers to me, asking me if I knew Miles was a werewolf. 'God I wish,' I think. "No," I actually say. Franziska commands us to hush up and keep moving.

And then... that's it. For that part, anyway. It jumps to a chapter select screen, and the dream has been split up into these parts: The Investigation, The Chase, The Confrontation, and The Transformation. Our of curiosity I choose The Chase, only to find myself back in the boiler room with Maya and Edgeworth. Remembering what happens, I pre-emptively open the door, only for Franziska's limp body to be tossed in my arms. I scream, but Edgeworth thinks quick and shuts the door, barricading it with his body. I hold the girl in my arms, staring at her face. She seems... Mostly fine, except for a long, jagged, crack-like cut coming from her hairline, down her forehead, and over her nose. I check her pulse - still beating. Hover my hand over her mouth - still breathing. Other than the cut, perfectly fine.

"Is she okay, Nick?" asks Maya. I nod, adjusting my grip so she's in a more comfortable position. Just then, Franziska's eyes flutter open, confusion swimming in them. "Where am I..?" she asks, trying to lift a hand to her face, but ultimately too weak to do so. Maya is there in a moment, piece of fabric in hand as she wipes up Franziska's face. "You're okay, it's safe," Maya tells her.

Just then, someone starts banging on the door. Edgeworth, gritting his teeth, tells us to run, that he'll hold it off. Maya's like "WHAT" but I understand. I tell her to trust him as I properly pick up Franziska and start running. Maya is right behind me as we make our sprint, and when we turn a corner we can hear yelling and the splintering of wood. Then... That's it, again.

A new chapter was added to the selection screen: The Aftermath. The cover image showed Franziska, but the cut she had had healed into a very prominent scar. I go into it, and now I'm controlling Franziska from a third-person perspective. She's in a dark and rainy courtyard, umbrella in hand. There's an open gate in front of her. Knowing this is probably where she should go, I begin guiding her towards it. When she enters, the gate closes behind her. Then I watch as she walks up a long, winding path up to a dark and gloomy castle, lightning illuminating it in frightening ways. I distinctly hear an organ playing as she makes her way up, and then, it all fades to black...

Then I wake up.

[bottlecap-joe-spooky]

How bad is the extent of Miles Edgeworth's mental state in rise from the ashes?

Tw: suicide, implied self harm

Obviously he ends up essentially leaving a suicide note of "prosecutor edgeworth chooses death", but that could be symbolic. He HAD already quit his job (one of the only things that had held his life together possibly since his father died) so him as Prosecutor edgeworth had essentially "died".

There's also the ambiguous definition of "dying" in the note. Did he mean it as in he would not be coming back (from death or to prosecution or to japanifornia or whatever) or as he would never come back as the same person (the "demon" prosecutor) or just to fake his own death for a little moral/mental break or whatever (everyone's allowed a little gay panic break every once in a while).

Who knows, and I genuinely love the ambiguity the game leaves.

Obviously, phoenix takes it as a serious suicide note, and is obviously absolutely wrecked by it for the next year. This is a topic often touched upon in fanfiction, though not in the game quite as much. Obviously it is hard to talk about mental health issues in a lawyer game, and they do it really well for a game not technically focused on it and from the early 2000s. Specifically for Maya and Edgeworth I think, as they both have loads of trauma that they deal with in fully different ways. Miles is more worrying though, as most of his coping skills are absolutely horrible, he has very little emotional support, and he's been pretty messed up in the head.

I honestly wonder a lot which people and relationships are meant to mirror the main characters, like phoenix saying shit like "that's so romantic- he saved you- I guess I'd fall in love too-" for the Delite's love story or edgeworth saying Adrian andrews codependent situation is very similar to how Franziska operates with her father or definitely Lana and ema reminding Phoenix of Mia and Maya or him literally telling Adrian andrews to kill herself in court. Specifically that last one. He specifically phrases it as "if you're going to say you would 'choose death', that is of no concern to me."

There is some especially worrying evidence in rise from the ashes, when he was at the most mentally unstable he's ever been. The only time that would compare was when his dad died when he was 8, but even then he had a new foster family to rely on (more or less). He's at his very worse, because, after 15 or so years, all of his past has just been dredged up and solved (by "that man" no less. Also, side note, does he only start saying Phoenix "saved him" after he came back from the dead?)

I really don't like any implications of why edgeworth would have traces of blood on the ground, especially at this point in his life.

So the options here are 1) it's someone else's blood, and maybe he fucking slapped someone so hard they bled or 2) it's his blood on his office floor for whatever reason. Neither imply anything remotely good for his mental state.

At this point it really could just be coincidence and ema is right or whatever. It's an easily missed peice, completely unrelated to the case and just an interesting tidbit for lore maybe. But sadly I found more evidence to support that that is not indeed the case.

I can't remember what the plot point for edgeworth's knife besides the fact that he had it in the car for Lana to find.

Mmm yeah ema. What is that little fruit doing with a knife? Very low chance that gay man knows self defense tbh.

Ema goes on to suggest he spends weekends "roughing it in the wild" and Phoenix basically laughs in her face (does this girl not understand what a homosexual man he is) as Edgeworth has probably never been in "the wild" a day in his life.

This doesn't feel like a coincidence anymore. There is cleaned up blood on his floor, enough for a nosebleed, and there is a knife in his car. One which he would probably never actually use on another person. This and then added to the fact that he had just quit his job and "died" shortly after. it's pretty obvious he is doing worse than even what he says, as he actually is kind of open about how he is doing throughout the games. Obviously he's always trying to hide his feelings (which Phoenix always sees right through), but during the case he does mostly explain to them exactly what is happening. Not that they do or even can help.

His entire career was based around punishing himself for something he didn't actually do. There is no way he isn't harbouring a lot of self loathing, and it's hinted at throughout the games (again, hard to touch on in a lawyer game). This game is so hard to tell what the writers originally meant, both beacause of it being looked at through translations and it being written in the 2000s (like how fruity they 'accidentally' made them in the first game lol) so that's not an angle I can look at this from.

So, to recap, he

had all his past dredged up, obviously very painful

he is open about talking about it, but doesn't show the true extent of how it effects him

has a knife in his car that no one has any real theories on why he has it (and the blood)

There is traces of blood on his office floor

he has spent his entire life punishing himself, and then can't forgive himself for it

he then chooses death

when he comes back, he repeatedly projects onto Adrian Andrews

No wonder he's always saying Phoenix "saved him" he sure needed a bit of saving.

This poor, poor man. His story arc is so beautiful to me.

[velvees-archive]

oh I LOVE your analysis about Edgeworth (+Phoenix), aa1 Edgeworth has a special place in my heart just because of all the little nuances his character has and how genuinely unpleasant he could be while navigating... all that. It's kind of hard to just get him right because the player/Phoenix doesn't really know what's going on in his head

Also the point about him being a little mischaracterised in aai1, I generally think the entire game mischaracterises him a bit but the bratworth case is probably the most inaccurate. I still enjoyed it though because of him and franziska (even if I think that was a little inaccurate too)

hello hello, anon! thanks for being my first inbox msg. cue the confetti!

i also love aa1 edgeworth and agree that pinning down his character is difficult, specifically at 24 years old. it’s slippery territory for me because his wardrobe change + new mannerisms hint at an attempt to distinguish himself from von karma, but i’m still grappling with the og trilogy content, so i’m not really sure. i can confidently say that phoenix came at just the right time, though.

HARD AGREE about aai and edgeworth’s characterization. i was so taken by how well takumi captured edgeworth’s thoughts/interactions in 3-5 that aai1 edgeworth paled heavily in comparison. i think the writing team finds their footing in aai2, but that silly line in aai1-1 about nobody getting away with murder in his office was so facepalm inducing i didn’t know what to do with myself. don’t get me wrong though, i’m very fond of aai1 and will defend it for its merits.

thanks again for being my first ask! :) i love nerding out about these silly lawyers and company. i’ve just gotten into ace attorney but the aa tumblr community has been so receptive and sweet!

[box-dwelling]

Of all the AA trilogy procecutors the one who stealth hits me to be sad is Godot. Like I think about Franziska and Miles so much because I kinda immediately bonded with them. They are both arctypes I really like even when initially villianous. So the sadness of their story doesn't hit me as much because I think about them so much its just kind of a background radiation.

Godot for the first 2 cases he appears in is fun and funny but not as much an instant brainrot for me. But BttT fleshed him out so much and made him so sympathetic and made me cry so hard that I just find myself not thinking about him and then being hit with all that tragedy in one swoop whenever I do.

I like to think Phoenix defended him at his trial and while he didn't fully get him off he made a good enough case for it being justified self defense that it gets reduced to endangerment or manslaughter especially because Misty was involved and knew the risks going in. Maybe Miles takes the prosecution and goes easy on him because he knows the guy isn't a danger and was protecting Maya. He goes to jail and loses his ability to procecute but he doesn't get the death penalty and gets to get out and open a coffee shop or something.

The line where Phoenix tells him it doesn't matter if it was justified because he still commited murder, it rubbed me the wrong way a little even though I know it was fair and kinda what he had to do given his position in the trial. It just seemed out of character for him especially given the stuff with Ron delite. Like the guy who committed multiple acts of grand larceny to enable his wife's shopping addiction because he didn't want to admit he got fired to her gets off on a technicality but the guys who had an entire plan set out to avoid a murder that then went wrong and ment the only thing he could do to stop it was kill the murderer as she was actively attacking her victim doesn't because someone involved in the scheme and who knew the risks died as collateral damage doesn't?

I think Phoenix helped him out after idk

[characteroulette]

A study on prosecutors -- (previous) (next)

Let's get into the weeds of the Investigations games.

Judging any of the prosecutors in the Investigations games, Edgeworth included, is a difficult thing to do. We're not privy to their style of prosecuting, after all, since the whole game takes place outside of any trials. I guess this shows how much stock I take from said trials, but it is a core mechanic to the Ace Attorney series, so I feel justified on that one. Judging a prosecutor from half of the usual info makes things a bit of a harder sell to me, they really missed an opportunity to get us into the courtroom properly.

But I digress. Let's go down the list.

First off, Jacques Portsman. He's a first case villain for sure, as we know he committed the crime and his over the top performance is really grating. I kinda never believed him when he claimed to be a prodigy or some up and coming star because of that, though. Like, sir, you're a first case murderer. You're not that hard to crack, especially as the game has to tutorialise everything for us.

His being pretty awful is kinda the point, however. Here is one of many prosecutors whom Edgeworth has to work alongside in the office. He's as corrupt and ruthless as anyone else, he's another in the many who believe that winning and making a name for themselves is all that matters in the world of the law. He's a symptom of the way the law operates in this world, far from the cause. That's at least one fascinating aspect to him.

It's yet another show of how Manfred could have gotten away with his forty year streak without anyone so much as batting an eye at it.

Speaking of, let's dig into Manfred a bit deeper, seeing as he's the only other prosecutor we really meet in the first game. (Faraday gets like one line before he dies, so I can't really count him.) He's acting Edgeworth's superior here, no matter how much Edgeworth refers to him as his mentor. This is a disconnect that always struck me about what we get to see of their interactions; Edgeworth really does respect Manfred from the bottom of his heart. He sees Manfred as someone who helped him find structure and strength in his life after what happened to his father. But Manfred doesn't return that respect at all. Really, a lot of how Manfred speaks to Edgeworth here reads as condescending, and that's before he goes off about how worthless Edgeworth is. His promise of an hour of recess is also one that stood out to me; he expects Edgeworth to partake in some of the dirtier tactics that he (and Franziska) might. He's leaving that option open for Edgeworth to do whatever necessary to get his guilty verdict, to prove himself a perfect von Karma. It doesn't end up happening because we have to preserve continuity -- I mean, the trial gets cancelled due to murder shenanigans, but it's a detail that's always stood out to me.

We get a lot more intriguing a look into Manfred's character in the second Investigations game. He adores his wife to the point of proclaiming her the best chef in the world. That's weirdly humanising for him!! And he loves his daughter, too, even if he's not very good at showing it. He may be a wicked man, but it wasn't actually by his own hand that he had to tamper with evidence. Hell, maybe that's why Gregory was able to call him out. (He forged a WHOLE BODY and that'll forever be hilarious to me.) (Well, an autopsy report. Same difference.) What I would GIVE to be able to see the actual trials between Gregory and Manfred, with Gregory struggling to find any hold and Manfred acting composed while also hoping his evidence doesn't get called out. It had to be one hell of a battle, Gregory isn't one to go down without a fight.

Anyway, Byrne Faraday. I figure I might give a bit of a thought on him from what we can extrapolate.

Kay loved him dearly and he was definitely doing his best by her. That promise notebook they had between them is so sweet, the man was trying his best to be a good dad. He had some level of corruption, though, considering he was one foot to the Yatagarasu. Sure, it was more for justice than our usual prosecutor fare, but he was still cheating to get guilty verdicts. Even if his corruption swung the other way than where we're used to seeing, it shows he was willing to get his hands dirty for his justice. It shows his lack of faith in the legal system he was a part of, another symptom to this dark age. (As an aside, these two games are the true lead-in to Dual Destinies. Not Apollo Justice. You want the themes and points of DD to ring stronger or truer at all? Play the Investigations games before going into DD, it'll all make more sense that way. Or, as much sense as it can make.)

It is fun seeing how much they have to strain to get us to like Faraday, though. At least, I feel he's supposed to be likeable, since they focus on him being a good dad and not the fact that he was working behind the scenes to help rig his trials. A perfect contrast to Manfred, whom the games don't even try to make likeable since we all know what becomes of him in the end. And yet they put in just enough to get you to see him as less a monster than you might have. (The Inga solution! It works on me every time!!)

Also funny that there are only two new prosecutors introduced in the first Investigations game and they're both basically bit parts. Because then we get into the second game and meet our more traditional opposing prosecutor, Sebastian Debeste.

Ahh, Yumihiko Ichiyanagi. A mess of a child. Starts out pompous and believing he's always right because that's what everyone around him is forced to say to him. He's a nepotism baby, his dad's the Chief of the Prosecutorial Investigation Committee, after all. He's a brat and a pest and he's also so stupid you find yourself wondering how the hell he managed to get his badge in the first place.

Well, this is a world of dumbasses, you suppose. How else could simple logic be a superpower? You move on and concern yourself more with whom you suspect to be the true villain pulling the strings here, Justine Courtney.

Her subtle pushes and buttering Sebastian up are near sinister. It's like she's using him as a mouthpiece at times, a way to get her own goals and work done here. She wants to seemingly destroy Edgeworth, nearly singularly focuses on this goal at times, and you can't help but find pity for Sebastian being caught up in her scheme. He's seventeen and it shows far more on him than it does on Klavier or Franziska. He's floundering while everyone simply congratulates him on a job while done, unable to save him from those depths, that darkness.

What is the point of using this boy as a smokescreen, you wonder. How can parading him around be worth any of his foolishness?

Then we meet Blaise and realise, oh. He really was just a pawn in the grander scheme. He was a way to get closer to the true villain. He was merely getting in the way, being a foolish and stupid child, of everyone's true goals.

Franziska whips him and he doesn't even protest. He shouts out in pain like everyone else, but he never once tells her to stop. He just takes it, doesn't think of his usual profession of being the best.

He just takes it.

From that small detail alone, I couldn't help but immediately worry for him.

Justine shows her hand at last. Even if she had come to care for Sebastian, she's out to strike Blaise down no matter what. Blaise is the one behind that one strike against Manfred's reputation, he's behind this whole smuggling ring, he's everyone's antagonist as we all converge on this one point. Sebastian tries to stick up for his father, but even that lends to our favour. He gets in the way once more, he slips up just enough to give us what we need, and his father reveals to him in the cruellest possible way that everything he thought he's accomplished has been a total lie. He couldn't even be a worthy pawn to his father. He's a failure, through and through.

And Edgeworth gets to be the one to help him stand back up on his own two feet.

I cannot stress enough just how excellent an idea it was to have our final logic chess game be against Sebastian. How we have to use it more as a way to break through all that despair and anguish instead of for our own gain. Edgeworth being able to be a voice of strength for Sebastian, being able to offer this boy you thought your enemy for most of the game a spot of hope, is so good. It's exactly taking the lessons behind what made Edgeworth himself so good in the first game, at least in my opinion.

And we get to see bits of an actual trial!! We get to play assistant as Sebastian stands up to his father in one of the most hype scenes ever!! I'm so proud of this fail boy who came such a long way. A crybaby who, with the help of those actually willing to back him up and show him the right way instead of propping him up with false praise, is able to stand his ground and prove his father the villain he is.

He breaks that chain of legacy tying so many of our Ace Attorney characters down. Holy shit we were robbed this game, actually, huge shout out to the translation team who allowed us all to experience this cathartic moment.