#romantic acting attorney

[cate-geo]

I keep thinking of the Actor laying on the couch just on his phone, reading, playing a video game, or whatever

And then Yn just finds him and lays on top of him

And Actor doesn’t even look away from his current activity. He just adjusts slightly so they’re both more comfortable and doesn’t acknowledge it further than that

And the two of them just stay like that for hours

[anglerflsh]

it's been about two years since the time I drew them constantly. btw

[the-random-phan]

"On the other side of the courtoom..."

[anpiels]

I saw someone give Haori/Rei glasses and banged this out in like 2 hours i think she should have them like. fr. thank you

[notmoreflippingelves]

Thinking about how aggravating it is that fandom boils down a lot of really fascinating Ace Attorney ships to "oh, so we're copying narumitsu's homework again, are we?" --as though the only reason that someone might find plausibly these ships (romantic and/or platonic) interesting is surface-level similarities to the fandom juggernaut pairing and not like the compelling characters and their established bonds in and of themselves.

[naydralikessoup]

i'm sure this has been said before but screw romance i want what phoenix and edgeworth have

[liccalavender]

Ace Attorney does not get nearly enough credit for the fact that it consistently portrays relationships between men and women with absolutely no romantic or sexual undertones.

In any other game, it would be very common to make some sort of chemistry between the protagonist and their assistant. We play as an attractive man who's usually smart and charming. With a cute young girl as a quirky assistant. This would be a recipe for some sort of heterosexual romance in any other media.

However, this never happens. The dynamic between the lawyer and the assistant is always platonic. Or even familial. Phoenix and Maya act and treat each other as if they were siblings. Bickering and bullying each other, but still doing anything they can to help one another. Phoenix typically refers to Maya as a kid. Even when she is well into her 20s. While Edgeworth and Kay have a much more of a father daughter bond. Edgeworth constantly worried about her when she put herself in danger. Helping her in all sorts of ways. Even stepping into the shoes of her actual biological father to restore her memories in The Forgotten Turnabout. Of course, Apollo follows this trend as well. With Trucy being has actual biological half-sister. Neither know of this yet still act as if they grew up together. Teasing and poking fun throughout the game.

There's not a single moment for any of these duos that I can recall that scream romantic. With the exception of Phoenix and Maya. Mind you, this not them, actually acting in a romantic way. It is the way their relationship is perceived by a small young girl. Pearl is absolutely convinced that Phoenix and Maya are deeply in love and will be married soon. This is treated as something unfortunate. Phoenix was confused as to why she was thinking this way. Until Maya informed him that Pearl almost never sees a happy healthy relationship between a man and a woman. She has come to understand that if a man treats a woman nicely, then they must be in love. The attitude Phoenix and Maya have about this isn't one of lovers or secret pining. It's one of great sadness for little pearly.

There are characters in the story who do act disgustingly heterosexual whenever they can. Namely, Larry "if something smells" Butz. He's constantly in and out of relationships and always looking for more. He even hinted at jealousy for Phoenix and his friendship with Maya and Pearl. Which is pretty gross. He's shamed and scorned for this behavior most of the time. Signifying, he's the odd one out.

When it comes to fandom shipping, this is a similar story. While yes, of course, there are plenty of people who ship the lawyers with their assistants. It's not nearly as common as you'd think it was. Most people agree that these characters have no chemistry with each other. Most even have the maturity to understand that shipping a man in his mid twenties with a girl usually under eighteen is wrong. In both the Western and Jappanese fandom, I was pleasantly surprised by the lack of shipping for these characters.

I commend the writers for doing this. It is a breath of fresh air to finally have healthy friendships between men and women. Even when they do have more of a romantic undertone, with characters such as Mia and Diego, it is one of respect and admiration. Not one of simply physical attraction.

[catgirl-catboy]

Which Ace Attorney Characters know Phoenix ate glass?

Maya: Knows the details of the story from Mia. She doesn't like joking about things related to Mia, so she doesn't talk about it often. Pearl: Heard about it from Mystic Maya when trying to learn everything about Mr. Nick. Doesn't know the details, namely that it was for another woman. Morgan: Absolutely knows, and is judgemental as hell about it. Larry: He was 100% Phoenix's emergency contact at the time- he knows the whole story. Thiks its incredibly romantic, and wants to find a woman that'd eat glass for him. Oldbag: Heard from Larry. Thinks its just a young person thing. Edgeworth: I think he was told about it by Larry, but thinks there's only a kernel of truth to it. When Phoenix offhandedly mentions it years later he loses his mind. Franziska: Mocks Larry for being enough of a fool to think Phoenix ate glass. Gumshoe: The only person told by Phoenix himself. Knows the man ate glass, but not why. Living paycheck to paycheck causes you to eat things you've never considered eating. Godot: Researched Mia's cases after his coma. 100% knows, but has probably accidentally swallowed a coffee cup, so he can't judge. Apollo: Researched Phoenix's cases, and knows about it intellectually. Hasn't fully comprehended how insane it is. Trucy: Knows, and it's a meme he can make glass vanish without a trace. Athena: Knows there's a story, but none of the details. Ema: Nobody has told her, for fear of her also deciding to eat glass. Kristoph: Knows about it, but assumes it was an act of phycological warfare. Has spent hours trying to analyze his tactics. Klavier: Knows about it, and refrences it in his hit single. + Iris: Dahlia never told her.

[kyeomszone]

motive ○ lee dokyeom

tags. exes to ??. ex-fwb. hate sex (started off atleast, these bitches are idiots). fingering. rough sex. penetrative sex (vaginal). degradation. objectification. unresolved romantic tension.

synopsis. there aren't a lot of things that can get the Lee Seokmin angry. He's seen a lot in his career as the district attorney, has lived through a lot but goddammit did you know how to get under his skin better and faster than anyone with the infuriating smirk of yours.

series masterlist.

If someone were to ask about what sort of person Lee Seokmin is, the first thing that would pop up in people’s heads is kind or a saint or some other iteration of it.

The man had built his career from these very acts, pro bono cases ( despite being very broke straight out of university ) to tackling big public figures━ politicians, businessmen and women, none were safe from Lee Seokmin and his silver tongue━ to now, having been elected the district attorney, the youngest in the country’s history.

You call bullshit.

The Lee Seokmin you know is all teeth, bruising grip and unforgiving mouth.

You remember the man as clear as day, even though it has been almost half a decade since the two of you last crossed paths━ a hurried conversation, the crack in your heart, the coldness in his eyes-

You remember the man, the way he spun arguments in his favour no matter how bad the odds were, the way he brought the room’s attention to himself so irrevocably, so effortlessly with that bright smile of his, the very same smile that turned sharp and sharklike behind closed door, having you shaking in your knees and your cheeks stained with tears as he denied you the high.

He was kind yes, but not a saint.

Lee Seokmin was the farthest thing from a saint.

Maybe that was why wherever you get the chance, you try to get under his skin and show the world the cruel thing that lay behind their saint. That this-this whole kindness, this love, this care that he shows are all a carefully done facade.

So, you were on the witness stand, repeating the oath as a smirk played on your lips with your eyes not leaving Seokmin’s form. He looked tense, jaw clenched, knuckles white and eyebrows set.

The man looked far tenser than he did when had introduced the case, a hard look on his face but eyes still infuriatingly kind, the opening a carefully curated string of words that had the audience━ judge, jury, defendant, everyone entranced, the words spoken in that soft, sweet voice of his already swaying the jury.

The case had been against one of your former business partners, you having been brought in as a witness or said man to use against Seokmin’s arguments and even though the man you had worked with could be described as scum, you played up the act. Doing your part to convince the jury that the accusations were baseless and the prosecution was simply trying to bring down a good man (and if you threw in jabs against Seokmin in between your words, well that was between you and him).

Which brought you this very moment━ you sitting in one of your office chairs after hours, the plush material soft against your back as you lift the glass of bourbon to your lips, the smile on your lips smug as you stare down Seokmin, the glass you had offered him sitting untouched.

“Didn’t know you had a thing for humiliation,” Your words are sharp as they fall from your lips, mocking. “You think you know a person.”

Seokmin doesn’t rise to the bait, instead, he looks at you, something angry, something resigned in his gaze that makes your skin itch. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why?” Seokmin repeats himself, a sigh falling from his lips as he finally picks up the glass of alcohol, staring at the amber liquid. “Why go out of your way to defend him?”

You scoff at his audacity to question you after everything he has done. “What do you mean, why? He’s my business partner, we worked together and I━”

“Bullshit.” Seokmin snaps, his eyes hard as he glares at you, his grip on the glass now white-knuckled. “That's bullshit and we both know that. He is a murd━”

“You don’t know me Lee Seokmin,” You interrupt him, setting the glass with a hard clang as you narrow your eyes at him. “So don’t barge your way in here and give me a fucking lecture on morality.”

“You're right,” Seokmin sighs, taking a large gulp of bourbon and your eyes can’t help but trace the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I don’t know you, the version of you that I knew is-is gone and...” a sharp laugh falls from his lips as he sets the glass back down. His eyes turn cold, lips twisting into a cruel little smile as he tilts his head. “What’s left of you is an empty shell filled with nothing but greed and━”

You are out of your chair before he finishes speaking, pushing his shoulders harshly as you glare down at him. Your breath comes out in harsh pants, jaw clenched and nails digging into the muscle of his shoulder, “Fuck you.”

Seokmin stares back, his eyes not leaving yours and he keeps staring and staring and━

His lips find themselves on your, hand cradling your jaw as the other tangles with your hair. You freeze for a minute, eyes wide at the unexpected course of action and it takes a minute for your brain to reboot before you find yourself kissing him back, your tongue licking across his seam, his tongue tangling with yours, mapping your mouth.

He stands up, lips still moving against yours as he gently pushes your backwards until the small of your back hits the desk, his body pressing against yours and━ fuck, you hate how this has your hold body burning, heat settling in your bones and turning you to putty.

He pulls away, panting as his forehead rests against yours. His grip on your jaw doesn’t loosen, neither does his hold on your hair and it sends a jolt of pleasure down your spine.

“Seokmin,” You breathe out, eyes on his face, the sharp contours of his face, the slope of his jaw, the moles shattered on his cheeks, all of which as like familiar in a way a book you had read years ago is. “Seokmin what━”

“Shut up,” Seokmin mumbles against your lips, pulling them back in and in one fell swoop, he has you lifted onto your desk, settling in between your legs and the casual display of strength has wetness pooling in your panties. You knew Seokmin had filled out, the muscles on his body no longer lithe the way it had been in university━ not from the way his shirts and suits hugged his body, almost tearing at the seams due to the stretch with each contraction.

His hand trails down from your hair, moving down until they’re at the buttons of your shirt, fingers undoing them and pulling it off, the fabric pooling near your hips and your shiver as the cold air of room brushes against your skin. Your grip on his shirt tightens, the fabric crinkling as you try to bring him closer than he already is, seeking out the wet heat of his mouth with a fervent need.

He pulls away for a second, breathing harshly, “Do you want to stop?”

You stare at him, the words taking a moment to skin in and when they do, you shake your head, “No,” the word falls off your lips without a beat of hesitation.

“Still the slut I know.” The words fall off Seokmin’s lips accompanied by a small laugh, a deeper, darker sort of under that makes molten heat course through your veins despite the humiliation that burns in you. “Maybe not everything has changed.”

You ignore the way his words sound wistful by the end, tugging him back down to meet your mouth, moaning at the way he bites your bottom lips, thighs pushing against your core. A beat later, his mouth starts trailing down, from your lips to your jaw, biting and licking and tugging at the skin of your jaw to your neck to your shoulder and then down to your tits.

One of his hands moves to unhook your bra while the other moves the garment. His mouth settles on one of the nubs, the teeth sinking into the flesh sending a flash of pleasure that has you gasping, back arching as you push yourself more onto him. His hand cups the other breast, fingers digging into the soft mound and as he tugs and tugs the abused nipple before moving onto the other.

All the while you’ve turned into a mess of pants and moans, your eyes rolling the the back of your head as Seokmin works his way through your body, taking you as he pleases, however he wants, wherever he wants━ uncaring of what you have to say.

It makes you feel like an object to use for his pleasure.

It makes your core throb.

“Pretty,” Seokmin mumbles against your skin, his breath warm and making you shiver. “My pretty girl.”

You burn at the praise, at being called his and you hate how it makes you feel.

“Fuck me already,” You snap instead, distracting yourself from whatever's starting to take root in you.

Seokmin’s eyes snap up to yours, eyebrows scrunching as he takes in a sharp breath. His hand trailed from your waist to your neck, fingers curling around the base of it and giving a light squeeze, making your breath hitch. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” He grits out, his words sharp and syllables coated in warning. “Behave.”

You swallow and nod. “Okay,” your next breath is shaky as you look at him. He stares at you for a second, before nodding.

“Be a good girl for me, baby,” Seokmin says, kissing you again as his hands start moving down. He unbuckles your belt, undoing the button and taking off your pants and underwear together, dropping them to the floor.

“So wet for me,” Seokmin mumbles, running a finger through your fold, wetness gathering on his finger making you moan, his mouth swallowing the sound. Two fingers slip into your hole easily, Seokmin groaning at the smooth motion and the subsequent tightening around the digits. His thumb settles against your cilt, rubbing circles as he starts fucking you rough and fast with his fingers.

He pulls away from you slightly, lips a breath away as he says: “How many times can I make you cum before you start sobbing?” He grins against your lips as you can only reply with a moan. “I remember it being four before you started whriting and sobbing as you begged me to stop.”

“Seok━” You gasp out as he presses against your cilt harder, your whole body tensing as you get closer and closer to the edge, your whole body tight as a coil.

“Has it gone back to one?” Seokmin keeps the conversation going nonchalantly as if you weren’t seconds away from crumbling to the ground. “No one’s been able to fuck you as well as I did to keep up?”

The coil in you snaps, as you clench around his fingers, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let out a long, drawn-out moan; your orgasm washing over you.

“One.” Seokmin counts, his thumb still working away at your cilt and your body starts to tighten again, limbs locking up and you’re sure the only reason you're still upright is due to the hold Seokmin has on you. His fingers still piston in and out of you and within a few breaths you’re being pushed to the edge again, body coiling and coiling and━

“Seokmin,” You can’t help but sob out when the second orgasm washes over you and Seokmin still keeps going, thumb working and working and working away at your cilt. “Can’t, please, Seok━ Seokmin.”

Seokmin stops, his fingers pulling out as he ticks an eyebrow, “Just two?”

You take in a shaky breath, your whole body shuddering as you nod. “I... I’m sorry,” you find yourself saying, despite the embarrassment stelling into your bones━ you don’t even know why.

“It’s okay, baby.” He presses a sweet kiss to your lips, soft and warm and a complete juxtaposition to his demeanour a beat ago. “You did good, sweetheart.”

You find yourself nodding, letting him completely overwhelm your senses. His hands caging your body, clothed thigh pressed against your dripping core, mouth moving against yours, soft, wet warm and grounding.

“Lay back,” Seokmin orders softly once he pulls away and you do, your back settling on the cool surface of the glass as you hear the buckle of his belt hit the floor. A moan falls from your lips as you feel his head against your folds, moving to collect the wetness on the dull nub. Your whole body arches, mouth falling open as he pushes in, the thick length of his stretches you to your absolute limits, and despite the wetness from his ministrations and two orgasms, it still takes a bit of effort to fully seath himself inside.

Good god, you’d forgotten how big he was.

No wonder anyone who came after could never fully make you feel half of what he did.

“Fuck,” Seokmin pants, his body leaning over yours, “My perfect little toy,” Seokmin moans out as he starts moving, a slow drag followed by a snap that has you arching. With each thrust, he picks up his pace, playing with your cilt every once in a while to bring you closer to your orgasm as he fucks you fast and rough and hard enough to leave you aching for days.

Your body is putty by the time his pace grows erratic, hips snapping against yours as he fucks you, pistoning in and out and in and you feel your body tightening, his own breaths coming out sharp and short and a few thrusts later, you're coming around his cock, tightening around his thick girth and that seems to push him over the edge as well as he quickly pulls out and paints your stomach white.

It takes a minute for you to catch your breath, your senses slowly rewriting itself from having been fried. You push yourself to sit up despite the exhaustion settling in your body as you stare at Seokmin, hair damp from sweat, skin flushed with the effect of sex and he looks just as breathtaking as the first day you saw him.

A heaviness settles in your chest the longer you look.

You missed him.

You hate yourself for thinking that.

note. i have a part two for it that is more plot than smut, so lemme know if anyone's interested

[the-bar-sinister]

Despite a ton of queer subtext, the actual canonical text of Ace Attorney is deeply homophobic and heteronormative.

Homosexuality and queerness are never directly referenced or mentioned at all in the series. There is never a moment in the series where it is directly discussed that non-straight is a thing you can be.

However, there are a few characters who are implied to be non-straight and these cases are handled in the same way every time.

Male homosexual stereotypes: men who wear cosmetics, are flashy and limp wristed. These queer stereotype men are treated with derision by the characters and the text. At one point Phoenix Wright directly calls another man (Redd White) a "fruitcake" which is a slur against homosexual men.

Implied lesbians: Specifically Lana Skye and Aura Blackquill. In both cases these characters are hinted to have romantic feelings for another woman. In both these cases, the characters around them do not reference this directly and instead act embarrassed on the woman's behalf. Ema hurries to explain that Lana's attraction to Mia is "an intellectual attraction", and in court, everyone is nervous to explain to the judge that Aura was in romantic love with Metis and it's never said directly, only hinted around with embarrassment.

In both cases, male and female, the characters of Ace Attorney act in a way that suggests that homosexuality in the Ace Attorney universe is something embarrassing and shameful.

At no point in the series is there ever a moment where homosexual behavior and presentation isn't treated as something embarrassing and shameful.

[cate-geo]

The Actor and The DA have meshes on each other and I’m tired of the government trying to hide this from the public

[tacobellabeanburrito]

Let’s talk about Phoenix and Miles’ red/blue gay color scheme.

I love the fact that the colors are switched. You’d expect Phoenix to be the red gay because he’s firey, kinda dumb and silly, and is way more extroverted. He’s such a sweetie and that’s kinda what makes a red gay a red gay most of the time.

And then, you’d expect Miles to be the blue gay because he’s calm, collected and cold. Wears glasses for crying out loud and doesn’t do well with feelings and people which is the recipe for a blue gay.

But then, you also think about how well they go with their colors too. Despite Phoenix being spunky, he’s still such a straight man to literally everyone in the Ace Attorney universe compared to how red gays usually are. He’s such a smartass and actually very intelligent although he doesn’t get to show it often. He’s also one of the most chill characters in Ace Attorney and that makes him such a good blue gay.

And then you have Miles who in my opinon, is already super fiery. He’s so passionate about his work and gets fired up over the slightest things. He’s dorky and kind, just like a lot of the regular red gays and is very confident. He has absolutely no chill factor at times (especially when he’s angry). Despite them being the opposite of what their colors are supposed to be (considering my the fact that most red gays act like Phoenix and most blue gays act like Miles) they fit their other colors so well.

Sorry if this doesn’t make sense. I’m basically just talking about how Phoenix and Miles sort of switched colors but the colors actually really fit them.

This can also fit for some other rival romantic relationships and I think it's super cool when it gets switched up.

[nerdraging4point0]

Underdog//Motionless one shot

The work below consists of fictionalized ideas and stories. It is an alternate universe story with only names and likenesses used in creation of a character. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction. Please review the content warning before proceeding.

CW: 18+ MNDI, Coach/athlete au, coach athlete sexual relationship [all parties regardless of being fiction are of legal age of consent. This does not mean that the behavior is ethical or acceptable in reality-does it happen, yes. Is that something I am going to go into? No. I am not an attorney. Per ChampionWomen Sexual contacts or “romantic” relationships between an athlete and a person who has a position of power over the athlete are prohibited. Person of power includes but is not limited to coaches, administrators, judges, referees, employers, staff, medical personnel, and even volunteers or older athletes and teammates.] the following one shot includes unprotected sex, P/V sex, fingering.

A.N: @mysticdoodlez and @ladyveronikawrites I present to you and owe you for this fucking piece of art.

Exhibition

Coach Cerulli stood off to the side in the coach's box, not saying a word, his legs shoulder-width apart as he swayed back and forth on his feet. He wears his disgustingly dark ensemble of worn high-top Converse and straight-leg jeans. Already obnoxiously tall, the dress style made him look even more intimidating. Glancing over him once, you notice an apparent sweat triangle starting at the collar of the black cotton tee he wore under his polyester team jersey. An electric green sea turtle was stitched on the right side of his chest, and Cerulli was stitched on the back. Trying to focus on your drill partner, Rachel, you steal quick glances after each ball toss. Under the black bill of his ball cap, Coach Cerulli's jaw clenched as he chewed the pale green gum between his teeth. 

Rachel rolled the neon yellow ball across the rust-colored dirt toward you; spreading your legs apart, bending at the waist, glove in hand, you dip to the ground, catching the ball on its roll, securing it with your other hand, you take a step, and toss the ball to her again. 

As a team, you'd been at this for an hour now; the humidity from the earlier rain made beads of sweat start at the back of your neck and under your cap. The gray storm clouds rolled over the Florida coast, looking angry; another storm was approaching.

Balmy tropical air and classic South Florida smell were something you'd missed when you were on break. Some of the girls decided to pack up and hit the slopes of Colorado for a week; you were more than eager to go. It had been a celebratory and bittersweet season last year, and you were all due for a nice getaway. Coach Adams announced last season that she'd be retiring sooner than expected. Her youngest had just graduated High School, and she struggled to adjust.

Enter Coach Cerulli. 

He was overbearing and a perfectionist; he drilled and worked the team till he felt you were perfect. It worked, or maybe it was because you wanted to impress Coach Adams for her final season. Leaving the season last year, you were nearly undefeated. And it was no surprise now that he demanded the same perfection. 

"You're looking soft, ladies. Let's pick it up. I wanna see some sweat, some determination, act like you fucking want it." He crossed his arms, kicking up some of the dirt from the field before he dropped down, squatting on one knee as he stretched the other to its entire length. 

Several players on the team turned to look at the coach; it was no secret most of the team found him hot. He was older. Way older. But that added to the heat of the idea. You were aware of Coach Cerulli's attractiveness, his dark hair and eyes; the only part of his skin not covered in tattoos was his achingly beautiful face. Once you'd gotten close enough to see his three little scars on his bottom lip, it only added to the mystery of what had been his past. Fantasy is what it was; it was all fantasy. There was no room for error when your college life was riding on a full sports scholarship. 

The team continued to drill, the breeze from the water bringing a salty taste to the air. Soon, the sun started to get lost behind the gray cover, thinking it might rain you guys out; the team slowed on drills, looking to coach and back at the sky. Coach stands up to his full height, his powerful form casting a shadow over the field. Deep and commanding, his voice brought the team's eyes and attention to him. 

"I've high expectations for my team; this isn't just any season. I have my sights set on the championship title, and we won't settle for anything less." Clapping his hands, you can hear the friction of him rubbing the skin together, his tattooed fingers lacing and curling over each other in a frenzy. A low rumble of thunder sounded from the sky; Coach Cerulli pursed his lips and looked at the foreboding weather.

 "One scrimmage, and we'll call it a night."

The team scrambled to their gear as he called out names and positions. You adjusted your cap, pulling loose strands of hair around your ears and reaching for your glove when the coach's voice called out your name.

"y/l/n. You're batting." There was no nonsense in his voice, and when you turned to protest, he smacked his gum between his teeth, heading to stand behind home plate. 

You never bat, at least not first; the pressure is too much. You were a fielder on the team with the best reflexes and speed. Others were better at this than you. Grabbing the bat, you lower your cap and head to the base. Coach is droning on about how he demands perfection from all players.

"We won't be putting people in places of their strength. I want you uncomfortable; it's the only way you grow." He turns to look at you and nods his head. Stepping up to the plate, you take your spot, raising your bat, eyes locked on Sammi, who is pitching. She gives you a look of pity, and you know she'll take it easy on you, at least. 

"Bat up." Coach growls. 

"It is up," you snap back. 

"If 'up' means hanging off your shoulder. It needs to be up higher. Fix your grip." 

You tighten your hands on the bat's base, nails nearly touching your palms as your hands turn white.

"Too tight, you're not strangling it." 

You huff out the air in your lungs, rolling your eyes. Just let me hit the ball, goddamnit. 

Sammi pitches the ball. It's a simple pitch, and you swing, barely ticking the ball; it doesn't even get air, hardly leaving the home base as it rolls back to her. Just great, I look like a peewee player in front of the coach. 

"Jenson, if you're gonna pitch. Pitch." he snaps. 

You watch as her face turns apologetic; great, no easy out this time.

"Fix your stance." a smack of his gum between his teeth follows his command. You can hear the wet smacking sounds, throwing you off concentration. He continues to throw useless advice your way each time you miss the ball. 

"You're off center."

Your patience is running thin, and you can see the players on the field becoming bored from the lack of action, just standing in the field and talking back and forth. 

"Ladies, look alive!" Coach booms, and they jump into their stance. 

Sammi nods at you, winding up to pitch; you lose all of the coach's advice, squaring up how you want. The swing is powerful, but the ball still whooshes by your bat and hits the fence behind the coach. 

You let the air out of your lungs, turning around to see Coach Cerulli looking right at you, arms crossed over his torso. You can see his brown eyes sparkling under his ball cap. 

"Nice hit," he says sarcastically. 

Tossing the bat, you walk off the field, tears stinging the back of your eyes and starting to burn your throat. You've had enough for one night. 

You can hear him bark orders to the team as the practice continues without you. Walking from the field, you walked around campus once, then twice; on your second lap, you realized you were halfway to your dorm and didn't have any of your gear. Your hands drag down your face in frustration, pushing your cap off your head. Your hair is sticky as you put the cap between your teeth and readjust the ponytail. Throwing the cap back on your head, you turn on your heel and head back to the field. 

Making your way back, you pass several teammates; keeping your cap down, you avoid their eye contact, but the sudden silence as you pass and the sad voices that follow behind your back don't go unnoticed.

Rachel caught sight of you, jogging up to meet you halfway walking backward as you continued your walk of shame to the field. 

"What's up? You walked off?" She has such sadness in her voice. She knows that you are sometimes too hard on yourself. You only have a little social life between studies and sports; your trip out of state lets you loosen up and gives you a good one-night stand. But it made you realize how much you hated having unsatisfactory sex with some drunk frat boy. 

"Rough time, that's all," you confess.

"I know you hate batting. I'm sorry." you only shrug your shoulders in response.

Coach Cerulli is tossing bags of extra bats and gloves next to the storage shed; the way he lifts the gear bag, throwing it over his shoulder, you catch his shirt ride up just a bit to reveal his tattooed torso.

"Need me to wait?" Rachel asks, offering a soft touch on your shoulder. 

"No. I got this." She jogs back to the campus as you enter the field. Turning at the dugout, not meeting the coach's eyes as he looks your way.

You are gathering your gear in your bag, trying not to make eye contact with the coach. The thunder is rumbling overhead again, closer than before; you can smell the rain coming. A heavy set of footsteps, and suddenly, he's clearing his throat behind you, your shoulders dropping in defeat.

"Sorry, coach." You keep your voice low and sincere. Feeling the pain in your throat again. Don't cry. Don't cry. 

"What's up with you out there?" The way he sounds less demanding, and the friendly tone in his words makes a lump form in your throat.

"I just get choked up."

"Why, you're here on a scholarship. Adams said you were the most dedicated player."

"And I am." You don't bother turning around. Tossing your glove and a few extra things into your bag.

"Didn't look like it today."

"People aren't perfect; not everyone can play every position you know." You turn around to face him; he's leaning against the dugout rail, ankles crossed, hands resting on the dark blue rail. 

"So, what is it that holds you back?"

"I just…. It's the crowd, the ump, and the pressure. The crowd is watching me, the team is watching me, and you're watching me." He adjusts his cap, turning his head to spit his gum out in the grass. 

"Grab your bat."

"What?" He kicks off the rail, stopping till he is only a foot in front of you. 

"You heard me. Grab your bat."

You scrambled for the bat as he walked back onto the field. You follow close behind, with no other teammates around the field that looks like it goes on for miles. Taking up your space next to home, you get ready to bat. 

You are barely set before he criticizes you. 

"Okay, first, your grip is too much." He stepped forward, putting his hands over yours, pulling your fingers loose from the neck, his large hands encasing your own as he helped re-grip the bat properly.

"Loosen up, spread your hands out a bit. There," the last word comes out as a soft whisper.

His brown eyes softened as he looked into your face, calloused hands brushing your skin; they were surprisingly well taken care of, the tattoos accenting every knuckle. The sweet smell of wintergreen off his breath, the fragrance winding up your insides. 

"Your feet," he circled around till he was standing behind you, twisting your body around till you could see him again; he tsked, circling the air with his finger for you to return to where you were.

 "You're always on your toes,” he complained.

His words were almost lost to the electricity in your brain; he squatted down behind you, one arm sliding between your legs to wrap around your thigh, a hand bracing on your knee, as his other massaged down my calf to have your heel flatten on the ground. 

"Now, for your hips." Coach's words sound scratchy; you can hear him swallow hard behind you. His hands ghost over your hips, carefully not to actually touch you. "You must bend at the waist and practically fold yourself in half."

"Arch my back?" you offer. He clears his throat the way it sounded like he was uncomfortable.

"Yeah, sounds about right." 

You adjust your hips arching your back, with your feet firmly planted against the ground, your cleats into the dirt, pushing your ass back. You feel yourself brush against his body, and he hisses.

"Easy there, tiger." 

"S-s-sorry." you stammer as you try to step back. His hands grab your hips and place you back in your stance. His body is so close you can feel the heat building on your skin; suddenly, you aren't distracted by nerves but by something else. 

"We aren't done; just watch it," he whispers. "You want to keep yourself firm in this spot until you're ready to swing."

A drop of warm water hits your arm, then another, and another. The rain starts to pour down in a gentle storm. 

"Shit." Coach releases your hips as you both jog back to the dugout. Safe under the awning, you lose footing on the last step, stumbling into the coach. He catches you, arms around your waist, as he stumbles back.

"Sorry," your voice barely audible over the rain tapping on the metal awning; you place your hands on his chest, feeling the stiff muscles underneath. Trying to push off to create distance between the two of you. Coach Cerulli's hands don't move as he looks down at you, those dark eyes glistening under the shadow of his cap. This close to him, your senses are overwhelmed with the smell of him-palo santo and amber, a rich blend like a robust coffee in one of those expensive coffee shops. 

His hands slid up your back, gently caressing over the upper part of your arms, stopping at your wrists and taking them in a grip before pulling your hands off his chest.

"Let's work on your hips some more. It looks like we've got the time." The way he says the words suggests he doesn’t mean anything about batting anymore. 

He spun you around so seamlessly, releasing your wrists to take your hips in the vice grip of his tattooed fingers. Pulling your body toward him, you could feel yourself make contact with his chest; he was so tall, the feeling of what was unmistakably his own arousal resting at your lower back. 

Flames licked into your lower belly as his hands tightened, then loosened on your hips. He started to move you, sliding your hips from left to right in slow motions. "Keep your feet planted on the floor." The harsh whisper in your ear made every part of your skin tremble with anticipation. 

You tried to steady your breathing as he moved you in slow motion against his body. Was this all a dream? Were you asleep in physics and about to be highly embarrassed when you woke up?

Your hands rested on his, trying to prove to yourself that all that was happening was real. Leaning back into his chest, he groaned as he pulled you in closer. 

"This is so wrong." your voice trembles as you speak.

"Very," he growled, kissing the soft flesh of your neck. "Tell me to stop, and I will." 

Fuck, please don't.

It wasn't a good idea to continue, but the feeling, the expert way his hands held you without touching anything intimate, made you melt. 

Leaning your head back into his chest, your face turned to him, desperate for his kiss. Sensing your desperation, Coach took the bill of his hat between two fingers, spinning the cap on his head so it faced backward. Closing in on your face, his full lips consuming your own, two fingers brushing your cheek, tapping twice, asking you to open. 

The second your jaw relaxed into the kiss, his tongue was assaulting your own. He tasted so good, that gum he'd been chewing and something nutty at the end filling your taste buds. 

You let your arm snake behind his head, cupping the back of his neck to bring him closer. One of his hands takes your breast and squeezes the flesh through your clothes, your nipples sensitive to the touch even through all the layers. His other hand slides over the front of your shorts, pushing between your thighs; your hips start to grind into his hand, desperate for friction, earning a sound of approval from the coach.

Pulling apart from each other, lips wet, red, and swollen, you were panting to catch all the air you'd lost in the kiss. 

"Brace yourself, tiger," he warned. 

Pushing hard against you, he shoved you forward till you folded over against the railing, his body pressed tightly against yours. Forcing your hands to grip the rail.

"Remember your grip." he teased, releasing his hold. His hands slid slowly down your sides, thumbs hooking into the band of your shorts to tug them and your panties down to your ankles. You gasped being exposed like this, the adrenaline of being caught coursing through your blood, the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears. 

He kicked your feet apart, having your legs spread till you could feel the resistance of your shorts tight around your ankles. He took your hips in his hands, bringing your ass against him again, "Remember your stance." the words going straight to your center as he nipped at your ear. 

His hands disappeared, and you let out a whine from losing his touch. He shuffled behind you, dipping his head in the crook of your neck to place soft kisses on your pulse point. His hand slid up the inside of your thigh, and feeling the muscles quiver under his fingers, you paused to consider what you were doing, your mind telling you that this was wrong. You'd get caught, and you'd be a disappointment to your parents. The thoughts of calling it off stopped when two fingers slid inside your warmth. His fingers scissored open and closed, swirling around before opening and closing again, stretching your walls with expert skills.

"So tight." He continued to whisper dark and dirty words as his fingers buried into you to the knuckle. The rough pressure pushes you forward and off your heels. Feeling your release boiling just under the surface, you start to grind down on his fingers as they thrust up into you, whimpering for more. You have started to lean over the rail, seeing the field's dirt and glancing down more to see both your feet and his. His pants at his ankles like yours, and the thought that his cock was out and ready for you, made you moan. 

He wraps his hand around your hair, still pulled into a ponytail under your cap; rolling the strands around his hand, tugging you back so his chest is pressed tight to your back, fingers still buried deep inside you.

"Say the word, and I'll stop."

Past the point of no return, you moan, rolling your hips into his hands, still chasing your release. He presses his face into your cheek, nose running through the hairline above your ear as he inhales your scent; it's feral, it's animalistic, it's so fucking hot. His lips press into your ear, and you feel his hot breath against her skin. "You gonna come for me, tiger?"

You barely managed to nod your head before he curled his fingers, pressing on that soft spot inside you, making your walls clench around his fingers. He lets out a strangled sound of approval and surprise, taking the slick of your orgasm to rub on his erection. His left hand cupped your ass before delivering a harsh slap to the skin, making you rock up onto your toes. 

He slides his length between your thighs, coating the head in everything left of your orgasm. Muscles in his chest are tight with anticipation and what you hope is desire. "Listen carefully, tiger," his voice breathless as he pants in your ear. "This is the only time I want you on your toes for me. Got it."

"Yes, coach." you gasp as his length slides into your warm center. He pumps slowly as you stretch around him, the hiss from your lips echoing across the field through the rain. "F-f-fuck." you moan. 

Bottoming out with hard thrusts, Coach's hands rested on the railing on top of yours, his fingers lacing between yours as he held you and the rail in a vice grip. Your bodies molded into each other so well you felt the hem of his jersey wrap around your thighs; god, if only you could take it home with you as a trophy for this. 

"I should stop," he was panting, his voice strained. "I'm gonna get fired." 

"Please," you begged, turning your head to see his beautiful flushed face, mouth agape, tufts of his black hair sticking out from under his cap. "I won't say anything, just please don't stop." 

"Fuck." he groaned, continuing to thrust into you, the force pushing you practically over the rail still on your toes, the muscles in your calves straining. Your thighs shook, the rain coming to an end as another tight coil wrapped itself in your belly, ready to snap.

"One more, give me one more, tiger," he growled, nipping at your earlobe. The scream as you clenched around him echoed off the field, causing him to clasp a hand over your mouth. "That's it. Scream for me." 

Your noises were muffled by his hand on your mouth, and the hot breath as he panted on your cheek brought another orgasm on the wave of the first. One final snap of his hips and warm ropes filled your body, and all the tension of his muscles was released in one minute. 

The magic of whatever you two did was gone when he pulled his softened cock from you, reaching down to pull up your shorts and letting you get them back on the rest of the way; you barely turned around, seeing him taking a little bounce to get back into his jeans. 

"Head out, tiger. I'll see you at tomorrow's practice." 

You nod briefly, grab your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and bat in the other hand. Just as you are about to leave the field, you turn around to see Coach sitting on the bench in the dugout, hands running through his sweaty black hair. 

"Coach?" you let the rasp fall off your tongue, and he turns to look your way. "Extra practice tomorrow night?" giving a wink to let him know what you mean. He doesn't skip a beat, a smile tugging at his lips. 

"It'll be a late practice. You game?"

"Anything for you, coach." you leave the comment in the air as you walk back to your dorm. 

Crashing into your dorm with shaky legs, you throw down your gear. 

"Whoa." Rachel commented, "You look brutal!"

"Thanks," you meekly respond, flopping onto the bed before curling up under the blanket. 

"What did he do to you?"

"Who?" you mumbled, feeling your eyelids start to get heavy.

"Coach. You look like he had you do suicides for leaving the field?"

"Nothing gets past you, Rach." you smiled as your body drifted to sleep. 

Several months later, and one game win thanks to you and a home run hit, Coach Cerulli announced his retirement. Disappointed but not surprised you accepted the new coach with open arms. She was sweet and spicy, a good coach, making your focus back on the game. The rumors were Coach moved states, you’d had his number but the digits disconnected a few weeks after his departure. 

Just as well, you thought.

 It was almost winter break, and a final due in Psychology had kept you up most nights, your body riddled with tension from the stress. 10 p.m., and you hadn't even bothered to try and sleep yet, your phone buzzed with a new text. Opening it up, it was a number you didn't recognize, but the message was clear. 

How you been, tiger?

[simply-ivanka]

Trump and the Lawfare Implosion of 2024

Will his prosecution end up putting him back in the White House?

Wall Street Journal

By Kimberley A. Strassel

What’s that old saying about the “best-laid plans”? Democrats banked that a massive lawfare campaign against Donald Trump would strengthen their hold on the White House. As that legal assault founders, they’re left holding the bag known as Joe Biden.

In Florida on Tuesday, Judge Aileen Cannon postponed indefinitely the start of special counsel Jack Smith’s classified-documents trial. The judge noted the original date, May 20, is impossible given the messy stack of pretrial motions on her desk. The prosecution is fuming, while the press insinuates—or baldly asserts—that the judge is biased for Mr. Trump, incompetent or both. But it is Mr. Smith and his press gaggle who are living in legal unreality, attempting to rush the process to accommodate a political timeline.

What did they expect? Mr. Smith waited until 2023 to file legally novel charges involving classified documents, a former president, and a complex set of statutes governing presidential records. The pretrial disputes—some sealed for national-security reasons—involve weighty questions about rules governing the admission of classified documents in criminal trials, discovery, scope and even whether Mr. Smith’s appointment as special counsel was lawful. Judge Cannon notes the court has a “duty to fully and fairly consider” all of these, which she believes will take until at least July. This could push any trial beyond the election.

Mr. Smith’s indictments in the District of Columbia, alleging that Mr. Trump plotted to overturn the 2020 election, have separately gone to the Supreme Court, where the justices are determining whether and when a former president is immune from criminal prosecution for acts while in office. A decision on the legal question is expected in June, whereupon the case will likely return to the lower courts to apply it to the facts. That may also mean no trial before the election.

A Georgia appeals court this week decided it would review whether Fulton County District Attorney Fani Willis can continue leading her racketeering case against Mr. Trump in light of the conflict presented by her romantic relationship with the former special prosecutor. The trial judge is unlikely to proceed while this major issue is pending, and the appeals process could take up to six months.

Which leaves the lawfare crowd’s last, best hope in Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg’s muddled charges on that Trump 2016 “hush money” deal with adult-film star Stormy Daniels. That case was a mess well before Judge Juan Merchan allowed Ms. Daniels to provide the jury Kama-Sutra-worthy descriptions of her claimed sexual tryst with Mr. Trump, during which she intimated several times that the encounter was nonconsensual.

Mr. Trump is charged with falsifying records, not sexual assault, and even the judge acknowledged the jury heard things that “would have been better left unsaid.” He tried to blame the defense for not objecting enough during her testimony, but it’s the judge’s job to keep witnesses on task. Judge Merchan refused a Trump request for a mistrial, but his openness to issuing a “limiting instruction” to the jury—essentially an order to unhear prejudicial testimony—is an acknowledgment that things went off the rails. If Mr. Trump is convicted, it’s also a strong Trump argument for reversal on appeal.

Little, in short, is going as planned. The lawfare strategy from the start: pile on Mr. Trump in a way that ensured Republicans would rally for his nomination, then use legal proceedings to crush his ability to campaign, drain his resources, and make him too toxic (or isolated in prison) to win a general election. He won the nomination, but the effort against him is flailing, courtesy of an echo chamber of anti-Trump prosecutors and journalists who continue to indulge the fantasy that every court, judge, jury and timeline exists to dance to their partisan fervor.

These own goals are striking. Mr. Smith wouldn’t be facing delays if he’d acknowledged up front the important constitutional question of presidential immunity, or if he’d sought an indictment for obstruction of justice and forgone charging Mr. Trump with improperly handling classified documents, which gets into legally complicated territory. The federal charges might carry more weight with the public had Mr. Bragg refrained from bringing a flimsy case that makes the whole effort look wildly partisan. And Ms. Willis’s romantic escapades have turned her legal overreach into a reality-TV joke.

Democrats faced a critical choice last year: Try to win an election by confronting the real problem of a weak and old president presiding over unpopular far-left policies, or try to rig an outcome by embracing a lawfare stratagem. They chose the latter. Perhaps a court will still convict Mr. Trump of something, although that could play either way with the electorate. Lawfare as politics is a very risky business.

[darkcircles4lyfe]

Life after NDE

Before reading, please see this post. It’s where I first explored the possibility that what we think we know about One for All is unreliable. It also ends with my own guesses about how Katsuki plays into it all. Now, with chapter 404, I can continue where it left off.

There are a lot of different tangents floating around here that I need to bring together for you, so let’s start with what came to light in this newest chapter. There’s a clear emphasis on Toshinori’s vestige form:

but did you catch the slight of hand?

How about now?

As soon as I saw the panels where Shigaraki talks about how the vestige is taking full form, I was practically shouting “OBJECTION” Ace Attorney-style, because they were a complete contradiction to how we were made to understand vestiges in chapter 304 (oh hey look, exactly 100 chapters ago!). Back then, it was suggested to us that Toshinori was special because of his quirklessness, that it allowed him to imprint upon OFA in a way that none of the other previous users could. In contrast, Shigaraki makes it seem like Toshi is no different from the rest. Like oh yeah, this is just how it works, they aren’t fully formed until they die, right? Hello?? No? I thought we were assuming the vestiges didn't have to do with actual souls, apart from Toshi? Given Shigaraki’s own brand of unreliability in his immature frame of mind, I found myself wondering: is he making an assumption, or is he letting slip a secret bit of information about OFA? Idk man, OFA wasn’t even doing this whole vestige thing until like a few months ago, so.

Either way, we can observe the change. As Toshinori’s lifeforce fades, he appears in OFA. I’m left with the simple observation that if he were truly different from the other vestiges because of his quirklessness, it would not have happened this way, since OFA doesn’t have Toshi’s own unique quirk factor to work with, but rather the other way around. You would have expected his vestige to stay the same, or possibly disappear altogether, since it was ostensibly exclusively based on the influence of a living consciousness.

That exception to the rule described in 304 never sat right with me anyway, and I’m not convinced that OFA contains mere memories of its previous users via their quirks just like AFO does. Sure, it’s nice and edgy to imagine that OFA/AFO are more similar than they are different, deep down. But poetic opposites are more interesting to me: AFO isolates by taking, while OFA connects by giving. Previous OFA users give themselves to their successors. One for All was “truly born” not when All for One tossed Yoichi a stolen consolation, but when 2nd extended his hand. There is something distinctly emotional and personal about that. Nana was right—it is kinda romantic.

Because Toshinori kept living, because Izuku has meaningful relationships, that chain of giving linked down through OFA was finally brought to light, like a circuit that’s being closed. At least, that’s how I see it. That’s pretty much what I talked about in my previous post.

Back then I also suggested that this theory of personal connection in some way explains Katsuki apparently having a vestige. Since chapter 403, where Toshinori describes his legacy as being embodied in both Izuku AND Katsuki, I was reminded of how Toshinori was gradually shown this over the course of the manga, as he came to understand Katsuki and his relationship to Izuku, how they are inseparable.

When Toshinori was inspired to pass OFA on to Izuku as he witnessed him trying to save Katsuki, he had no idea the two boys even knew each other. What he saw as a random act of selflessness was in reality a desperate manifestation of a connection that extended beyond memory, of osananajimi. With the eyes of traditional heroism, one could choose to see this as Toshinori’s fatal mistake, that he accidentally chose a successor with a “weakness” of personal attachment, but we all know that heroic isolation isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. No, I think Toshinori made precisely the right choice.

This is going to seem like it’s coming out of nowhere, but bear with me: you know how we still haven’t been told how the first OFA transfer happened? I feel almost silly admitting this, but I think it absolutely had to have been done instinctually, because it’s just too damn specific. As in, they didn’t know what they were doing or what it would accomplish, but they did it anyway. As in. They moved. Without thinking.

Toshinori didn’t fully consciously understand what he was seeing when Izuku ran to Katsuki, but deep within OFA, perhaps he recognized something familiar.

What if, somehow, without knowing it, Toshinori gave One for All to two people? His conviction and intent to give it was inspired by Izuku’s connection to Katuski. Yes, the transfer is inherently physical, but it also relies on mental assertion. Plus, how we think the transfer works may also be an assumption (again, the first time it happened was probably on instinct). Let me break it down even more: Toshi probably thought, as he passed OFA on, “I’m giving it to a successor who has my same balance of heroism—save to win, win to save.” But, in reality, Izuku relies on Katsuki for that balance, as his image of victory. Therefore I think I can argue that their relationship is irrevocably bound within the pact of the OFA transfer. Maybe because Katsuki’s part of OFA is based on emotional connection, once that connection is reciprocated…

…the full extent of that dual transfer is awakened.

I understand I’m making a lot of logical leaps here, but there has to be some sort of explanation for the Katsuki we see at the point of his death, talking to Toshinori’s vestige. I used to think it meant Katsuki had a vestige too. But then why are Katsuki and Toshinori alone, and without Izuku knowing? Moreover, why didn’t Katsuki materialize from the metaphysical mist around Izuku when he died, just as Toshinori did here?

Here comes the other thing I realized in 404. The simplest explanation may be that Katsuki isn’t a vestige at all, but rather he was visiting the OFA interior just as Izuku has done in his sleep or in a coma. Because he’s not a previous user, he’s a current user. The sequence of Toshinori’s NDE (near death experience) in 404, the way it manifested externally around Izuku as something Izuku was aware of, rather than internally within OFA from Toshinori’s point of view, shows me that what happened to Katsuki was different.

A lot of us have been speculating that Katsuki “has access to” OFA in some form or another for quite some time now, but I think the way the idea is suggested in 403/404 is an important distinction because it specifies the mode of connection. To me, it matters that they have two halves of a whole given to each of them, as opposed to, “the chosen one + his sidekick with a little extra OFA boost.” This puts them on equal ground, and it implies that the closer they become, the stronger One for All will be against All for One. It promises that these two idiots who have been toeing around each other and leaving things unspoken for so long will have to really face the facts of their relationship.

One last thing: you might be wondering why the other vestiges apparently haven’t picked up on what’s going on and told Izuku. Well, Yoichi may have felt it? (Where has he been?) But also, Toshinori is the only one directly involved, the only one who realizes his legacy is carried by two. Up until this point his connection to his vestige self has been limited, sort of one-way. For example, he could tell the other vestiges about his research into OFA, but in return he could only faintly pick up on things, and only while Izuku was unconscious.

The time Toshinori spent as a full vestige was brief, but I’m sure it was enough to learn some things about where the shade of himself has been. Even if I’m wrong about everything else, I bet he can give us the answers now.

[pavo-ocxllus]

❝ 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲! 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭…! ❞

romantic shenanigans ensue when you start working for an infamous law firm and most definitely doesn't have to do with my recent hyper fixation on law at the moment.

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠…

detective!shikanoin heizou as the number one detective at fontaine legal firm. as well as the pursuit of justice, he's also on the pursuit of you!

forensic scientist!albedo who's disillusioned from the thrilling profession of delving into the ground zero of crime scenes. though, with a case such as you, he might be wrong.

police officer!xiao who takes his job too seriously and instead of trying to arrest childe, he should be arresting you for stealing his heart ;)

prosecutor!cyno who's presence in the court is as vicious as his horrible puns. though—you can't deny that the tension between the both of you rival that viciousness.

pre-law!gorou with a strangely strong sense of smell and hearing, he possesses a not so strange sense of justice (and you!)

rival attorney!alhaitham who can't seem to stop meeting your path—or rather, crashing into it. with the (admittedly one-sided) feud stemming all the way from freshman year of university, it eventually led to the two of you unfortunately falling (in love?) into the same case.

interrogator!kaeya who's personality alone could be enough to pin this whole fiasco on him one bad day and simultaneously believe he's an angel on earth the next. somehow, his talents as an interrogation officer is the only thing about him that stays consistent, and perhaps something else...

mob boss!childe that can't stop finding different ways to drive you crazy. from remaining to do things that make the case worse against him to his endless teasing, the fact that he's actually innocent is the most daunting factor of working with him.

delinquent!arataki itto who is clearly innocent of his involvement in diluc's case. what kind of incriminating evidence does an anonymous tip have that made everybody believe he almost assassinated him?

and defendant!diluc, the man of the hour and whose car accident acts as the center that three cases revolve around. why does one have the motive to kill the wealthy wine tycoon, and most importantly, who was responsible?

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠…

klee, who despite her strange nonchalance towards explosives and having alarmingly close access to ingredients to make them, is quite the adorable young girl that loves you, her big brother albedo, and the two of you together very much!

hr!kuki shinobu who is absolutely done with heizou's fontaine legal firm's antics. she does have the qualifications to work as an attorney rather than at human resources, but she wouldn't want to work with itto more than she already has to—and he doesn't even work there!

attorney!yanfei as one of the few sane people working at fontaine legal firm. though she rarely get's involved in the daily chaos of her workplace, her fiery spirit in the courtroom knows no bounds!

part-time barista!kaveh that was (begrudgingly) ordered by alhaitham to get a job so he could stop pathetically drowning in student loan debt and his latest architectural project. horrible with drinks and customer interactions outside of his usual field, it's safe to say he'd rather be in crippling debt.

hu tao serving as the proprietor of wangsheng funeral parlor and as a partner in crime to itto and heizou, much to everybody's annoyances. queen of "it was getting a little chummy around here," she is a reliable source of information.

and perhaps more?

IMPORTANT...

i'll attempt to have a taglist! hopefully, it doesn't end up as a whole-ass nightmare, but how it works is that i will reblog the start page every time i update the routes with the taglist in tow and hope for the best! if you want to be added, you can message me or send an ask! though, just to be safe, you can turn on notifs!

there's a lot of possible routes cuz i'm lowkey a sadist, four "bad endings," ten "good endings," a neutral ending, and maybe a few secret endings (who's gonna get them first?? 👀)

there isn't a set schedule for the time being! where i live in, i'm busy with preparing for a standardized test (staar will be the death of me). please be patient with me!!

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠… heavily inspired by law dramas, tears of themis, shojo manga, manhwa, the works; fluff, hurt/comfort, interactive fic, angst

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬… heavily inspired by law dramas and tears of themis (so i wouldn't have to do too much research lmao), definitely not realistic MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH DEPENDING ON WHAT ROUTE YOU TAKE LATER ON

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟏𝐬𝐭, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 (𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨)