#so why not be the guilty defense attorney getting away with it?

[pumpkinsouppe]

Ngl, a game where you play a few cases as Kristoph and try to manipulate the evidence to be in your favor would be pretty fun

[aceof-stars]

One thing I love about Miles Edgeworth is how realistic and practical he is, more than he is moralistic. As much as Miles cares about justice and doing what he thinks is right, he’s not fueled by belief the same way, for example, Phoenix is. And this is one of the things I feel like gets ignored or brushed aside when Miles's character is softened too much.

Both pre and post redemption, Miles puts a lot of emphasis on reality and the bottom line of what people can do in a situation.

In Turnabout Goodbyes, the first thing Edgeworth says in response to Phoenix asking him why he became a prosecutor instead of a defense attorney is: "… I couldn't let myself deny reality like you."

He also doesn't truly believe that every defendant he prosecutes is guilty, contrary to popular belief. In Turnabout Sisters, he says this: ""Innocent"…? How can we know that? The guilty will always lie, to avoid being found out. There's no way to tell who is guilty and who is innocent! All that I can hope to do is get every defendant declared "guilty"! So I make that my policy." Miles is disillusioned with finding the truth and trusting people that he settles for doing all he can hope to do.

And when you think about it, his motivation of finding the truth is an extension of his realism. After all, the truth is quite literally the most objective, realistic thing ever. In 1-3, after helping Phoenix convict Dee Vasquez, he says: "Will Powers was innocent. That he should be found so is only natural… not a miracle." The truth as a motivation is probably a grounding force for him.

When Miles comes back in Farewell My Turnabout, he calls out Phoenix's flawed motivations for becoming a defense attorney by offering realism: "We aren't some sort of heroes. We're only human, you and I. You want to "save someone"? That's something easier said than done, wouldn't you say? You are a defense lawyer. You can't run away from that. You can only fight. That's all you can do." Miles isn't saying Phoenix can't "save someone". Miles is saying that Phoenix shouldn't be so focused on saving someone that he forgets that his job as a defense attorney is only to fight for them.

Side note, I love the way Miles comforts people, he isn't exactly "nice" but he's incredibly kind. His blunt honesty digs at the heart of the matter, and he gives them an extra push because he respects them enough.

And then there's, possibly, my favorite Miles Edgeworth line: "It doesn't matter how many underhanded tricks a person uses… The truth will always find a way to make itself known. The only thing we can do is to fight with the knowledge we hold and everything we have. Erasing the paradoxes one by one… It's never easy… We claw and scratch for every inch. But we will always eventually reach that one single truth. This I promise you." This directly parallels the line he says in 1-2, and it makes me emotional every time I think about it.

The fact that Miles Edgeworth never lost his unwavering realism, in both quotes he acknowledges how untrustworthy people can be, but gained a new purpose.

[waywardxrhea]

Better Late Than Never - Matt Murdock

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Detective!reader

Your teamwork with Daredevil to take down a dangerous gun trafficking gang leads to your life being on the line more than once.

word count: 6,280

content: hurt/comfort, two idiots in love, canon typical violence, guns, blood, car violence, forced sedative use, binds and gags (not the fun kind lol), beating as an interrogation tactic, knife use

a/n: this was done for an anon request! i was given lots of free reign with this one so this is what i came up with for the request of Reader getting captured and Matt/Daredevil has to attempt to rescue!

ps idk why, but i pictured Tom Ellis as the face and voice claim of the gang leader? not the intention, but it just kinda happened lol picture whoever you would like!

“Thank you for your time, and again, I’m sorry for the misunderstanding,” you said to the young woman you had arrested the week prior as she walked out of the precinct, shooting you a dirty look on her way through the door. 

You had found her in possession of a weapon that was unregistered and untraceable, so you took her in and had the gun run against the database to confirm your suspicions about the weapon. Captain Mahoney had recently assigned you to work on a case of an organized crime gang who were trafficking guns, so you were on high alert for any weapons that matched their MO. Turned out your hunch was right and the gun matched up with the weapon used in a murder a few weeks prior to her arrest. The detectives on the case were having trouble tracking down who the killer was, so when the gun’s tool marks matched up exactly, everyone was happy to have someone in custody for the crime. 

The woman never once swayed from her story of innocence though, so naturally, she lawyered up. Her innocence was proven just hours before by a pair of talented attorneys from the law offices of Nelson, Murdock, and Page. You looked up to see one of her lawyers coming toward you with a smug look on his face as he approached, the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of his cane not unfamiliar to you at this point. “I guess you can’t be right all the time, Detective,” Matt Murdock said to you as he came to a halt mere feet from you. 

You looked out at the bustling New York sidewalk where the woman had been moments before, and told him, “I’m just glad she didn’t go away for something she didn’t do. She ended up having a solid alibi and we found grainy footage of some thug slipping the gun into her purse the night I arrested her. I don’t think we would have known to look if it wasn’t for you and Foggy.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” he said, a small smile teasing the corners of his lips. There was a moment of silence before Matt spoke again, telling you, “Nice job, by the way, taking down that serial mugger last week. The streets already feel safer because of you.”

“Oh, you heard about that?” you asked curiously. Truthfully, it had been such a cut and dry case, you never followed up on what happened after the arrest.

“Yeah, when he hired us as his lawyers. Obviously, he was guilty, so we got him to take a deal,” Matt replied with a quiet chuckle. You watched as an almost cocky smirk curled up one side of his lips before he added quietly, “He said you were a little rough with the handcuffs?”

You leaned casually onto the wall beside you, crossing your arms loosely with a cheeky smile plastering your lips as you asked, “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you, Murdock?”

Before he could respond, an older officer who was wandering past barked out your last name and said, “Hey! What are you doing fraternizing with the enemy? He’s the reason so many of my arrests walk, you know!”

“Are you encouraging her not to listen to serious concerns from a constituent in her jurisdiction? I was just telling her how safe I feel now that she's on the case and taking serial criminals off our streets,” Matt said to him, his quick defense of you and the lawyer-speak making your heart flutter in your chest. He straightened his tie with his free hand not holding his cane and added, “Maybe if your arrests would actually hold up in court, they wouldn’t walk.”

The other officer stalked off, mumbling something you couldn’t quite make out, but you guessed that Matt could judging by the way his jaw was working in frustration. Wanting to take his attention away from the stressor, you quietly cleared your throat and told him, “You look really nice today, by the way. The tie really flatters you.”

His gaze finally tore away from the man when you said this and the muscles in his jaw relaxed, a smile returning to his features as he said, “Well, I’m glad it isn’t horribly obscene.”

“You could wear the gaudiest of hats and a neon orange tie and you’d still look amazing, Counselor,” you told him, a playfulness in your tone as a smile teased your lips. 

Matt leaned in toward you slightly, his voice lowered and almost with a sultry quality to it as he asked, “Are you flirting with me, Detective?” 

The gesture and his proximity made your heart start pounding in your chest, the sound reverberating loudly in your ears as your eyes quickly darted down to his lips before focusing back on his eyes behind his red lenses. Your voice sounded foreign in your own ears as you breathlessly said, “And if I-”

“Okay you two! No more puppy eyes at each other! You’re cut off for the day!” came Foggy Nelson’s voice as he approached with Captain Mahoney beside him. Both you and Matt straightened up in response to his interruption, the space between you growing once more to one of more professional standards as the two men approached. 

Captain Mahoney playfully tsked at the pair of you before telling Matt, “Come on, Murdock! I need her sharp for the case we’re working on! I can’t have her daydreaming about you the whole time!”

“I don’t daydream…” you mumbled, averting your gaze to the ground in the hopes that the furious blush now taking over your cheeks would be less obvious that way. 

“And I don’t need you to start now,” Captain Mahoney said, a quiet chuckle leaving his chest. You glanced up to see him giving Foggy a pointed look before telling him and Matt, “Now, you two get out of my precinct! And don’t come back unless you have to!” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll be back with cigars for your mom soon!” Foggy said as he and Matt turned to leave the building. 

“Oh, no you won’t!” Captain Mahoney shouted back. 

“They totally will,” you said with a quiet laugh as you watched them disappear into the bustling crowd on the sidewalk. 

Before you could return to your desk, the Captain’s voice caught your attention as he asked, “When are the two of you gonna finally go on a date?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you told him, shocked that he was discussing this with you. 

“Uh-huh, sure,” he said, not even trying to hide his smirk. 

Wanting the conversation to be off of your painfully obvious crush on Matt, you cleared your throat and asked, “Did you get a team together to head to the potential drop site with me tonight?”

“Yeah. It’ll be you, Stewart, Greene, and Campos,” he replied, relenting on his teasing, at least for now. “I had to make it a small team so you won’t be so obvious. You’ll go in plain clothes with bulletproof vests underneath. The four of you will have body cameras on at all times and I’ll be nearby in a van watching the feed with backup in case you need it.” 

“Sounds good, do the others know yet?”

“No, I was just about to find you all,” he said. “Meet me in my office in ten and we’ll discuss the full plan.”

That night once the sun had set and things were settling down as much as they could in New York City, you and your team of officers were making your way to the site where you were told the latest shipment of illegal guns was coming in. Dressed in plainclothes, the four of you ambled toward the site, Greene’s arm slung around your shoulders as she pretended to drunkenly stumble down the sidewalk while you brought a water bottle in a brown paper sack to your lips and took a long drink before pulling a face as if the contents tasted like cheap liquor on your tongue. Campos and Stewart flanked the two of you on either side, both of them also pretending to be unsteady on their feet as the four of you made your way toward the docks. 

Once the four of you got to a mostly hidden spot near where the shipment was supposed to be delivered, the act was dropped and you all crouched silently as you stared at the dock. The boat was scheduled to arrive in the next thirty minutes. As the time got closer, Campos leaned over and whispered, “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“This is where my source told me they would be,” you told him. 

Stewart, a slightly older officer, scoffed quietly and said sarcastically, “Yeah, Daredevil? Look, I know that after what happened with Fisk, Mahoney trusts him, but me personally? I think-”

“You should really listen to the detective in charge,” came the gravelly voice of the man in question as he perched on the structure across from the four of you. “Ghallagar got spooked since you’ve been onto his trail, so he moved the shipment a few docks down. If you hurry, you’ll be able to make it before the sale’s done.”

“And what’re you gonna do, huh?” Steward sneered. 

“Let New York’s Finest do their work,” Daredevil replied. “All I came here to do is make sure you can do your job.”

“Thank you, Daredevil,” you told the man in red graciously. He simply nodded before silently turning and making his way in the opposite direction. “Well, you heard the man, let’s go!” you told the others before gesturing for them to start getting up and heading in the direction of the new stakeout location. Before you could head off though, you spoke aloud so Captain Mahoney could hear, telling him, “The shipment’s being dropped off a few docks down. We’re heading there now. Control van can stay in place, it shouldn’t be too far from the original location.”

“Control van staying put, copy,” came the captain’s voice. “If you need backup just call.” 

“Will do,” you said before creeping your way to the front of the small pack. You had your service weapon drawn and pointed to the ground, but it was ready to be used at a moment’s notice. 

When the four of you arrived, the van for transport had just pulled up and you saw three men get out, heading over to meet with three more emerging from a small boat anchored at the dock. They were all armed to the teeth. It was clear that Ghallagar was not messing around. Before the guns could exchange hands, you motioned your crew forward. Staying slightly ahead of them, but fanned out, you raised your weapon and shouted firmly, “NYPD! Put the weapons down! Now!”

“Shit, we gotta go!” you heard one of the men from the boat crew shout before turning tail and running back to get the boat started. 

“Stop running! Put your hands where I can see them!” you shouted, firmer yet, as the four of you slowly creeped toward the men. 

“Get the guns! Now! We’ll hold ‘em off!” one of the gang men roared while gesturing for the shippers to grab their boxes. 

“Weapons down!” you warned. 

“I don’t think so!” the man in charge of the street crew snarled before opening fire. 

“Get to safety! I’ll provide cover!” you shouted at the other officers who quickly obeyed your command and hid behind shipping containers. In case Captain Mahoney hadn’t heard the gunfire, you shouted, ”Shots fired! I repeat, shots fired!” You heard more gunshots firing off from your side and watched as one man from the boat who was still on the dock got shot, a crimson spray of blood misting the air as the bullet made contact. 

Before you could make a move to back up and into an area of cover of your own, a rapid spray of bullets came flying toward you! You barely registered it as a second man from the street crew who had taken the heavy artillery weapon out of the van before the wind was knocked out of you completely and you were knocked onto your back. As you lay on the ground struggling to breathe due to the impact of so many bullets on your kevlar vest, you saw a blur of red dash past you and toward the dock. 

You barely registered the shouts of, “Officer down! Officer down!” from Greene as your heart pounded in your ears. Adrenaline rushed through your veins, but rather than pushing you up like it normally would, it froze you to the ground. 

When you were finally able to turn your head to see what was going on because you could no longer rely on your hearing, you saw the red-clad figure of Daredevil standing over a bloodied man who had crumpled to the ground. You saw his shoulders moving up and down as his chest heaved with the effort of the fight, his fists clenched at his sides as he stood menacingly over the body. His head jerked up as the van peeled away from the dock without their fallen man and the boat zoomed away into the water. 

Closing your eyes, you breathed a sigh of relief to know the fire fight was over. “Take care of him,” you heard Daredevil’s voice bark to the other officers. It sounded like he was getting closer to you. You attempted to take a deep breath, but groaned in pain as you did, earning a concerned, “What hurts?” from Daredevil as he came to crouch beside you on the cold ground. 

“Ribs. Stomach. Bullets to kevlar,” you managed to get out between shallow breaths, squeezing your eyes shut as more pain burst forward with every word. 

“I’ve got-” Daredevil started to say, but stopped abruptly. When he did, your tightly closed eyes were suddenly engulfed by light before more excruciating pain radiated throughout your body as you were lifted up and into Daredevil’s arms. As you moved through the air with your eyes snapped shut, you felt Daredevil nearly lose his balance as a blast of air jostled him. Opening your eyes for a brief moment, you saw the gang’s van flying past you, missing the pair of you by mere inches!

You came to a crashing halt right into his armored chest with a cry of pain a few moments later, your knees buckling under the weight of your body and the pain. “I’m right here, you’re okay. You’re safe,” he whispered, pulling you gently back up into his chest, his gloved hand supporting the back of your neck as he did. 

Through the ringing in your ears, you barely heard your name being called out as officer Greene and Captain Mahoney made their way over to you and the masked man. “Are you okay?!” Greene asked exasperatedly. “Those guys are maniacs! Santos barely got out of the way before he got hit!”

“I’ll-” you tried before groaning in pain once again. 

“Greene, make sure that bus is on the way and get an ETA, I can handle this,” Mahoney told her before you felt another set of hands on you to give support as you were peeled away from Daredevil’s chest. “I can’t believe they tried to hit you!” he grumbled. When you were able to open your eyes for a few moments you saw the deep scowl on his face as he shook his head, mumbling something you couldn’t quite make out through the cotton in your ears as your heart continued to pound relentlessly. 

It felt like mere moments before you were being put onto the gurney and being stabilized by the EMTs as you guarded your midsection while they worked. Glancing over, you noticed that since you were out of his arms, Daredevil was about to leave. Not wanting him to go without an acknowledgement of being the reason you were still alive, you managed to get out a weak, “Thank you. For saving me.” In response, he offered you a nod before sprinting off, leaving you to be taken to Metro General to be checked over. 

A few hours and exams later, you were released by the doctors at the hospital, being cleared of any breaks or concussion. You were simply sent home with massive bruising and told to take it easy the next few days with some pain killers. And although you protested, Captain Mahoney benched you for the next few days, telling you to stay home and heal up before returning for desk duty at the end of the week. 

It was understandable, being told that you would come back for desk duty after what happened, though. You were shot at by a heavy weapon and almost mowed down by a van, for Pete’s sake! You cheated death. Twice! But it still felt like a punishment. Riding the desk hadn’t ever been your style, and you hated to start now…

Reaching over to the nightstand near your bed in your apartment, you felt around for the bottle of Advil that had become your best friend the past couple of days. When you finally made contact with it, you opened the lid and turned the bottle in order to drop a couple pills into your hand, but nothing came out. Groaning in pain and frustration, you realized that you were out and hadn’t bought any before coming home after the hospital visit… Shit. You would have to go to the bodega down the street and get a new bottle.

Getting dressed was a task, and it took you a long time to get your sweats and t-shirt on in order to go to the shop. You didn’t even bother with sneakers, slipping into a pair of slides sitting by the door as you grabbed your purse off the hook and began making your way out of your apartment building. The walk was slow going and painful, the constant bustle of people around you on the sidewalk not helping as they shoved past you, your tender ribs and bruised abdomen taking hits that had you wanting to scream. 

The bodega thankfully had the medicine you were seeking. After paying for it and a bottle of water, you were taking the pills as you left the store, not wanting to wait a second longer for the pain relief you desperately sought. Before you could close up the pill bottle though, from the alleyway beside you, a pair of arms reached out and grabbed you! The pills scattered all around as you struggled to go into a defensive move you knew by heart in order to get out of the attacker’s grasp. But almost as if they knew you had bruised ribs, they squeezed your midsection, igniting your whole body in a searing pain that had you seeing stars. Taking a deep breath to scream turned out to be fruitless as only a weak cry tumbled out when your expanding ribcage violently protested the intake of air. 

“Gotcha,” said a gruff voice, their breath hot beside your ear as they spoke. After he did, you felt a needle enter your arm as he muttered, “Night, night. The boss can’t wait to see ya, Detective.”

When you came to, you blinked hard a few times, thinking that maybe it was all just a pain-induced nightmare. Reality hit you though when you tried to move your arms but couldn’t because they were tied behind you as you slumped over in an uncomfortable chair. Trying to remain as still as possible so as to not notify your captors of your conscious state, you took in your surroundings. 

You were shoved into a corner of the room, so you had a pretty good view of the space around you. Lining two of the four walls were crates upon crates, each marked with the symbol of the gun runners you had been tracking. So, that confirmed your suspicions about who had snatched you… On top of each box was a display of what gun was inside, small spotlights illuminating the weapon as if it was an art piece in a museum. Two men stood guard near the boxes with guns of their own holstered to keep the product safe. Another man sat in a chair nearby on his cell phone. Because of his proximity, you assumed he was supposed to be keeping an eye out for you to wake up.

There was a musty smell that permeated the air and the occasional drip of water echoing in the distance. It was a narrow room with a slightly rounded off ceiling, which you thought was odd. There was graffiti on the wall that seemed vaguely familiar to you, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on where you had seen the tag before… The far wall looked like it had collapsed long ago, and it held the only entrance to the area that you could see. It didn’t even have a door, it was just an opening in the collapse. Something more promising though that clued you into where you may be located was the unfinished rail tracks peeking out from under the collapsed rubble and the unused tracks that had been used as makeshift barriers to protect the guns. 

You must be in the tunnel where the city had tried building an additional subway line a few years before, but it collapsed before they could get too far. Neither you nor Daredevil had been able to figure out where the gang’s base of operations was located, and now it made total sense. The area the city had accessed to get into the underground area was sealed and forgotten about by the population at large. You didn’t even know where the entrance was, although you had your guesses. Any time you would chase a group of troubled teens you caught harassing a street vendor or tagging the window of a business, they would just disappear into thin air near 45th and 9th. That was where you knew the graffiti tag from! There must be an entrance into this place somewhere near there! Not that knowing where you were particularly helped you at the moment, but… If you made it out of here somehow, at least you knew the best way to get to safety. 

“Hey, look who finally decided to wake up,” said the man near you. A shiver zipped down your spine as you realized that it was the same voice that spoke in your ear when you were taken. “Thought we overdosed you there for a little while. Guess I’m not as good at calculating drug doses as I thought. Oh, well.”

“What do you want with me?” you tried to ask firmly, but your voice came out broken and scratchy from lack of use over however long you had been out. 

“You’re asking the wrong guy questions,” the man said in a bored sort of tone. “Hey, Reg! Call the boss-man and tell him she’s awake. He’ll want to talk to her.”

“That he will,” came a new voice. Your head turned toward the opening in the collapse and saw a man in a white button up and pressed slacks walking in, flanked on either side by burly looking men who you assumed were his guard. 

“Ghallagar…” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes at the man you had only ever seen in pictures from the original brief you were given on the case. The whole time he had been in the Kitchen, the man was practically a ghost, so this was your first time getting a good look at him. 

“Detective,” he said with a certain smugness in his voice as he approached you. He held your gaze for a few moments before asking his men, “May we have the room? I need some time alone with the detective. There are buyers coming in an hour. Make sure we have materials to hide this section of the space. We don’t need them to see what I’m about to do. Bad for business.”

“Yes sir,” one of the burly men replied before turning away and gesturing for all of the men in the room to follow. 

When it was just the two of you again, Ghallagar rolled up his sleeves as he said, “I bet you’re wondering why I had you taken.”

“The thought may have crossed my mind,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. What did he plan on doing to you? What did he-

A sharp slap across the face pulled you out of your thoughts. “You seem to have something I want.” Another slap in the other direction nearly toppled you out of the chair before he snarled, “And I intend on getting the information out of you.”

“What do you want?” you asked through gritted teeth, trying not to show any weakness to the man standing tall over you. You may be in the compromised position, but there was no way you were going to let this man break you. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t. 

“Tell me Daredevil’s identity,” Ghallagar said as if it was the most simple question in the world. As if he was asking the name of the cashier at your favorite bodega. 

“I don’t-” you tried, but stopped to let out a cry of pain when he sent a kick into your bruised midsection. 

“You’ve worked with him for months! Trying to find me, finding the gang whose place I took, taking down that mugger together. I could go on with all of the cases you’ve figured out with his help, Detective.” Before you could contain your emotions, your eyes widened momentarily, and that reaction caused a smirk to twist Ghallagar’s lips. “Yeah, that’s right. I know your case files. I have a folder with the names of every criminal you’ve taken down since you got out of the Academy.” He circled around to stand behind you and dug his thumbs into painful pressure points in your shoulders as he said, “You got to do your homework on me, I got to do my homework on you. It’s only fair, isn’t it? And it’s also fair for you to tell me who you’ve been working with since you’ve been such a thorn in my side!”

When he said that last part, a white-hot pain seared over your shoulder as he ran a knife over the skin there. You tried to bite your cheek to muffle your scream of pain, but only drew more blood than was already trickling out of the wound on your shoulder. Taking a deep breath to control yourself only made things worse and you let out another groan of pain as he circled back to stand in front of you. “I don’t know-” you tried again, but were cut off when he shoved the whole chair over with you in it. 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he shouted as he sent another kick into your ribs, causing more pain to rock your already battered body. “The way he saved you that night on the docks! He made sure to go to you! The way he held you when he saved you from my men’s van! You know who he is, and it’s just a matter of time until I get it out of you!” 

“She was supposed to get back to work today, I haven’t seen her though. Not like her to be late…” was Brett’s response to Matt’s question about where you were. It was the morning you were supposed to be back after the incident at the docks, and Karen had suggested bringing you flowers. He didn’t hear you inside the building on his way there, though, so he hadn’t grabbed any before heading in to speak with a new client. 

“Have you tried calling her?” Matt asked. 

“Straight to voicemail. I was thinking of doing a welfare check myself here in a little bit if she doesn’t show up by noon,” Brett said with a sigh. A quiet chuckle left his chest before he added, “Don’t worry, I’ll get a hold of her, Lover Boy.”

Matt shook his head and laughed light-heartedly at the joke, telling Brett, “I appreciate it,” before he and Foggy left the precinct and headed to their office for the afternoon of case file sifting. 

Running his fingers over the braille case file in front of him, Matt had been fully engrossed in the complexities of this case for hours. Foggy had already called it quits for the night and went home, but he and Karen were still there, working to find an angle they could win this case at. “What if we played up the jury’s-” came Karen’s voice, but Matt tuned her out when he heard your name mentioned in the police chatter from a nearby cop cruiser. 

Officer missing after welfare check. Cameras show the officer’s last known location outside of a bodega before disappearing into an alleyway. Three days ago. 

Matt was out of his office chair and hurtling toward the door before Karen could even ask where he was going, calling over his shoulder that there was an emergency that he needed to deal with. He didn’t even bother with the cane as he ran, he and Karen were the only ones in the building anyway at this hour. He needed to get to his suit and he needed to get to it now. Your life may well depend on it. 

You weren’t sure how long the beatings went on for. There was no light that got into the collapsed tunnel so you couldn’t tell day from night. There didn’t seem to be any patterns on when guards entered or exited the room. There was no specific time when Ghallagar came in or out to beat answers you didn’t have out of you. And there was no use shouting. You felt doomed.

The only reprieve from the onslaught of pain was when buyers came in. When they were there, you were gagged and concealed from sight by a room divider, left to bleed and suffer in pain before more was inflicted when they were gone. Besides the pain, the only thing you knew for sure was that you didn’t have the information he wanted. You didn’t know who Daredevil was. No one did. You just worked with him on the recommendation from Captain Mahoney. That’s all. The way the masked vigilante saved you that night and held you to his chest made you feel safe, yes, but why that made Ghallagar think you knew his identity was beyond you. You wished there was some way for you to prove that you were telling the truth. Some way for him to know- 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the loud sound of gunfire in the front of the room. The enclosed space made everything louder and you squeezed your eyes closed in a feeble attempt to shut everything out. You were afraid of the ricocheting bullets making their way over here. Although, if one hit you, this could all be over… You wouldn’t have to endure anymore pain. There would be no more pain. And boy, did that sound great right now. 

The sound of fighting got closer and closer, Ghallagar’s voice barking orders before suddenly going silent along with the rest of the room. The only thing you heard was the sound of fists hitting flesh and groans of pain from the victims of whoever was dealing the blows. Already conditioned to fear the punches of your captors, you cowered inward as much as you could, a weak and unintentional whimper leaving your throat as you did. 

Within seconds of making the noise, the pounding of fists stopped and you heard a thud as a body landed on the floor, their skull hitting the pavement hard. Your heart pounded in your throat as you heard heavy footfalls approaching you and you wished the person away with all your might. Your wish didn’t come true though as the room barrier was shoved aside, causing you to tuck your head down to be as small as possible in the eyes of the unknown person in front of you. 

Your name was whispered in a gravelly voice, and you shook your head in some sort of attempt to deter the person from you. Instead of another beating that you were accustomed to though, suddenly your hands were free of their confines and you were being hauled up and into the embrace of the person now standing in front of you. You were too weak to fight, but when you felt the texture of the armor adorning the person holding you, you let out a sob and tightened your arms around the man. Around Daredevil. He came to rescue you. He saved your life again. 

“I’m here. I’m right here. You’re safe now,” he mumbled as he held you as gently as he could. With one arm still wrapped around you, you felt one pull away before he spoke again a few moments later, saying, “Tell Mahoney I found her. Collapsed subway tunnel near 45th and 9th. Ghallagar and his men are incapacitated. Get an ambulance here, now. She’s in bad shape.”

It was as if your body instantly switched out of survival mode when he ended the call. The moment you knew that an ambulance was on the way and you were safe in Daredevil’s arms, you collapsed. Every muscle fiber in your body gave out and your joints folded under all the weight and suddenly everything went black once more. 

When you began to regain consciousness, you instantly knew you were in a different environment. Rather than the sound of dripping water and gruff men speaking, there was the occasional beeping sound and soft spoken voices. You were in a somewhat comfortable bed with pillows surrounding you in an effort to soften the mattress and your hands weren’t bound behind you. There was no steady trickle of blood leaking from your body. You were in the hospital. You were safe. 

Your eyelids fluttered open when you heard movement from beside you, and you realized that one of the soft spoken voices was coming from right beside you in the form of Matt Murdock praying. Looking down, you realized that one of your hands was grasped in his as he prayed, and a deep blush creeped onto your cheeks - the moment was far more intimate than any you had shared before. “Hey,” you whispered once he said amen. 

“You’re awake. Thank God,” he said, the emotion obvious in his voice and smile. “You had me scared there for a few days.”

“A-a few days?” you asked, eyes widening. 

“Yeah. It’s been three days since they brought you in,” Matt replied, squeezing your hand gently. “Brett and Daredevil took care of Ghallagar. He and his men are going away for a long time.”

“Good,” you said, your voice breaking with emotion as you remembered what you endured at his hand. Wanting to change the subject off of the man in question, you looked at the gorgeous bouquet of flowers on your bedside table and asked, “Did you bring those flowers?” 

A bashful smile made its way onto Matt’s lips as he nodded, telling you, “I was hoping you’d wake up before they wilted. Was I right?” 

“Yeah. They’re gorgeous. Thank you, Matt,” you said, voice wobbly as you spoke. “And thank you for coming to see me. I- You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I wanted to,” Matt replied softly. 

“Oh hey! You’re awake!” came the voice of Foggy as he peeked into the room. “I hate to break up this happy little reunion, but we gotta go, buddy. Client needs us, like, yesterday.” 

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Matt told him. 

During the whole exchange you were left staring at yours and Matt’s intertwined hands and got to thinking. Why hadn’t you ever just made a move with him? Before, you were convinced that he was just playing along with your flirting. That he didn’t have feelings for you like you did for him and that he just didn’t want to be rude. But now, frankly, you didn’t care about your overthought reasoning. After the last week, you realized how fleeting life was and just how lucky you were that you were still alive. So, before Matt could stand up and say his goodbyes as Foggy stepped out of the room, you leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. 

The gesture ignited pain in your battered body and a furious blush on your cheeks as you relaxed back into the mattress. The boyish grin that lit up Matt’s face made your heart flutter, and you swore it almost stopped when he asked, “Can I kiss you?” 

“Yes,” was your instant response in a breathy tone with a wide smile on your lips as well. 

The kiss was brief and gentle with both you and Matt unable to hold back your smiles as it happened. You felt rays of happiness flowing out of you and couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips when he pulled away mere moments later. He squeezed your hand once again as he said, “I’ve wanted to do that for a while. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize…” 

“Better late than never,” you replied, a content smile on your lips as you remembered his soft ones on yours, already craving the next. You hoped that this would be the start of something magical with Matt.

big shoutout to my beta readers in the tuna tank for helping me out with this, especially @sunflowersandsapphires for some of the dialogue pieces as well as @justvalkyrie and @thornbushrose for help with plot points and clarity!

ps: the flirty comment with the handcuffs made me giggle so much! it happened very organically too (even though i am a terrible flirt and needed to ask for help in the server for inspo) also the bit at the end with Matt holding Reader's hand and praying?? i teared up, whoops!

as usual, likes and comments are appreciated! xo, brooke <3

taglist: @reidmarieprentiss

dividers by @firefly-graphics as always!

[ninyard]

picturing neil on the stand digging his nails into his thighs and grinding his teeth trying to not blow up, being so unfamiliar with this ugly kind of anger and rage in his own chest he’s only felt a few times before and not knowing how to stop seeing red

The prosecution are asking him all these questions and he knows if he answers them truthfully how they’re going to spin it to make Aaron look guilty. And if they started asking about Andrew?

“So you walked into the room. You saw Mr. Minyard’s brother on the bed. Was he engaged in a sexual act with the deceased?”

He grits his teeth and counts to ten in french in his head. It wasn’t sex, they know it wasn’t sex. “What I saw-”

“It’s a yes or no question, Mr. Josten.” The attorney crosses her arms. “Did you, or did you not, see a sexual act taking place when you kicked down the door?”

All he can see is skin and blood and a man three times the size of andrew. “Yes, ma’am, by definition, but it wasn’t-”

“And what in particular led you to believe this was something non-consensual?” She paces the floor, interrupting him with an outstretched hand and a pen between her fingers. “You saw two men having sex, and you let your racquet go. Mr. Minyard claims to be certain his brother was being attacked, but is it possible either of you just… misunderstood what you were seeing?”

Neil hears misunderstood leave her lips and he feels the pit in his stomach opening wide. His eyes are begging to search for andrew, but he can’t look nervous. He can’t look angry. He can’t look away. “I saw Andrew covered in blood. I knew who Drake was.”

“Aaron didn’t.” She says, like it’s obvious. “So how did you know, and not his twin brother?”

“Because he told me.”

“He told you? Just like that?” She places some papers down in front of neil, but he doesn’t look. He won’t be able to read it anyway. His vision is too blurry with anger and frustration. “Who else knew?”

“Luther.” He spits his name out like it’s nothing.

“Luther Hemmick.” She pretends to ponder it. “Anyone else?”

“How is this relevant?” He doesn’t mean to snap, but he turns towards the judge who just tells him to answer the question anyways. “I don’t know after that.”

“Do you think he told his therapist?” The defense calls for speculation. “Do you know for certain that he told his therapist, Ms. Dobson?”

“No, I don’t.” He knew he did, there was no doubt about it, but Andrew had never outright told him that. There was no way to say it for certain in a way that a jury would accept.

“Any other friends on the team that you know he told?”

Neil shakes his head. “No, ma’am.”

“But he told you.” She looks over her shoulder towards Aaron for just a second. Neil doesn’t need to look at Andrew to know that he’s somewhere behind him. “And not his brother.”

“They don’t-” He could feel the cages of her trap crashing down around him. She hadn’t even needed to ask the question. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He tries to break himself out. “Andrew doesn’t talk about his time in the system with anyone. Aaron’s not special.”

“And Nicholas told us that you had to convince Andrew to even be there in the first place. Mr. Josten, did you know before the night in question that Nicholas’ father was aware of Andrew’s allegations against Mr. Spear?”

The cage bars got smaller and smaller around him. “Yes.”

“So why try to convince him?”

To fix their family. But he can’t say that. He can’t say that.

The defense lawyer calls objection. Relevance? Andrew is not the one of trial here. The prosecution’s lawyer switches her line of questioning.

I don’t know. I can see Neil getting so frustrated with the prosecutors being prosecutors and just trying to find a way for him to say Aaron did it, him and Andrew hardly even talk, Aaron is guilty, Neil brought it up intentionally to kill Drake, Aaron is guilty, Aaron is guilty, Aaron is guilty.

[eggs-attorney]

[<<< First]

Reiker: (Oh, right... Introductions. I was never good at those...)

Reiker: My name is Reiker Strait, and I'm going to be your defense attorney today.

???: O-oh, hello... Th-they told me you might not show up and I was waiting and I... I...

Reiker: Well, I showed up! Got here as soon as I could. Anything for someone in need, miss... Come to think of it, what is your name?

???: He... Didn't tell you my name...?

Reiker: I'm afraid not... I just got this assignment, and it was kind of rushed. Today's actually my first day as Sunnyside's public defender.

???: Oh, I see... My name is Yanshu - Yanshu Dryll - and I-

Yanshu: You only started today!?

Reiker: (Shoot, my badge!)

Reiker: Well, yeah, but don't say it like that! I'm qualified!

Reiker: [Sigh]... Listen, I'd like to help you with this case. I spent the past 8 years of my life working my tail off so I could get this job, and every lawyer has to have a first client, so... May I help you? For both our sakes?

Yanshu: I-I mean... It's not like I know what I'm doing, and the thought of going in there alone terrifies me, but... You didn't even know my name. Do you know anything about the case?

Reiker: Right… We should probably talk about what we're doing here.

Yanshu: W-well, I'm on trial for the, um… Dismantlement? Of my b-best friend.

Reiker: Wh… Do you mean dismemberment?

Yanshu: I… Yes. No? The terminology surrounding Robians is still pretty vague, despite everything.

Reiker: Alright, um… So your best friend is a robot?

Yanshu: Yes, his name is Flash, and he's very important to me. I'm worried sick… Whoever did this, they stole his parts. Took everything that made him him...

Reiker: So like… His face?

Yanshu: No, no… His personality, his memories, everything that makes him unique! ... Everything I can't replace...

Reiker: I… Didn't know that could be taken away.

Yanshu: Well... You've used a computer, haven't you?

Reiker: Of course.

Yanshu: So... When you're roboticized, you turn into a computer. Your body becomes the case, and your brain the technical components. Instead of storing data biologically through neuronal connections, information is written to several storage disks as raw code, and can be accessed at any time. Since it's a physical storage unit, these disks can be removed. This is usually only done during maintenance where units have to be repaired or replaced, in which case the data is backed up and transferred, but if someone has bad intentions, they can just... Take them. Doing that while the system is active can damage the hardware, or corrupt the data, or... I can't stand thinking about it.

Reiker: ... That's upsetting.

Yanshu: It really is, and if I'm found guilty, they… They'll probably roboticize me, too.

Reiker: What? You can't be serious!

Yanshu: I am, and if they don't figure out where those components went, they'll assume I destroyed them - that I truly killed him - and that's why I need your help finding them! I-if I can find them, I can fix him, and he can tell them what happened! That I didn't do it!

Reiker: I'm afraid that's going to be hard to do from a courtroom...

Yanshu: Please, Mr. Strait! He-… He's all I have…

Guard-Bot: CURRENT TIME: 0900 HOURS. ALL TRIAL PARTICIPANTS ARE TO RELOCATE TO THE COURTROOM EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY.

Yanshu: … I guess that's us, but… Before we go in, please, take this.

Friendship Photo has been added to the Court Record.

Reiker: Oh, is this your friend?

Yanshu: [Sniff] Y-yeah, it is. He knows I don't like being in photos, but he took and printed it before I could take my phone back. He kept asking me to keep it - to put it on my desk or something - but I didn't have a frame on hand, so...

Reiker: So… Why are you giving this to me?

Yanshu: I don't know, it just… Feels important. Maybe you could put it to good use? I don't think I'll be needing it if I'm... Y'know...

Reiker: Don't worry, Ms. Dryll, I won't let that happen. I promise.

Reiker: (Now here's hoping I can follow through…)

[Next >]

______________________________________________________________

We received a good number of replies this round! We don't have a Thought Pool Point for this post, but feel free to share your thoughts, and stay tuned for the start of the trial next week!

[kittyoverlord]

Criminal Law Basics incoming:

This is why the standard for proving guilt in a criminal court is Beyond a Reasonable Doubt. There is a ton of discussion regarding what Reasonable Doubt is*, but in general it is the highest burdan of proof that exists in the US Justice system. When creating this standard of proof, the idea was that circumstantial evidence and/or a lack of evidence can be twisted to imply guilt, which would lead to more innocent people being unfairly prosecuted. In theory, the prosecutor has the burden of proof because we should be absolutely certain the the person that we're sending to jail/prison/death is actually guilty. Defense attorneys spend a lot of time working on the best ways to describe reasonable doubt to a jury to help increase the chances of a not guilty verdict.

In this instance, it would be up to the prosecutor to show evidence that the Loam's received this money, it is not the Loam's responsibility (via their attorney**) to provide evidence that they did not receive the money. Sklonda's argument would be likely focus on the prosecutors and cops failing to meet this standard by not providing this key piece of evidence.

Also, I know this is done for story purposes, but this is all flagrant disregard for attorney client privilege, which doesn't go away just because the client died.

*We actually just got a ton of cases back from an appeal decision that determined that judges in our state were using an incorrect analogy to describe reasonable doubt to jurors. On that basis a lot of cases have to be re-tried because the jury wasn't applying the correct standard. That's how important this is.

**Another interesting legal fact, if both of the Loams were being charged with the same crime, they would not both get the same attorney. They would be what is known as co-defendents, and at least where I work, one of them would wind up with a private attorney who is paid for by the state due to the public defender's office having a conflict of interest. This is basically because in theory the best defense for either one of them may be to blame the other one, and so one attorney cannot act in the best interest for both of them. If they both got their own attorney and decided to work together to prove both of their innocence, that's totally fine, but there would be more of a process to ensure that no impropriety was going on. Again, I know this is for story purposes, but just a little fun fact from your local public defender - admin assistant.

[tacobellabeanburrito]

Hey um, so a few months ago (I think) I made playlists for Phoenix and Miles that I thought were really good and now I made one for Kristoph. (I'm getting to the others, I'm going to try and do Maya and Franziska next)

I know there are so many different playlists for these characters but like, when I listen to them I just don't really think a lot of them really fit with the characters sometimes if you get what I mean.

I'm not that proud of Kristoph's playlists as much as I am for Miles' and Phoenix's mostly because I feel like I get their characters more and there's actually not a lot of songs I know that fit with Kristoph. I also try to not reuse songs for character playlists so that's a also a hurdle.

Anyway, he's Kristoph's playlist. I also wanna talk about some of the songs I put on there.

The playlist kind of takes inspiration from my headcanons on his life, because a lot of my character playlists are character's lives in chronological order if that makes sense)

Anyway! Time to talk about some of the songs.

The Family Jewels is kind of self-explanatory, I'm sure he didn't have the best family growing up and that's kind of why I put this on here.

He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother is the only song I could find that kind of fit what I think Kristoph's opinion on Klavier is during the time when they kind of have a healthier relationship. I wanted to put more songs but I couldn't find any, and the songs I did find were more akin to Klavier thoughts on Kristoph.

Blood In The Water is one of my favorites, if only because I headcanon Kristoph as a musical theatre nerd, he probably did tech in high school or something. It also fully encapsulated my idea of what I think his thoughts on being a defense attorney mean. Even if they're obviously guilty, you still have to get them off the hook no matter what.

Razzle Dazzle, omg this is also perfect for him. Why do so many musicals have songs to do with law? Guess that I'm not complaining though. This kind of goes with my thoughts on Blood In The Water. I also imagine him telling this to Apollo.

The Room Where It Happens? Come on, this is perfect for him. He got supposedly cheated out of a high-profile case that he wanted just like how Burr got cheated out of a meeting that he wanted and shit.

Choke is his thoughts on Phoenix, enough said.

Zydrate Anatomy and Everybody's Got The Right are his plans to frame Phoenix, moreso Everybody's Got The Right. At the end of the song, Abraham Lincoln gets assassinated (This is from a musical called Assassins which is about the assassinators of US presidents) and I feel like this is kind of how Phoenix got assassinated, you get what I mean? It's also kind of like, everyone in the song is a villain from Ace Attorney who thought they had a right to their dreams, but Phoenix took it away. And Kristoph is the only one who was able to get Phoenix.

A lot of the songs now are mostly his thoughts on Phoenix and all the conflicting feelings he has for the man, and as a lot of you know, I'm sure they had something going on during the 7-year gap. There is no reason for them to have that much tension come on. (Hellfire is a big example of this, as well as Rule 34#) (But also I Can't Decide is so good for him too, cause ya'll know he wants to fucking kill Phoenix but he also can't bring himself too)

Bezos I is basically him. Nuff said. I'm So Humble is too.

You're Gonna Go Far Kid is about Apollo, I also thought that this song could work for Phoenix and Apollo's relationship, and it could, but I think it might work more for Kristoph, especially because I don't have a lot of songs from Krisoph as I do for Phoenix.

Laplace's Angel is sooo good for him. Will Wood was made for him. (Will Wood is just made for villains to be hoenst)

We Both Reached For The Gun is obvious. Nuff said.

Your Obedient Servant is kind of what I think is going through Kristoph's mind during the Borscht Bowl case. Come on, it's so good. PLEASE.

Call Them Brothers, oh, this one hurts. It's so him and Klavier it's kind of insane.

Confrontation. Nuff said.

My Way by Frank Sinatra is actually so good for him and his ending. he mostly accomplished what he meant to accomplish.

Anyway, that's my rant, I really hope you enjoyed. Because yes girl, use. Give us everything and nothing.

[maspers]

I think it'd be amusing if there was an Ace Attorney Prosecutor who actually knew when to throw in the towel.

Murderer: This is all just hearsay! That attorney has created this elaborate story to frame me as the culprit. But there's no proof of it! You can't prove a single thing! Prosecutor: Yeah, but who cares? Murderer: What? Athena: WHAT? Judge: WHAT??? Prosecutor: The Defense doesn't need to prove who did it, she just need to prove that the Defendant didn't. Or at least shed enough reasonable doubt on the matter. And she did. I don't have any more evidence to conclusively prove the Defendant did it. So we're basically done here. Murderer: What? You're supposed to be on my side! Prosecutor: No? You're a witness, not a plaintiff. Your Honor, I think we're going to indict this witness of murdering the guy. Murderer: WHAT? WHERE'S YOUR PROOF? Prosecutor: That's for the NEXT trial to figure out. Not this one. Though I hope I get to Prosecute that one too, it seems like it will be fun! Hope your lawyer is as interesting as Miss Cykes over there has been. Murderer: NO! NONONONONONO *has a classic AA Breakdown* Prosecutor: You do realize your reaction is just incriminating you further right? Sheesh, why do none of my witnesses ever manage to keep their composure? Athena: ...Because they're guilty? Prosecutor: That's for me to prove in the next trial! Take 'em away, Bailiff! Judge: This is... highly irregular- Prosecutor: This is literally what we're supposed to be doing. Judge: Errr I guess the Court finds the Defendant Not Guilty! *confetti rains down* Athena: What just happened? Prosecutor: What just happened is you successfully proved that your client was probably innocent, and I get paid to do another trial! Thanks a bunch! Athena: ...But I did have evidence to prove that witness did it. Prosecutor: Great, can I see it? I can use it in the next trial! Athena: I'm so confused right now

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for helping the prosecution find my clients guilty?

I (29m) am a defense attorney. I don’t take on clients because I think I can save them, I take on clients so I can find the truth behind their case. Usually that truth ends up being that they’re guilty. I don’t ONLY take on guilty clients, but more often than not I do. People all over my jurisdiction call me “unethical” and “ruthless”, and have even begun calling me “The Instigator” for often being the reason my clients’ crimes are found out in the first place.

I suppose I should explain a bit about why I’m like this, shouldn’t I?

I was born and raised in Hell, Norway (Don’t fucking laugh) and I was sent away to America at age 15 for some reason. I still don’t know why to this day. I was then looked after and cared for by a detective named Nota Sing who became my mentor.

And then he got murdered in a hit-and-run by the guy he was investigating due to cult connections.

So then I took over the investigation and just when i thought i cornered my mentor’s murderer HE POISONED ME. I ALMOST FUCKING DIED.

When I woke up from my coma and learned that my attempted murderer was NOT in jail, I decided from then on I’d be a Prosecutor in the Defense’s seat. I’d do everything in my power to make sure guilty people are found guilty, even if it means giving the prosecution evidence against my own client.

I’ve been doing this for the past few years, but apparently according to a blue-clad defense attorney and his red suited employee I’m a “disgrace to the profession” (paraphrasing). I don’t think so, after all without me many murderers would be walking free or get imprisoned before the whole story could get out.

I believe that while what I’m doing is certainly not how a normal defense attorney should do things, what I’m doing is a necessary service in the greater justice system.

But I suppose I’m not asking if I’m in the right, just if I’m an “asshole”.

AITA?

[sylibane]

How about 77 for the angst/horror prompts l?

Since you didn't specify a fandom, this turned into Edgeworth slowly breaking down over the course of Turnabout Sisters:

Nothing could go wrong.

It was an open and shut case. You had all the evidence you needed. You had witnesses who would say what they needed to say and not sink your case, especially if they remembered what you told them beforehand. You even had an updated autopsy report, a surprising moment of competency from your detective. You didn’t have a clear motive as to why the girl killed her sister, and you’ll admit that it bothered you a little, but you didn’t want to think about it too much. You didn’t need a motive to end this quickly.

And you wanted to end this as quickly as possible. Cases involving family members killing each other made you uncomfortable enough, and having met the victim on a truly terrible day only made it worse. You would not run away from your duty, but you would be efficient about it. Maybe you were even doing the girl a favor, you told yourself, by making it quick, rather than leaving her to drift in uncertainty over her guilt for years.

You barely even processed the concept that the defense attorney could be a problem. When Gumshoe gave you a name, you froze, then remembered that that idiot Larry had been in court the other day. It wasn’t the first time the detective had messed up a name. It would simply be one of the state attorneys that you’d crushed before and you would crush again. It would be over soon.

Then you saw the name on the form before the trial, and the day couldn’t be over soon enough. You almost wished it had been Larry, as if that would have been any better. You even had a moment of denial that it could be someone else with the same name, as if anyone else in the world could have that name.

And then you saw that man standing across from you, and the day slowed to an agonizing crawl.

Nothing could go wrong!

You told yourself it didn’t matter and to do what you’d do to any defense attorney. End it like any other trial. But for all his floundering, he kept picking at your arguments. Even if your updated autopsy report didn’t slow him down enough, and you felt the satisfaction of shoving it in his face curdle into a mix of furious indignation and genuine shame at what you’d missed. And then he had to get one of your witnesses to let slip you’d coached him, and then got the other one arrested for wiretapping, and the judge had to draw this out for another day!

You holed up in your office afterwards with a stack of documents and half your tea collection. You weren’t stupid. You knew something didn’t add up. You tried investigating the victim’s family in an effort to find a motive for her sister and only made yourself more miserable when you realized why the surname Fey was vaguely familiar. Why was this happening? Had some fundamental truth in the universe snapped, and now ghosts were real and haunting you, and fragile little boys had become brick walls in your way, and you were losing?!

When the chief prosecutor called you to inform you that the case against the girl had been dropped, you felt slightly faint. You were ready to argue that you couldn’t admit defeat yet before the chief said that a new, reliable, important witness had come forward and named a new prime suspect in the case. You almost dropped the phone when you heard the name. This felt too good to be true. All your problems from the day solved in one fell swoop.

A little piece of you that you’d slowly buried for years whispered that this was clearly a frame-up. You’d be complicit if you used this evidence. But the rest of you didn’t even care. This wasn’t even fear for your perfect record anymore. This was getting personal. It was easy to accept that he was guilty. Anyone could be guilty of killing someone so beloved to them.

You didn’t sleep at all that night, but that was fine. You were used to working on little sleep, and besides, you didn’t need another ghost following you into court.

Nothing. Could. Go. Wrong!

But that bastard just wouldn’t give up! When you visited in the defendant’s lobby before the trial to more or less tell him to give up, he had the gall to remind you that he’d known you. You threw everything you had at him, but he held on. When you finally had him cornered, he just had to collapse and get himself a recess. He was only delaying the inevitable, you told yourself as you downed a cup of tea in your lobby to stop your hands from shaking.

How were you supposed to know that he had one last piece of evidence up his sleeve? And how the hell should you have expected your new star witness to break down, screaming out his guilt in the face of a ghost?!

You saw another ghost that day, though you didn’t know who haunted that man facing you across the bench. It could have been a man looking at you with a crushing disappointment you couldn’t face, or a boy who died fifteen years ago with that man. You knew he was gone. You were all that was left.

But if a phoenix could rise from the ashes, perhaps that boy would not stay dead.

[morally-grey-girlbosses]

The top two characters will be eligible to proceed into the bracket!

Propaganda under the cut.

Dahlia Hawthorne:

did a lot of murders and poisonings but they deserved it imo so she’s ok

She has committed so many crimes. And in an outfit that wouldn’t look out of place on Barbie at that. She’s the DEFINITION of girlboss, and she can poison me any time.

Aura Blackquill:

her brother got framed for the murder of her wife and she became bitter and evil because of it. this led to her holding an entire space center full of people hostage to get him a retrial

So she may have a robot army to take a couple people hostage, and blamed an 11 year old child for killing their own mom (who was her work partner and maybe sort of girlfriend), but in her defense her brother was about to be executed for a murder he did not commit and there was definitely some evidence that pointed towards the 11 year old being the culprit. So what else was she supposed to do? Just sit by while another important person to her is taken away and the real killer gets to go free? She tried to do things right and go through the police but that didn't work, and sometimes when you run out of options and run out of time you have to use unconventional methods. And in the end it worked and the execution was cancelled and the real killer was found (it wasn't actually the 11 year old child, now 18, but that's beside the point), so in the end things were ultimately better as a result of her actions so you can't exactly say she shouldn't have done it. So she did some things wrong but they are also understandable. I don't think she's a bad person deep down, she just got screwed over by the broken justice system.

Kidnapped a bunch of people but it was like. So the courts would do a retrial for her brother because she believed he was innocent (he was) a day before his execution, and so who she believed the true killer was (she wasn't) would take his place (she didn't) Also a lesbian <3

Franziska von Karma was submitted without propaganda, but I know AA well enough to attempt to write my own. She is obsessed with the idea of crafting the "perfect case" and goes so far as to hide evidence, manipulate witnesses, and also physically assault everyone with a whip in order to achieve it. However she was only doing it to avenge her adopted brother and at the end of the game she comes around and ends up delivering the crucial piece of evidence to save the protagonist's assistant from being killed by an assassin.

Dee Vasquez was submitted without propaganda. My attempt: She has ties to the yakuza and blackmailed one of the actors at her studio into basically being a slave to her. When he gets fed up and ends up trying to kill her she kills him in self-defense, making her one of the few "true culprits" in the series who would actually be found not guilty in an IRL court of law.

Ini/Mimi Miney was submitted without propaganda. My attempt: She was overworked to the point that she accidentally killed about a dozen people by switching their meds while sleep-deprived, then felt so bad about it that she got into a car crash, stole her sister's identity, and pretended she was dead for years. Then she killed a guy because she was worried about him revealing her secret.

Jezaille Brett / Assa Shinn:

prime example of god forbid women do anything. like cmon she just killed a bunch of people and left no trail behind so masterfully she up and haunted the entire goddamn narrative. her name is mentioned in secret messages in streets in papers in fear in mystery and we don't know her motivations still; why does she do what she does we do not know, and will never find out. fucking girlboss she's there for one case then the next we see her she's dead. what is up with this woman and why is she so important despite not seeming so ever.

Olive Green:

She qualifies as after her fiancé died from gas inhalation, she had questions about his death and suspected one of his fellow tenants to have murdered him rather than it being an accident. She consequently attempted to murder him. She rocks because we have to stan a vengeful woman!!!!!

Iris Hawthorne / Sister Iris Hazakurain / Sister Iris of Hazakura Temple:

well she’s more morally ambiguous than her sister!!!! she covered up a lot of crimes and lied about her identity to her (long series of hand gestures to indicate how complicated the boyfriend status is) Sorta Boyfriend for. like nine months i think. and she would have gotten away with it too if not for her co-conspirators fucking everything up

[aceof-stars]

I feel very strongly about Recipe for Turnabout, but I don’t think it’s a very good case. I just think it has so much potential to be amazing. 

Trials & Tribulations’ running themes are deception (personas and disguises) and the lengths people will go out of devotion (usually in romantic relationships but Bridge deals with familial). And there’s so much that could have been said about identity, self worth, and being so devoted to someone that you lie to yourself in Recipe.

If Furio Tigre's impersonation of Phoenix was actually really good (and not played off as a joke), it could have done so much to explore Phoenix's identity surrounding being a defense attorney. I mean think about it, Phoenix lives for other people, he doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself when he’s alone, and became a defense attorney to save people. And Furio Tigre ripped that away from him by pretending to be him and getting an innocent person locked up. Everyone thought Tigre was Phoenix. Maggey thought he failed her. It feels straight out of one of Phoenix's worst nightmares. Seriously, why is this plot point only used for laughs?

Viola Cadaverini is probably the most intriguing new character in 3-3 but she’s completely brushed aside. She's a perfect parallel to Phoenix himself. Viola tries to convince herself that Tigre truly loves her, rather than confront the truth that he is paying for her bills and being so kind to her because he's terrified of her mafia boss grandfather. To the point where she stays by his side and becomes an accomplice to his crime. Similarly, Phoenix believed that Dahlia truly loved him. And while Phoenix wasn’t a willing accomplice to Dahlia’s crime, he still hid evidence for her and ate the necklace out of belief in her.

The game itself even acknowledges this connection briefly.

This is what Phoenix thinks after breaking Viola’s psyche-locks. He was scared of her at first but now he sympathizes with her and is filled with new determination to take Tigre down. Phoenix chooses the drink the espresso she prepared, effectively trusting her not to poison him too.

Also side note: Phoenix is really sensitive to betrayal. And it’s really interesting that he seems to hate it because it’s cowardly. Phoenix seems to hate the deception involved in poisoning and betrayal. He’s is terrified of his believing in someone so much, only to be hurt and left alone. (… eyes Phoenix’s reaction to Edgeworth’s note). Yeah it definitely stems from Dahlia.

Now imagine if Viola was the defendant instead of Maggey. That would mean Tigre, the person she convinced herself truly loved her, disguised himself in order to use her as the scapegoat for his crime. Does that sound familiar? Phoenix would probably be scared of Viola at first too. Maybe she reminds him of Dahlia. But slowly come to trust her.

Viola as the defendant would also continue T&T's pattern of guilty or questionable defendants (Ron DeLite being Mask DeMasque, Terry Fawles being in a relationship with 14 y/o Dahlia, and Iris being an accomplice). No case after 2-4 ever critiques Phoenix's misbeliefs as a defense attorney again (that being an attorney is not about saving people but fighting for them, and they everyone deserves a proper defense). But 3-3 could have done that, because Viola was still an accomplice and would have to go to jail for that. Phoenix could have continued to learn that he doesn't have to save everyone, that he has to fight for them and for the truth.

Do you see my vision? Do you see the potential? Recipe for Turnabout could have been a top tier case.

Oh and here's my collection of Recipe's most... memorable quotes. (Aka why is 3-3 like that??)

[sevenyeargap]

welcome to my very own analysis of edgeworths character and insane rambling on why i write him Like That. first of all i want to rec one of my favorite essay on political theory/legal philosophy of possibly all time aka the discourse on voluntary servitude by la boétie (which you can read here, its also a fantastic text to read in these coronation/anti-monarchy times)

anyway, if you don't want to read it (although it is quite a short and clear read), the main thesis of this essay is that basically a corrupt political system/dictatorship (here called a tyranny) doesn't stay in place because people are afraid of change and rebellion, but because people don't want anything to change, and they're satisfied with their condition, therefore complicit with the system (see also MLK's quote on white moderates "but the white moderate who is more devoted to 'order' than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says 'I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I can't agree with your methods of direct action'")

the tl;dr here is that a system stays in place because no one does anything to change it, and people prefer turning a blind eye to the situation but its not because they're afraid of a new system, it's because they're scared of what it will take to get this new system.

with that being said i think that edgeworths anger and resentment at the legal system post turnabout goodbyes wouldn't be directed at the system right away because he upheld the system. he loved it! (which btw is so so much worse than killing his father. he didn't kill his father but he's complicit in enforcing a terrible legal system!!!!!!!! awful)

and miles loved this system!! i think that even at the worst point of his bratworth era he still believed he was Bringing Fair And Real Justice and was doing The Right Thing. but what happens when you realize this system is deeply, incredibly flawed? when you've spent your whole life fighting for it? deliberately ignoring the ugly parts of it in favor of maintaining a perfect win record?

that's when you choose death!!!! (literally or figuratively depending on how you analyze it.)

i looooove edgeworth celebrating his not guilty verdict but he would start thinking about what he's done. which again is so much worse than simply killing his dad. like he literally says that in rfta

and thats so??? fucking sad!?!!! because how is he supposed to trust in himself now??? phoenix (no matter how good his intentions were) HAS entirely destroyed his whole worldview!!!!!!!! and thus the unnecessary feelings line but you can read more about my thoughts about that line here (tl;dr this line for me a) challenges his views (see supra) b) didn't phoenix "steal" his dream of becoming a defense attorney, in a way? phoenix had the chance to move on and change things for the better but miles... didn't.

ANYWAY edgeworth gets angry at individuals, after turnabout goodbyes, because he hasn't realized how deep the corruption runs yet - he's angry at phoenix, at misty, at everyone who either failed to protect him (misty, mvk, the mvk household, maybe even his own dad for """leaving him behind"""???) OR tried to protect him from this system (phoenix, maya - because how dare they challenge his views on this system he has oh so loved?) also you can read this post here because it really summarizes my feelings about his aa1 arc

every day there is a new media where two people are fighting together for a system. they both come to realise the system is flawed, and while one of them tries to take the system down, the other decides it is still necessary and must be protected at all costs. why is it always the first one who becomes the villain? who is deeply sympathetic but goes too far in their quest for justice? i think for once it should be the second one who is trying so hard to protect the system they believe in that they slowly slip into tyranny

i dont really have a conclusion here but i will say that i think The Note and edgeworths year off were necessary (as tragic as it was) for both edgeworth & phoenix because theyre insane they need some time to think about how much they don't know nor understand each other anymore at this point in time. anyway. thanks for reading?!! i hope this made sense. mwah!

[shylittlefr0g]

Hello friends.

I have an idea. (From an AU)

I been playing Ace Attorney from a while (I complete the first game and my friend gift me the trilogy, so im playing the other two games) and I still having a hyperfijation with SxF (atleast from now). So, lets combine them.

If you don't play Phoenix Wright, Ace Attorney, you should play it, I recomend it. (and watch out, because i gonna give a few spoilers about the games and they history).

Let's begin.

Let's explain the characters and WHY I choose them.

Anya Forger (as Phoenix Wright):

- Ex-art student on collage, with a terrible ex-boyfriend.

- She became a lawyer after being saved by Sylvia (the Mia Fey of this universe) and having a crush on the-one-shouldn't-be-mentioned (Damian)

- Terrible lawyer, with a horrible luck, and mostly being save because of someone else or when her two neurons make contact the evidence.

- George (Larry) is her best friend, and in her first trial, she must save his ass.

- She actually doesn't look like a lawyer, because she is poor (?), so she has to use an old suit from his father (the green one) with some arrangement to be from her size made them by her mom (disastrous, but it works)

Damian Desmond (as Miles Edgeworth):

- Traumatized.

- He still having a crush on Anya, but he prefer be punched on the ribs that say "I love you" to her.

- After they first real encounter (the second case) Damian send his butler (Ewen) and his personal tailor to make her a good suit (because he wants that his rival to look presentable on court... Because he hates her!)

- Emile (Gumshoe) is his right-hand man, he trust blindly on him (and that's why when Emile misses something, he cuts his salary)

- Wanted to be a lawyer like his mother, but now he only has traumas.

Becky Blackbell (as Franziska Von Karma)

- SHE HAS A WHIP.

- SHE IS A GIRLBOSS.

- She isn't part of the family Desmond (she conserves her lastname) because she is Damian's cousin who wants to revenge the figure of Donovan Desmond.

- The option B is that Franziska is Demetrius, but i like Becky more because she has a whip and can whip Anya on the middle of the court. Pretty fun character.

- She isn't the bestie of Anya on this universe, but they got respect for eachother (Becky considers that she is a very capable woman and fights to achieve her goals, just like her.)

George Glooman (as Larry Butz)

- Idiot.

- He only could be a cheated, accused of murder, and get away with it, all in at least 24 hours.

- He isn't a big friend with Damian since they were kids and they argued about who is gonna takes Anya's hand to marriage. (spoiler: nobody remembers it clearly, they just hate each other because they are idiots.)

- Like Larry, he ended up being an artist.

Sylvia Sherwood:

- Mia Fey for this universe.

- really intelegent.

- Helped Anya on the past and became her tutor/friend when she decided be a lawyer.

- Still watching Anya since Ken (The Maya of this universe) and her became partners.

- She and Ken are family (aunt/nephew), when she has to keep info, she invites him to eat something. After the first trial, Anya and they were going out to eat, but something happen.

Ken Sherwood (as Maya Fey)

- Took Sylvia lastname.

- symptom of "being at the wrong time and place"

- He was arrested more times that you could imagined.

- Esper still on training. (Always in his hippie-clothes so gets bullied by that)

- Only can use his powers when the situation is crítical. (Only in contact with Mia because she is from his bloodline)

Melinda and Donovan Desmond:

- Melinda (32) was a really good defense lawyer who makes everything to get a Not Guilty sentence. Loved by everyone.

- Her husband, by the other hand, wasn't loved by everyone, mostly because of his tactics has a prosecutor where... Well, you know, cuestionables.

- They had two sons. Demetrius and Damian.

- Melinda was killed by someone non-identified on a elevator. Right infront Damian.

- Since then, Donovan raised his youngest son to be a bastard at court (just like him).

...Play Ace Attorney, pirated Nintendo is morally correct.

[rivalsforlife]

if you'rs still up for it i'd love to learn about dadworth epic and/or deep dark secrets 2 ?? also i have to say i loved that excerpt you posted of musical phoenix and how you perfectly made him such an asshole to maya lol

I'm always happy to do these!! (and thank you! why did the musical write him like that. why did they destroy my best friends.)

dadworth epic was SUPPOSED to be a super long (why it's not finished) plotty fic diverging from the end of The Forgotten Turnabout, except Kay doesn't get her memories back. Since she doesn't get her memories back, Edgeworth doesn't investigate the storage room to get the call from de Killer and therefore doesn't get sucked into the Grand Turnabout, and decides to take in Kay until she gets her memories (which doesn't happen for a whiiile). Without Grand Turnabout being resolved a bunch of bad things happen (Justine hands down the not-guilty for Patricia Roland, but subsequently is arrested for the fake president's murder - Ray manages to get her off the hook but the true culprit isn't found, Lang still suspects John but he's never convicted for it - Sebastian is kidnapped and not rescued for days and his faith in himself/others is totally shattered, it takes longer for John to get rescued so though he isn't dead he has some permanent frostbite damage from the freezer plus extra trauma, and of course Simon gets away with everything.) Basically everyone is worse off except the villains for most of this AU.

Also in this AU since Edgeworth doesn't go through his realization of wanting to become a prosecutor, he ends up becoming a defense attorney. This overlaps with disbarment so Phoenix has this weird jealousy thing going on where it's like "yeah I only became a defense attorney to save him and it's great that he's following his childhood dreams now But." Also Franziska and Gumshoe are taking this badly since they see Edgeworth as a defense attorney as a betrayal of his relationships with them (which is a thought I've elaborated on elsewhere).

Either way since Edgeworth still knows Too Much, he eventually gets assassins sent after him and Kay (I don't think I fully decided if this would be Patricia, Blaise, or Simon via Gustavia Proxy) and they go to de Killer, who, still feeling in Edgeworth's debt, refuses the request and warns him. He and Kay go on the run. This includes temporarily tagging along with the circus (to bring Simon into relevancy again), going to Zheng Fa (to introduce everything Lang's got going on and summarize the president's death related parts of Grand Turnabout), joining with Interpol (to handle the Franziska&Miles relationship drama), reuniting with Justine, John, and Sebastian, who are also on the run (dealing with fallout of this AU on their characters), then of course they have to take down Patricia, Blaise, the assassins going after them, and Simon (which is where I got lost because I was struggling to figure out How to do all that). They don't have enough evidence to arrest Simon on in the end, and it gives Edgeworth a career crisis again.

And of course throughout the whole thing is the focus on Edgeworth&Kay where Kay is first amnesiac and scared, then slowly gets more comfortable with Edgeworth and a bit more like her old personality, and at some point she does get her memories back but doesn't say anything because she wants to stay with him.

AS YOU CAN TELL IT WAS GOING TO BE VERY LONG. I HAVE NOT WORKED ON IT SINCE 2020. The outline was pretty detailed though so I miiight be able to pick it up again if I'm in the mood for it but I wouldn't count on it.

Deep Dark Secrets 2 is a much shorter explanation it's pretty much just me rewriting my fic that already exists but fully from Iris's perspective. So it was mostly a writing exercise kind of thing, it's mostly disjointed scenes, lots of them are flashbacks to her relationship with Phoenix and her interactions with Dahlia around that time.

[azuramarigold]

The Found Turnabout

Summary: When Apollo Justice was literally shipped off from Khura'in back to his native country in America, he had issues from bouncing from foster home to foster home - that is until one day in the courthouse he met Phoenix Wright at the age of twelve years old. With a new found family and starting to learn the legal ropes early, Apollo joins Phoenix Wright on some of the earlier cases and the downfalls.

AO3

Chapter 1 - Shipped off

Apollo couldn’t believe that he was being forced out of the country of Khura’in – his home.

            Dhurke Sahdmadhi, the man whom Apollo was raised by and considered him his foster father, told him this was for the best for right now. Things were getting a little rougher in Khura’in since the Defense Culpability Act was in full swing. People were committing crimes and framing each other for petty things – and since there were barely any Defense Attorneys, any accused were for the most part were found guilty on the spot.

            Since Apollo Justice was not of Khura’in descent – with his dark brown hair and eyes, and fair skin - he would eventually be an easy target to frame. He could very well one day be accused of a crime and be thrown in prison.

            Or worse – be convicted to death.

            So that was why Dhurke had sent nine-year-old Apollo Justice back to the United States, the country he was originally from.

            Why Apollo was living in Khura’in was a mystery. He was always told that his parents were travelling musicians and stayed in the country for a month or two when he was baby. His father had died suddenly, and his mother abandoned him out of grief or probably not wanting to raise a child alone. He didn’t know – and mostly he didn’t want to know.

            Absently, Apollo rubbed his golden bracelet that was on his left wrist as he sat in the dark crate Dhurke put him in. The bracelet was the only thing he had from his mother, and despite being told he was abandoned, he never took it off. Inwardly he sighed, feeling the gentle rocking of the waves of the large cargo ship he was hidden on.

            Of all the things to put me on… he put me on a stupid boat…

            Apollo was stuck in that crate for the past three days, only a small bag in his hands with the very few possessions he had and enough food and a canteen of water to last a week. The boy shuddered at the memory of where he had to use the bathroom for the last couple of days.

            America better worth it, Dhurke… Apollo thought bitterly to himself. And you promised you’d come back for me.

            What felt like an eternity, Apollo felt his crate being lifted. He suppressed his urge to yelp, slapping both hands over his mouth. The crate moved as two muffled grunts complained about the crate being “much heavier than before”.

            I don’t weigh that much, jerks!

            As soon as the crate was set down and Apollo heard their voices inch away, he lifted the lid of the crate and squinted his eyes at the harsh sunlight.

            He was at a port – seagulls gulling as waves crashed into the walls of the port. Men and women were carrying many goods and trade from large ships, and there were luxury cruise liners as well that were dropping off and picking up passengers.

            Apollo’s brown eyes widened; he had never seen so many different types of people in one spot. The people of Khura’in were all similar in traits – either with black or dark brown hair and many with darker eyes than his own and lovely tanned or vanilla colored skin. Here at this port alone there was yellow hair, red hair, black hair, green eyes, teal eyes, blue eyes, skin whiter than his own, skin dark and smooth as chocolate; everyone was a rainbow of colors from around the world… it was a sight to see.

            Maybe this will be an interesting place…

            “HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, KID!?”

            Apollo cursed under his breath in Khura’inese.

            A large, burly man with curly silver hair and a beard to match picked Apollo up from the back of his red tank top, the boy dangling like he was a sack of rice.

            “You a stowaway!?” the burly man demanded, spit spraying on Apollo’s face.

            Apollo, being scared and not knowing what to do, he did the only thing he could think of doing – he teared up and started frantically crying in Khura’inese. He knew they couldn’t understand him, but all he was saying his that he wanted to be home with his foster dad and brother.

            The burly man’s eyes widened in shock and then he looked both ways in confusion and sudden panic.

            “Uh, look kid,” he began softly. “I didn’t mean to make ya cry… Let’s get ya to the cops so they can find your parents.”

            “I DON’T HAVE PARENTS!” Apollo screamed in perfect English, albeit a slight Khura’inese accent. He cried some more – legit large tears streaming from his eyes and loud wails bellowing from him, the realization finally hitting him.

            My dad’s dead… mom left me… and now Dhurke got tired of me… am I that bad?

            As promised the burly man still took Apollo to the police. The man explained that he had found Apollo peaking from the crate, and it seemed he was a stowaway from a recent cargo trip from Khura’in.

            The detective that was at the desk processing Apollo, Dick Gumshoe, who was a rather large man but looked nothing more like a scruffy puppy. Gumshoe had taken Apollo’s small bag and looked through the measly possessions – one extra red shirt, a pair of shorts, extra food, his canteen, and his birth certificate that was in Khura’inese.

            “So,” Gumshoe began, his voice low and gruff, but still kind. “You got a name, kid?”

            Apollo glanced at the detective with large eyes. This man seemed a lot nicer than the guards in Khuar’in. The moment he would’ve been caught back home they would’ve given him the guilty verdict immediately – even as a child.

            “Apollo,” the boy replied, his voice small, his English still having a Khura’inese accent. “Apollo Justice.” The chair he was sitting in felt very large to him, his feet barely touching the ground.

            Gumshoe looked at him oddly. “From someone who is from a different country, you sure don’t have their kind of name,” he blurted, almost automatically.

            Apollo cocked his head to the side, his two tendrils of hair drooping along. “That’s a little rude,” he deadpanned.

            The detective gave a sheepish look and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah… it was. Sorry ‘bout that…” he apologized. He then looked at the paperwork on his desk he was preparing. “Anyway, kid, since it seems you are here by yourself in Los Angeles, we have to find you a foster home for the night before we can find you a more permanent foster care unit.”

            Apollo obviously knew what “foster” was – he considered Dhurke and his son his foster family. But the way Gumshoe was talking made it seem like America passed children along like they were a book in a library.

            “You mean… I don’t stay there… forever?” Apollo asked in confusion.

            Gumshoe gave a grimace. “I don’t know how things were done in… in…” he tried to read the name of the country on the paperwork but completely butchered it. “Cure-on, but in the good ol’ U S of A, there is a big process we have to do.”

            Apollo narrowed his eyes. “Khura’in,” he corrected. He muttered under his breath curses in Khura’inese.

            The scruffy detective gave a shrug. “Sorry kid, but that is how things are done here,” he said. He then looked at the paper in his hands. “Luckily, we have a couple of people on standby for emergencies that can take someone in very last minute while we look for a more suitable family.”

            Apollo then grumbled, his arms crossed, “What if I don’t want to go?”

            Gumshoe gave him a sad look, his own brown eyes showing pity. “Unfortunately, you don’t have a choice, pal,” he sighed, a budding frustration coming to the surface. “I’ve dealt with a few runaways-”

            “I didn’t run away!” Apollo interrupted angrily. “I was put in the crate was told I had to go back to my home country!” His voice was gradually getting louder and louder, it was to the point where the detective had to cover his ears.

            “Damn, pal!” Gumshoe cried out. “You always this loud?!”

            Apollo then started shouting in long string of curses in Khura’inese, his voice practically causing the few pictures in the small office to rattle. After the 3-minute tirade, Apollo had been standing on the chair, panting, his finger pointing at the detective.

            The phone on the detective’s desk then rang and he picked it up. “Yeah, pal?” he gruffly greeted. “They’re here? Okay.” Gumshoe gave a sigh. “Alright, pal, looks like the person we called is here to take you in for the next couple of days until we can find a more permanent foster family for you.” Gumshoe then got up from his chair and grabbed his tan trench coat.

            Apollo then grabbed his pitiful bag and slowly followed the scruffy detective. They had been in that small office for hours, the fluorescent lights above them as they walked through the precinct glowed unnaturally, a soft hum accompanying their steps.

            As they passed by the windows, Apollo noticed that it was now dark outside. He barely saw any stars in the sky. The tall buildings in the city dotted the skyline, the lights creating a soft glow in the distance.

            This is different from Khura’in…

            In the lobby was a plump woman with caramel colored hair streaked with grey tied in a neat bun. She had a very soft, warm looking face with olive colored skin and a pair of golden eyes. With her lavender colored blouse and black dress pants with loafers, she looked like a very kind business lady. She gave Apollo a warm smile.

            “Hello, you must be Apollo,” she greeted. “My name is Aria Commons, you’re going to be staying with me for the next couple of days.” She sounded nice enough.

            “Hap’piraki,” Apollo greeted, using the traditional greeting in Khura’in.

            Aria beamed, “Oh, they mentioned you’re bilingual!” she gave a little clap. “You even have a little accent! That’s adorable!”

            Apollo felt his face fall and his hair droop.

            I’m not adorable…

            “Come on dearie, you must be exhausted,” Aria cooed. “You can have a nice bath and a warm dinner at the house.”

            Apollo did like the sound of a warm bath… usually him and his foster brother Nahyuta had to take river water and bring it to the cabin in the mountains where they lived. Most of the time even though they boiled it the water would get cold.

            So, he had no choice but to follow Aria Commons out of the precinct, giving Detective Dick Gumshoe a small wave goodbye behind him. Once they stepped outside Apollo realized just how cold he was outside only being in a tank top and shorts – for the most part in Khura’in was always warm all year. He didn’t even know what month it was… but he did notice some people were wearing jackets.

            “I have a jacket in the car for you, Apollo,” Ari informed him. She then led him to a small black coupe and opened the back passenger door to get him inside.

            Apollo looked inside the car oddly. He’s never seen a car. Khura’in didn’t have cars.

            “You can get inside, sweetie,” Aria gently told him.

            “Where’s the cart?” Apollo asked. “With the yaks and horses to pull?”

            Aria looked taken aback. “I-I’m sorry?” she sputtered, her trying to keep her warm smile.

            “I don’t know what this is,” Apollo replied, legitimately confused, as he pointed at the coupe. “Do you call a yak to come and then we leave…? Or…?” He then noticed along the street the other things like what was before him, lights blaring and horns honking.

            Apollo then felt something warm put around his shoulders – it was a red jacket.

            “I’m guessing you guys don’t have cars where you’re from, huh?” Aria laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling. She then guided him to get in the car and assisted him on getting his seatbelt on. “Cars a very nice form of transportation, especially here in the big city.”

            “Cars?” Apollo echoed.

            This is different from Khura’in…

            And he didn’t don’t how to feel about it.

            Aria then got in the car and started it, pulling away from the precinct. The movements of the vehicle made Apollo’s stomach churn; he felt his face flush with a sickness. There was more than once where he almost vomited in the vehicle.

            This is not like the carriages or bikes at home…

            Home.

            He wasn’t home in Khura’in anymore. Tears welled in his eyes once again, but he refused to make a sound. He couldn’t. He did enough crying for one day.

            After a half hour of stomach-churning driving, Aria had finally got the two to their destination. It was a small one-story home in the suburbs, made of brick with light shrubbery in the front to accent everything.

            Aria helped Apollo unbuckle himself, noticing his face. “Oh dearie, you look green,” she commented worriedly. “Let’s get you inside. You must’ve got motion sickness from the car ride.” The woman led him into the house and turned on the lights, the two immediately greeted by two gray cats.

Apollo nearly jumped when one of them brushed against his leg and meowed. Realizing it was just a cat, he bent down and picked it up to hold. There were a few stray cats that came to their home in the mountains back in Khura’in, so he was used to them.

“Follow me, Apollo,” Aria gently commanded. “Let’s get you washed up.”

Aria led Apollo through the small house. It was quite quaint, the living room having only a dark gray couch and matching recliner with a TV mounted on the wall front and center. The kitchen was attached to the living room and dining room, few appliances on the white counters with a stainless streel fridge. Once Aria finally got Apollo to the bathroom, she began to run the bath for him, adding bath salts and bubbles; at the sound of the water the cat immediately jumped out of his arms.

“I’ll be back with a change of clothes for you,” Aria informed him. She gave him a glance over and looked over the clothing he had in his bag. “I should have something that fits you.”

The tub was filling, and Apollo could feel the steam from the water brushing against his skin, and the smell was so much different from home. The soaps used in Khura’in were typically a light lavender scent and on occasion peaches as that was popular. But this was a scent that Apollo couldn’t put his finger on, it was indeed more flowery but not a flower he could pinpoint.

“Here you are dearie,” Aria then said as she set a long sleeved red and white t-shirt, a pair of black pajama pants, clean white socks, and red boxers on the counter next to a fluffy blue towel. She also had a red toothbrush and small sample sized toothpaste in what looked like a plastic bag that was pre-packaged along with sample shampoo and body wash.

“Why do you have all this stuff…?” Apollo asked curiously.

Aria gave a sad shrug. “So many kids get in bad situations and need a temporary place to stay…” she explained. “I have clothes for boys and girls from babies to teenagers, toys, bedding, and these little packages for toiletries for when they move on to the next home.”

Apollo subconsciously touched his bracelet. Everything seemed fine.

“Don’t you have kids that need this stuff?” he then asked.

Aria gave a dark chuckle, “Oh, dearie. I don’t need my own children when I can help others. It’s okay.”

A tightness gripped on his wrist, the way Aria had put her left hand on her stomach, it all seemed like… she wasn’t telling the full truth.

But Apollo was not going to pry. This woman, this very kind woman, was opening her home for him to be in for the time being. He had a rough few days being in cramp crate on that ship, he should just do what Aria says.

“I’ll take the bath now,” Apollo then stated, changing the subject. “Thank you very much.” He then also used the traditional word for thanks in Khura’inese with a slight bow.

Aria then left Apollo in the bathroom as he gave himself a wash. The water felt hot, almost boiling against his skin. In the mountains he never had water this hot, it was almost like the dirt was already peeling off him before he started scrubbing.

Once he was done, he drained the water and dried himself off with the towel. The mirror was steamed up, so he wiped it to see his reflected more clearly for the first time since arriving to America.

Thick, dark bags were under his large brown eyes. Apollo had always been pale, at least compared the others in Khura’in, but looking at himself in the mirror now revealed how almost sickly he looked. His cheeks almost looked hollow, but it could’ve been from the lighting, because he was always nicely fed back at home and only a few days in the crate didn’t starve him when he had the bad of food to eat. Water dripped from the tendrils of his brown hair, which he promptly dried for them to stick right back up naturally.

With a sigh, he dressed in the given clothes. When he opened the door of the bathroom to the hallway, both the gray cats were sitting there waiting for him. They both did a yawn and a stretch, the one that rubbed on him earlier gave a squeak of a meow.

“Apollo, you’re done?” Aria called from the kitchen. Apollo could hear the water running, it was possible she was doing dishes. But an unfamiliar scent hit his nostrils, but he could tell it was food. “Come to the kitchen and have something to eat, I bet you’re hungry. Just leave your dirty clothes in the bathroom, I’ll take care of it later, dearie.”

Apollo did as was told and left his belongings in the bathroom. He made his way to the small kitchen/dining area where he passed by earlier. On the small table was a plate for him it seemed like; some meat on bread with a side of something a golden yellow.

“Have a seat, dearie,” Aria ordered gently as she pulled out the chair for him.

“You don’t eat on the floor?” Apollo asked curiously and in confusion. In Khura’in most people ate on the floor with small tables. Only the royal family, the Khura’in family, had the highest honor of having luxury tables and items.

Aria blinked for a moment. “Oh, they did mention you were from an Eastern country,” she said. “I don’t get many foreign children here. So, if you prefer to eat on the floor like you’re used to you can.”

Apollo shook his head as he took the seat in the chair. “No, it’s fine. I’ll sit here since I’m in America now,” he told her. He looked at the plate and then put his hands together, his fingers in a different position than a traditional prayer. He began a small prayer in Khura’inese, the same one he, Dhurke, and Nahyuta would say before meals back at home. Once he was done, he picked up the bread/meat object and took a bite. His eyes immediately widened as the flavors exploded in his mouth.

He was not used to this kind of food. Most of the food he ate were rice based with little meat. It was mainly rice and vegetables since they grew their own where they lived. If they did happen to have any meat, it was a super special occasion like Nahyuta’s or Apollo’s birthdays where they had pork or chicken.

“I don’t think you have hamburgers where you’re from, huh dearie?” Aria chuckled, a large smile on her face/

The boy shook his head as he continued to eat. His stomach growled, him just realizing how hungry he was. Once he was done consuming the food, he then downed the milk that he was given in a glass.

He finally then brushed his teeth from the small pre-packed bag he was given, and Aria then lead him down the pale-yellow hallway to small room at the end.

It was small, the walls mint green color; it seemed it was meant to be gender neutral. In one corner there was crib with a changing table next to it, the table filled to the brim with different sized diapers, creams, and powders. Under the window on the western wall was twin bed, it looked like it had fresh bedding on it of a pale red color. There was a dresser next to the bed, each drawer had a plate that had a dry erase board on it; each one was written in Apollo’s name and what the contents were inside, such as underwear, socks, pants, and shirts.

He opened the contents of the drawers, and many articles of clothing were in similar size to what he was given. A lot of the colors were mainly red and white with the occasional black.

She likes to give me red things… How did she know my favorite color was red?

Aria had assisted Apollo into the bed so that she can tuck him in, the covers feeling tight around him. She then noticed that he was still wearing his bracelet.

“Did you want to take that off?” she then asked gently.

“I don’t take it off,” he replied simply, almost too quickly. “I was told it was from my mom.”

Aria didn’t pry and just gave a smile. “Alright then, dearie,” she whispered as one of the cats jumped on the bed and curled next to Apollo. She then went towards the door where the light switch was and before she shut off the light she whispered, “Good night, Apollo.” She shut the door behind her, which seemed to be okay as at the bottom was a special cat door for the cats to get in and out nicely.

Apollo didn’t stay in the bed long; he got out of the very tucked in sheets and opened the curtains of the window above him to see the city skyline in the distance. It was almost like he could hear the buzzing of people and cars and just the energy of everything there.

And he hated it.

He wanted to be home in Khura’in where he could see the Milky Way and shooting stars all night. He wanted to be in the cabin with Dhurke and Nahyuta telling stories. He just wanted to be with them.

His first full day in America and this is all he was doing…

Tears stung his eyes, and he felt the warm drops hit his fisted hands.

“I’m fine…” he softly cried. “I’m fine…”