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An Ace Attorney Kink Meme Minifill Collection

Chapter Text

Fill One - #stop

Humor; Phoenix & Maya

Maya scrolled down her Twitter page. Eventually, she noticed that a lot of people have been using (more like, abusing) hash tags in their tweets. This "hash tag" sensation managed to pique the channeler's interest with this new craze, "Nick's gonna love this. #hashtagging."

The very next day, Phoenix was preparing for a trial, rummaging through his court files and records. Suddenly, he felt something poke his back, "Yeah?"

"#are_you_searching_for_stuff?" It was Maya, crossing her arms with her phone in her right hand, "#lol #whatcha_doin"

"Uh, Maya, what do you mean by that '#whatcha_doin'? I mean, if you're wondering what I'm doing, I'm just looking through my court records."

"#boring. #lame." Maya was giggling, waving her phone around, and rolling her eyes in mild sarcasm.

"... Oh, don't tell me... You're getting addicted to hashtagging... Aren't you?" Phoenix got worried, "Please don't say yes."

"#yes. #duh." The channeler was beaming a bright smile, "#totally_addicted."

The only thing Phoenix could do was sigh and facepalm at the prospects of his assistant becoming a source of a new annoyance, "You need to lay off the social media... Please... For your own good. For our own good."

"#bummer. #lame. #whatever..." Disappointed, Maya sighed and pouted, "But you know what, Nick? You're right about something. Maybe I should stop saying 'hashtag'... #not_lol."

Phoenix rolled his eyes, "Of course you'd say that..." He crossed his arms and stared at his eccentric assistant, "Look... Using hash tags for everything will get annoying for all of us. Now... We should be going back to the courtroom." He hauled the rest of the court files, "We have an important thing to do, Maya."

"And what would that be?"

Phoenix smirked with malicious intent. He turns around, crossing his arms, and bit his lower lip, "#deez_nuts."

Chapter Text

Fill Two - "Steal" Samurai

Humor; Miles & Gumshoe

Miles Edgeworth was not the type of man to go rob a store, much less during broad daylight and where the store employees are still there to witness his crime. He is the chief prosecutor, a man who is seen as a law abiding, truthful idol of justice.

However, when the banks are closed, the traveling Steel Samurai bazaar is closing, heading out to a state far away from California, and all the limited edition and special Steel Samurai figurines, games, trading cards, and other merchandise and memorabilia are going away with the bazaar, Miles had no qualms about taking the criminal route to get what he needs.

"Mr. Edgeworth... This... Isn't this theft?" Detective Dick Gumshoe was unlucky (?) enough to get dragged by Miles to assist him with looting the bazaar like his name was Prosecutor Hook, "There are people staring at us... I might get in trouble with -"

"Detective Gumshoe, this is no time to question my deeds. Now help me fit this life size Steel Samurai statue in this box." Miles struggled with the six foot something plaster Steel Samurai mannequin, "Detective. I asked you to help. Don't just stand there."

"Mr. Edgeworth, please... We're gonna get in trouble, sir!"

"We can handle that later! Now help me or else!" Miles was really having difficulty lifting that Steel Samurai mannequin, but he managed to force Gumshoe to help him stuff it down a massive box. It didn't take long before the chief prosecutor began his pillage and plundering of Steel Samurai booty, "Ooh. I like this one." He shoved a small action figure inside his pocket. He also took several other action figures and stuffed them into a large Steel Samurai backpack.

And for an entire hour, the Detective and the chief prosecutor completely stripped down the whole bazaar of its Steel Samurai merchandise...

Yet for some crazy reason, no one - not even the bazaar employees - decided to call the police once even though they just witnessed the entire bazaar's inventory completely get wiped out by Miles and Gumshoe like they were a duo of barbarians marauding a village.

And the next day, it was as if nothing had happened at all.

++++

Later...

"Mr. Edgeworth, your entire office is buried in Steel Samurai stuff..." Gumshoe was nearly drowning in the neck deep sea of Steel Samurai merchandise, "I can't breath."

But Miles didn't care about Gumshoe's whining. He was too busy lying down on his stolen Steel Samurai loot, making snow angels... Or Steel Samurai angels...

Chapter Text

Fill Three - Da Cosplay Queen

Humor; Furio, Maya, Miles & Simon

Everyone was speechless. To think that a rugged, six foot something guy with a thick (almost comedic and intentionally forced) Brooklyn accent, creepy face and criminal background could strut a Pink Princess costume and win first place in the LA cosplay convention's annual cosplay contest.

"You gotta be kidding me..." Miles was beyond speechless. He slaved himself for months to make his Steel Samurai costume, and now this guy comes up stealing the trophy! "He's not even a girl!"

"I know, right?!" Maya, too, worked extra hard and put in a lot of effort in her Pink Princess costume. She was absolutely dumbfounded at how the guy - Furio Tigre, the man who somehow managed to poorly impersonate Nick (yet was able to fool everyone) won the contest for the most authentic looking costume, "I feel like we've been cheated!"

"I have the need to leap at that criminal and slice him up." Simon, surprisingly, had also participated in the cosplay contest. He was donning a very well made, hand crafted Jammin Ninja costume... As well as the look of sheer anger, "First of all, I have no idea how he was able to get out of prison... Secondly... It should be a criminal offense for someone like him to win a contest of authenticity."

"Agreed." Both Miles and Maya nodded unanimously.

As for Furio Tigre, he was simply enjoying the limelight, waving at the crowd like Honey boo boo child winning a pageant. If you look closely, he's actually crying tears of joy, "Thank you! Thank you for making me da Cosplay Queen!!!" He blew kisses to the cheering crowd... Bleagh...

Miles, Maya, and Simon felt the need to take a long shower after seeing such a traumatizing thing... And probably look up pictures of kittens on the Internet or get some brain bleach to wash that image out of their heads.

-- Short Epilog --

Furio Tigre signed the contract for his new fashion show, Furio's Fabulous. Ever since he won that cosplay convention contest, everyone in the media is begging him to partner up with them. And he was more than willing to strut his stuff.

As for Maya, Miles, and Simon, they still have yet to remove that scarring mental image of Honey Furio Child out of their heads.

Chapter Text

Fill Four - Did we forget something?

Humor; Apollo & Trucy

Apollo was pacing back and forth. This would certainly be a difficult trial. Apparently, he managed to misplace several key and vital pieces of evidence that would certainly help him win the case for his client. Now, Apollo's client may now be doomed considering that he was a total klutz and lost the most important pieces of evidence, "Great..." He sighed.

"Hey, what's up?" Apollo turned around; it was Trucy, grinning from ear to ear, "Lemme guess, you somehow managed to lose key evidence for a trial, didn't you?" Seriously, that girl probably knows how to read minds.

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"I didn't. I made a wild guess, and it seems I was right." Oh that sneaky devil... Or magician... "Anyways, if you need help with the trial, I'll gladly lend you a hand." She placed a hand on her side, "You're gonna need it." She giggled before tipping her hat, "Now, what did you lose anyway?"

"Uh, notes on the murder weapon, a copy of the autopsy report, several notes I jotted down when I visited -"

"In short, you lost a lot of things, didn't you?" Yeah, what she said. Trucy dug through a small bag and pulled out a list, handing it over to her half-brother, "It saves time if you just wrote what you lost."

Apollo nodded and pulled out a pen, scribbling the list of his misplaced evidence. Judging by the fact that he flipped to another page, he definitely lost a lot more than "several." He finally finished his list an hands it back to Trucy.

"Let's see here..." She stroked her chin, "You don't have to worry about a copy of the autopsy report. You already know that during trials both the prosecution and the defense get a copy to share."

And for a couple more minutes, she scratched off more than half of what was originally listed, "These notes can be replaced. Just talk to your client and jot down what he says again... And... Yeah. The only things that we really need to find are the tin foil with fingerprints, the letter the victim wrote, and these other things." She handed it back to Apollo.

"Thanks... So... Uh... Where should we start looking?"

"Well, where's the last place you've been besides here?"

"The victim's apartment." Apollo scratches the back of his head, "That's quite a distance from here, though."

"But, Polly, if the evidence is that important, it doesn't matter if you lost it here or in New York; you have to go get them." She tipped her hat once more, "I'll even help you along the way." Doesn't she always?

"... Alright. I guess we should go as soon as possible..." He sighs once more, "I'll call for a taxi and we'll head out to the apartment."

"Great! Sounds fun!"

===

It took a while before they managed to find the missing evidence. Apparently, Apollo dropped all of them by accident when he tripped over the piles of trash.

"Man, it smells like garbage and old musty rotten food." By the way, the victim was a hoarder, so it's actually quite understandable that he lost most of the evidence, "Anyway, we should head back. It's getting late and the taxi driver seems impatient. You ready to head back?"

"Yup, I'm good to go." Trucy gave a thumbs up, "Now, let's get out of here." Well said.

===

After a long day of helping Apollo, Trucy decided that she needed some rest. It was already eleven in the evening and she has school bright and early tomorrow. She tucks herself in her bed and closes her eyes... But a sudden looming dread struck her like a baseball bat to the head...

"... I forgot to do my ten page essay on the meta-analysis of several studies done in ecological research."

Chapter Text

Fill Five - It's been over a day

Humor; Miles & Gumshoe

Miles was completely exhausted, drained out of energy after a long and arduous trial that took longer than what a normal trial should take. He arrived home, not even bothering to undress. His eyes feel way too heavy to keep open. He needed to go to sleep, because another trial was up the next day, and he can't be late.

"I'm sure even going to bother with setting the alarm." He dropped his briefcase and fell on top of his bed, closing his eyes... Drifting off to sleep.

---

"Mr. Edgeworth! You shall perish under the sheath of my spear's blade!"

"No! The Steel Samurai isn't like this! You are an impostor!" Miles couldn't believe his idol, the Steel Samurai could even be this menacing. There was no way this guy was the Steel Samurai, "The Steel Samurai has honor, and he most certainly doesn't threaten good citizens with his blade!"

"Really, now?" The (most definitely impostor) Steel Samurai twirled his spear, looking more menacing than before, "Feel the wrath of my spear!" He was ready to stab Miles.

"NOOOOOO!"

---

"MR. EDGEWORTH! ARE YOU OKAY, SIR?!" A familiar voice woke Miles up from the middle of his nightmare, "You were screaming, sir!" It was Detective Gumshoe, looking worried.

"I - I'm fine. The Steel Samurai is honorable!" Miles was still slurring from exhaustion and lack of sleep, "Ugh. Anyways, Detective Gumshoe, how did you get inside my house and why are you here to begin with?"

"Mr. Edgeworth, you do realize you missed the entire trial?"

"What?!" Impossible. He couldn't. He only slept for a few hours, "What do you mean?!"

"Mr. Edgeworth, you've slept for about 24 hours... Actually, more than that." Miles did what?! "Yeah. The trial couldn't go on because you weren't there."

"This..." Miles was sincerely embarrassed. How could he sleep through an entire day? And how is he going to explain to the judge that he did something so juvenile as to oversleeping an entire day? "Ugh. Detective Gumshoe."

"Yes sir?"

"When I return tomorrow, you better tell the judge I had a cold. If you so much as mention that I overslept, I will ask to have your salary cut so low, you'd be too poor to live under a cardboard box."

"Y - yes, Mr. Edgeworth."

"Good." Miles was still tired, "Now, I'm going back to bed. You need to leave."

"Yes, sir."

Miles fluffed his pillow before laying his head on it, closing his eyes, "I have a score to settle with the Steel Samurai impostor."

Chapter Text

Fill Six - Pardon me as I burst into flames

Humor; Phoenix, Judge & Miles

Phoenix could feel the worry and fear rush inside of his body as His Honor was well ready to give the guilty verdict, “I can’t believe showing my lawyer’s badge doesn’t count as evidence!”

His Honor’s gavel was ready. Ready to pronounce his decision. Phoenix dreaded that he might have to kiss his ass goodbye. He should remember to show the right evidence next time. The stress and fear began to well up in him.

“I find the defendant g-”

A sudden burst of flames erupted from Phoenix’s body, startling the entire courtroom and the judge - cutting him mid-sentence. It didn’t take long before Phoenix turned into a pile of ashes.

“What... What just -”

“Sorry, Your Honor, that was my bad.” Out of the large pile of ashes was Phoenix, unscathed, free from any burns. He nonchalantly stood up and patted off the debris of ashes, “I still object to the verdict, though.”

“Mr. Wright...” The judge was speechless, but calm, “Try not to burst into flames. The janitor will be angry.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“But I’ll take back all the penalties. I think you deserve a restart.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.”

Across the other side, the prosecutor, Miles Edgeworth is dumbfounded, speechless, and taken aback, wondering whether he should be surprised that the judge took all penalties back or that Phoenix Wright just fucking bursts into flames then came back out of the ashes and everyone else is unaffected by it.

“I can’t.”

Chapter Text

Fill Seven - Surrounded by Technologically inept Neanderthals

Humor; Athena, Apollo & Phoenix

Athena couldn't believe that Widget could malfunction like this. I mean, Widget was working perfectly fine until just a second ago when it started spewing sparks, shocking her right in her chest.

But here it was, in her hand... Dead... Without it on, her neckline felt naked. And to see her precious gadget down with no bubbly expression on its now, black screen is nothing short of heart-wrenching.

Now the poor thing is kaput and she has no idea whether Widget is permanently broken or not. She begged it was the latter.

Falling on her knees, she began to cry, "Widget, no!" Athena shook her fists at the sky, cursing at god, "Damn you! Damn you all!" It's no use; the thing will never work any more. She was ready to prepare a grave for her poor, broken Widget, "Good-night, sweet prince; And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest." Athena kissed it, before sobbing even more.

Meanwhile, Phoenix and Apollo were staring at the lamenting girl, nonchalantly eating cereal, completely oblivious about what the eighteen year old was crying about.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Widget is broken... And I can't fix it..."

The older lawyers shrugged in unison, "Okay."

Athena just scowled at their apathy, wishing she could strangle the both of them. They are such heartless jerks, "I'm surrounded by technologically inept Neanderthals."

Chapter Text

Fill Eight - Keeping Up With the Kristoph

Humor; Kristoph

Kristoph Gavin is not the kind of person who has... Let's just say... "Humane" interests. If you met him (and learned how much of a monster he is), you would agree that he isn't the nicest guy in the world and more or likely finds solace in torturing things.

Yet he still does have his not-as-savage interests under that cold, manipulative heart (or hollow thing that looks like a heart) of his. If there are any things in this world he loves, they are reality TV shows; it's his ultimate guilty pleasure.

Every night, he would tune in to the Real Housewives of "insert city / state / county here", Toddlers and Tiaras, Sister Wives, etc. In his hands would be a big bowl of popcorn, chocolate, and a glass of chardonnay, "God, if only that bitch, Tamara, would learn that Janissa is the queen of the runway! Ugh!" Note: The narrator does not know what show Kristoph is watching, because Kristoph also watches very obscure reality shows that came as a bonus with his cable bundle.

Luckily for him, the prison was kind enough to provide him with a TV and full access to the newest episodes of his favorite reality show, Real Housewives, "Oh my gosh, she didn't!" He gasped. Note: The narrator has no idea what prompted him to say OMG.

Well, all Kristoph knows is that as long as he gets his fill of Vicki, Los Angeles can burn down for all he cares.

Chapter Text

Fill Nine - Crybaby

Humor; Miles & Gumshoe

Miles Edgeworth was crying in pain, curling into a ball, holding his foot, rolling on the floor, "Oh god the pain! It hurts!"

"Mr. Edgeworth... Are you okay!?" Gumshoe was rather worried, "You seem to be in a lot of pain! What happened?!"

Miles continued to cry, rocking back and forth, sobbing like a little toddler. Apparently, he stubbed his foot on a thumb tack a minute ago, "It's nothing for you to worry about!" He started to hiccup; snot dripped from his nose.

"Mr. Edgeworth, would you like a hankie?" Gumshoe pulled out a small hankerchief, handing it to the weeping prosecutor. (For once, him being the oblivious ditz is a good thing, because he's actually taking this seriously.)

"I don't - I - I don't need your pity!" Miles swatted Gumshoe's hand away from him, "I can handle this on my own!"

Poor thing. Gumshoe sighed, "Okay, I get it. You're a big boy, Mr. Edgeworth. You can handle it." Maybe Gumshoe actually knew how silly this was and decided to poke fun at Miles.

The prosecutor didn't stop crying. In fact, he actually started sucking his thumb, his body was shaking, and he was hiccuping between each sentence, "I... *hic* I *hic* I want my mommy..."

---

The next day, Miles was pacing back and forth, feeling very embarrassed by his childish reaction to stubbing his toe, "No one can ever know about this -"

"Hey, Mr. Edgeworth!" Oh no it's Gumshoe. He's a witness to Miles' crybaby moment, "You feeling any better?"

"Detective Dick Gumshoe, if you ever tell anyone about what happened yesterday, you will regret it!" Miles scowled at the detective, "What happened yesterday never happened, okay?!"

"O - Okay, sir. You can count on me!" Gumshoe scratched the back of his neck, "I promise I won't tell anyone about you stubbing your toe and crying like a baby." He chuckled.

'...Just take him for his word.' The prosecutor crossed his arms, 'I hope no one else saw that. If so, I'm in big trouble.' Indeed, Miles. Indeed...

Chapter Text

Fill Ten - Those "Horns"

Humor; Apollo & Phoenix

Apollo and his fellow kindergarten classmates were out in a petting zoo for a field trip, "Okay class, remember - wash your hands after you pet them." Said the teacher, making sure all the kids don't contract some barnyard disease.

The kids dispersed, running around. A lot of them were playing with the cute Pygmy goats and the larger barnyard goats. Apollo, on the other hand, was really interested in the cute calf behind a white fence, "Hey there, buddy..." He was reaching at it, petting it.

"Moo."

The next thing Apollo knew, the cute little calf walked up to him and licked his head. He freaked out and fell on the muddy ground. Despite being covered in mud, Apollo was too caught up with how he just got his hair licked by a baby cow, "My hair!" He ran to the nearest mirror he could find to check the damage, "My hair is..."

He stopped. The calf managed to lick his hair to where the rest of it was slicked back, but two "horns" were left to hang, "This is so cool!" Surprisingly, he actually found this new hairstyle interesting. So interesting that he's worn his hair like that.

---

"Let me get this straight. Your hairstyle is the result from a literal cowlick?" Phoenix was skeptical, "When you were in kindergarten, you went to a petting zoo; a calf licked your head; and gave you your hairstyle?"

"Yup." Apollo grinned, "Gotta hand it to the little calf..." He stroked his two "horns", "It did a great job. He he."

"... Okay, whatever you say." The boss only shrugged, "I mean, mine happened when I saw a Nat Geo special on porcupines, but whatever..."

Chapter Text

Fill Eleven - Context is Key

Humor, Very Mild Romance; Phoenix, Miles, Apollo, Athena, Gumshoe, Maya & Klavier


One - Phoenix & Miles

"Dammit, Wright, if you get on my nerves one more time, I will pound your ass!"
"... What?! You're gonna what?!"
"Wait! Wait! That's not what I meant! You just heard that out of context!"
"Yeah... Right... I've heard enough rumors, Edgeworth..."

Two - Phoenix & Gumshoe

"You have no idea what Mr. Edgeworth does to me when I mess up, pal. One time, I forgot something for him and he beat my ass raw."
"... What you just said right now just burned an image in mind that I can never get out."

Three - Apollo & Klavier

"Herr Forehead, I assure you, I can rock so hard, I can make your bed rock."
"... I - I don't even have an answer for that..."

Four - Apollo & Athena

"Okay, I may have Chords of Steel, but they can't handle everything that gets shoved down my throat."
"Ohoho... Apollo, whatever do you mean by that?"
"Athena, please get your mind out of the gutter."

Five - Phoenix & Gumshoe

"They don't call me Dick Gumshoe for nothing, pal!"
"... I don't... I can't... (I can never unsee that mental image...)"

Six - Miles & Gumshoe

"Detective Gumshoe, next time, please do what I ask you to do properly."
"Yes, Mr. Edgeworth! I promise I will satisfy you!"
"..."

Seven - Apollo & Klavier

"You know what? Screw you, suck my dick!"
"Herr Forehead, is that an invitation?"

Eight - Athena & Apollo

"Listen, Athena, I can't get my keys; I'm currently busy carrying stuff."
"Need help, Apollo?"
"Yes. Just get your hands down my pants and get my keys."
"... *chuckle* Oh my... Hee hee..."
"N - No! I meant my pocket! My pocket! Freudian slip! I swear to god it was a Freudian slip!"
"If you say so..."

Nine - Phoenix, Maya & Miles

"Hey, Maya, want my weenie?"
"Ohoho, Nick, I'd like your weenie any day."
"Here, have it then."
"Don't mind if I do."
"Wright, what the hell are you doing?"
"... Edgeworth... I -"
"I'd like your weenie, too."
"Geesh. Fine..."
"Thank you. And by the way... Gotta hand it to you, Wright. This is a pretty fun backyard barbecue."

Ten - Athena, Apollo & Phoenix

"Put your hand there, Athena - oh that's good..."
"Yeah, this... Oh yeah. This position is so much better."
"You're not as heavy as I thought you were."
"And I never thought you could last this long under me, Apollo."
"Hey, I'm not that weak."
"If you two are finished with the sexy talk, it's right hand, red. And putting your hand on Apollo doesn't count, Athena."
"Sorry, Mr. Wright. He was wearing red, so..."
"As for you, Apollo, if I call yellow, putting your hand on Athena doesn't count either."
"Sorry..."

Chapter Text

Fill Twelve - Sculpt It!

Humor; Klavier, Robin & Miles

"WHOOOOOAAAAHH!!!" A loud roar came from the other end of the hallway, "THAT KIND OF MUSIC MAKES ME WANNA SCULPT!!" Ah, it's Robin. She's currently hard at work sculpting some sort of bust of... Klavier? "YEAH! YES! THIS IS AWESOME!"

"That's good, Fräulein. I'm glad my music is giving you some inspiration. And you did a great job on my hair, ja?" Klavier was strumming his guitar, "Very impressive."

"YEAH!" Robin was practically yelling and shouting in joy, "THIS IS GONNA BE MY BEST WORK, YO!"

"Indeed." Klavier continued to play his guitar, enjoying his own tunes and the fact he and his new best friend have become the dynamic artistic prosecuting duo, "Be careful with the smile, okay?"

"YEAH!"

It was nice that the two became great friends, but for the other prosecutors, this definitely turned up the volume around the prosecutor offices. And not everyone was quite... Happy about this new friendship.

"My ears are starting to bleed." A certain Chief Prosecutor, Miles Edgeworth, was trying to block the sounds out with both of his hands. But alas, Robin is the prosecutor equivalent of Apollo's Chords of Steel... And Klavier is just adding fuel to the extremely loud fire.

"WHOOOOOAAAAHH!! YEEEEEEAAAAHHH!"

"Good job, Fräulein!"

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAHHH!!!"

"My ears..." This new duo certainly will take a toll on Miles' hearing, "I think I should pre-order a hearing aid at this point..."

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAHHH!"

"Or an entire pack of them."

Chapter Text

Fill Thirteen - Coffee Beans

Humor; Godot & Miles

Miles Edgeworth simply stared wide-eyed at the scene. Godot was half naked, making out with bags of dark roast coffee beans; he was also frolicking and swimming in the courtroom filled up to eye level with a sea of coffee beans...

And yes, Godot was literally swimming in coffee beans. FUCKING SWIMMING IN COFFEE BEANS.

"...... I'm just... gonna go now..." Wise decision, Miles. Wise decision indeed.

Chapter Text

Fill Fourteen - Mild Pandemonium

Humor; Miles & Judge

It was a very odd kind of uproar going on in the courtroom. Everyone was very sophisticated, medium volume and modest about their outrage over the current situation of how obviously guilty the defendant is.

"Good heavens! This defense attorney has no idea how incriminating the evidence is!"
"I say, mother, 'tis quite the uproar. What shall His Honor say of this?"

"Order! Order in the court! This modest squabble must cease." Wow, even the Judge was being level headed.

"This is an outrage! His Honor should already determine the verdict."
"Indeed, my son. Let me wave my handkerchief slowly at the defense attorney. Shame on him!" The man did as he says, "Pitiful lawyer!"

"What the hell is going on here?" Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth was quite shaken by this oddly well conducted and mannered uproar. Normally, he's used to seeing more vim and vigor, but... Guess not.

Perhaps you may call the courtroom in a current state of mild pandemonium?

Chapter Text

Fill Fifteen - I Must Be Crazy

Drama; Phoenix, Judge & "Miles"

Phoenix got out of bed. It seemed like any other Tuesday morning. Yet he couldn't help but feel as if something was... Different. He shrugged it off, "It's probably deja vu."

After getting dressed and ready for today's trial, he arrived at the courthouse. Yet that same feeling of an odd premonition of sorts returned. Once again, he shook it off as a simple feeling of deja vu. However, the instant he stepped inside, he noticed that there was an ominous atmosphere too difficult to ignore; it was as if something was missing, 'No, Phoenix. Just ignore it. You're seeing things.'

The courtroom was packed and loud. Courtroom onlookers whispered among themselves in anticipation. Phoenix was behind the defense's desk, as usual, 'Edgeworth's the prosecutor... Where is he?' He wondered to himself.

But instead of Miles Edgeworth stepping behind the prosecution's desk, it was Winston Payne. This was completely confusing, and Phoenix had to ask the Judge what was going on and how come Miles wasn't there, "Your Honor, where's Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth?"

The Judge was taken aback, "Mr. Wright, I have no idea who this Miles Edgeworth is."

No way... This must be a joke, "Your Honor, nice try. But be serious, please. Where's Prosecutor Edgeworth?"

"... Mr. Wright, are you feeling okay?"

"... Yeah. Why'd you ask?"

"Well, I hope your brain is working right, because this Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth does not exist."

"..." He must be joking. This is downright crazy. His Honor has seen Miles in the flesh and Phoenix knew Miles for years. He does exist. So why was the Judge lying? "... No way. Your Honor, he does exist -"

"Mr. Wright, if you keep bringing up your imaginary friends, I think it would be best for you to go home." ... What? "This Miles Edgeworth is probably a character in your dream or something."

"... He..." Phoenix was stunned. There was no way this could happen. He must be dreaming. But when he pinched himself, he didn't wake up in his bed; he was still in the courtroom. Now he feared that he might be going crazy. Maybe he should ask other people? 'He... He does exist. So why -'

"Order in the court!" Phoenix had no time to think. The trial had already begun, "Court is in session. All rise." ... Maybe it's best if he just brushed this off and pretend that this is just a bad day.

'No time to question anything. I'll just get through this trial and then worry about this weird thing later on.' He could only wonder why the Judge was pulling his leg and pretend that Miles didn't exist...

But he didn't really need to. Because in reality...

Miles Edgeworth was, is, and has been just a figment of Phoenix Wright's imagination...

Chapter Text

Fill Sixteen - Lemons would never taste the same

Humor; Diego, Mia & Grossberg

The thought of Marvin Grossberg being a man of wild, rampant sex simply sickened Mia and Diego. To think this man - a man who does not understand that nobody wants to know about his hemorrhoids - has had countless nights of orgies so salacious it would put James Bond to shame and then some.

"You kids don't understand how much punani I get when I was your age!" The walking balloon man chuckled in jolly... Almost patronizing superiority, "I was going through girl after girl after boy after girl-"

"Wait, hold up..." Diego was taken aback, "Did you say boy?"

"Yeah." Grossberg was not shy about his sexual prowess, "Even the boys bend over for me, Armando. No one was safe from Jerry!"

"Jerry?" Mia was confused, "Who the hell is Jerry?"

"My penis, of course." Like that, Mia and Diego could taste last night's Chinese take-out in their mouths, feeling right and ready to vomit. Grossberg was unaffected - he simply laughed at their obvious disgust, "Wa ha ha ha! I'll tell you, Jerry went up so many holes, Louis Sachar would cry!"

"Oh god, I'm gonna be sick..."

"Hold on, Kitten. Don't do it..."

"Ugh..."

"Hohohoho." The moustached man could only chuckle, "Maybe my sexual prowess is the reason why I'm having hemorrhoids at this age?"

"..." And like that, Mia and Diego ran to the nearest restroom, wallowing in their misery and questioning their choice in career.

Chapter Text

Fill Seventeen - Bros of a Feather

Friendship; Simon & Taka

For some reason, Simon's precious avian ally, Taka, always seemed to be there for him. He was such an obedient and reliable bird, the prosecutor started to see him as his own brother. Hell, having a brother at all is a breath of fresh air if you consider who his older sister is... (No offense to Aura.)

Oh well. It's just nice to have his hawk around for company, "Thanks for being around, Taka." Simon chuckled. He noticed that the bird seemed to understand what he said, as Taka nodded - probably trying to say you're welcome in his own way... Yeah. Sometimes his avian ally's company was all that he needed to find solace on his own...

Guess you can call the two a "bros of a feather"?

Pun most definitely intended.

Chapter Text

Fill Eighteen - Names Are Meaningful

Humor; Klavier & Apollo

"Uh, Prosecutor Gavin..." Apollo scratched his head, "You know, I've always found your first name kind of... Weird..."

This remark did not amuse Klavier, "Herr Forehead, there is nothing wrong about my name." He scowled at the defense attorney, "There are people named after weird things." The rock star prosecutor snapped his finger, "And Klavier means 'Piano'. A piano is a beautiful instrument -"

"Were you conceived on a piano?"

"What? Nein, Herr Forehead. That would be silly!" Klavier was even less amused, "And if that's what you're going off of, then maybe you were conceived with NASA or the Apollo space program in mind?" His tone of voice got even more vehement, "Or were you conceived in the National Air and Space Museum in the Apollo program exhibition?"

Apollo's eyes bulged in surprise, "Wait, how did you know?"

"..." Klavier was silent, mouthing the words really? before shaking his head, "Look, Herr Forehead, I'm just saying that there is nothing wrong with my name. It is actually a very beautiful name!" His defensive anger was still present, "Besides, what's so wrong with having a unique name?"

"... You were soooo conceived on a piano -"

"Shut up, Herr Forehead."

Chapter Text

Fill Nineteen - Free Insults

Humor; Ensemble

One

"No paper clips, Wright, those are for troglodytes and defense attorneys."
"Edgeworth, I've had enough with the bombastic prosecutor-superiority shit. So here's my retort: No cravats, those are for inbred Habsburgs and pretentious prosecutors."
"... Damn you."
"Up yours, too, Miley Edgecyrus. Go ride your wrecking ball."
"... Fuck you, Wright."
"Your bum is the greatest thing about you; so that in the beastliest sense, you are Pompey the Great."
"NGHOOOOOOOOOOHHH!!!"

Two

"No paper clips, Herr Forehead, those are for troglodytes and defense attorneys."
"Do you even know what 'troglodyte' means?"
"Ja."
"Well, then, Herr Fancy, allow me to spit at you - No guitars, those are for starving, unsuccessful musicians and garage band neophytes."
"... What?"
"I thought so."

Three

"No paper clips, Trite, those are for troglodytes and defense attorneys."
"Says the ex-defense attorney..."
"... Fuck you."

Epilog

"No paper clips, Athena, those are for troglodytes and defense attorneys."
"..." Athena pulls out a megaphone and aims it at Simon, "Ahem..." She coughs, clearing her throat and taking a deep breath before she says her thoughts loud and clear, "I don't give a fuck."
"... That's not a very good comeback -"
"I don't give a fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck"
"... Seriously -"
"I. Don't. Give. A. Fuck."
"Athe -"
"I give no two fuuuuucks."
"... Okay, you win. Just stop -"
"I stopped giving a fuck a long time ago."
"... I... I can't even -"
"And I can't even give a fuck."
"..." Ah, to hell with it. Arguing with Athena was useless...
---
And for the rest of the night, in Simon's dreams, he could hear nothing but the sound of Athena's voice saying, "I don't give a fuck."

Chapter Text

Fill Twenty - Apollocalypto

Humor; Ensemble


Apollocalypto


On that dreaded May, it rained men. But not just any kind of man; it rained Apollo Justices. The sky was red, the mountains had two hair horn thingies, and for some reason, the population of Klavier Gavins rose in light of this Apollocalypse. No one could escape the sounds of Chords of Steel. No one. Nobody. Apollo Justice is everywhere.


Apollocalypto

Coming Soon to Theaters near you this Summer


Apollocalypto 2


In a post Apollocalyptic world, there is no law.

"There is no law!"
"I know, you fop. I know."

There is only one man who rules the world...

"He rules the world!"
"I get it you glittery fop. No need to repeat it."

And because of him... The world is cold... The man who froze the world... Who sent the world into the a new, red-colored lawless age... No one can escape him... Or his hair horn things...

"We can't escape him!"
"I know! You glittery fop! Shut up!"

From the director of Kill Bill, Quentin Tarantino, comes the sequel to the Award Winning Apollocalypto

Starring, John Travolta as Apollo Justice.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go home. Because I'm Apollo Justice, and I'm fine. HA!"

Uma Thurman as Ema Skye.
"Fuck you, you glittery fop."

Christoph Waltz as Klavier Gavin.
"Ja, Herr Forehead is gonna kill us all..."

Nicolas Cage as Phoenix Wright.
"I object to that, Your Honor! And the bees! NOT THE BEES! OH GOD NOT THE BEES!"

And Samuel L. Jackson as Miles Edgeworth.
"ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! I HAVE HAD IT WITH THESE MOTHERFUCKING QUAKES ON THIS MOTHERFUCKING PLACE!"


Apollocalypto 2: Inglorious Lawyers Unchained

Coming to Theaters this Fall

Chapter Text

Fill Twenty-One - Blend that butter with my coffee

Humor; Godot, Phoenix, Maya & An abused blender

"Yeah, you like that, Kitten? You like that don't you?"
"Please, Godot, please don't put more butter in me!"
"Oh I will, Kitten. I'm gonna shove some butter in you whether you like it or not you blender-bitch!"
"No! Oh, please!"
"Yeah, yeah, you like that, don't you?"
"Oh god, butter in coffee, that's disgusting."
"I will make you like it! I WILL MAKE YOU FUCKING LIKE IT! AND I WILL DRINK IT!"
"Noooo!"

"Prosecutor's been talking to himself lately... And that blender. And I think he's giving that blender a voice or something."
"Eww, god, Nick, is he putting butter in his coffee?"
"I don't know, but if he is, that's just nasty."

"I WILL MAKE YOU BLEND THE BUTTER WITH MY COFFEE!"
"GODOT NO!"
"GODOT YES!"

"Should we call the mental hospital?"
"No. Let him have his fun, Maya."
"... I dunno, Nick... I'd like to file an assault report judging by what he's doing to that blender."
"Just... Leave him alone. The blender can handle itself."

*WRRRrrrrrrRRRRRrrrrrr*
"That's right, Kitten, blend that butter in my coffee you filthy blender bitch."

Chapter Text

Fill Twenty-Two - Attorneycraft

Humor; Phoenix, Maya & Miles

Phoenix stared at the computer, wearing headphones, mouse in hand, confused, wondering what he was looking at, "Maya, is that... Is that an effigy of -"

"Detective Gumshoe wearing a toga? Yes, Nick. I built it out of wool, wood, and clay."

The defense attorney shook his head, "Maya, when playing on my Minecraft server, I expect you to use the materials wisely."

"Aww, Nick, don't worry. We can get more wood." The sounds of chuckling came from the girl as she looked behind her laptop, staring at Phoenix, "And besides, not only is this an effigy to Detective Gumshoe..."

Maya, in-game, ran in front of the effigy to Dick, opening the birch wood door, "It's a house!"

"Maya, I have seen you built giant wool penises, wool breasts, and Edgeworth. Somehow, this seems more perverse than all three of them combined." Phoenix held back the urge to facepalm.

"D'aww, but Nick, it's awesome. I have our diamonds hidden in a secret dungeon in here!" She giggled, "Plus, I made sure no more Endermen or Creepers get inside Gumshoe -"

"For the love of fucking god and my fragile soul, never ever say that sentence ever again." Images of horrible, traumatizing images flashed inside Phoenix's head.

"Oh okay. But if you wanna survive the night, you should come in here with me." In-game Maya ran into the effigy, "Hurry, it's already sundown."

"Shit." As much as Nick would like to reject the offer, he did not want to get jumped by an Enderman like last time, "Fine."

And for hours, Maya and Phoenix played Minecraft. Surprisingly, the Dick Gumshoe In a Toga effigy was surprisingly, very sturdy, able to withstand a charged Creeper's explosion. The defense attorney had to admit, playing with Maya was fun. Still, he forgot something...

Miles Edgeworth is playing with them... And they both ignored him for quite a long time, "I wonder how he's doing?"

"WRIGHT, FOR FUCK'S SAKE HELP ME! I'M SURROUNDED BY CREEPERS!"

Chapter Text

Fill Twenty-Three - Dashboard

Humor; Larry

Larry sat on his bed, scrolling through his dashboard. It's been seven hours and he still has yet to reblog anything. All he did for the entire night was stalk his ex-girlfriends' Tumblr blogs, like funny posts, and look through Nick's Tumblr (which he had no idea why Nick liked kittens, anime, and fanfiction so much... And burgers. Maybe Maya got a hold of his password?)

"Seriously, there's nothing interesting going on!" Said the Butz as he ate a Samurai dog, "I've been here looking through my dashboard and nothing interesting's on here!" He sighed, "Maybe I'll go spam Edgey's ask box with anonymous messages again?" Larry chuckled, "Yeah,maybe I'll tell the security lady about Edgey's Tumblr. Pfft."

And for the rest of the night, he stayed up, trolling the living hell out of Miles' ask box.

Chapter Text

Fill Twenty-Four - Krunkworth

Humor; Miles & Klavier

The party in the Prosecutors' Office Building was boring, quiet, and uneventful. Miles Edgeworth looked at the analog clock on the lobby wall, "It's been only an hour?!" He groaned, sighing. The "party" was nothing more than a glamorized meet and greet. A boring one.

Without his knowing, Klavier Gavin popped up from behind, holding wine, "Herr Edgeworth! You seem bored."

"Yeah." Miles rolled his eyes, "I need a drink. Can I have some of that?"

"Oh, this? Sure." Klavier shrugged before pouring a glass of wine for the other prosecutor, "Here you go."

"Thank you." Miles took a light sip of wine. However, he stopped by the fourth sip. For some reason, he immediately started to feel woozy. His vision blurred and he had problems balancing, "Oh... Wait... I forgot I'm a lightweight..." Miles began to chuckle, worrying the younger prosecutor.

"Ja, you feeling okay?" Klavier patted Miles on the back, "You seem... Off..."

"Y... Yeah..." Miles hiccups before burping, "Tell me... What's in this? You put it in my drink?"

"... Liquid courage."

"Ooh... Liquid... Is it just me or... I just..." Slowly, the whole room started to spin, and Miles noticed that there was a pole installed in the lobby, "I wanna..."

"Herr Edgeworth, are you pointing at the pole?"

"I... I don't know..." Miles shrugged, drunk as hell, "But I wanna work it." He took his drink, shoving it at Klavier before running, stumbling to the pole. The whole ensemble of prosecutors in the lobby turned to look in curiosity.

Suddenly, Miles took off his overcoat, casting it aside as he grabbed the pole. And like some professional, he nonchalantly climbed up the pole and did a rather amazing pole trick, spinning around, holding the pole with one hand while walking on air, "Pour it... Up!" Who knew Miles had it in him?

"... I guess that worked." Said Klavier, chuckling at the pole dancing prosecutor. He noticed that other prosecutors were huddling around the pole, throwing cash at Miles, who by now stripped off his waistcoat and shoes. And for reasons unknown, he was wearing magenta stripper heels.

The room turned dark, caliginous, random smoke machines came out of nowhere, and Closer by Nine Inch Nails is being played.

"Liquid courage!" Miles was doing ridiculous pole tricks, stripping off more clothes, pulling off some sexy stripper moves.

Klavier shook his head and pulled out a small post it note. Taking out a pen, he checked the box next to Get Herr Edgeworth drunk and make him work the pole, "I guess this roofies stuff does wonders."

Chapter Text

Fill Twenty-Five - Alas, Poor Nick

Humor; Phoenix & Maya

It was late at night, and Phoenix and Maya are searching for some evidence. For a good while now, the duo have been scanning the area high and low for any possible things of interest. Just as they were about to give up, Maya picked up a small skull-shaped object off of the ground, holding it slightly away from her as she says, "Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Nick, a fellow of infinitejest, of most excellent fancy."

Phoenix, to his bewilderment, was absolutely surprised that Maya could quote Hamlet like that, much less, almost word for word, "You read Shakespeare? I never knew that?"

"But of course, Nick. I went to high school!" Maya then began waving her hand around as she began reciting more quote from Shakespeare, "My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep. The more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite."

For some unknown reason, she started spinning around, quoting Hamlet, "To be, or not to be, that is the question. Whether 'tis Nobler in the mind to suffer the Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune, Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles, And by opposing, end them?"

"Maya, do you have any idea what Hamlet was even talking about in his soliloquy?"

"Yeah. Angsty emo Hamlet has existential issues." The channeler continues to quote Shakespeare, "Here are more obscure quotes for you, Nick - Thine breath stinks with eating toasted cheese."

"Quoting King Henry IV? Class act." Phoenix rolled his eyes, "Fine, well here's my retort, Miss Fey. I find the ass in compound with the major part of your syllables."

"Coriolanus? Pfft, whatever." Maya crossed her arms and snapped back at Phoenix, "Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, Thou lily-liver'd boy."

"You can do better than that. However, unlike you, I had a whole class on Shakespeare." The defense attorney just shook his head at his assistant's silly comebacks, "By the way, judging by the amount of burgers you eat every day, thou art as fat as butter."

"... I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death."

Chapter Text

Fill Twenty-six - P. R. O. S. T. I. T. U. T. O. R.

Humor; Miles & Dick Gumshoe

Eleven year old Miles gulped nervously. His knees were weak. His palms are sweaty. Why is he thinking about Eminem right now? He doesn't know. However, what Miles does know is that everyone is looking at him, waiting for him to say his line.

"Miles, the word is 'prosecutor' - will you please spell it?" The lady was glaring daggers at him, "You're running out of time. Spell 'prosecutor'."

Miles had waited for his chance to go up and compete in the spelling bee, but now he's choking up, and the clock is ticking. Without another thought, he spelled it out as best as he could, "Prosecutor. P. R. O. S. T. I. T. U. T. O. R."

He thought he spelled it right, that is, until the whole auditorium erupted in a tidal wave of laughter. Mentally spelling the word, he realized that he didn't spell "prosecutor", he spelled out "prostitutor." Miles felt like he was about to cry at his mistake. Actually, he turned around and ran away, crying tears of humiliation.

The eleven year old kid ran out of the building, wishing he would never have competed in the spelling bee. And even to this day, he still regrets his decision to participate in that dreadful competition.

"That is why I hate spelling bee competitions." Says thirty-three year old Chief Prostitutor Miles Edgeworth, "It is also why I don't plan on going near a damn spelling bee competition ever again."

"But Mr. Edgeworth, sir, this is a major crime scene. We need your help, pal." Detective Dick Gumshoe sighs, scratching his head, "I know you're the Chief Prostitutor, but -"

"Detective Gumshoe, if you ever say that word again, I will cut your salary in half." Miles vehemently growled at Dick, who was cowering at the fear of losing more money. The grumpy prosecutor looked away and crossed his arms, "See? This is how bad it got to me."

"S - sorry, Mr. Edgeworth." The detective sighed once more, "Well then I guess that means you can't check out the Steel Samurai booth they set up there."

Like a radar picking up a loud signal, Miles' ears perked up at the mere mention of Steel Samurai, "They set up a booth there?"

"Yup. They're selling a bunch of Steel Samurai stuff. Action figures, figurines, smut fanfiction commissions, DVDs, and more."

"..." Okay, now that's just tempting. Miles had to contemplate on whether he should go to the Steel Samurai booth, but face his fear of spelling bees, or whether he should loaf around and not get some Steel Samurai memorabilia... Of course he will go, "Alright. I'm going..."

"Good." Dick beamed a bright smile, "Maybe you can learn how to spell 'prosecutor' when you're there!"

"Get out of my office."

Chapter Text

Fill Twenty-seven - Mysterious Odor

Humor; The Judge, Phoenix, Miles & Klavier

"I brought you all here today to discuss a certain issue." His Honor sat on his chair with a face of wrath and a glare sharp enough to slice metal aimed right at the three attorneys, "It has come to my attention that my gavel started to reek of... Hmmm."

"Reek of what?" Phoenix folded his arms, absolutely confused about the situation and what the judge's gavel smells like, "What happened to your gavel?"

"See, I'm a hard working judge. You all need to realize that you shouldn't do this kinds of things. It's lewd and disgusting." His Honor grimaced, "Gavels aren't made for those kinds of activities."

"Ja, can you please cut to the chase?" Klavier frowned out of impatience, "I have somewhere to go."

"Your Honor, just please tell us the problem." Miles buried his face in the palm of his hand. Not willing to tolerate any more hesitation, "Just please tell us so we don't have to stay here for -"

"Did any of you use my gavel as a dildo and stuck it up your asshole? Because that's what it smells like."

The courtroom fell silent. A minute passed before Phoenix, Klavier, and Miles unanimously facepalm and sigh in anger, "Goddammit."

The defense attorney was just about ready to throw a fit of rage. This was the third time this week he and the two prosecutors got called down as suspects of "crimes" they didn't commit, "Why do we always get blamed for Godot's shit?"

Chapter Text

Fill Twenty-eight - Crime Against Fashion

Humor; Grossberg

Grossberg looks at the mirror with a wide, happy. He initially thought the gold, lavish jewelry he "inherited" from Redd White would look terrible on him, but his reflection says otherwise. He felt a hemmorhoid pop in his happiness at how marvelous he looks, "OWW!"

Oh well, sometimes beauty is pain, "I can't wait to show this off! I look great in this 'bling bling' or whatever the kids call it." He shrugs as he walks outside of his law firm, waving at people, strutting his "swagger", thinking how good he looks in his "chainz" and rings.

However, once he reached the end of the block, an unknown person tackles him, pinning him down on the sidewalk, "Don't move!" Grossberg, utterly confused and shocked, felt the same man handcuff him, "Marvin Grossberg, you are under arrest."

"Wh - what's going on?!" He had no idea what was going on and why he was getting arrested on the spot. As he looked at who arrested him, he realized that it was a cop dressed in a pink uniform...

"Why am I getting arrested by the fashion police?"

Chapter Text

Fill Twenty-nine - Phoenix Needs Rogaine

Humor; Phoenix

Everyone has their own secrets. Sometimes they're serious. Others are just straight up embarrassing. For Phoenix, his secret is the latter one. Because underneath that spiky, slicked back hair is the symbol of his age - a big ol' bald spot.

For years, not a single person, other than himself, knew about his shameful cranial helipad. However, that completely changed. In the middle of a witness testimony, an unexpected gust of wind managed to flip Phoenix's hair. Lo and behold, his secret is exposed. Athena, Apollo, and Simon - actually, the entire courtroom is left in complete silence at the enlightenment of the defense attorney's appalling bald spot.

For Phoenix, he swears that a part of his dignity just crumbled amid the quiet court. Eyes stare at his shameful loss of hair as he tries his best to hold back the tears. To think that even a copious amount of hair gel is no match for a meager zephyr... It's soul crushing.

So, on that day forward, Phoenix Wright's secret male pattern baldness is no longer unknown. And from that day forward, Winston Payne finally has someone who can empathize with him.

Fin

Chapter Text

Fill Thirty - A Carrot by Proxy

Humor; Miles & Wendy

Miles was right and ready to run away the instant his eyes fixated on Wendy wearing a carrot onesie pajama. The old lady had a sparkling look in her stare that was aimed dead center on the prosecutor; she shuffled closer and closer to him until she was a foot too near to him, "Edgey-poo, look what I'm wearing for you!"

"I... I know..." Of course he's looking at that one-piece pajama of doom. His eyes had betrayed him and won't stop gawking at it, "W - why are you wearing that, anyway?"

"Oh, Edgey-poo, I know your tastes. I had a feeling that you'd like me if I wore this, because I know you have a thing for carrots."

"WHAT?!" How did she know? How could she? That information wasn't disclosed to the public at all! However... As much as he hates the old woman, that carrot onesie made him feel confused. I mean, he's really attracted to carrots, but definitely not Wendy - wait, why the hell was he even thinking of her in an attractive light?! "I DO NOT!"

"Don't lie, Edgey-poo!" Wendy stomped her foot in anger, prior to immediately leaping at the prosecutor, "I DID THIS JUST FOR YOU! NOW LOVE ME!"

"NGHOOOOOOOOOH!!!!"

Chapter Text

Fill Thirty-one - Baby Carrots

Implied Humor, Romance (kinda); Miles & Carrot

After waiting for 5 hours, the grocery associate finally taps Miles on his shoulder with a smile on her face, "Sir, it's waiting for you... I mean, they are waiting for you."

She ushers him to the vegetable and produce aisle before pointing at a blushing carrot, fresh out of childbirth, "Congratulations, Mr. Edgeworth. You're a father of ten beautiful baby carrots."

"Thank you!" Miles immediately stares in awe at his ten half human half carrot offspring, all asleep and in a basket. They all have their mother's carrot shape, but they inherited Miles' human arms, dark gray hair, his haircut, and they even came with a cravat, "... They're beautiful."

He turns to the mother of his children, kissing it on its green stalks, whispering "I love you" and "I'm so happy" underneath his breath. As expected, Carrot blushes in happiness, elated that it gave birth to the children of such an amazing man.

The grocery's customers and workers stand in awe as Miles cries tears of joy. Finally, he truly has a family to call his own.

Chapter Text

Fill Thirty-two - The Bum Clothes Have Got to Go

Humor; Phoenix, Miles, Maya & Dick

A part of Phoenix's soul felt like it had been set on fire as he watches Miles, Maya, and Dick cast his clothes into the flames. From where he stands, it looks like the trio are conducting some sort of perverse ritual, wherein his gray hoodie, slippers, and black sweatpants are sacrificed to the fashion police deity, "Why would you guys do this?! I bought those clothes with my own goddamn money!"

"Wright, this is for your own good." Says Miles, looking back at the defense attorney with a stern glare.

See, a few days ago, he finally reclaimed his badge after a seven year "hiatus." Overall, it was quite the celebration for the most part. However, with the reacquisition of his badge, it meant that it was time for him to molt his homeless chic shell and complete his metamorphosis into a true, renowned defense attorney...

Or in simple terms, his bum clothes have got to go - in this case, completely destroyed. Nevertheless, Phoenix has absolutely no idea why it was necessary for the three to go so far as to burn them, "You know there are other ways you could've handled this."

"Trust us, Nick. Those rags don't look the least bit professional for a lawyer." Maya crosses her arms, still gazing at the flames, "You don't need them anyway."

"She's right, pal. You need to be professional, and burning your messy clothes is the best option." Dick sighs, not making any eye contact with the distressed attorney, "Just be happy you get to keep your hat, pal -"

"It doesn't make me feel any better, dammit!" A single teardrop forms in the corner of Phoenix's left eye at the sound of the flames cracking and the remaining fabric turning into a pile of ashes, "My poor clothes... My poor, poor clothes..."

He falls to his knees prior to hysterically sobbing at his loss. And to which the other three groan and roll their eyes at Phoenix's overdramatic mourning.

 

"... I bet you fifty bucks that Nick will collect the ashes and put them in an urn."

"And I bet an extra dollar that he's gonna hold a funeral for his clothes, pal."

Chapter Text

Fill Thirty-three - At Least He Still Has His Cravat

Humor; Miles, Larry & A certain old lady

Normally, skinny dipping is reserved for when someone's blood alcohol level can only be determined with a quadratic equation, or at the very least, someone lost a bet. But for Miles Edgeworth, he finds skinny dipping to be quite the liberating experience, with or without the influence of liquor; the sensation of the cold river water on his body is a thrill, specifically when no fabric is involved.

Nevertheless, the clothes have got to go back on once the nude water frolic is finished, especially if it's chilly... Which is why Miles is currently in a state of consternation when he realizes that some barbaric prankster clandestinely took his all of his garments - with the exception of his cravat - from where he left them.

"GODDAMMIT!" He curses in sheer rage, livid by the grand theft of his precious, hand-tailored clothes, and shivering in the cold night's wind. Using his cravat to bowdlerize as much of his junk as it can hide, the wrathful chief prosecutor angrily storms off to the wooden cabin. And with a childish prank like this, he knows exactly who to blame, "LARRY BUTZ, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

"GAH! Edgey!" The suspected thief covers his eyes, "What the hell is wrong with you?! Put some clothes on!"

"I would! But someone decided to steal them!" As if this situation was a court trial, Miles swiftly points his finger at the 'defendant' with a prosecuting glare, "I know it was you, DAMMIT! Only you would do such a thing!"

"WHAT?! NO!" Larry fiercely spits back with equal force, "Are you crazy?! Why the fuck would I steal your clothes?! I already have mine! And even if I wanted to steal someone's clothes, I'm not gonna steal yours! I'm not into your frilly Calvin Klein, Beethoven fashion!"

"First of all, my clothes aren't Calvin Klein - they're fucking Armani!" Note to self - Do NOT make fun of Miles' fashion sense, "As for your statement, your testimony is bullshit! I know your modus operandi when it comes to these kinds of practical jokes!" Another note to self - Miles is prone to overreacting easily, "Did you know that I can get you charged with theft?! Actually, I think I SHOULD do that right now!"

And with that, the level of confusion, fury, and awkwardness skyrockets while the two continue to argue for the rest of the night... Meanwhile, the actual perpetrator is enjoying the sweet triumph over her successful plundering of Miles' clothes. Placing them neatly on her stalker shrine dedicated to the chief prosecutor, she giggles in delight as she gingerly pats the Armani garment with glee, "Oh, Edgey-poo. One day, you'll take your clothes off just for me."

Chapter Text

Fill Thirty-four - Always Think Responsibly

Humor; Apollo

Apollo isn't sure if it was physically possible for him to do something so horrific and embarrassing. But the appalling thing inscribed on his back proved otherwise. From what he can recall (and theorize) about the events that led to this, it probably went a little something like this:

After a night of alcohol indulgence, his drunken self decided to take a visit to a local tattoo shop. His drunken self also decided it was a good idea to get a tat while he was there - but not just any ol' tattoo. Drunk Apollo decided to get a tramp stamp engraved into his lower back.

Written in a glorious, fabulous, pink color are the words, "A Dolla Makes Me Holla" with his own face gratuitously tattooed right beside it.

Obviously, he's mortified by his drunken self's stupid decision to do such a thing. However, Apollo did learn a valuable lesson that day. If you're going to get a tramp stamp, don't let the tattoo artist write it in Comic Sans.

Chapter Text

Fill Thirty-five - Some Things Are Better Left Unknown

Humor; Klavier & Ema

"F - Fraulein Detective, please give me those documents back!" Klavier frantically thrashes, trying to snatch a large envelope from Ema's hands, "Please!"

"By documents, you mean your birth certificate?" She snickers as she effortlessly dodges the glimmerous fop's jabs, "Why should I, fop? Or should I say Klavjet?"

"I told you! I am not Klavjet! My parents immediately corrected it the very next day I was born, so it doesn't count!"

"That doesn't stop me from calling you by your real name." Ema sticks her tongue out, teasing the frazzled Klavier, "It has a nice ring to it, anyway. I might even publish it -"

"FRAULEIN, PLEASE! ANYTHING BUT THAT!"

"No can do, Klavjet." The impish detective gave a hearty chortle.

And like that, a part of "Klavjet's" soul crumbles into fine dust as Ema happily rushes over to the computer to disclose the fop's true name.

"Why did my parents let Kristoph name me in the first place?"

Chapter Text

Fill Thirty-six - All Klavjet Flights are Canceled

Humor; Klavier

Klavier stares bright eyed at his new airplane. There it is in its purple glory. The Klavjet, model F-0P. She's a beauty, "This is amazing!"

He rushes to hug the pulchritudinous flying metal vehicle. Fondling its tires, patting the metal doors, and kissing its cock... pit, "Oh, you are such a beautiful airplane..."

For a fortnight, he continues to swoon over his Klavjet. Unlike his Fopcopter, this baby is new and much better, "Oh my Fraulein Klavjet, you complete me - EK!"

Wondering who might have hit him on his head, Klavier turns around. There she is, Fopcopter. Looking jealous as hell. Guess Fopcopter found out that Klavier has been cheating on it.

Klavjet sees this as a sign that it's just Klavier's booty call. Klavier doesn't love Klavjet. Klavier only loves Klavjet because it's newer, a faster mode of transportation, and not because it has feelings too.

And like a bad soap opera, Klavier gets hit by Klavjet. It smacks him upside the head with one of its wings before it turns around and flies away with Fopcopter to find a better man.

The End

Chapter Text

Fill Thirty-seven - We Ran Out of Ink

Humor; Apollo

Apollo's hands tremble in fear. Due to Mr. Wright's shenanigans, the computer got a bad virus. Now, it even managed to affect the hardware, and badly.

For about half an hour, the W.A.A. printer's been printing screenshots of pornographic images. Apollo feels a light punch to his gut each time a sheet of paper prints out. He knows that any time soon, Mr. Wright will pop out from behind the door and he needed this printing to finish quickly.

"Only ten pages left. Just ten more pages!" Looking at the screen, he was relieved to know that it will be over soon. But as if printers are sentient bastards, it immediately jams the instant he finishes his sentence, "Wait! Wait! NO NO NO NO!"

Although Apollo is no Phoenix - he still has some knowledge of technology - he isn't Athena by any means, and he has no idea how to work this out, "F - F - Fuck!"

This is not good. Not good at all. He can literally feel his soul being crushed by this machine. He can feel even more of his soul being crushed when the page it got jammed with is a woman taking it doggy style. Apollo starts punching the printer, hoping it'll print the rest of it out. However, it simply jams even more.

This is bad. Very bad. Mr. Wright's going to be here in a few minutes, and the printer's jammed. Jammed with pornographic images for that matter, "That's it. I'm dead. There's only one thing to do now..."

And for the rest of the night Apollo has to explain to Athena why he called her back to the office, and why the porn isn't his fault.

Chapter Text

Fill Thirty-eight - Just Destroy the Damn Thing Already

Humor; Ensemble

The King of Prosecutors Trophy has got to be the most painful eyesore within Miles Edgeworth's office. And that's saying quite a lot, considering his office is also decorated with vibrantly colored Steel Samurai knickknacks that could blind a motherfucker if one stares at them for too long. However, since Miles is now officially the new Chief Prosecutor, that can all change - well, the trophy can change, and this is his chance to fix that gaudy thing...

"Ergo, I brought you all here to discuss the much needed remodeling of the King of Prosecutors Trophy." Miles folds his arms, looking at the small crowd of elite prosecutors, "Now, any ideas? Anyone? Prosecutor Blackquill? Do you have one?"

"Yes." Simon nods, chewing on a hawk feather, "I agree that the trophy looks atrocious, so it's only logical to change the design to a hawk -"

"OBJECTION!" Franziska angrily slams her fist on the desk, "Foolish fool. Though, I understand that you have a foolish inclination for your bird, that doesn't mean that the trophy has to cater to your fancy." She cracks her whip, "I say it should be modeled after a whip -"

"OBJECTION!" Winston vehemently scowls, "Whips?! Are you kidding me?! Whips are a horrible model to use - EEK!!"

The balding prosecutor is silenced by Franziska's whip. Obviously, any insult to her beloved whip will result in punishment... By whipping, "Fool! Don't you dare talk about my whip like that!"

"Now, now. Can we please settle down?" Miles sighs, "We need to find a model to use that we can all agree on."

"Ja. He's right." Klavier leans back on his chair, "I mean, hawks and whips aren't appropriate for a trophy. What we need is a guitar -"

"HELL NO!"

With that, the verbal argument begins - cheap insults aplenty. Oddly enough - in spite of the ridiculously high possibility that putting these specific prosecutors in the same room together will result in bickering - Miles didn't expect that they would actually start quarreling this soon.

But you know what? In all honesty, Miles doesn't give a shit. As long as the trophy isn't the horrible atrocity that it is now, they can remodel it into a glass dildo for all he cares.

"Actually, I think a carrot would make a great trophy model."

Chapter Text

Fill Thirty-nine - Banging the Gavel in Another Way

Humor; The Judge & Miles

The high quality wood. The amazing shape. The way "she" fits in his hand. The way "she" bangs under his command. The Judge has never seen such a beautiful thing as his gavel.

For several years, His Honor used the same gavel. Mostly, the two encounter each other in less romantic scenarios, because the Judge spends most of their time together banging "her". And it's been that way for a while - that is, until recently.

It's only recently that he realized how amazing "she" is. The beauty of "her" ringing bang that can silence the courtroom - it's beyond striking. He also realized that unlike the others, his gavel capitulates to his command, and "she" will always be there for him.

Maybe His Honor was looking for love in all the wrong places? Maybe all he had to do was look at his beloved gavel? The gavel that's been there for him throughout every trial and tribulation (no pun intended)...

"And that's why I married my gavel." His Honor folds his arms, staring at Miles Edgeworth, "If you can marry a carrot, then I can marry my gavel. So don't criticize me like that."

Miles simply sighs, crossing his arms, "Who said I was criticizing anyone?"

He receives no answer from the Judge. Instead, His Honor is focused on kissing his precious gavel, licking its handle and pressing light kisses on it.

At this point, the prosecutor is sure that if he stays any longer, the Judge will be banging the gavel in another way.

Chapter Text

Fill Forty - It Never Gets Old

Fluff; Phoenix, Maya & Pearl

As childish as it sounds, Phoenix finds popping bubble wrap strangely entertaining. Usually, these kinds of interests are reserved for the younger population; however, there is some joy in playing with such things at any age.

In fact, Phoenix deliberately ordered thirty whole boxes full of bubble wrap from the local meat factory, with the sole intent of having a night of bursting them like a teenager popping their pimples. And he invited a couple of friends to join him... Well, actually, just two people.

"C'mon, Maya! This bubble wrap won't pop itself!" Phoenix giggles as he proceeds to twist a couple sheets of bubble wrap.

"I will, if you'd quit hogging them all!" Maya seems to enjoy this just as much as the immature lawyer. She swiftly nabs a sheet from his hand, "Gimme!"

"Hey!"

"Mr. Nick, can I have another one, please?" Pearl tugs on Phoenix's sleeve, "I already popped the other one."

"Sure. Why not?" He hands the girl a sheet of plastic fun.

And throughout the rest of the evening, the three enjoy bursting and popping sheet after sheet of bubble wrap, creating a symphony of pops and having a blast.

Chapter Text

Fill Forty-one - All I wanted was to break your walls

Humor; Kristoph

Kristoph carried a bucket of the carefully collected dried tears of the man he despised with a passion which he garnered throughout the years, "Damn you Phoenix Wright. You will pay..." He almost spat in vehement rage.

For nights, Kristoph molded a sculpture of himself with the lacrimal substance. Each handful he scooped out, he had rage in mind. Each handful he smashed into the masterfully created homage to himself, he cursed the damned defense attorney under his breath.

And on that last night, his sculpture was complete. Every single part of his own beautiful body had been carefully crafted synchronously in his own image...

Yet he had no intent in keeping his self homage. He walked out of his prison and was gone for a split second... Before Kristoph rode a large ball of steel, naked, wearing nothing but boots, crashing into his own statue, shattering it into a million pieces to show his own resentment in the universe...

I came in like a wrecking baaaaaaalll

Chapter Text

Fill Forty-two | Artfill One - Behold

Humor, Artfill; Miles & Dick Gumshoe

Chapter Text

Fill Forty-three | Artfill Two- I honestly tried

Humor, Artfill; Miles & Carrot

One

Two

Chapter Text

Fill Forty-four - Who Tried to Steal the Cookie From the Cookie Jar?

Humor; Simon & G♥dot

Prosecutor Simon Blackquill has faced off against serial murderers and some of the most heinous criminals in the entire country. However, he had never faced off against a foe as challenging as this one.

For seven solid hours, he fought against this beastly enemy with all the energy he could muster. He tried everything from verbal threats to physically attacking it - but, he couldn't make a single scratch on its plastic armor.

... And by "it", I mean a plastic cookie jar which he got his hand stuck in.

"You are the most formidable opponent I have ever fought, Jar-Dono. Now unhand my hand, you plastic demon." Simon vehemently growls at it, trying to shake it off, "I can't believe I'm losing a battle against a cookie jar -"

"Losing a battle against what?"

A deep, male voice catches his attention, followed by the scent of Colombian coffee and a hearty chuckle. As Simon turns his head and body to face this unknown voice, he discovers that it was a man in tattered, disheveled clothes staring at him with unusual goggles and a tin mug of coffee in his hand.

"And who might you be?"

"Oh, just some local hobo." The enigmatic derelict takes a slow sip of his caffeine goodness, prior to looking at the plastic jar, "And I believe a better question is 'Can you please help me get my hand out of this jar, because I tried stealing a cookie like a five year old?'"

He deliberately tosses his head backwards, laughing uncontrollably at Simon's misery.

Obviously, the prosecutor's reaction to the homeless bum's condescending teasing isn't a happy smile, but a look of pre-murderous intent. However, to his dismay, he has to accept the fact that he can't kill someone who just offered to help him in a time of need.

"As much as I'd like to slice your neck for that patronizing comment, I do require your assistance, Hobo-Dono."

"I don't know, kid. That plastic jar seems too tough even for a grown man like me." The homeless man giggles and takes another slow sip of coffee, "But I feel generous today, so I'll help you out."

He sets his mug aside as he grabs both sides of the plastic jar, "I mean, it's not my fault you got your hand stuck in my trap... It was supposed to be for Trite -"

"What?"

"Nothing." The hobo chuckles to himself before lightly tugging on the jar, "Now hold still, Samurai Jack, unless you want to lose a hand."

Chapter Text

Fill Forty-five - All In His Nude Glory

Humor; Miles & Larry

Miles didn't become a prosecutor for this. He didn't become the feared "Demon Prosecutor" for something this degrading.

And yet, here he is, sprawled on a lounge chair in nude humiliation - not a single piece of fabric covering the prosecutor's virility, with only a crudely made necklace to hide a bit of skin.

You might ask yourself, "Why the hell is Miles Edgeworth - THE Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth naked and posing like Kate Winslet, a la Titanic style?"

Well, obviously, someone as refined and sophisticated as Miles wouldn't do such a dehumanizing thing as nude modeling; surely, the prosecutor was simply Shanghaied into doing this.

And yes, he was, and by none other than the constant source of irritation himself, Larry Butz, who at the moment, is drawing a charcoal sketch of Miles, all while having a serious look on his face.

"Edgey, I said 'Draw me like one of your French girls'! Not 'My body is ready'!"

"Goddammit, you idiot! My arm hurts!" The prosecutor, livid in embarrassment, growls at the ditzy artist, "Seriously. Why am I even doing this?! I didn't pass the bar exam to become your model!"

"Hush! I'm drawing you! This will be my masterpiece..." A look of enthusiasm sparkles in his eyes, which makes Miles all the more nervous that Larry will eventually publish it online for the Internet to see, "Just a final touch of this, and, DONE!"

He turns his sketchbook to show Miles the portrait of his own shame. While he has to admit, it certainly is well drawn, it doesn't change the fact that the chief prosecutor's naked glory was beautifully etched into a piece of paper.

"Larry, for the love of god, please don't let anyone else see this. Especially not Wright."

"I will make no such promises, but I'll try." While Miles' eyes grow wider than a platter out of fear, Larry silently admires his recent 'masterpiece', "It's perfect, in my opinion."

A bit too perfect. It's so well detailed, it's embarrassing.

"I definitely nailed it, and it was actually surprisingly easy to do. I didn't have to use that much charcoal as I expected." Slowly, Larry points his finger at the portrait, specifically at Miles' junk, "I guess I didn't have to waste a lot of charcoal to draw this part."

And like that, Miles can literally feel his dignity crumble into several billion pieces.

Chapter Text

Fill Forty-six - A Touch of Gray

Humor; Klavier, Ema & A Certain Caffeine Addict

Impossible. This must be a dream, a nightmare. However, a pinch to his arm proved that he, indeed, isn't dreaming.

Klavier isn't sure how it could happen. Sure, his hair is naturally light blond, but there certainly is a difference between a strand of blond hair and a strand of gray hair.

Gray hair. GRAY HAIR.

How in the name of god can a young man like him - at the tender age of twenty-five - already start graying?! It's not like he's been going through a lot of stress. In fact, things have actually been going pretty well.

"So why do I have several strands of gray hair ruining my gorgeous blond locks?!" Klavier sheds a single tear, "Help me, Fraulein Detective!"

"Oh my god, you stupid glimmerous fop." Ema buries her face in the palm of her hand out of sheer irritation, "I can't believe you physically dragged me all the way to your trailer for something so mundane -"

"It's not mundane! It's an emergency!" The ex-Rockstar prosecutor nearly cries, petting his ponytail, "I asked you to help me find a reason why I have these horrible strands of gray -"

"Goddammit, fop. Just dye your hair, and -"

"I can't! What if my hair turns entirely gray?!" Once again, Klavier strokes his ponytail, "My life would be ruined!"

"Well, too bad, you glimmerous fop." Ema sneers, snidely glaring at him - not a single iota of mercy in her eyes, "It's not my problem."

"But Fraulein -"

Before Klavier could finish his sentence, the detective had already stormed out of his trailer, leaving him all alone to lament over his premature gray hair...

Meanwhile, a silver haired man stares, watching from the top of a hill, a cup of coffee in his right hand, and a chuckle coming from his mouth, feeling a bit of pride in his success.

"Looks like I actually found a good use for that bottle of Touch of Gray."

Chapter Text

Fill Forty-seven - A Touch of Grey - A short epilogue to "A Touch of Gray"

Humor; Klavier, A Certain Short Defense Attorney with hair horns, A Certain Detective Fraulein & A Certain Caffeine Addict

This is torture. Absolute torture. Klavier thinks to himself as he stares deeply into his own reflection, limpid tears cascading down his face, "My beautiful hair is ruined - my whole life is ruined!"

He weakly pets his now-entirely pallid, gray hair with a sullen frown and a sharp expression of pain in his eyes.

As for the caffeinated perpetrator who dyed the poor, "prematurely graying" prosecutor's hair, he's currently reclining back in his beach chair, laughing at Klavier's melodramatic reaction along with his accomplices. A young, male defense attorney with two "hair horns" and a female detective standing with her arms crossed.

"I have to say, you two are learning the art of Prank-Fu at an impressive rate."

"Well, we learned from the best." The defense attorney chuckles, prior to sipping a cup of coffee, "I had fun messing with him."

"Me too. The glimmerous fop needs to be picked on, once in a while."

"Agreed." All three unanimously nod as they continue to laugh at Klavier's gray-haired crisis.

Chapter Text

Fill Forty-eight - Old Bertha's Got Improvised Hydraulics

Humor; Godot & Miles

Godot wasn't sure why his new car was bouncing up and down lately. He certainly never added any hydraulics to Old Bertha because a homeless man like him couldn't simply afford any, and the only installation he added was a 1998 coffee maker crudely duct taped onto the dashboard.

His Old Bertha was built out of old Punch Buggy scraps from the junkyard and parts from Miles Edgeworth's, Dick Gumshoe's, Martin Grossberg's, Klavier Gavin's, Kristoph Gavin's, Hannah Fright's, Paul's, Winston Payne's, Manfred von Karma's, and The Phantom's cars which he managed to hijack behind their backs; and he knew his lovely Lemon biblically, considering that unlike his old shitmobiles of the past, he built Old Bertha by himself.

So why the hell is she bouncing? Godot asked himself as he drove down the street at max speed that Bertha could reach (which is an impressive 10 miles / 16.1 kilometers per hour.) Look, I know I'm not the best auto mechanic out there, but I know when there's something wrong going on with my Bertha.

He stopped the lemon at the right side of the road to check the trunk. These ungodly "hydraulics" were too much to handle. If this was a prank, then Godot would not let someone go away counter-pranked for endangering his Old Bertha.

Carefully trying not to break his shitmobile's open trunk for the thirtieth time (because he couldn't properly weld some of the parts), Godot effortlessly opened it up, checking the contents of Bertha's booty. Lo and behold, the homeless derelict was treated to the sight of the source of his car's "hydraulics."

Miles Edgeworth was tucked inside, naked and covered in carrots. Two were shoved into his ass while he was deepthroating three. Looking closer, Godot realized that Miles had carrot shaped nipple-clamps.

And when he looked even closer, he could see a muscular cravat wrapped around the chief prosecutor's stiff length.

Chapter Text

Fill Forty-nine - Another KIA

Humor & Mild Romance; Ensemble

It's a beautiful evening down at the prison, and three lovers are enjoying their night together at Kristoph Gavin's lavish cell. That is, until a storm of pies start raining on their dinner date.

"What the?!" Kristoph almost shrieks when a large blueberry pie smacks him on the face.

"Hey?! Who's throwing all these pies?!" Ini (real name Mimi) angrily scowls as the barrage of baked goods keep flying their way.

"This is infuriating!" Aristotle bangs his fist on the table, before a rhubarb pie hits him on the head.

Meanwhile, outside of the prison, a certain priestess can't help but hug her two boyfriends at their successful pie throwing, "Oh Feenie, Miles, you two are so naughty."

"Well, we have our perks." Miles grins.

Phoenix simply shrugs, "Besides, someone's going to have to show the world who the best threesome pair is. And with KIA down, we should go after AAS and JHR."

"Sounds like a plan to me." The prosecutor nods.

And with that, the three laugh as they continue running around and throwing their PIE pies at other OT3s.

Chapter Text

Fill Fifty - Starfop 69

Humor; Klavier & Ema

It's a beautiful morning. The sky is blue without a cloud in sight. However, it isn't really silent up there, as an oulandishly decorated purple colored jet zooms through the sky, breaking the sound barrier. And inside of the glimmering flying jet is an equally glimmering pilot, Klavier Gavin.

"Achtung, baby!" He bellows as he deftly pulls off a barrel roll. Just for kicks, he does another one as well.

"Do a barrel roll, you fop!" A certain Detective Ema Skye shouts clapping her hands, applauding as she watches Klavier doing impressive aerial tricks in his jet. Although she can't stand the glimmerous prosecutor as a person, she has to admit that he's pretty amazing at flying airplanes.

And after several more minutes of flight and a few more barrel rolls, Klavier eventually stops, landing his jet on the runway before stepping out and taking his helmet off to let the wind gracefully blow his hair. He takes a quick look at Ema who's currently beaming, entertained by his little show.

"So, Fräulein, you look amused." He says as he pats his beloved plane, "Now that you've seen her in action, what do you think of my Klavjet?"

"I'm legitimately impressed, fop." Ema smirks, raising her eyebrow, "However, I would like to see you pull off a barrel roll with your Fopcopter. THEN I'll tell you what I think about your Fopjet -"

"It's Klavjet."

"Whateverjet. Just do a goddamn barrel roll with your helicopter."

Chapter Text

Fill Fifty-one - Barista to Go

Humor & Mild Fluff; OC (Maxwell Folger) & Godot

Being Godot's personal barista is a difficult job. Maxwell Folger didn't know that when he signed up for it. Following Mr. Godot around everywhere (even into the restroom) - all the while carrying a portable coffee maker that looks more like a proton pack from Ghostbusters (but it dispenses hot Colombian coffee), and a white mug dispenser strapped on you like a conjoined twin - is a hard task.

Sadly, it's something Maxwell must live with until the contract expires forty years from now. And Mr. Godot's death won't end it - Maxwell will just have to sit beside his grave, pouring coffee onto his casket until the contract is done. Oh well, that's what you get for haphazardly signing up for random jobs.

But seriously, it's a difficult task to follow someone so addicted to caffeine, especially considering the fact that Mr. Godot is a prosecutor who disobeys the no-drinks-in-the-courtroom policy. By contract, Maxwell must use only white mugs, if Mr. Godot finishes his coffee, make sure he gets another one immediately, and before giving him another mug of coffee, pray to Starbucks that he likes it. Maxwell has suffered second degree burns from getting a full mug of hot coffee chucked at him.

Yup. Being Godot's personal barista is tough. But it doesn't mean Maxwell didn't enjoy keeping the prosecutor some company. Mr. Godot is a good person, and before him, he never had any friends...

That's why, even seven years after Mr. Godot's incarceration, Maxwell still goes to the prison to pour him a white mug full of his favorite coffee.

Chapter Text

Fill Fifty-two - Pigtails

Humor & Mild Fluff; Miles & Franziska

It certainly wasn't something he would normally agree to. Miles wasn't the type to let his hair get tied into pigtails, ponytails, or whatever girlish hairstyle that he would most likely get made fun of if he was seen having it. But for some reason, he decided to make an exception, which the young boy started to regret.

It was a quiet evening, and the young Miles sat down on the floor with his legs crossed, looking somewhat embarrassed, and wearing a pink bow around his neck. And right behind him was an even younger Franziska, humming as she tied up his hair into pigtails.

"I think you look great with pink," She chuckled before attaching a pink hairclip onto Miles' hair. "The pigtails really suits you."

"Urgh..." Miles could only groan. Sure, he was young, but even he could feel himself get slowly emasculated with every pink hairclip placed on his head. He prayed that Franziska would eventually stop, but a part of him forced him to let his younger sister continue.

It took several more minutes before Franziska finished her "masterpiece." And the moment Miles saw his reflection in the mirror... the moment he saw what the young girl did to his hair... he knew that he lost a part of his masculinity.

And from then on, he learned to cringe at the very mention of pigtails.

Chapter Text

Fill Fifty-three - Lego Pain

Humor; Miles & G***t

As he lied down helplessly on the ground in a fetal position and crying in agony, Miles Edgeworth wasn't quite sure what had caused and inflicted the agonizing injury. From what he could recall from his memory, the series of events that led to it were as follows:

It was nine in the evening, and the chief prosecutor finally returned home. He was completely exhausted after being forced into a ten hour long discussion about "sponsor misconduct." (Basically, Miles had to explain to many of his fellow prosecutors that sponsoring the recently opened adult novelties store was a grave mistreatment of prosecutorial integrity.)

Once he took his shoes off and tossed them aside, he didn't bother to turn on the lights, since he was too tired to worry about the darkness. However, that immediately proved to be a bad mistake as the instant he took a step forward, something small, yet hard stabbed the heel of his left foot, causing him to scream at the sheer pain. He reflexively grabbed his left ankle, only leading to him losing his balance and falling flat on his face.

"Goddammit," Miles cursed to himself, tears streaming down the corners of his eyes. It took him five minutes of crying (like a toddler) before he could get off the ground, and his agony swiftly turned into rage.

Turning on the lights, the man furiously scoured the floor for the enigmatic thing that had stabbed the underside of his foot. However, it didn't take long for him to discover that the perpetrator was none other than a tiny, red Lego block that had mysteriously been set down in an almost a strategic place on the floor.

Realizing what had caused him to cry like a baby, Miles' rage swiftly turned into horrified embarrassment...

Meanwhile, a rather disheveled man with white hair and tattered clothing stood outside, sipping his coffee and staring through Miles' window, entertained and chuckling at the chief prosecutor's loud sobbing. And as Miles' baby-like wailing got louder, the mystery man couldn't help but shake his head and laugh.

"You really shouldn't have cut sponsorship with my store."

Chapter Text

Fill Fifty-four - Ass For Cash

Humor & Romance(?); Miles, Phoenix & Larry

"Bankrupt?" Phoenix raises his eyebrow, arms crossed. "Edgeworth, I know you're pretty well off. How the hell did you lose all that money?"

"I'd - I'd rather not discuss it." Miles puckers his lips before looking away in shame; a pale, cherry blush paints his cheeks rouge. He twidles his thumbs frantically. "It's something I would rather not talk about -"

"Have you been gambling?"

"Wright, do I look like the type of man who gambles?" Miles is clearly upset.

Phoenix just shakes his head. "Well, kinda. I mean, you got all of those fancy clothes and whatnot. I assumed you would be into competitive poker or something."

"That's the dumbest assumption you've made about me," Miles scowls. "But in all seriousness, I can't tell you how or why I had to file for bankruptcy. It's... embarrassing..."

Meanwhile, in a completely different neighborhood, a naked Larry Butz hums in delight as he reads out the check in his hand:

Miles Edgeworth, Chief Prosecutor
Los Angeles, CA, U.S.A.

February 14

Pay to the order of asSh0v3buttZz $1,000,000.69
One million dollars and sixty-nine cents

Memo Entertaining me by shoving certain objects through his anus via Internet Webcam

Chapter Text

Fill Fifty-five - Dildo Dilemma

Humor; Miles

He wasn't quite sure how to react to what had just hit him on the face during the middle of a very serious press conference - one which regarded the potential murder of a well-known New Zealander attorney in Los Angeles - but Miles had to say something. There was no way he could stay silent after being attacked on camera. He had to say something about being attacked with an unorthodox object of the sexual paraphernalia kind.

"... I -" he couldn't finish his words.

Even if hundreds of cameras broadcasting to nations worldwide were pointed at him, he had to speak up about his "near death experience" involving an airborne dildo making physical contact to his face. Even if it would scar his integrity for the rest of his life - potentially immortalizing him as "Miles Edgeworth the dildo faced prosecutor" - he was obligated to make a statement. Everyone was waiting for a reaction from the Chief Prosecutor getting a phallic bruise embedded onto his cheek.

So why couldn't he say anything about being attacked by a thirteen inch synthetic schlong? He's a professional man; he could handle a bit of ridicule.

Maybe it had to do with the fact that he could tell that the dildo had been used only minutes ago, judging by the moist, sticky splooge that tarnished his perfect face?

Or maybe Miles was hallucinating all this time?

Because, from what he could remember, that plant he saw in Phoenix Wright's office could not have possibly thrown that dildo at him.

Chapter Text

Fill Fifty-six - Beef

Humor; Wendy, OC (Harry) & Miles

Mr. Oldbag was - to put it in simple words - completely livid. To be fair though, what man would be happy to see his own wife kneeling in front of a (stalker) shrine while licking a framed picture of another man? Sure, he practically left Wendy at home alone for three years due to his work temporarily transferring him to England for a three-year program, but if The Scarlet Letter had taught the world anything, it's that the kind of shit she was doing was still adultery.

"Wendy! How could you?!" Fumed Mr. Oldbag, clenching his briefcase. A small tear of anger and betrayal welled up from the corner of his left eye. "I expected a warm welcome from you after all these years, but nooo... you just decided to cheat on me with your secret boy toy!"

His rage was hard to contain.

As for his wife, she was practically unfazed by her estranged husband's enlightenment of her philandering. Nothing short of expected from the wicked witch of the witness stand herself.

"Harry, you kept me waiting alone without a man in my life for way too long -"

"Dammit, woman!" Mr. Oldbag stomped his foot. "I told you a trillion times before I left that I would be in England for 3 whole years! Don't tell me I didn't warn you!"

Wendy just rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out. "Well, Harry, it doesn't matter what you say to me now. I don't love you no more. I found a better man. And his name is Miles Edgeworth."

She cradled the picture frame closer to her flabby chest. "My Edgey-Poo is a better man than you'll ever be, Harry! Sure, he tries to deny my love and has rejected my every request to be his lover..."

The old woman began trailing off into her own world, babbling about her "Edgey-Poo."

As for Mr. Oldbag, he took his wife's babble time as an opportunity to whip out a phonebook and scan for anyone bearing the last name "Edgeworth."

It took him several tries until he called the right number. And once the right Edgeworth picked up the call, Mr. Oldbag was nothing short of ready to tear the prosecutor's ear off.

In the end, Miles learned to fear anyone who bore the Oldbag surname. Because after Harry nagged the hell out of him - accusing the prosecutor of "fingering his wife (Wendy)" while he was at England - for several more weeks, he would receive death threats via mail and the occasional carrier pigeon.

And for several more weeks after that, the prosecutor would mysteriously find a slab of uncooked beef in a used Amazon box wedged underneath the hood of his car.

"Fuck my life."

Chapter Text

Fill Fifty-seven - The Aftermath of Bringing Trucy to Six Flags

Humor; Apollo & Trucy + Larry cameo

"What do you mean you're kicking us out?!" Apollo scowls at the Six Flags employee.

"Well, that little girl over there keeps rigging the carnival games, completely draining several kiosks off of their stuffed toys." The Six Flags employee shrugs, grinning a stupid grin. His stupid spiked up hair and 1990's goatee don't help with his image either. "Sorry, kids, but you guys have to go."

Trucy, currently pulling a large cart full of carnival prizes, is none too happy about her and Polly getting kicked out. "I won these plushies fair and square."

"Nu - uh. You rigged the games." The goateed employee crosses his arms and pouts.

Apollo shakes his head. "But Mr. Harry Booty -"

"Larry Butz."

"But Mr. Larry Butz, don't you think it's a bit cruel to kick us out?"

To which Mr. Larry Butz responds by calling security.

Chapter Text

Fill Fifty-eight - Dixie Rebel

Humor, Romance; Apollo, Datz x Lotta

"Look, I'm happy for you, Datz, but..." Apollo sighs, his face practically ingrained in the palm of his hand. "I don't understand what you see in -"

"A southern Belle with cotton candy hair!" Datz flashes two thumbs up and that same shiteating grin he has whenever he involves himself in / creates shenanigans. "I have a thing for photographers, too. Sigh. It's like my lovely LH came to Khura'in on a golden chariot... They have golden chariots in the 'Heartland,' right?"

There are not enough hands in this world to make a facepalm sufficient enough for that comment. All Apollo can do is give Datz the five-finger objection with his left hand. "Datz. You're setting yourself for Hartbreak - I mean, heartbreak."

"How would you know, AJ?" The Khura'inese rebel puts his hands behind his head, making a fish face. "My LH didn't do anything crazy... well, ever since she came here, she started taking pictures of everything, especially Rayfa and Yuty."

"Listen to me, please. She's a tabloid photographer. Mr. Wright told me that she'll do anything for a good scoop." Apollo rubs his forehead. "I've read some of what she's published, and it's... pretty trashy."

Datz scowls, offended by AJ's remark. "I read her stuff too, and I think she's a genius. Can you believe that Sa'am Fah'quad is dating that rich Lady, Sheagol Dihg'ar? That's crazy y'all!"

Mother of god, he's taken on her speech. Help.

"Tabloids, Datz. Tabloids." The defense attorney makes a long sigh, "They're meant to romanticize that kind of stuff."

The rebel shrugs. "Well, whatever, AJ. Be a sourpuss. Unlike you, I like that kind of juicy stuff. Especially if my LH wrote it."

"Darlin'! I'm back!"

Speak of the devil.

"LH!" Datz runs up to his afro-headed amour, giving her a hug and sloppy, wet kiss. "Did you get a good scoop?"

"Ya betcha, Darlin'. I got here," Lotta fetches her camera from her cloth messenger bag, "twenty snapshots of Taihla'ar Suiefta holdin' hands with that monk, Trahj'edi Wai'iding. I reckon she's doin' it ta get her ex, Djzhas'ta Sakah."

Datz, seeming legitimately shocked, drops his jaw open, doing that sentai pose. "What in tarnation?!" He seems to be mimicking Lotta's Dixie tongue. Not like that's good for anyone. "My, my, that's insane! I thought she was all over that Hahr'is guy, and now she's goin' gaga for another boy?!"

"Mhmm." Lotta waves her camera around. "Why dontcha come with me, Sugar? You can see me gettin' the good scoop in action."

Like an overenthusiastic kid, Datz jumps up and down. If you look closely, he's drooling. "Ya reckon I do!"

'If I stay still, maybe they won't see me.' Apollo thinks to himself, not moving a single muscle, hoping not to get pulled into Lotta and Datz's potential misadventures.

Luckily, the Rebel-Dixie couple completely ignore the defense attorney and run outside of the law firm, locking arms like they're off to see the Wizard of Oz... and then take pictures of him hanging around a pretty girl. Then publish it in the next tabloid magazine with the headline: "Wizard of Oz! Caught hitting on an underaged girl? Is the beloved Wizard a possible pedophile?"

It's a disaster made in heaven.

Chapter Text

Fill Fifty-nine - Franziska (Quick Sketch)

Artfill; Franziska

Exactly what it says on the tin; it's a sketch of Franny.

Chapter Text

Fill Sixty - Athena (Quick Sketch)

Artfill; Athena

Chapter Text

Fill Sixty-one - Aurum Insigne

Humor (?) & Romance (?); Miles & Phoenix's Badge

While the rumors about Miles Edgeworth's fixation with Phoenix Wright were true, they weren't "true-true." See, he bore no actual interest for the man, Phoenix Wright. Rather, Miles fell completely in love with one of Phoenix's possessions. His attorney badge.

Yes, he knew that he had been unfaithful to his own badge - the ornate, button shaped like a Maltese cross. I was a beautiful badge, true; be that as it may, he could care less to wear it.

Ever since he had the pleasure of wearing it during his quick stint as a defense attorney, something about that gold, circular object screamed for his attention. When no one was looking, Miles found himself unconsciously touching it. Rubbing it. Lavishing the button-shaped emblem with the rough texture of his fingertips... Miles could almost hear it scream his name. Scream for him to pleasure it. Feel every ridge - the sensation of his thumb rubbing against the scales of justice was like none other.

When he had to return it, he could only wail in his mind, seething with jealousy, 'Wright doesn't deserve to wear you.' At least he kissed it goodbye yesternight. Though that did not provide as much closure as he thought it would. He needed it back. But unless he wanted to commit an act of theft, then he had to accept the fact that he could never be able to see Aurum Insigne again.

Maybe he should ask to borrow it from Phoenix? He shouldn't mind.

Besides, it wasn't like he had told Wright yet about how on the lonely night before he had to return it to him, he had covered his badge in his white, liquid testimony of love... that was, Miles Edgeworth's seminal fluid.

Chapter Text

Fill Sixty-two - The Outcomes of a YOLO Mentality

Humor (?) & Romance (?); Miles & Wendy

He knew she was far from the type of woman he'd usually go for. She looked old enough to be his great grandmother's ancestor. Additionally, she had stalked him for more than four years, and it got to the point where she broke into his house.

But for some strange reason, Miles Edgeworth decided to take Wendy Oldbag's invitation for late night sex. No, he wasn't on drugs or whatever. The actual cause - well, not even Miles knew why he said yes. He must have channeled his old partyboy self when he accepted Wendy's offer.

Way back in 2014, Miles had taken a little Rumspringa of sorts. He temporarily moved out of the Von Karma household and flew to New York City. There, he got into DJ'ing for small clubs, and he made a name for himself in the EDM music world as M-PH. He managed to shake hands with big guys like The Chainsmokers, Steve Aoki, Diplo, etc.

While there, "M-PH" had also banged every pretty lady who came up to him, which he had all done in the name of his "yolo" philosophy.

However, that was years ago. Miles stopped that lifestyle short when he was hospitalized on December 25th, 2014 for getting his whole nutsack stuck in a Fleshlight as a Christmas dare... the scars had never faded.

Notwithstanding the fact that he had long since abandoned that lifestyle, Miles hadn't really finished his fuckboy bucket list. And the psychological phenomenon of the completion principle had subconsciously urged him to at least check off the box for "Fuck the hell out of a GILF."

God help him.

Back to the current situation, Wendy was dragging Miles by his wrist into her bedroom. She had a look of intense hunger. Though that could just be her sagging wrinkled face distorting her facial expression.

Once they stepped inside, Miles was greeted by the stench of mothballs and the gaudy furniture that only relics of the 1930s had. But there was no turning back now; Wendy had already locked the door behind her, and she was taking off her shirt.

"Ready Edgey-Poo?" Wendy cooed at Miles.

The sight of her flabby flesh slowly getting exposed made him want to puke. Oh god no.

Getting through this night was definitely going to require help. Sadly, Miles had no access to "liquid courage," and he hadn't touched a glass of liquor since his party days.

All he could do was close his eyes, take one deep breath, and return his mindset back to 2014. He cleared all of his sane morals, his inhibition, and his common sense, then replaced them with the thoughts of "Yeeeeaaahhh Boiiii" and "YOLO" he had repressed in his subconscious for many years.

... And with that done, M-PH was back in action.

"Imma fuk da shet out of u betch."


Thirteen hours passed, and Miles was left speechless with Wendy smoking a cigar next to him. While he was able to hold on to his M-PH delusion, he eventually crashed back into his typical, frumpy, grumpy Edgeworth self by the eighth hour.

Be that as it might, he absolutely did not actually expect to have the most amazing sex in his entire life. Yes, he had to envision that he was fucking the pillow instead of Wendy. Yes, Miles had to pretend that he was actually attracted to her. But goddamn, it was amazing nonetheless.

He knew he shouldn't be doing this sort of thing again, but good sex was still good sex. And in the words of M-PH and his old DJ friends, good pussy was still good pussy.

Turning his head to Wendy, Miles swallowed his shame and asked his elderly mistress a favor.

"Mind if I try being on top the next time?"

Chapter Text

Fill Sixty-three - Height

Humor & Romance; Apollo & Athena

While Apollo Justice knows that he will never get any taller than his current fun-size height of 5'5", when he started dating Athena Cykes five years ago, he never imagined that an eighteen year old girl could still have a growth spurt. Much less an eleven inch growth spurt.

For god's sakes, at twenty-eight, Apollo is already pushing close to thirty, yet he looks like he still goes to middle school. To make matters worse, even though his girlfriend is younger than him by five years, she stands at 6'3". Yes, he loves Athena dearly, but he gets a little tired of people thinking that he's a thirteen year old kid getting abducted by a supermodel whenever he holds hands with his girlfriend in public. It doesn't help that she teases him in front of others about him being vertically challenged. And don't get him started with what she does to him in private.

But no matter how many times people poke fun at this height dynamic of sorts, it doesn't change the fact that Apollo loves Athena more than anyone else in the world. Even though she jokes with him about how tall - or, rather, how short he is, they're nonetheless romantic with each other.

Besides, they both know where the missing inches went...

Chapter Text

Fill Sixty-four - Your Authornon Pleaded Not Guilty

Humor & Self-insert(?) Crack; Phoenix, Miles, Judge, & OC

"Objection!" Phoenix slammed his palms on the desk, seemingly ready to blow chunks at any second. "While Ms. Poe has confessed to writing pornographic fills that involved Mr. Justice and Ms. Cykes, she's not depraved enough to write that fetid Judge x Godot x Godot shadow clones smut!"

Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth buried his face into the palms of his hands, speechless.

Phoenix continued his argument. "My client did not write that atrocity. I mean what sane person would want to write smut about His Honor getting gangbanged and fisted by multiple Prosecutor Godots, anyway? Right, Your Honor?"

Phoenix and Miles turned their heads toward the Judge for his answer. They, however, were greeted by the sight of His Honor giggling as he sifted through the printed documents containing the Judge x Godot smut.

The entire courtroom fell into silence for a quarter of an hour. And by the end of that fifteen minute quietude, the defendant stood up and shuffled her way to the stand. "I still plead not guilty. But I just wanna let you guys know that I posted a MayaNick frottage prompt on the PWKM, and it would be awesome if one of youse guys can fill it. SoJ spoilers are welcome, just please encode."

To which Pearl Fey waved her hands around as she yelled aloud, "SECONDED!"

And it all went downhill from there.

Chapter Text

Fill Sixty-five - Ahlbi's Tour Services

Humor; Ahlbi Ur'gaid

It has been a good month since the end of the "Khurainese Legal Revolution," and the young Ahlbi Ur'gaid has finally fulfilled his dream of establishing his own tour guide firm. Rather impressive for someone who's only 9 years old to be a business owner, perhaps worrisome, even. Though he need not worry about the nonexistent child labor laws getting in the way of things.

However, given that his tour guide firm is only a few days old, and that tourism isn't really booming, AND that he's the only employee, business has been sparse - even if his one-man company is the only established tour service in the entire kingdom. Since the opening of his firm, he's only done two whole tours, and his customers were Khurainese locals. He wishes that a certain American, porcupine-headed lawyer would fly over, so that he can give him a proper tour around the small kingdom. Then maybe ask him for a hefty fare. Though it doesn't make sense for him to fly all the way across the Pacific Ocean to a foreign country just for one thing.

Mayhaps Ahlbi can try to advertise his firm? Internet access isn't really a thing for commoners in the Kingdom of Khura'in, unfortunately. But, he has heard of many advertising tactics first-world countries would pull, and he's heard that they're quite effective. What's it called again? 'Clickbait?'

Well, whatever it's called, it may be the only way for him to get customers to come in. His firm is only a few days old, but there already are cobwebs forming on the ceiling. Any less customer turn-up, and his little tour guide firm will become one, giant clump of webs.

Wood poster in one hand and a brush in the other, Ahlbi starts to paint words on a sign. After a few minutes, his sign is finished, and he walks out of his firm, prior to nailing it right on the door. It should definitely catch a potential customer's eye. Written in both Khurainese script and English, the sign says "COME HERE TO DISCOVER THE SHOCKING TRUTH ABOUT KHURA'IN - YOU WILL NEVER BELIEVE IT UNTIL YOU SEE IT! BOOK A TOUR NOW!"

Judging by the stampede of people lining up at his firm the very next day, it seems this 'Clickbait' tactic worked like a charm. And by the end of the day, Ahlbi has earned enough to afford a PC. By the end of the week, Ahlbi's Tour Services has two new employees and the Royal family's seal of approval. And by the end of the month, Ahlbi's Tour Services has reached its 1000 customers incentive, has its own website, YouTube channel, Twitter account, and it has actually increased tourism in Khura'in by 300%.

And the next thing Ahlbi knows, he has made the cover page of Forbes.

Chapter Text

Fill Sixty-six - Yelp Reviews For Eldoon's Noodles

Humor; Various

[Dick G.]
Los Angeles, CA
January 3

5 out of 5 stars
I can live off this

"I've been to tons of noodle shops, but this one takes the cake. Even though the food's real cheap, it's still really yummy. And after getting my paycheck cut, I guess gotta go to Eldoon's for the rest of my life. But I tell you what, pal, I can live with that."


[Miles E.]
Los Angeles, CA
February 8

4 out of 5 stars
Above Average

"I never heard of Eldoon's Noodles until a week ago, when a friend of mine recommended that I go there and try their noodles. Then one of my colleagues recommended Eldoon's. And then another. Out of curiosity, I went there myself to see if it lives up to the hype. I didn't expect a five-star restaurant by any means, but I found it a bit... unruly. The chairs were unstable, as was the table I had. The chef himself personally served me the noodles, and he seemed nice. However, he was incredibly loud. As for the food, it was good, but with all due respect to Mr. Eldoon, they weren't that spectacular.

In short, the service was overall good, but the food didn't live up to the hype."


[Paul A. W.]
Los Angeles, CA
February 17

1 out of 5 stars
What IS this?!

"As a future politician, I want to be able to relate to potential future voters. So, I went to Eldoon's Noodles, which I heard is quite popular among common folk. But good lord, the second I stepped in there, my nostrils were under assault by the foul odor of grease. However, being the amazing and humble man I am, I tried - or, more like struggled - to ignore the stench, so I can sit down and see if the food was better than what the scent suggested. It wasn't, and the cook himself was rude. He called me a nasty person for being honest. I only told him that his noodles tasted like the drippings from a Long John Silver's dumpster, because that's the truth. If you want terrible service and disgusting pig slop, go here."


[Simon B.]
Los Angeles, CA
March 8

4 out of 5 stars
Not bad

"I was told by a friend to stop by here and try Eldoon-dono's noodles. The food was dirt cheap, so I wasn't surprised that my mouth felt like a desert from how salty the broth was. The service was good. Although my bird seemed to dislike Eldoon-dono. In the end, Eldoon's Noodles fare better at service than food. For what it's worth, at least the noodles were not as bad as prison food."


[Mike M.]
Los Angeles, CA
December 2

5 out of 5 stars
TASTY

"IT'S GOOD FOOD!!!"


[Robin N.]
Los Angeles, CA
December 10

5 out of 5 stars
Awesome!

"Me and my two friends needed a place to eat, so I looked up local restaurants with good reviews, and I found Eldoon's Noodles, and WHOA, MAN! We went here, and we tried the daily special, and it was DELICIOUS, MAN! You gotta check it out. I'm telling you. ;p"


[Sal M.]
Los Angeles, CA
December 15

5 out of 5 stars
G0t f00d p0150n1ng

"Th3 f00d i5 50 g00d but 1t g4v3 m3 f00d p0150n1ng. 1 sp3nt 5 h0urZ 0n th3 t01l3t th0 1t w4z w0rth 1t. R3st1 1n 5p4ghett1, Mr. t01Let."

Chapter Text

Fill Sixty-seven - LawzzFeed

Humor; Lotta

"For the hundredth time, I didn't write that damn diddly article. Geesh, y'all are killing me!" After hours and hours of dealing with incessant calls, Lotta Hart seethes in annoyance, hanging up before immediately putting her phone on airplane mode. "Much as I wanted to write somethin' as eye-catching as that, y'all just don't go grillin' a gal jus' 'cause she works the tabloids. I don't even work for LawzzFeed. Yeesh."

Since the start of the week, Los Angeles attorneys have been in an uproar about a certain article on LawzzFeed posted last week. There wasn't an author credited, but honestly, who can blame someone for wanting to stay anonymous after writing an article titled: "PROSECUTORS AND PERSONAL INJURY LAWYERS FOUND TO HAVE SMALLER PENISES / BREASTS THAN DEFENSE ATTORNEYS."

For some reason, Lotta has been receiving the brunt of phone calls from angry, offended prosecutors and personal injury lawyers. She was even called by the LA Chief Prosecutor himself, and he was not happy about having his manhood insulted. But what can she do? She didn't write it. She never even knew exactly what the article was about until Phoenix Wright - a defense attorney as well as her friend - called her and asked if she might have something to do with it. Obviously, she told him no.

All of this begs her to wonder who could have possibly spread the idea that defense attorneys have larger penises / breasts than other attorneys. Though with such a clickbait title, the article did spread like wildfire in just a span of one week. Out of curiosity, Lotta checks the Internet, wondering exactly how much traction the article has received. Well, it's practically inescapable. The article has been reposted in almost every justice-related social media site. It's been reposted on Judgebook, BarSpace, Attorneygram, Prosetwitter, Lawterest, Lawmblr, BarPress, etc. It's everywhere, and so are the memes. Now Lotta is real jealous. Whoever wrote that article is some kind of genius.

Meanwhile, deviously clacking away at his keyboard, Larry Butz prepares to write his next article for LawzzFeed. "CHIEF PROSECUTORS AND DISTRICT ATTORNEYS: VICTIMS OF MICROPENIS / ITTY BITTY TITTY SYNDROME"