Umbrify
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“What a mess we’ve gotten ourselves into, huh?” Tenna sighs again, dragging his hands down his screen to land in his lap. “I think I’m just… tired. I don’t want to be mad at you anymore, Spam, I…”
Tenna pauses for a long moment, screen fizzing with snow. Carefully, Spamton scoots across the cushions to sit next to him, reaching out a tentative hand to rest against Tenna’s clasped palms.
“One more question, for tonight,” Tenna murmurs through the static. “If… if you knew what was gonna happen to me, and you wouldn’t have told me anyway, then… why did you agree to that deal at all?”
And really, isn’t that just the question of the night? Spamton hums quietly, static-filled and bit-crushed. Why did he agree?
The answer— the true answer, plain and pure— is devastatingly simple: “because I loved you.”
Of course, he can’t bring himself to say it in quite those words. Still, he tries to find something close.
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Or, Spamton should've known— all secrets come out eventually.
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This is not a Test (This is the Real Thing) by Umbrify
Fandoms: 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
27 Jan 2025
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The detective glances down the end of the hall, then back towards the door. It’s only now that Simon notices Fool Bright’s pistol is drawn, held tightly in his right hand. “I’m here to get you out of here, Sir,” he says, as if that makes any sense.
“Preposterous,” Simon bites back, annoyed.
Fool Bright shakes his head. Keys jangle in his hands as he shoves them unceremoniously into the lock. “I’m quite serious, Prosecutor Blackquill. I’m getting you out of here, we need to go.”
Huh?
“What the hell is going on, Fool Bright?!”
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Or, at the beginning of the end of the world, Bobby Fulbright makes a choice.
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He’s certain there’s something the old sheriff forgot to tell him.
Jimmy steps through the open gate to Gobland, sheriff badge in hand. The cave is quiet, eerily so. Jimmy’s footsteps echo harshly against the walls.
He can’t go back to Tumble Town, not anymore. It’s not safe there. This will be his final stop, before… well. Before leaving, he supposes.
There must be something else.
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Or, at the end of everything, Jimmy's still looking for... something. He's not sure what.
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“So… that’s it, then,” fWhip says. It’s not a question.
“Yeah,” Jimmy murmurs, “I suppose it is.”
Stepping off the porch, fWhip finds a place in the sun warmed grass, sitting down. His eyes follow as Jimmy— surprisingly— walks up next to him, moving to sit down as well. He raises an eyebrow.
“Is it okay if I sit for a little?” Jimmy asks.
(It’s over, right? Why are they still here?)
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“Do you believe in second chances?”
Sausage hums a questioning note, glancing at the goblin beside him. His brother doesn’t recognize him like that anymore— doesn’t trust him like that anymore, and yet, the conversation is… familiar, uncannily so.
(“Do you believe in second chances?” His brother asks him, ducking out of a chest to avoid scraping his horns on the lid.)
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Hasn't Sausage done this all before? Yet... something feels different, this time.