Title: Date Rape
Authoress:
ria_chanFandom-Pairing: Gyakuten Saiban - None
Disclaimer: CAPCOMMMMMMMMM
Rating-Warnings: PG - Gangsta Speak, Assumed Crimes
Spoilers: Mild up to AJ; The criminals are all baddies so if you don't want to be spoiled for guilty parties, don't read.
Prompt:
Phoenix Wright Kink Meme PromptStatus: One-Shot
Word Count: 1268
Summary: Wocky Kitaki goes on a school field trip where he encounters some interesting criminals.
A/N: First time writing a gen fic. I hope you don't mind my characterization (if any is in there... ^^;;;). I was smitten with this idea but I don't know how well it turned out... No beta, no word processor. Beware.
Specimen One
"And to the right, you'll see the prisoners serving their term for murder."
Wocky shoves his hands in his pockets and slugs along with the group. Screw school, screw criminal awareness. If anybody should be tagging along in this group of nutcases, it wasn't him. It's like his mother said, his family was ganstas. You ain't learning nothin' in a two-bit run-down chop-soup g-branded cell hold.
"The man in this cell is Furio Tigre, also known as "The Tiger". You may have remembered him from the case with the Cadaverini complications."
He flinches ever so slightly, trying to conceal his twitching eyebrow while he makes a stance againt the man behind bars. "Wut you lookin' at, pops? You gotta problem!?"
The man, no, the tiger glares. One eye pops out with the head pulled back and his red arms latch onto a golden chain around his neck. "I ain't the ones whose lookin' at youse first ya lil' punk."
Some girls turn to Wocky, giggling behind clasped hands and whispering him. Cheering him on. Filled with the new sense of motivation, Wocky puffs out his chest and grins cockily. He could use this situation to his advantage...
"Dat's right ya con. You know who owns dis part of da hood!"
The guide looks at her shoulder and leans her head down, smiling. She laughs, "Mr. Kitaki, would you please refrain from interacting with the inmates?"
"I didn't start nothin'! Dis homie here is pickin' a fight wit da wrong man."
"YOUSE SAYIN' I'M PICKIN' A FIGHT...?"
The girls and Wocky look at the snarling, caged tiger. The next moment, the red thing is roaring and banging his head against the bars. The girls fall back due to the sudden outburst and Wocky stands there, completely stunned. His hair is blown backwards by the sound and the ground is literally moving from the headbutts against the metal. The girls screaming, running and crawling and crying towards the group.
The guide turns around, disregarding the situation. "And if you look to the left..."
Wide-eyed, Wocky wobbles toward the group with just a little bit of snot running down his face.
Specimen Two
"Oh my Gawd!" one of the girls shriek, "IT'S THE STEEL SAMURAI!"
"Would you please state your name for the children?" the guide requests, laughing into her bandaged hand.
"Matt Engarde," a man's voice says. The crowd is so big around the bars, Wocky can't get in at all. He fights his way - quite literally - to get a good look. The guy looks young, no older than twenty, and is smiling idiotically. "I used to act as the Steel Samurai on the Gateway channel a while ago."
"I love you, Matt!" some girls shout. Some are already fainted on the ground from just being in his prescense.
"Pouser," Wocky mutters under his breath.
The shouting stops suddenly and the brunet pours himself a glass of champagne. He sips it for a moment, all the eyes staring more intently at him than any of the girls ever paid attention to his acting. He pulls the cup from his lips and laughs. Then, he's pushing his hair back and glaring sraight at Wocky.
"You want to try me, you little punk...?" His teeth are grinding against each other, pearly eyes sharp and dangerous. From the bangs he's lifted are giant scars running up and down his forehead.
A few girls faint, for completely other reasons.
Specimen Three and Four
"Today is a special treat, children. Every month, the inmates can choose one other inmate to interact with for lunch. Today, you can see Kristoph Gavin and Dahlia Hawthorne enjoying themselves."
Even though the guide's narraration is quiet, the man and woman are so elegant and soundless that her voice sounds like shouting. The girl is a redhead dressed in white and she's sipping some tea. Across the small garden table is a tan, blond man painting his nails.
"This tea is most delicious, Kristoph," Dahlira remarks. She pulls another cup and pours the kettle's contents into it. The aroma is splendid, just perfect. She places the saucer in front of him along with a few sugar cubes and a mixing spoon.
"I'm flattered. It's hard to receive cosmetics in a place like this and I would have missed my hourly polish if not for you!"
The girl laughs and he chuckles. A charming scene. If not for the fact that they were sitting in a jail cell, nobody would have thought these two elegant people to be criminals. Even now the idea seemed etchy.
And Wocky makes a farting noise by sticking his tongue out and vibrating it between his lips. "You ain't no criminals!"
There wasn't any classical music playing prior, but Wocky could have sworn he heard a record scratch to a drop. The figures slowly creep their heads to a side, broken from the sleepy spell of their whimsical dream.
"I didn't realize there were school children around," Kristoph muses.
Dahlia blushes, coyly shifting the spoon around in her cup. "Oh, behave yourself, Kristoph!"
"I said you ain't no criminals!" Wocky repeats.
The man now pushes his glasses up the ridge of his nose with his middle finger. "My, what a rude boy..."
"Rude indeed..." The woman responds by clenching her white fabric in between her hands.
"Listen to me, G-Dawg, you ain't-"
Gavin and Hawthorne are in unison: "If you'd like to know what we are responsible for..."
Time stops.
The duo throw their heads back and release a malicious, maniacal laughter. It's loud and harmonious, a song of death.
"What a little punk!" they seethe between gasps for air, the laughter still continuing to roll in gentle tumbles.
The guide proceeds to walk away. "Moving along..."
Laughter. Laughter. Laughter. The man is laughing so hard, a scar on the face of his hand is pulsating violently and the girl is holding her chest to stop the evil from seeping out.
Specimen Five
"Over here to the right is the notorious Damon Gant, ex-chief of police."
High school girls and boys start to crowd around a cell as if it were some animal in a zoo. The girls in particular and pointing and cooing. The boys, on the other hand, are all puffing their chests out and trying to stare down the bars. Now this, this has to be some work of art. The gangstas of gangstas.
"Move 'side!" Wocky shouts, and braces himself in front of the bars. He grabs one in each hands and snarls between an opening. "Wut you in here for?"
A single man is in this cell. His hair is white and covering the rest of his face. Leaned over, all Wocky can tell is that the monster is in a bright orange suit.
The man refuses to speak, look up, even acknowledge them. The girls are tapping against the bars and the boys and shouting obscenities at him. This goes on for awhile but none of the conventional methods are working.
"You off da hook, screwballs!" Wocky shouts.
Nothing.
"Ya know, where I live, you'd be walking OPP."
Nothing.
"I bet your momma-"
The man looks up, emerald eyes sharp and clear, and smiles.
They say you can tell a man by the look of his eyes. His history, his crimes, his joys. They're all reflected in a man's eyes.
"She's in the next cell over. I'm not allowed to use the monthly lunches with her so would you tell her hello for me?"
A warm liquid runs down Wocky's leg.
Afterthoughts: The guide is Viola, if you figured it out. And no, the title has nothing to do with anything. xP
Title: Stain Him Clean
Authoress:
ria_chanFandom-Pairing: Gyakuten Saiban - Daryan/Machi
Disclaimer: CAPCOMMMMMMMMM
Rating-Warnings: PG-13 - Slash, Shota, Language, Sugar Daddy!Machi, OOC!Daryan...probably...
Spoilers: AJ, Case Three
Prompt:
Phoenix Wright Kink Meme PromptStatus: One-Shot
Word Count: 473
Summary: Our reunion. One week before my official release date. And it's all wrong.
A/N: [First Person Daryan POV] More, like, what happened afterward this kink has taken place... (>_>)
I won't lie, I wanted to see him. Doesn't mean I have to say that aloud or to anybody else. My business, nobody else's. Another piece of truth I'm not going to take the time to cover up: this was completely wrong. On the other side of the glass with the phone receiver pulled up to his ear, my ex-partner-in-crime is staring at me through familiar thick glasses.
I should have figured he'd be different. It's been what, a year? Hell, I lost count ages ago. Police like you to think prison changes a man. It doesn't. Exact opposite, in fact. When you're crammed in a tiny space with loads of time to think, it usually doesn't work in favor of what they'd like you to believe.
So I smirk and nod at him. "You look healthy. I'll be frank, when I saw you last time, you looked like Hell. Probably hadn't slept a whole before we met."
He just nods.
This is what we call mutual understanding. But it's awkward. I don't know what to do. What would you do? Yeah. That's right. Think about it.
"You're taller." It's a given. He's definitely not little anymore. His body, his face...all grown up.
"'S cool."
Surprise. Yeah. Surprise. Kind of like when you get a gift on a day that's not your birthday and it's in the form of your lead guitarist. That kind of surprise. Without the sexual implications, of course.
"I got a downlow on the mofo speak from da homies so I hear ya." Machi hits his chest a two times with a fist. "Crashin' in da hood with my double G."
I blink. And stare. God only knows how my hair is reacting to this, a would-be diving board. When you're stuck in the slammer, they don't even give you enough gel to style your hair. Bastards.
"Ya know wut I'm sayin', dawg? I got ten Gs to get you outta here and a rump-thump in my trunk and a wiggy-diggy down."
Turning to the guard, Machi throws up his hands in some sort of motion and shouts, "yo, G. Gotta get me my fix. I'll be breakin' after I get the dough from mah pimps."
Machi. Little, angelic, pristine Machi...
He takes off the glasses and looks at me, smiling. "Ya know wut that means, ho."
Horror. Just horror. You don't earn this kind of scarring when Klavier puts dresses on after the show after a dead-on show and busts out some disco jingle.
"I'll be pimping you bitches latta. Outz."
Machi pulls on a coat and a guard hands him the belongings he checked in: a cane, a feathered hat, and some shiny steel-toed shoes.
Our reunion. One week before my official release date. And it's all wrong.
Afterthoughts: I've been on a Daryan/Machi high lately. If anybody would like to follow this up with gangsta!Machi/Daryan, I will love you forever. Hell, I might continue this myself. Yummy~
~B.T.A. Ria-Chan is filling out prompts