Evelinessa

@evelinessa.bsky.social

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Eve | She/her | 30+ | Fanfic writer | Ace Attorney | MitsuNaru/NaruMitsu ❤️💙❤️ AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evelinessa/profile Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/evelinessa

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A promo image for the MitsuNaru discord server, featuring official art of Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth from the video game series Ace Attorney on the left side, standing back to back and shown from the chest up. The other side has the server title: MitsuNaru. Below that in smaller text it says: 18+ Discord Server. The background of the promo is a purple gradient evening sky, with stars and clouds.
By the time they returned, daylight had receded, completely. After Miles pulled into their garage, his passengers exited the car swiftly. No doubt wanting to rid themselves of the tension, just as Miles would. But there would be no such luck for him. Franziska flashed Miles a knowing glance before unlocking the entrance. Maya followed her closely, but Phoenix lagged behind. “Don’t stray too far, Wright,” Miles said, shutting his car door. Phoenix obeyed, and Miles stalked around the hood until they were standing side by side. He leaned in close, placing a hand on Phoenix’s lower back. “Get inside,” he whispered, “we need to talk.” Not wanting an audience, Miles guided Phoenix to his bedroom; his hand firmly planted on the small of his back the entire brisk walk there. His accommodations were at the other end of the manor, and he needed to pass through several hallways, the living room, dining area, and kitchen on the way. Their presence interrupted an apparently riveting conversation, as Ema and Kay stopped to give them bewildered looks as they passed by the kitchen table. In sync, their gazes drifted down to his hand and up to the path they were headed. Miles’ cheeks warmed. He hoped they hadn’t got the wrong idea. Finally, they reached their destination. Miles swung open the door. He promptly pushed Phoenix inside before entering himself, closing—and locking—the door behind them.
A screenshot of a WIP which contains the following text: Miles told his dad of their plans and he packed them a picnic basket full of food for them to have at the park. Not wishing to leave his dad with all that work, Miles insisted to help prepare their lunches. Meanwhile, Phoenix and Larry stuffed their backpacks with anything they might want. This was their last day, so they didn’t want to risk forgetting anything. Phoenix and Larry waited by the entryway, while Miles neatly packed a few things in his bag. Once he finished, Miles jogged up and met them at the door. Mr. Edgeworth stopped them before they could leave, handing Miles a small pouch with some spending money to share. “Oh, and one more thing,” Mr. Edgeworth said before retreating into the kitchen. A minute or so later he came back out, holding a plastic baggie. It contained three heart-shaped sugar cookies, decorated with pink frosting and red sprinkles. Miles, Larry, and Phoenix had baked them together the night before. The cookie cutter, frosting, and sprinkles were leftovers from Valentine’s Day, when Miles and his dad made cookies for Miles to give to their class. Phoenix didn’t really know Miles then, but he thought it was really sweet—even if some of the other kids didn’t think so. Plus, they tasted so good. Miles flipped open the lid of the picnic basket he carried on his arm and safely dropped them inside. Now that they had everything they needed, they swung the door open and ran outside. “Have fun, kids!” Mr. Edgeworth called out. They could barely hear him over the smack of their sneakers hitting the concrete. The trio couldn’t contain their excitement after finally finding something new to do on the last day of summer.
A screenshot of a WIP that contains the following text: With how long he’d already been detained here, Miles could reasonably assume the outcome planned for him. But regardless of that near certainty, Miles needed an update. He needed to know for sure. Not wanting to waste a moment more, Miles swiftly stepped up to the cell’s entrance. Hands against cold steel, he pressed himself close to the bars as he attempted to glance down the hallway. Miles searched for a guard, but from his position he could barely see beyond his enclosure. When given the option, Miles would always avoid causing a disturbance or drawing any attention to himself. In any normal situation, at least. But his current predicament was far from his normal, and unfortunately, Miles was no longer in a position where he could preserve his dignity. Left with little choice, Miles called out, attempting to attract the attention of the guard on duty. But unlike every other time he had summoned a nearby officer to his side, his call went unanswered. There were no voices, no footsteps, no sounds of chair casters rolling over the epoxy floor as they rose from their station to attend to their duties. Nothing. He shouted for the guard several more times, each call coming out more desperate and disgruntled than the last. The surveillance camera outside his cell blinked its red light at him, mockingly. If for some inexplicable reason they couldn’t hear him, they should be able to see him. There should always be at least one guard watching the cameras. Were they ignoring him? He couldn’t just sit around here and wait. Miles needed to know what was going on. Had evidence been found that exonerated him? Had Hammond’s killer been caught? Or… would he be going to trial for a murder he did not commit? Miles sighed, grip tightening around the bars. “Guard!” “Will you shut the fuck up!?” The rough, masculine voice sounded like it came from the cell next to his. “I’m trying to get more rest. I’ve already lost enou…
A screenshot of a WIP containing the following text: Larry took the empty Signal Samurai cup Miles had placed at his side, and filled it with his mixture of whiskey and cola. Larry eyeballed the measurements. There was nothing exact or scientific about it. But thankfully, the ratio appeared to heavily favor the soda. Larry handed the mixed drink to him. As Miles stared into the dark liquid, trepidation started to unnerve him. There was a tightness in his gut, which he wasn’t sure if it was from his sudden anxiety, or a reminder that he had skipped dinner. Phoenix had offered to share his meal with him, but Miles didn’t want to pause his preparations for tomorrow. He had planned on just having a light snack before bed as a substitute. “Alright, now I think we should be ready to play,” Phoenix said. “…Well, other than we still need to know how.” Miles set the cup to his side. “Yes, we don’t know the rules to this silly game meant for children. It’s been a long time since any of us were that age.” “Big talk from someone who’s about to play this children’s game. And you say that now, Edgey, but you have no idea how adult this game could get.” Miles didn’t know what Larry had in mind, but he hoped it wasn’t anything more than the drinking that classified it for adults. “Anyway, the rules are easy. One of us will say something we’ve never done, like… never have I ever aced an exam, as an example.” “Well, that one’s believable,” Miles muttered. Phoenix leaned toward him, pressing their legs further together to get Miles’ attention. “Edgeworth,” he said in a harsh whisper, “don’t be mean.” Miles wasn’t loud enough for Larry to hear him, but that was beside the point, he supposed. Miles was aware he could be catty at times, and had little regard for certain social graces. Sometimes he needed Phoenix to point it out to him when he was going a little too far.
A screenshot of a WIP with the following text: Larry pumped his fists in the air. “Alright, Edgey! I knew you had it in you!” Miles scoffed at Larry’s ill-placed confidence in him to make this, admittedly foolish, decision. But while Larry looked at him with enthusiasm, Phoenix did so with concern. “Are you sure? What about your plans to study?” Phoenix asked, frowning slightly. “Don’t you have an exam tomorrow?” Miles smiled softly to himself. Though it wouldn’t be needed, he still appreciated Phoenix’s concern, as well as how he took the time to remember and be considerate of Miles’ schedule. “It should be fine,” Miles reassured him. “I’ve gone over that textbook front to back several times already.” “So I was right, then?” Larry asked, smug and satisfied. “About how you don’t need to study?” “Hmph, that’s not exactly what you said, but… perhaps you were right.” Larry’s grin widened at his words. “At least in this instance,” Miles quickly clarified, as Larry started to look a little too pleased with himself. “Regardless, I enjoy being prepared, so I plan to return to study some more after we’ve finished playing.” Lawyers thrived in preparation, and the most successful ones were always prepared. They thoroughly understood their case, as well as any weaknesses or holes in it. It was important to prepare and understand, both so they could anticipate any arguments that could challenge their case, as well as know how best to combat and deflect those arguments. Only a fool wouldn’t prepare as much as possible before a trial. While Miles couldn’t practice yet, he tried to approach his school work, particularly any exams or presentations, with a similar mindset.
A screenshot of a WIP excerpt. The text in the image is as follows: “Mr. Edgeworth, you would be very interested in the prize.” “Is that so?” he said dully, attention focused elsewhere. “It's four tickets to the Pink Princess and Jammin’ Ninja double feature stage play this weekend!” Miles dropped his pen, returning his full attention to Gumshoe. “What!?” “I only found out about an hour ago while out investigating a crime scene. The radio show that held the contest called to tell me I won!" Miles was well aware of that particular stage play. In fact, he had been looking forward to it since it was first announced months ago. He might not be much of a Jammin’ Ninja fan, but the Pink Princess was a different story. Heralded as [something positive here] by early viewers [look up term], this show wasn't to be missed. Miles showed up to buy his tickets on the day presale opened only to find they completely sold out an hour prior. His disappointment was immeasurable. He would have been there earlier, but a [list crime here], threw a wrench in his plans. He stalked online marketplaces hoping someone would attempt to sell their ticket. Miles hated the practice, but no price was too great. No listings appeared. He even put up a listing himself, telling the seller to name their price in exchange for one ticket. No one took interest. Miles was surprised, but maybe he shouldn't have been. Experiencing the Steel Samurai-verse truly was priceless. Miles had all but given up when he found out about the radio contest. He entered, not knowing Gumshoe did the same. He took the needed precautions by using a pseudonym and getting a disposable phone just for this very purpose. It was more work than he cared for, but he couldn't risk being found out. His efforts ended in vain. Though, if Gumshoe won, it might still be to his advantage–assuming no one else knew. “Erm, does anyone else know of your… winnings?”
A screenshot that depicts an early draft excerpt of a WIP. The text in the screenshot states the following: Later on Miles has his travel chess set out and Phoenix has his paints, and after watching Phoenix paint for a bit in the story at this point, he picks up the brush/paint (after being hesitant and watching him) and starts painting his piece (probably the white one, or whatever moves first). "What are you doing?" "Customizing." [Phoenix gives him a look; Miles smirks] "What? Would you rather I not share/partake in your craft/hobby?" Phoenix smiles. "No, just... surprised, is all." Miles returns his expression. "That makes two of us." Phoenix goes to grab one of the other colors. "Do you mind?" "Go ahead (or something that shows he's glad for him to do it)." Phoenix grabs the blue paint and starts going over the black. "I was wondering if that was your choice." Sound or look that Phoenix doesn't know what he means. "Blue/the blue. It's your favorite, isn't it? You wear it quite often." Phoenix can think of him noticing. "But you always did, even as a child." "You remember that?"