9 Works by Umbrify
Listing Works
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Summary
“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.
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Your name is FailWhip, second child of the Grimlands royal family. Your older sister’s name is GeminiTay. She will become the Countess. You will not.
(why did your parents name you that?)
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The night dragged on, as they most often did, and fWhip’s sister had ushered him out onto the dance floor— she insisted he partake in a single dance, and it wasn’t long before the two were separated during the spiraling waltz, traded off to another nameless mask in the sea of infinite people.
And yet, one stood out from the rest.
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Or, fWhip attends what was supposed to be another boring party.
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Jimmy's boots click loudly on the stone as he walks, and, as he looks down, he notices the way the deepslate stones are worn down in certain places. Paths up and down the halls where the stone is scuffed in a certain way, as if fWhip often walked there.
As if he did, Jimmy scoffs at his own thought. He knows fWhip did. He watched him do it all the time, before…
Well… before.
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Rearranging fWhip's storage room may not be the height of villainy, but Jimmy thinks it'll do fine enough. He didn't expect to be there long. He didn't account for all the thoughts he'd been trying to avoid.
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The rumbling should’ve scared him more than it did. It should’ve scared all of them, really. But, their recent spring rain was a blessing at the time, and the terracotta was a bit softer, a bit easier to gather up, and Joel didn’t really think much else about it.
He didn’t think about the way the supports in the mine creaked strangely, or the way the echoes of his fellow miners seemed to bounce off the walls just a little bit different than before. He didn’t think about the subtle shift in the air, at the time.
(On long nights, after the accident, sometimes Joel thinks he should’ve noticed. He should’ve seen the writing on the wall, should’ve been paying enough attention to realize that these things couldn’t have been coincidences. He should’ve known, he tells himself.)
By the time Joel had realized something was wrong, it was much too late.