A/N: I forgot the disclaimer. oops. i don't own ace attorney or any of its characters. still.

thank you for reading. :)

t w o: Larry Butz


He isn't a bad person, just an unlucky one. He thinks it would be nice if his life was something more than a string of failed relationships, failed jobs, failed dreams- but he's grateful for what he has, and as long as he has a roof over his head and enough money to get by, he's happy.

Larry accepts that he's never going to do great things, although he does wonder what it would be like to have a purpose in life.


Larry feels terrible whenever he gets himself a new girlfriend, because he knows that within a week or two (at the most), it'll be over. It's almost routine, a sad monotony he's come to accept as his life. He'll mope a bit after she dumps him (or he dumps her, depending on whether he gets bored), then he'll forget her entirely because a new girl has come along and she's a model too (except this one has got prettier hair, he notices).

When he looks down at the girl on his arm, he reminds himself to smile and enjoy it while it lasts.


When he was little, he dreamt of being a superhero when he grew up, somebody who would use their magic powers to swoop in and save the day at the last minute.

Now he is grown up, it depresses him to realize that he's the one who usually needs saving.


Every time Larry runs into Nick (usually for the wrong reasons), he's reminded of what he's become. The shy, socially awkward boy that he knew as his friend from grade school is now a famous, successful defense lawyer- he's even got his own office and assistant. Phoenix Wright, Larry realizes, is everything he had ever aspired to be. The closest to a superhero as anyone could get.

Larry looks at his own mess of a life, and wonders where it all went wrong.


When Larry discovers art, his whole life changes.

With every stroke of the brush he feels the pain and stress slowly ebbing away until he's completely serene, letting the rhythm of his hands take charge to produce a magical world of colour on the canvas, his troubles flowing right out of him and taking form as the paint on his brush. He's creating masterpieces worthy of any art gallery, smiling as he sits back to admire his work, feeling more at peace with himself than ever.

It's not perfect, but it's more than he's ever had, and he's grateful.