#hope it feels fitting enough

[crunchchute]

my attempt at a bunch of my fav artists styles :] idea by sootnuki!!

i would love to do more but this was already a huge challenge

if any artist here dislikes this/is uncomfortable with it/any reason i can take it down or turn off reblogs etc. otherwise i hope its ok 🫡 im not gonna tag anyone just gonna let it do its thing in the wild lol

[waitineedaname]

I realized I made some notes on how different characters fight in mob psycho, and I never posted them. here you guys go, for any reference needs

Mob: mostly simple attacks, not very showy, just waves his hand and uses telekinesis/exorcizes something, doesn’t move around much. As ???%, much more destructive, psychic force seems to just emanate off of him and destroy everything

Teru: VERY mobile, throws himself around with telekinesis, puts his whole body into the attacks and tends to use moves from normal fights (punches, slaps, kicks, etc). Utilizes a variety of psychic techniques with flexibility, very creative. Piss stance, necktie sword. Much more flashy than Mob

Ritsu: uses powers to throw people/things around. While Mob and Teru attack with just psychic blasts, Ritsu tends to use his powers to grab other things as an attack (grabbing the delinquents and throwing them against each other, throwing the Claw guards against the wall, picking up cars to sandwich Shimazaki between them). Uses his environment creatively (fire extinguisher smoke screen against Shimazaki). More flashy than Mob, but not as mobile as Teru. Hand gestures for Drama

Shou: sneaky + speed + bomb!! Tries to be as evasive as possible using invisibility/speed (probably telekinetically enhanced?) to hit from behind, using either telekinetic force (his stomp in his introduction, the shockwave hit on ???%) or his charge bomb attack. Potentially uses speed/evasive moves as defense instead of the barriers we see most everyone else use

Serizawa: likes to channel his powers into an object (umbrella, business cards). Uses that object as a shield, sword, or something to blast psychic powers out of. Not very mobile in season two, moves around much more in the yokai fight. Not particularly flashy, but looks cool regardless

Reigen: deception/surprise!!! Either tricks people into thinking he’s going to do something else and then attacking, or just outright taking them by surprise and attacking before they know what’s going on. Usually doesn’t have a follow-up move, just does the one attack and hopes for the best. Prefers to bluff his way through a situation

[anominous-user]

separate images of the white tie flame-chasers (ft. dystopia n ato)

[mutalune]

my clone culture headcanon is that they have almost no traditional mandalorian ties, they picked up almost nothing culturally/linguistically from the mandalorian trainers, but the one thing they DID get were endearments/affectionate and-or comforting words/etc.

b/c 1) that was the only way the trainers could somewhat express affection for their favorites without getting dinged for being too attached to them since no one there actually spoke mando’a 2) kaminoans would be Unhappy if the clones expressed affection openly so secret language words were the only way to safely verbalize caring and loving, so they picked up on those few kind words VERY quickly

(The way I see it working is that the trainers had favorites, would occasionally say something like “chin up, hang in there, good job kiddo,” and said favorites picked up those terms without actually ever getting Direct Translations of what they mean. So they get the words and some context but have to jumble it together themselves and pronunciation and meaning change the further away it spreads from the original favorites - because all of this is spread in private, quietly, until it grows its own legs in different iterations with different battalions imho

like they know adding -‘ika to a name is affectionate and feels like a diminutive but they don’t know what it means exactly and sometimes plug it into names in grammatically odd ways, so instead of “Trap’ika” you get “Trapper’ika” which sounds more like “Trapperka” when you’re talking fast.)

(i’m just a fan of gentle soft pet names and showing affection quietly and how love finds a way and how the clones can take what little scraps they were given and make it their own)

[puppyeared]

who up seeing their disorder in a fictional character but feel like its not their place to put a name on it

[alternautxyz]

uuhhh in other new that lmk s5 trailer dropped and people are very

mixed

for context the new season is being partly animated by wildbrain i think. flying bark is still working on the show but probably due to all the other projects they've been working on like the atla movie the animation is off.

its understandable that people are upset. lmk has some of the most consistently dynamic and lively animation ive ever seen, and going from that to ok animation kinda sucks. as a culmination of a lot of what the series has been building up to people were inevitably going to be disappointed

at the same time people shouldnt harass animators. like ever. no amount of trying to petition or anything will change the s5, people are just trying to do their job and theres no probably no major changing to the finished product by now. and theres still a lot of that lmk charm in there, and we haven't even seen the whole season yet to judge it. flying bark is still working on it, and even if the animation never reaches the peak of the old seasons it still has the same writers so at least the writing has the chance to live up old standards. idk though we'll just have to wait and see

[funkbun]

olsa's army of children

[arctic-bookclub]

both q!fit and q!tubbo keep explaining away q!phil's absence in ways that dismiss any possible alarm, tubbo with meta (phil playing hardcore) and q!fit thinks he's on a vacation again and keeps calling him lazy,, i knew q!phil was going to have to escape on his own regardless of if anyone noticed his absence or not because there's no way for anyone to even guess where he is, but now he'll be escaping alone only to come back to no one worried about him and calling him lazy for being away for so long

[gerbiloftriumph]

Lost and Found (ao3):

Grandpa’s story of the goblin caves started out familiarly enough, but as he spoke, the story started to twist and change. New friends, new conversations, and new ways to use old items transformed the tale, and the young king discovered new ways to be brave in the dark tunnels beneath Daventry.

(4/?)

~*~

The cure-all was heavy in Graham’s hands. He examined it carefully. A little potion, an unassuming design, but it could do so much. He had to pray to all the stars above that no one else would get sick down here, since there was just a single dose. He had to get them all out before it went wrong. Well. Wronger. Er. More wrong. He rubbed his forehead, feeling a crease in the skin where the heavy crown sat.

Nothing for it. Decisions had to be made, had been made for him by circumstance. He walked to the Feys, clutching that bottle like it was life itself. And, as far as he could tell, it kind of was.

Bramble was moaning, clinging to Wente’s hand. “Can morning sickness last all day?” she asked, and she curled in on herself, mumbling, “Self hug. Self hug. Arghh, self hug!”

Wente rubbed her shoulders, his eyes glassy, and he glanced up at Graham. “We’re in a very bad place, Graham. I’m scared for her. If I had the strength, I’d rip these bars apart just to steal her a nibble. Please help her. I don’t...I don’t think she’ll make it another day.”

Graham held out the potion. “For Bramble. I think it’ll help.”

Wente took the cure-all with reverence. “Bramble, sweetling, a gift! From King Graham!” He helped her sit up, ever so slightly, just so she could drink. “That’s great, Nutmeg” he said fondly, rubbing circles on her back as she breathed. “Take it easy now.”

“What was that?” Bramble asked, her gasps relaxing into natural breathing. “It tasted so sweet, like honey.”

“Nothing’s so sweet as you, Gumdrop. How are you feeling?”

“Instantly better!” She swung her feet over the side of the cot. “I think I should stand,” she said. “I’ve been lying down for so long, I need a stretch.”

“Easy, easy,” Wente said, taking her arm. “Okay? Okay! Your color is so much better, baked bread instead of raw. Oh, dumpling!” He embraced her tightly.

Graham smiled as the bakers approached, holding hands. But Bramble hesitated, getting a good look at him for the first time. “Come closer,” she said, and she reached out between the bars, gently touching Graham’s jawline. He flinched back instinctively—he bore a smattering of purpling bruises along his cheek and jaw, blows from goblins during the initial capture, and blows from being tackled for all kinds of other reasons. Like not cleaning fast enough. Or watching salamanders. Or just...existing, really. “Majesty, these don’t look nice.”

“They’re fine. I’m fine,” he said, with as stiff and regal a bearing as he thought a king ought to have. At least she couldn’t see the other tender marks hidden beneath his clothes. Especially along his legs. His own weight against rough goblin hands during those upside-down shakedowns, ow. “You’re much more important. Better?”

“Even down in this pit of despair, I find hope. Bless you, Graham,” Bramble said.

“I don’t have anything I can give you, Majesty, but you’ve saved my family today.” Wente firmly shook Graham’s hand in lieu of a hug, since the bars still stood between them.  

“I don’t need anything in return, Wente.”

“No, no, there must be something...” he fumbled in his pockets, then pressed a single gold coin in Graham’s hand. “Here.”

“But, Wente—” Graham knew how desperately the Feys always counted their coins.

“I have no use for gold down here. Unless that’s chocolate. Is it a chocolate coin? I didn’t mean to give you a chocolate one.”

“No, no. It’s real.” And brand new, Graham realized, turning it over in his fingers. Freshly minted and shining. With his profile on it. He ran his finger across his own little golden nose, across the tiny imitation of the crown on his head. He swallowed hard, then jammed it deep in his pocket, unable to look at it further. Whisper mumbled something sleepily in his cloak.

“Well, either way, she’s definitely on the rise, thanks to you. When I’m outta here, I’ll give you a proper hug, too. It’s the yeast I can do.” Wente’s hand found Bramble’s again and squeezed it.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Graham said.

Bramble leaned against her husband. “You didn’t find an oil fryer in any of these cells, did you?” she asked, smiling shyly. “I should be eating for two, but I’m afraid I’m eating for none. I’m doing better, but Wente, we have to get out of here. It’s not good for the baby.”

“Hey, you once told me I could never trust a skinny baker, so I’m going to keep you in your most trustworthy state. I’m just coming up with ideas now. I promise, we’ll be out of here as soon as I can manage it. I just need to, uh. Do some things.”

Bramble nodded. “At the very least, if you can find some wood and flour, we can use this furnace to bake some simple prison sweetycakes for our fellow prisoners, and you too, of course.”

“I don’t need anything.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Bramble said. “You’re so thin you could turn sideways and disappear, if you’ll forgive my crude observation, Majesty. I can’t imagine you’re holding up, either.”

“I’m still feeling good,” Graham lied.

“Mmm. Well. Either way. Thanks, Your Majesty.”

“You don’t need to call me that, you know,” Graham said. “Just Graham is fine.”

“Of course, Majesty,” Bramble said.

“I thought you were just going to leave us here,” Wente said. “Even with our extra little bun. I’m glad you’re still a compassionate fellow, Sire. You’re still doing you, and I couldn’t be more grateful. Thank you. Now.” He turned back to his wife, his mustache bright and high. “Lay your head down, Bramble. You need rest. Healthy, good rest, this time.”

“Oh, Buttercup, I’m all right. You don’t need to fuss.”

“It’s true. I’m a worrier. Come on, let’s lie down. Ooh, speaking of worrying, I hope we didn’t leave the oven on.”

“Wente, it’s fine.”

“I’m sure it is, sweet potato.”

“Carrot cake.”

“Cinnamon sugar.”

Graham left quietly while the bakers whispered pet names at each other.

~*~

“This bed might be my final resting place. Good thing I’m a stickler for thread count.”

“Don’t say that, Amaya.”

“Here lies the body of Amaya Blackstone. May she rest in Egyptian cotton sheets.”

“Come on, please.”

“Then get me outta here, kid.”

“I’m working on it.”

“What do you still need?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” Graham sat back against the cell bars, his back to her, watching the goblin guards in the room. They ignored him. “So much. Food. A way to get everyone out of their cells safely. Food. A way out of the prison safely. Food. A way up to the surface safely. A different hat.” He pulled his crown off and set it on the ground near his feet. He curled over his knees, glaring at it, and he felt his eyes prickling with frustration. “It’s probably that hat’s fault. Whisper thinks so. Which means it’s my fault. Gods, it’s my fault.” He pressed his face against his knees, trembling.

“Oh, no, is Twinkle Toes down here, too?”

“Don’t sound so annoyed.” His voice, spoken to his knees, was muffled. He chose not to mention Whisper was actively snoring in his pocket.  

He felt Amaya sit down behind him, her back to his, bars between them. “Look, Graham, I’m not saying this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t king. But, it could have. These little hoarders have been taking my stuff for years. You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve lost to them.”

He snorted. “Yeah, is this a prison, or a museum?”

“Someone needs to have an intervention with these hoarders,” Amaya agreed. “Unfortunately, they failed to hoard all the food. Look, kid, we have no time for emotions. But. Because it’s you, I guess maybe we should. Because you’re, ergh, emotional. So, I mean, like…no, stop trying to turn around, don’t look at me while I’m talking about this, stop it, Graham.” She punched his shoulder hard, and Graham turned back again.

Wente didn’t believe I was going to help them. Did he think I lost my compassion when I became king? Did I? Have I? What is this hat doing to me? His face, ohstars, his expression. He really thought I was going to give up on them, that I’d changed.

And what if there had been multiple people sick? With only one bottle of cure-all? What would I have done? Who am I to choose? Does this crown give me that right? Do I want that?

(“As an adventurer, I was great at taking quests. As a king, I struggled at giving orders. What if I made the wrong choice? What if I led the kingdom astray? What if I lost another friend to that dragon?”)

Graham said nothing, but he reached into his pocket and withdrew the coin, flipping it over and over in his hands. The Daventry royal crest on one side. His profile on the other. Twirling it over his knuckles, a trick his sister had taught him so long ago.

“I’m just trying to make the right decisions,” he mumbled. “How can you ever decide what to do?” Especially when the choices felt so important. Did wearing the crown mean he had to make choices he didn’t want to make?

(Grandpa looked sadly at his little mirror self, curled up and feeling so alone, despite Amaya’s warm presence. “But taking too long to choose something was hardly better than choosing nothing.”)

“Indecision and indigestion’ll both make you sick.”

“Pff, thanks.”

“What’s that thing you always say? This is a puzzle, work it out, or something? You just gotta lay out the pieces and find out what you’ve got, step by step, and focus on what’s in front of you. One step at a time. One choice at a time. It’s gonna suck, and you’re gonna doubt every move you make. And others might doubt you, too. Think you’re not doing what they need you to do, and get mad and impatient. But you gotta commit to your plan. And, more than that, you don’t have to do anything alone. You can ask for help.

“But you gotta take it one step at a time, first. When something’s this big, overwhelming, focus small. We’ll deal with the big mushy feely fault stuff later, okay?”

She sat up. “Speaking of mushy stuff, would you stop staring at me?” she snapped at one of the goblins, who was standing close to the two of them. Not listening to what they were talking about, but cooing over Amaya. “I’m not interested.”

“What’s he after?” Graham asked, pulling his crown back on. He hoped his voice didn’t sound as shaky as he felt.

“They seem to be drawn to me. I wish I could make it stop. Go away! We are not friends! Go see Wente if you want a hug!”

“Aside from the goblin, I, uh. Thanks, Amaya. It’s…easy to get lost in here.”

“I’d make a great advisor, you know.”

“I’ll keep that under advisement.”

“Give me your crown so I can throw it at you.”

(“I was wondering if I would see a rock break through her shell,” Grandpa said, as he and Gwendolyn watched the little mirror Amaya swat at the goblin outside her cell. She couldn’t quite reach; he kept skipping back a pace, then approaching again. He made little heart shapes at her with his claws, and she groaned, rolling her eyes. “I know I probably shouldn’t have just stood there watching that goblin try to woo Amaya, but I just couldn’t help myself.”

“I remember that from the first time you told this story a couple days ago,” Gwendolyn said. “I don’t think we need to go over it again.”

“Well, then, my little biscuit, I can skip it if you like. Now, what happened next…ah, yes, it was near the end of the day. Amaya had just reminded me that I didn’t have all the answers, but I had found great friends who would help me find them. But I couldn’t lose one of my friends to the goblins. I had to find a place to hide Whisper. Could you imagine if he tipped out of my pockets while the goblins were searching me?”)

Graham returned to the upper levels, which seemed to have fewer goblins, to find a place for Whisper. With their combined strength, they were able to push some weighted levers, giving them earlier access to some hidden rooms, including a very lovely mushroom garden, which took Graham’s breath away.

Every species of fungus Graham could imagine grew in that space, and many more that he had never thought to imagine. They glowed faintly in a huge array of colors. Even roses bloomed, in a cultivated pot. So many fairy tales required a single perfect red rose, Graham wasn’t surprised that they were here. Just surprised that they were able to grow. Someone cared a lot for that little collection of roses.

“Whisper is quite fond of this room!”

“It does seem safe,” Graham agreed. “Lots of places to hide if you need to. Oh, but, what about food? I can’t imagine these are edible.” He waved vaguely at the towering fungi.

“Don’t worry about Whisper! Whisper goes on frequent fast days, to keep this trim physique! Besides, Whisper doubts you have any special energy drink powder in your pockets.” He posed dramatically amongst the mushrooms. “You worry about yourself and the others. In the meantime, Whisper awaits your command!” He got distracted looking at the roses. “Oooh, look at those. Whisper wonders if the lovely Miss Amaya would like…hmm….”

Graham had one more thing to do before the end of the day, and it involved Amaya, a sword hilt with a frying pan attached to it, and a hapless goblin’s face.

“Oooh, shank you very much, Graham,” Amaya said, looking at the sword-pan combo. Then, she turned to the goblin that had been flirting with her all day, screamed, “My name is Amaya Blackstone! You stole my mattress! Prepare to die!” and thumped the goblin over the head with the frying pan with a loud twangy ring.

He scooped up another coin the goblin had been holding (two in hand, four more to go for his black market prize) before being scooped up himself by a goblin. He was dragged back to his room and flung against the far wall, bouncing off a protruding pipe and earning another bruise. He was yelled at in goblinese, presumably for starting a fight in Amaya’s cell. The little goblin kept pointing and standing with his hands on his hips, which might have looked threatening if he wasn’t so short.

Graham suffered the indignity of another upside-down shakedown, clinging to the crown with both hands so it wouldn’t fall off and dent as goblins held his legs and shook him wildly. But while the crown was safe, the shovel clanged out of his pocket. He winced—he’d forgotten about it entirely. The goblins dropped him and grabbed at the shovel, perhaps assuming he could use it to dig his way out. Never mind how long that would take against bare rock, but still. They hurried away, shovel in their hands, and Graham clutched the bars on his door as he watched them disappear into darkness.

Still. That meant they hadn’t noticed anything else he’d been carrying. Perhaps none of it would have caught their eye, perhaps it would have. Fake magic beans, Whisper’s portraits, Acorn’s flowers, plant growth potion, coins…sure, it was mostly junk, but it was all he had, and that made it a treasure trove.

“All right,” he said to the salamanders, trying to force confidence into his voice. He rubbed his side and his new bruise distractedly. “Newton, I think we’ve done good today. I think we should rest up.” He glanced at his little camp bed, which had another salamander on the pillow. “I know, Sally! We were super-productive, right?” He ran a finger over the magic beans, which glittered especially brightly in salamander light, and yawned hugely. “Well. I probably shouldn’t keep talking to the newts. I guess I’ll go to bed.”

[disposal-blueeee]

silly thing i made last night XP

vargas by @zarla-s

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

catching up on well there’s your problem podcast bonus episodes, thinking about cars a lot, and a fucking fiat would serve 99.999% of my car needs perfectly well. i would be perfectly happy driving a little tiny fiat! they’re fun to drive! i got a subaru hatchback bc i knew i was moving cross country soon and wanted reasonable cargo space, and i wanted a four wheel drive vehicle for the rest of my time in w mass. i have needed to rent or borrow a truck Twice outside of major apartment moves.

however! with all these fucking pavement princess trucks in houston, where the hoods of these giant fuckoff trucks are a full head above my car’s roof, im genuinely afraid that an entire fiat would fit completely within their front blind spot and i would be squished!!!

[japanifornication]

oh man oh man. im always fond of phoenix w a praise kink and just. overwhelmed by love. miles fucking into him while whispering sweet nothings until he’s shaking from his orgasm after orgasm. make this slut cry from being loved and fucked! that one fic you wrote, “late night” was RIGHT up my alley and i swear i go back to it often

rubbing at the bags he can feel setting in beneath his eyes, phoenix has never been more tired in his life. not when he stayed up all night studying to get through law school. not the time he didn't sleep for three days a week before the bar and had to be forced to rest by mia. not when she was murdered, not even when he spent a night in city jail accused of that very murder.

the clop of two pairs of sandals patter into the distance as he watches maya, holding onto pearl's hand like a lifeline, head for their train under the flickering lights of the station. as they board, any remaining energy phoenix had escapes him and he sags back against the wall he's been leaning against, arms crossing over his chest as a sigh slips out of him.

it's hard to watch them go when they've only just got maya back, but with morgan headed to prison, they have a lot of things to sort out back in kurain, like packing up belongings and figuring out where they'll stay when they're there for training.

"it's getting quite late, wright."

he'd almost been falling asleep where he stood and the voice startles him, making him stand up straight and snap to attention. for a few minutes, he'd almost forgotten edgeworth was there. it's easy to forget, when it's quiet—he was dead for an entire year, after all.

"yeah. sorry to keep you waiting. you didn't have to do this, you know." phoenix says it automatically, like it's an obligation, even though he's not quite sure he is sorry after what the prosecutor did.

"i'm aware," is all edgeworth says, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and then just briefly gripping at his elbow.

it's almost funny. when phoenix first met the man again on the other side of the courtroom last year, he looked like hell barely warmed over. edgeworth was the one with dark circles around the eyes, a permanent scowl affixed to his face. now, he looks oddly tranquil, if just a bit fatigued, and phoenix is the one who feels like garbage. things can change a lot in a year.

he clears his throat. "well. i won't keep you here any longer. let's get back to the car." he lets edgeworth lead the way back to his car—new since phoenix last saw it during state v. skye—and climbs back into the passenger seat, rattling off his address. it's a wonder he can even remember it in his current state.

it only gets darker as they head back through the city and by the time they make it to phoenix's apartment it's well into the night, not a hint of sun left in the sky. the car idles in the parking lot. neither make a move to leave or encourage the other to do so.

"so are you back living here?" phoenix finally gathers the strength to say. he means is he back residing within l.a. but the way it comes out almost sounds like he's asking if edgeworth is really, truly back from the dead and not just a spirit. "in l.a. i mean, not here obviously," he clarifies, as though there were any confusion whether or not edgeworth lived with phoenix. haha, very funny.

there's a slight squeak of leather as the man's hand shifts on the steering wheel, uncomfortable but not angry. "ah, i've only been back for a few days. i'm in a hotel, currently, but yes, i intend to find a new apartment."

"gotcha," phoenix says with an absent nod, chewing the inside of his mouth. "hey, um. i'm sorry about what i said, about… about you staying dead."

"wright, don't," edgeworth scoffs. "it's too late to take back words we've regretted, if anyone knows that it's me. don't waste your breath."

an exasperated laugh bursts out of the defense attorney. "okay great, because i'm not actually sorry."

edgeworth huffs at that with a slight shake of his head.

"but… do you want to come in for a beer or something? because this has been the longest day of my life and i'm sure even underneath that perfectly logical, stoic exterior, you can agree it's been exhausting." phoenix raises an eyebrow.

"a beer? tch." edgeworth's lip curls in distaste at the idea.

"what, not a beer drinker? i don't keep much in the way of wine or anything but i might have some whiskey," he offers instead.

edgeworth tilts his head, considering the offer with a slow blink. "i'm not sure you can afford my tastes, wright, but i'm intrigued." he unbuckles his seatbelt, indicating he's taken phoenix up on it.

"great." phoenix climbs out of the car and leads the way into his apartment building. he lives on the second floor, and they take the stairs up. it's faster, and he's not going to ask the man to take an elevator. it might have been a year, but he hasn't forgotten everything.

"sorry about the mess," he apologizes as he unlocks his front door. the last few days have been so long—he's been sleeping in his office and almost forgot about how much of a disaster his apartment is. he haphazardly tries to clean up before edgeworth can take in too much of the surroundings, scooping up dishes to bring to the kitchen and stuffing trash in the bin and kicking dirty laundry out of the way.

edgeworth is busy removing his shoes at the door and he manages to get the place looking a little less gross by the time he's done, then stops to take off his own shoes and jacket. he heads into the kitchen to see what he's got as far as alcohol, searching through his cabinets until he finds the bottle of whiskey he promised.

"how do you take it?" he asks.

"neat," comes the reply, edgeworth having followed him into the kitchen. he waits as phoenix pours them each a glass, then takes the bottle himself to inspect it. his eyebrows go up. "perhaps you've come into some fortune in my absence."

staring down into his rocks glass, phoenix tries to give a smile. it comes off weak. "if only. i inherited mia's liquor collection. went through most of it between you choosing death and now, if i'm honest."

adjusting his glass on the counter, edgeworth frowns down into his own drink. "ah. i see. ms. fey had good tastes, then?"

"i think she was gifted a lot of it, i'm honestly not sure." he lifts his glass to his lips, taking a deep swig. it burns on the way down. "sometimes i wonder… if i even knew her that well. if i'm doing any of this right. if she'd be proud of me. after a case like today, i'm not so sure."

"you saved her sister," edgeworth points out, palming his own glass and drinking from it absently. "i imagine that would mean a fair amount to her."

"yeah, i guess so. but i almost pinned a murder on an innocent woman. just feel like i should have figured out it was engarde a lot sooner, you know?" phoenix stands up straight, the tension awkward, and downs the rest of his glass in one go so he can pour himself another.

"i can see your point, though i believe you’re being a bit harsh on yourself. anyone under those circumstances would have struggled. i certainly fared no better, and i wasn’t the one whose loved ones were being held hostage for the majority of that case.” the words are mumbled thoughtfully over the rim of his glass before he takes another drink.

“why are you being so nice to me?”

his question obviously catches edgeworth by surprise, and the man finishes his whiskey before answering. “after hearing you be so honest about what you thought of my absence… i suppose it feels like obligation.”

the thought of any more drinks is immediately abandoned, because in the next moment, phoenix is grabbing edgeworth by that stupid cravat and pulling him close and smashing his mouth against his.

there’s a noise of protest, an initial objection, from edgeworth that seems to be more out of shock than anything, and then edgeworth’s arms are around his waist, crushing him close; he’s kissing phoenix back and he tastes like the whiskey they’ve been drinking and mint—toothpaste? breathmints? something else?—and phoenix sighs almost angrily against his mouth, furious he could have had this so much sooner if not for everything that had happened.

except that then edgeworth stops kissing him, to ask “wright, should i be doing this? surely you’re not drunk after a drink and a half.”

“i’m sober. kiss me, you son of a bitch.”

“it’s a bit rude to speak so poorly of the dead, you know,” he huffs in jest.

“good thing you’re not really dead.” phoenix’s hands fist in his hair as he tugs him back in for another kiss, and it’s all tongue and teeth and desperation, wanton for more.

before either of them knows what has happened, they’re standing in phoenix’s bedroom next to his bed. neither of them is particularly good at kissing and it doesn’t matter, because they’re kissing like it’s the last thing they’ll ever do and it’s driving phoenix insane.

unfortunately, edgeworth seems reluctant to do anything more than that. phoenix keeps trying to move things along—attempting to kiss down his throat, to bite him, to grab at his ass or unbutton his waistcoat—and edgeworth keeps grabbing at his wrists, moving them back to more appropriate places, kissing him like he wants to savor it rather than do anything else.

“just fuck me already,” phoenix finally groans, drinking in the way edgeworth laughs in response. when was the last time he even heard him laugh? not just a condescending chuckle from the other side of the courtroom, but actually laugh like he does now? when they were nine?

his back hits the bed as edgeworth shoves him away roughly. “fine. i’ll give you what it is you’re so desperate for.” he watches as the prosecutor tugs open his nightstand to survey the contents, and apparently finds what he expected to, retrieving the box of condoms from within and setting it atop the surface. “but i’m not doing this without some sort of safe word in place. it’s clear you’re not in a state to be taken at your word.”

“stoplight system,” phoenix replies, without hesitation.

that earns him a raised eyebrow, and for a moment it seems like he might be rejected, but eventually, edgeworth shrugs a shoulder and nods. “i’m familiar. that’s acceptable, can i trust you to actually use it?”

“funny of you to be asking me about trust right now.”

“wright.” there’s an obvious warning tone in his voice. “yeah. yes, i will use it correctly. green means go, red means stop, don’t stop unless i actually say that.”

there’s a hunger underlining edgeworth’s voice when he next speaks that makes all of phoenix’s skin prickle with desire. “alright. get on with it, then. tell me what you want.”

“god, thank you,” phoenix breathes. he sits up and grabs edgeworth by his belt, yanking him forward so he can undo it. “just want you to hold me down, make me take it.”

edgeworth blows out a long breath, but phoenix doesn’t look up, single-minded in his task now as he moves to unbutton the man’s slacks. the zip comes undone with relative ease, but the prosecutor’s shirt is long and held down by stays, partially blocking access to what he wants. it’s dark, and he’s a little drunk, and undoing the smaller buttons here is a bit harder, so he fumbles around with them as he talks. “you know. give it to me hard, don’t hold back, no matter what i say.”

edgeworth sheds his jacket and waistcoat and works his cravat free, discarding them on the side of phoenix’s bed before loosening the buttons of his shirt sleeves to roll them up. like this, phoenix can see the light hair that peppers his arms, usually hidden by clothes or distance across the courtroom or the fact that he thought the man was dead for a year. “is that how you normally prefer it?”

opting not to answer that, phoenix finishes unbuttoning the bottom of edgeworth’s shirt, giving him access to his boxer-briefs beneath. his fingers hook into the waistband and stretch it away from his skin, freeing the arousal steadily growing within and shoving them down as far as he can with the stays still hooked around his thighs.

he leans forward, gently cupping edgeworth's cock in one hand as he trails his lips down the side of it. the skin is so soft under his touch, but he doesn't get even a second to enjoy it; immediately, there's a hand in his hair, forcing his head back and away. he grimaces, baring his incisors but flooding with heat at the simple movement.

"someone's a bit overeager," edgeworth admonishes.

"yeah, well, when you've spent a year fantasizing about something you're positive you'll never get…" he steals a glance up at edgeworth's face, his chest starting to heave even though they haven't even started yet.

the man clenches his jaw, like the reminder hurts, but he feigns it away with a roll of his eyes. it doesn't fool phoenix, but he doesn't call it out. again, phoenix is pushed back to the bed like it's effortless, and edgeworth moves back to the nightstand to retrieve a condom from the box.

phoenix takes the opportunity to undo his own belt and slacks, shimmying them down along with his boxers around his hips. his thighs and hair are already slick with moisture, his dick swollen and begging to be touched.

he doesn't want to bother with the effort of fully undressing, so instead he rolls over while edgeworth applies the condom, ending up bent over the edge of his bed, ready and waiting.

he hears edgeworth spit into his hand, stroke it along his length then feels that hand on him for a brief, thrilling second, but he's already sopping wet, so it's unnecessary.

phoenix scrambles up the bed a little further but before he can really get anywhere, there’s a strong hand on his hip as the body behind him thrusts forward against him. with that one, swift movement, edgeworth is inside him, and he cries out, writhing against the sheets and trying not to just melt into uselessness.

a hand comes down against his shoulder, holding him down just like he'd asked for, but edgeworth leans in close and the other snakes over his mouth, preventing him from further cries as each snap of his hips makes phoenix want to scream. "is this what you wanted?" the man breathes hot and low in his ear.

he can only nod desperately, tears catching in his lashes as that cock rams into his g-spot and makes him quiver.

edgeworth doesn't stop. each thrust comes unbelievably hard, a loud slap of skin echoing through the room, but there's a pause between each one, and phoenix is grateful for that because otherwise he doesn't know how he would breathe. beads of sweat are already forming on the back of his neck, rolling down under the collar of his shirt. he quiets down, just panting against edgeworth’s palm, tasting the salt of his flesh, pushing back into each stroke and closing his eyes to bask in the feeling of him, to know it’s edgeworth pinning him down and spearing him open.

he's slick and needy and hasn't been so close to satisfied in what feels like forever.

he rocks his hips forward instinctively, trying to get friction on his own dick against the bed, but failing. edgeworth huffs out a condescending laugh in his ear. "not enough still? what are you, wright, a dog? must you hump something just to get off?"

phoenix whines at the suggestion but nods again against edgeworth's hand.

"yes?" he sounds mildly surprised, but not put-off. "alright." he straightens for a minute, pulling phoenix up so he can slide a folded pillow between the man's legs—phoenix's head is spinning and he lets himself be maneuvered bonelessly—before pushing him back down into the position they'd been in.

"are you sure this is how you want it, though, wright?" he asks in his ear again as they return to that pace of steady slams. "I'm happy to fuck you as hard as you'd like, but i had something a little different in mind." he slows down further, the thrusts turning into a sensual grind, no longer ramming into him with each one.

a sob leaks out of phoenix and he ruts against the pillow, mumbling against edgeworth's hand. his mouth is freed so he can speak. "please," he gasps. "tell me you're here to stay. that you won't leave again."

an anguished sound chokes out of the prosecutor. "i am not going anywhere, phoenix," he says after a moment of hesitation. there’s an edge to his voice, hurt but on the verge of something almost tender, and phoenix easily needs more.

"just need to feel it. need you to show me you're not going anywhere," phoenix begs. “just prove it to me, fuck me like you mean it.”

"oh, darling, i'm not leaving you." the term of endearment seems to slip out of edgeworth like it’s an accident, but he doesn’t take it back, and it feels like it stabs right through phoenix’s back and pins him to the mattress as much as the man himself is doing physically. edgeworth's hands reposition themselves to the bed on each side of his shoulders for more leverage and his cock grinds deeper into phoenix, forcing a strangled moan out of him. "i'm here to stay, and i'll prove it to you just like this whenever you'd like. that's it, open up for me, i want to hear you."

phoenix doesn't try to hold back his sounds anymore, more moans and whimpers and sobs escaping him in escalating volume as edgeworth fucks him and as he humps against the pillow. edgeworth has picked up the pace again, strokes coming faster, and phoenix's brain is dissolving into a puddle.

"harder, please," he whines.

"i'll give you harder, darling, but i want you to come first. you're doing so well," edgeworth murmurs, leaning down to kiss the top of his ear. "i know you can do it. it feels good, doesn't it? to grind on your pillow? be a good boy and come for me, phoenix."

a harsher sob is ripped from his chest. his hips roll against it more desperately even as edgeworth doesn't stop pounding into him. "i'm so close," he whispers shakily.

"i know," edgeworth reassures, lowering himself to further press into phoenix, more grinding into him again which just forces him more into the pillow. "does this help? if i drive you into it?"

"yes, yes, oh, miles…"

"come for me, phoenix, then i'll give you that hard, unrelenting fuck you want, to prove i'm not going anywhere. come on. come for me."

and phoenix does, rocking forward against the pillow one last time and causing his orgasm to explode through him. he clenches around miles and his cock twitches with each pulse and miles is still rolling his hips, forcing him into the pillow, and he can't come down, and he's fully crying.

"good boy," he hears from edgeworth, and the praise is music he never imagined he'd hear. "are you ready for more?"

he hasn't even stopped coming yet, he's not ready for more, but god does he want it anyway. "no," he offers unhelpfully.

"no? color, wright."

"green," phoenix spits, a string of saliva connecting his mouth to the bed where he was accidentally drooling against his comforter.

"good, so let me ask again. are you ready for more?"

having no intention of changing his answer, phoenix repeats himself. "no. it's too much."

he can almost hear the smirk in edgeworth's voice, and is glad they're both on the same page. "and you think i have any intention of stopping simply because it’s too much? how quaint. you can handle more."

another hard slam of his hips has phoenix shaking, pressing his face back into the softness of his comforter to muffle a yelp, but as quickly as it was given, it’s taken away as edgeworth pulls out.

“roll over, wright. i want to see the moment you break,” he’s commanded, and phoenix doesn’t make any rush of moving to do so. edgeworth grabs his shoulder and pulls, rolling him over anyway. hands grab his slacks and yank, and phoenix kicks to at least help get them off, along with his boxers.

arms hook under his knees and in an instant edgeworth is back inside him, making phoenix’s back arch against the mattress. the pillow is still under him, but now it's providing support, and edgeworth is still hitting all the right spots, and he blearily opens his eyes to find the man looking down at him.

the way edgeworth looks at him is almost reverent, quicksilver eyes soft but dilated with pleasure, hair disheveled and hanging in his face, sweat beading on his forehead. it's different from how phoenix imagined it might be, when he thought he was dead. then, he hadn't known this edgeworth so desperately trying to redeem himself. he'd only known the angry, spiteful one, full of loathing for everyone and everything, especially himself and especially phoenix. he'd thought his eyes would be hardened, creased between the eyebrows, a permanent scowl fixed upon his face. he can see a slight divot between his eyebrows, but it looks more in concentration, and there's no scowl.

"miles," he breathes, just a whisper on his breath. he's struggling to even catch it with the force he's being fucked with, knocking the air out of his lungs, but he gulps down another breath and tries again. "m-miles. take off the condom."

a dry laugh huffs out of edgeworth and he hesitates. "are you delusional?"

"i promise it's safe. please…" he's crying again and he hates that he's crying again but he can't stop the tears from leaking down his cheeks. "please. i need you to prove you're not going anywhere. need you to fill me up and make me yours."

again, edgeworth blows out an affected breath, this time much more obviously struggling with the decision. "you're sure?"

"yes, i'm giving you the green light, please, god," he pleads.

"fuck, phoenix." in an instant, he pulls out again, looking down as he uses one hand to attempt to take off the condom. it takes a minute to get it off, but eventually he does, and it gets tossed in the trash beneath the nightstand before the man drives back into phoenix's hot cunt, filling him now with no barrier between them.

there's no way to prevent the flood of tears now, no longer just a trickle but practically a waterfall. he pushes edgeworth's arms away from under his knees to adjust, instead hooking his legs around the man's waist like he can draw him in deeper if he tries hard enough, like he can just pull edgeworth into his body and keep him there forever.

for edgeworth's part, at least, he grips a hand under phoenix's thigh and with a slight grunt helps shift them up onto the bed properly, and then they're chest-to-chest and the prosecutor is kissing down his jawline, tongue delving out to lick up the salt of his tears and god, phoenix is so overwhelmed.

"how long have you been dreaming about this, wright?" that deep, sultry voice mumbles right against his ear.

phoenix answers honestly, and he's not just crying from the overwhelming amount of pleasure anymore. now he's ugly crying, and it's embarrassing, and his hands find the front of edgeworth's shirt and twist in it, holding on to it like a lifeline. "a long time but—but i thought you were dead," he chokes out. he can feel alarm crackle through edgeworth like ice underfoot, but it's too late, they've already plunged through. "i th-thought you were fucking dead, that i'd missed my chance—"

his words are muffled by a kiss, one that's just as desperate and hungry as phoenix feels. he half-sobs, half-moans into it, clumsily attempting to reciprocate as best he can.

"i know. i'm so sorry, phoenix," edgeworth hisses against his mouth when they part for air. his movements have slowed, this thrusts languid but striking deep, and phoenix just encourages him, heels pressing against his ass with each inward stroke. "shh, you're alright. i'm not going anywhere." the words sound like a promise.

another pathetic mewl bleeds out of phoenix, energy sapped from him at the apology. his legs fall from around edgeworth's hips, coming to rest on the bed, because he can't hold them up anymore, and it just spreads him wider, lets the man fuck him deeper. he sniffles and presses his face into edgeworth's shoulder to hide his tear-strewn face.

"there you go, darling. relax. i'll give you what you need. you're being so good for me." edgeworth's breathing is labored and phoenix can feel sweat through the man's shirt.

his hands let go of the front to wrap around his back, crush him closer. it's too slow, too intimate, it's not what he asked for or wanted, but somehow it is what he needed.

the rhythm of edgeworth's thrusts start to falter and suddenly there's a hand on phoenix's jaw, turning his face towards his. "look at me."

phoenix does. the expression on edgeworth's face is so hard to read, but it seems almost close to adoration, or maybe obsession, and a shiver runs down phoenix's spine.

"i'm here, phoenix. because of you."

those six words are phoenix's undoing. his hands claw for purchase against edgeworth's back, fingertips catching in the folds of his shirt as his whole body tenses, pleasure slamming into him like a fucking freight train and forcing an orgasm out of him unlike any other. he feels edgeworth jolt against him and knows the man is coming too, leaving that tangible evidence that he's here, he's alive, he's alive he's alive he's alive, i'm alive.

for the first time since prosecutor miles edgeworth chose death, phoenix wright feels alive.

spent and exhausted, phoenix can't even complain when edgeworth collapses atop him. instead, he hugs him close, albeit weakly, eyes falling shut and just cradling the man against him, reluctant to let him pull out or leave just yet.

when they finally do part god knows how long later, no words are exchanged. edgeworth painstakingly withdraws from inside phoenix with a grimace, then helps him clean up in silence. he doesn't say anything as he removes the rest of his clothing, leaving phoenix to extract the implications from that action himself and disrobe as well, tossing the rest of his clothes to the floor.

they climb back into bed and phoenix finds himself hesitating to get closer until edgeworth draws him in himself, an arm sliding around him possessively.

before phoenix can drift off, he clears his throat and asks hoarsely, "should we… talk about what just happened?"

edgeworth dismisses it with a half-hearted shrug. "if you'd like. in the morning, perhaps?"

fear grips phoenix immediately and he swallows, looking up at the man. "will you still be here? in the morning?"

a long, tired sigh hisses out of edgeworth's chest. "i may have nightmares still, and may not be in bed when you awake. but yes. i will be here, in the morning."

"you promise?"

edgeworth searches his face for understanding. he doesn't seem the type to promise things, and perhaps that's why the response is delayed, but after a long moment, he nods slowly. "i promise."

phoenix buries his face against his chest, and in a few minutes, he's asleep.

[sunshades]

random thought but i've seen lots of cathys and penelopes and some maries and even a dulcinea and now i'm thinking. has anyone drawn margarete or has any thoughts on how they might be adapted into faust's canto. that story is something for sure.

[spacedustmantis]

’come talk i don’t bite’ guess what. i do. fuckimg bites u

YEEEOWCH

[goatmilksoda]

I love "This Too Shall Pass" but the thing about it is sometimes shit takes a really long time to pass. Yes "This Too Shall Pass" but can it hurry up a little please? I'm doing all the coping I can but when said problem is supposed to last more than 100 more days and there's nothing I can do to speed it up, it gets kind of hard not to go insane.

[eggs-can-draw]

dooooooble while watchin v3