#i feel like i was all over the place with characterization in this and it was partly on purpose bc neither of them know what they want

[trans-leek-cookie]

listen I'm not gonna be a Curly apologist he did Fucked Up as captain but I genuinely recommend ppl watch a playthru that goes thru the game in chronological order. It kinda helps clear up the events and gaps between them, bc even tho u See the times, you still experience it out of order.

The stuff Anya says definitely sets off alarm bells but it doesn't seem like he Fully Understands what she means, and I'm going to be 100% honest I think she was trying to repress it herself. This isn't to say that she is AT ALL "at fault" for what happened after and she should've gotten help even if she wasn't ready to fully discuss the issue but I genuinely think she herself was still coming to terms with things, so she didn't necessarily process the full impact before talking to Curly, and a lot of what happens occurs after they're laid off- like this delves into personal interpretation but I genuinely think Anya only registered Jimmy as a serious danger after his outburst towards Curly. Ofc my interpretation is limited bc of the limited pov in game and not having gone through what she has, but it personally reads more akin to coercion over time than a singular Obviously Violent incident (like. Not to say that Sexual Assault isnt violent in nature, just that coercion often specifically works to obfuscate the fact it is a form of violence.) The layoff is a Massive catalyst for her bc of Jimmy, in that she now has a very clear understanding of his capacity for aggression.

To extrapolate a little from the "Dead Pixel" conversation, she starts by saying she Likes The Screen (even though it's fake). While Curly has his quotes about the pixel "not ruining the illusion" which. Y'know is Symbolic Of His Flaws. She doesn't say the pixel ruins it, just that she can't get it out of her mind.

If we take the pixel to represent her Or jimmy, either way the way she talks about it kind of downplays things, like it's a Minor Thing that's Slightly Upsetting, but she's still okay with the big picture. Idk I could be 100% wrong but that is my take

Besides that, Anya tells curly she's pregnant 2 days before the crash, and it isn't until she outright states it that he starts Putting The Pieces Together. I want to note, he says "I'd do anything" and "this doesn't have to go on our performance evals" 1. Before he knows shes pregnant 2. Under the assumption she might attempt suicide, and I doubt he even thought about her using the gun on anyone else before she brings that up. He says literally before the line where she tells him she's pregnant that "being laid off isnt a reason to hurt [herself]". Like I've seen ppl talk about the performance evaluation thing like it's about her and jimmy, but I think he's referring to (his belief) that she might attempt suicide or similar which might genuinely be a consistent thing he's seen her struggle with, given she's able to go through with it. Also just to note: assuming their society is like ours (hellish) reassuring her he won't blab Abt her mental health is like. Genuine reassurance- lots of mentally ill ppl will Not Open Up bc it could have long term consequences (like. For example. On employment) ANYWAYS I hope it doesn't come off like "Curly never failed Anya" but rather "Curly approached this specific situation without the context of why Anya is panicking and (possibly validly) assuming she's dealing with a very different issue"

Also let me say again the time frame is 2 days. We don't Really see what happens, but we know Anya tells Jimmy without Curly knowing. I genuinely believe he maybe didn't do a Great Job in those two days (the fact he says Anya should've talked to Him before telling Jimmy is uhhh. Mm. 1. Your job to create an environment where she comes to you my man 2. Weird to tell her what she should do with HER OWN PERSONAL INFORMATION) but like.

I get a lot of ppl want immediate consequences but consider that they can't really get rid of Jimmy (co pilot. Which is. Y'know it's Own Problems) but also like. Curly knows Jimmy, and we know that Jimmy tends to lash out. Curly should probably Not Confront Jimmy Unless He Knows Exactly How To Keep Him From Hurting Anya. Like I'm not an expert but this is something genuinely important- when confronting an abuser you NEED to take into account the impact it can have on their victim, and sometimes for the victims safety you need to wait until you have a Solid Plan. It sucks but it's important.

And theres discussion to be had about Curly kinda going along with Jimmy saying "well what if we all died" and like. I do believe he Didn't Realize What Jimmy Said. Like he was just processing/trying to keep the situation under control (and failing because he underestimated how willing Jimmy was to hurt everyone including himself).

Like he's definitely an enabler but I would say his problems are mostly before he understands the gravity of the situation, in that he's friends with Jimmy and assumes the best of a man with abusive tendencies, and fails to create an environment that can keep Anya and the others safe. Like, he definitely doesn't handle in game events perfectly (psych evaluation for one- he does do it instead of Anya which is actually helpful, but he still treats it like. Weirdly.)

Idk I have a lot of thoughts about this game and I don't necessarily want to defend Curly but more like. Anya's situation is very delicate (and light on details) so sometimes the way ppl talk Abt it feels like they aren't actually focused on what she wants and what it means to prioritize her safety y'know?

Edit bc I just now figured out kinda how I want to word it: curly is an enabler and making things worse bc he doesn't put a stop to Jimmy's BS, but in the specific scenario we see in game I think he's trying to use his Skillset of like, people pleasing not for Jimmy's sake but for the crews (like "if I nod my head and say I sympathize he won't lash out and hurt them") which like. There are situations which that is unfortunately the safest option (on an individual level yes, but sometimes it's also necessary to prevent abusers lashing out in response toward ppl who are more vulnerable) but it was the Wrong Choice.

It's like. I think Curly was trying and had good intentions, and understood that he needed to protect the crew, but he didn't have the toolset/experience to realize he can't Just go along with things and that he needs to be able to set hard limits, even for ppl he likes and trusts. Like he failed but the failure was "for want of a nail", where it began way before what we see (for want of an understanding of power dynamics I guess.) Again, don't think this makes curly more forgivable or whatever, I just think he's a good example of trying to make the right choices when you never realized you'd have to make these kinds of decisions and therefore are unprepared and/or unaware

Second edit: personally I don't think you can really incapacitate jimmy without there being serious risk (again he's the copilot) but curly should've given Anya the gun when she told him Abt the pregnancy

[scarlet--wiccan]

Everybody breath!!!! Daimon is hot again!!!

[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.

[fredoesque]

not against the proliferation of pitch correction in the sense that i think it's somehow ""cheating"" or that i care if someone edits their vocals in any way but incredibly wary of the assumptions that seem to underlie its near ubiquitous use; that the perfectly pitched version of a song is necessarily the most beautiful version and that the most beautiful version is necessarily the artistically superior one. assumptions which i feel have terrible implications for both the quality of the art and the self-image of artists

[roobylavender]

im really sorry if this question ends up being repetitive: but, if not for bruce’s over reliance on dick to regulate his thoughts and emotions, why would dick grow up into feeling like he needs to repress his emotions so much and his eagerness to act as people’s support? i know youve spoken about wolfman and his altering of their relationship but if ntt is generally an accurate portrayal of an adult dick, to me this nevertheless sounds like the consequences a parent-child relationship where the responsibilities are titled too much towards the child

i suppose this could also segue into asking for recs that would help me better understand your interpretation of their relationship 👀

not repetitive at all! to me the irony of wolfman's depiction of dick lies in that it is simultaneously something you can logically ascertain from prior canon but not for the reasons actually presented by wolfman. if that makes sense. he does extra work that isn't actually necessary to help explain why dick would act the way that he does because there's plenty of reasons for it without rewriting his history with bruce to have always been suppressed and edgy and dark. to me it makes far more sense to capitalize on the inevitable disconnect between bruce and dick as an adult and a child. batman: full circle is a good example of that dichotomy (and although it was published in the early 90s it built on mike w. barr's prior understanding of the relationship between dick and bruce that he wrote into the early 80s). bruce's primary concern for the people he works with is never standards or finesse but safety. he worries constantly about others coming to harm under his watch and with a child in particular those worries were exacerbated. he ran a tight ship not because he believed dick had anything to prove but because the only way dick could keep being robin was if he went about it safely. that was obv easy for an adult to understand. but not so much for a child

to bruce these worries were practical and par for the course (as well as an expression of his love and protectiveness) but for dick their consequences formed the crux of his entire world. as a child he idolized everything about bruce. his heroism. his work ethic. his skill. his resolve. his preparedness. if dick couldn't live up to the standard he set for himself in idolizing bruce then what could he ever hope to amount to? that was the thought constantly going through his head. and it's why the bulk of his childhood and primary tenure as bruce's partner was so precariously protected by the fact that nothing bad ever really happened during it (and admittedly this framing is convenient because even chronologically speaking nothing very significant happened in their history with each other until dick left for university in 1969) (i know dixon opted to write that whole shtick with dent in his version of events but personally i never found it necessary to do so). there is enough there in the idea of dick working hard for the course of a decade to embody who he believed bruce to be that lends itself to it eventually being difficult for him to healthily express himself once the rift between them actually began to emerge

because what about bruce was there to actually see that was broken and dark before dick became an adult? i know a lot of dick fans hate batman #408 because they don't like that it enforced "retirement" upon dick (which i personally believe is a conclusion they come to because of the way batman #416 re-framed the same scene) but to me that's an inaccurate reading of the text. batman #408 was about bruce (admittedly far too belatedly) recognizing that he could not in good conscience continue to ask dick to go out and be a vigilante on what he considered to be his own "orders". he viewed dick's close call with death at the hands of the joker as something directly of his own making. although their tenure with each other had been wonderful if dick wanted to continue to be a vigilante it had to be on his own terms and of his own volition. obv that was logical to bruce and it was something dick managed to accept in the moment. but it's still hard to go from always having a purpose alongside someone you idolized to finally being entrusted entirely to forge your own

in general i like the idea of dick the adult becoming privy to all of the personal problems and conflicts that come with being a vigilante. he was conveniently shielded from a lot of those problems as a child because all he had to do was be bruce's partner and hope to live up to the title. bruce had no reason to trauma dump on him or talk about his worries and concerns at length with him because it was never supposed to be dick's job to field those worries and concerns in the first place. he was a child. the only thing bruce wanted to do was to help channel his emotions through an outlet and provide him with a home to grow up in. but when you become an adult often that dynamic shifts. you're still not responsible for fielding those worries and concerns but you can perhaps be trusted with them. that's why i like the framing in batman #408 of dick now being a man. it's a subtle way to frame the double-edged sword of adulthood. the world is in your hands now but so will be the horrors that come with it. coming to terms with the real world that bruce lives in should be hard for dick. coming to terms with who bruce is when he's not perfect should be hard. coming to terms with how quietly bruce kept his grief because he did not see fit to overwhelm a child with it should be hard. that dichotomy of dick both wanting to be bruce's brother and his son should form the crux of their conflict with each other because you can't hope to be someone's equal and someone's protected at the same time in that kind of relationship. for dick to transition into the position of equal he has to expose himself to the fact that bruce is not in fact an idol but someone irrevocably human. and that should interfere significantly with his head and his own standards for himself

[ghostclangen]

How did they cover up Charredtail's death?

I was hoping nobody would ask LOL cuz I ... wasn't sure myself, tbh

the most obvious route they could take is that it was self-defense. it was an open secret that Charredtail had a bit of a crush on Cobaltshine, who didn't get along well with Hornetstar, and while nobody suspected her as a murderer in a serious enough capacity to make an accusation- especially since it could have easily been explained as her losing her footing- it was Very obvious that she wasn't openly negatively affected by her death at all. though she did, of course, panic behind closed doors (as it were) and stew in guilt, not because she actually misses Cobaltshine or anything but because she knows she's not a murderer and is afraid of the ways the whole ordeal has changed her.

anyway, the lie they could potentially spin, with everyone more or less knowing the tense charred-cobalt-hornet thing, is that Charredtail genuinely suspected his mate of killing his crush and got violent about it, giving Hornetstar no other choice. obviously they'd all hate to deface Charredtail's memory like that, but Marshlily and Fireflash had to make an executive decision since Hornetstar wasn't ready to talk about it. Marshlily is very, very invested in keeping the peace, so Fireflash followed her lead and made that official statement. however, Marshlily did promise herself that someday, when all of this is over, she'd make everything right by him. it haunts her, but she has faith that someday she can clear his name, even if he never forgives her.

that said ... distrust has been building among GhostClan. not too much, not for a rebellion, but there are ... theories ...

so who knows how well that's believed?

[coachbeards]

Idk if my last post makes sense but I just don’t think beard wouldve been that condescending to jamie considering we’ve. Never seen that behavior before.

[nyerusnova]

I'm probably in the minority on this one but given how sharing of superheroes mantles by multiple characters is so common in comics, and has been for ages, I don't really see the huge problem in both Damian and Tim currently being Robin. (E.g. Cassie and Yara are both currently Wonder Girl and no one seems to have a problem with that?) Especially since they work fairly independently of each other, have completely different costumes and styles, and so on.

Personally, I like the idea of them learning to share lol.

[kakusu-shipping]

Trick or treat! (bnha)

"Trick or Treat!"

Nezu glanced up from his book to see three business course students standing in his office door way, large grins on their faces. Of course it'd be the Business Course that solved all his puzzles first and arrived at his door with the secret code.

Applauding Nezu grabbed a bowl of brightly colored, individually wrapped hard candies off his desk and walked over to the door, "Well done, amazing job you three! Here is a treat for your hard work."

He placed a candy in each student's out stretched hand, they all thanks him, and dismissed themselves back to their dorms.

Nezu hummed as he walked back to his desk and looked out the large windows over looking the school yard, where the majority of the students were currently wandering aimlessly in an impromptu hay maze the principal had put up for this little Halloween game on campus.

He felt a bit bad for putting his students through something he himself hated so strongly, but couldn't deny the satisfaction it brought him to be on the other side of such an experiment.

[literallysatanofficial]

well dennis losing the titty poll made me watch all the way up to mac and dennis move to the suburbs, i didn't mean to binge that much at once but honestly kinda hate most of 11 anyway so i had to keep going,,,

[demonio-fleurs]

am i happy with this fic? yes but also no

am i gonna post it once its done? yes

am i getting sick of it and wishing it was over? god yes omg.

[sheliesshattered]

the trouble with trying to rewrite this particular episode is that the episode, as aired, is just so bad that it's physically painful to rewatch

[stormingfrost]

I added two more!

Jack’s sister

Spirit of the woods

Happy Holidays! I made playlists for RotG characters (even minor characters from the books)

Jack

Bunny

Pitch

Sandy

North

Tooth

MiM

Kathrine

Nightlight

Emily Jane

Ombric

Kozmotis Pitchiner

Lady Pitchiner

Shadowbent

Lermantoff

[hanasnx]

ᯓ★ “ I WANNA FUCK WITH THE LIGHTS ON ” — clark kent.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: this movie isn’t out yet but i can’t wait that long to take advantage of my superman kick and fuck this man. unfortunately i don’t know much about his characterization other than the trailer content. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ explicit sexual content ノ size difference ノ dick riding ノ objectification ノ p in v ノ praise ノ clark has huge dick syndrome.

“Just… take it slow.” CLARK KENT encourages, but it’s said more so for himself than you. A large, flattened palm emphasizes his instruction, gesturing for you to relax without grabbing you to take over your actions. You stop, his eyes flickering to meet yours questioningly, until he takes a shot in the dark. “Please.” It’s delightfully endearing, and it loosens you up a little.

“It’s not that, Clark, I’m just—you’re just so… you know,” Big. You try to hint at it without blurting it out. Hovering over his lap too long, a tremor builds in your thighs, and you bite down onto your lip as you let it pass through you in a shudder.

His expression adjusts as the realization dawns on him, “Ah,” he exclaims thoughtfully, and he tests the waters, bringing his hands to your body to rest in comfortable places. Your waist seems appropriate, and your fingers fiddle with the muscle in his shoulders as you keep chewing your lip. “Do you want me to take over?” the question is punctuated with a shift of his hips, arranging himself in a better position to begin, but even the marginal movement has you whining with need. It alerts him, tensing up instantly as he freezes while your pretty face twists in pleasured agony. You’re still wrapped around his reddened tip, and it’s a burning kind of stretch that makes you wish you could just shove him in all the way—at the cost of ripping you in half.

Through your heavy lids and thick eyelashes, you manage to meet his gaze with darkened pupils that don’t want to cooperate. You hum a pitiful “uh-huh” while you nod your head, signaling to him that he’s right. His thumbs on your torso stroke at your skin comfortingly, big hands clamped around you as he raises you. The lip of his head catches on the rim of your pussy, and you suck in a breath as an emptiness replaces what used to be filled.

“We’re gonna take it nice and easy,” Clark talks you through it, but even his exhale hitches when cold air hits his slit. Carefully, he lowers you back on, feeding his dick back into your silken walls before taking it away again—all to introduce your hole to his size little by little. The method chips away at your tightness, and you try to follow his movements with yours even if you’re weak in the knees. “Wanna look at me, duchess? Let me see your eyes?” He tilts his head, his curls falling over his forehead as he chases your gaze. You do your best to peel your eyes open one-by-one, granting him his wish as you pant through your open mouth taking his cock one agonizing inch at a time. The sight of you barely holding on when he’s not even halfway in, stretches a smile onto his face, and if you were more coherent, you’d say it’s one of pride as well as endearment.

One hand cautiously releases your side, while the other takes your weight entirely, bobbing you up and down as if you were no heavier than a fleshlight. His other slides between you two to seek out your pretty bud, resting his thick fingers on your thigh while his thumb comes to stroke at that clit. The new sensation slicks you up as quickly as it occurred, and you gasp at how elevated it all feels from a simple action like that. “That’s what you were missing. Right, baby? It’s hard to loosen up without it. You’re so tight…” You know he didn’t say it like it’s a compliment, but it makes your insides jump anyway. Your muscle contracts and suddenly he can fit a lot more in. “Does that feel good?” he asks, his thumb leisurely circling your bud as your pussy drools around him.

Desperately, you nod your head with a couple of “mm-hmm’s!” that lead him to speed up—introducing you to more of his length as he picks up the pace on petting your clit. Your hands abandon gripping his shoulders for stability and instead overlay his. Yours are dwarfed by him, but he takes your guidance, absorbing how you’re putting pressure on his knuckles and replicating it against your poor pearl, getting puffy from the stimulation and the lack of getting railed. It all lights a fire under your ass, and your body moves for you, bouncing in place to try and force more of his cock into you. You can’t overpower the Superman, but he does let you take it all down to the hilt—his strength making a sex toy out of you.

[pa-pa-plasma]

okay i might actually lose followers for this, but. uh. why is Iron Widow rated so high

[mythvoiced]

@theimpalpable | the GBEP

If Samuel could will a hole into existence every time he so desperately needs one to just swallow him whole and drag him to the centre of the Earth, a coffin designed perfectly for the kind of messes he's been creating all around this already doomed planet, he'd have turned said doomed planet into the oddest piece of Swiss Cheese ever come into existence.

Which is either a very funny thought or he's bordering on succumbing to the hysterics curling his lips into that odd smile he can't shake off his lips, no matter how inappropriate it feels to wear.

His hands are pressed into his face, eyes freed still and staring at nothing at all, his fingers buried into the beginnings of his hair, messing what is already pretty messy on its own.

This is a nightmare. He hardly has the mental capacity necessary to recognize the possible and very likely implications and ramifications of the creatures he set out into the world, the slow march of decay swaggering about along the bottom of the ocean; being sat directly next to the direct consequences of his actions isn't any easier to stomach as a result, in fact, he's pretty certain that his desiring this to be a dream is teetering dangerously close to him starting to convince himself it is a dream.

Which, of course, would be violently useful.

A psychotic break in the middle of a bar next to a guy who's life he's ruining.

He groans, hands moving to slide over his face, rub into his eyes until he sees stars and begs them to come down upon him like vengeful angels and strike him off the face of the planet. Maybe that would do it. Maybe his death would kill everything he's created along with him, kind of like... killing the sire of a vampire...

"The Sazerac, please," Samuel manages to interject pathetically, which he assumes is not the tone of voice bartenders prefer out of their clients in terms of who they decide to serve and who they'd rather see out of their establishment in the next few 'immediately please'. Samuel has never been refused service before, never thrown enough back to give any barkeep reason to, never crumbled in public in a way obvious enough that it leaves any impression.

But, then again, he's also never half-assed a plot outline and have it lead to meeting the guy said plot outline had forced into itself, perhaps in a weird attempt on the universe's part to fix what he can't, to finally be the author he should be.

Oh, great, an existential crisis on top of the 'supernatural' crisis.

Samuel looks up when the barkeep returns with a glass and doesn't even have the energy to pretend he's surprised when it turns out to be water. He sighs, curses his existence with the exhausted resignation of someone who's given up on trusting in self-curses, and grabs the glass.

He manages a wry smile, charming and handsome, that the stranger is, which is perhaps part of the reason he'd fit so fucking well into the kind of story Samuel had attempted to emulate. Clichés upon clichés, all he'd managed to scratch together, who doesn't love a good explorer story and a Nathan Drake to charm anyone who'd swoon at the easy smile and easy wit?

If anything, Samuel is slowly becoming self-deprecatingly surprised he hadn't realized the moment the stranger had turned his head his way, that this is who he'd been looking for.

He'd tried to find something new to add, something fresh to add to the genre, something to stand out with, and that's precisely while it's now half-deceased and half-abandoned somewhere in a pile of notes with stories just like it.

He hadn't come up with anything that would have made it worth reading above others just like it.

"No, I... I don't think you'll die," Samuel finds himself uttering back, an open-mouthed drag of his mouth to one side to put emphasis on the word 'die', all while he unconsciously peeks over the stranger's arm to watch his sketch unfold. Oh. He can draw, too, he muses, subconsciously adjusting the glasses he sees reflected on the paper.

Charming, handsome, creative, extroverted, makes easy conversations and commands a scenario without ever making Samuel feel like he's backed into a corner by a personality much louder than his own. A guy, friendly, but not overly so.

Samuel has no idea if the plot chose him because who wouldn't fancy a heartthrob protagonist like that - which is honestly just embarrassing to admit - or because if Samuel could pay money to have any of those qualities...

The usual. Is he hot or do I just really, really wish I were him?

Samuel takes a big sip of his water.

He's loosing his goddamn mind.

He's hoping he won't die. He had briefly considered... perhaps a good way to stand out would be to... just...

He slams his hand onto the stranger's arm, eyes blown wide in a frantic panic to fix something he can't fix and prevent something not even happening yet. "Can I have your number?"

He gives himself a few seconds of sirens blaring in his ears before he connects the dots of how he sounds and recoils, only to lurch forward again, an odd dissonance of pulling away, but not appearing... what? Exactly? Damn the bartender for refusing him that drink.

"Not- not like that, wait- uhm, I'm Samuel, hi, nice to meet you, do you think we could...? As in, I would like to help. I think I might be able to- I think you might need my help- this will sound ridiculous, do--?"

He closes his eyes, counts to ten, hates himself a little more, opens them again with an exhale.

"I think I'm partly or mostly to blame for your situation but the reason why I believe that will make me sound insane. But I... need you to believe me and I think... listen, can we talk somewhere else? Maybe...? Or... some other time? Or...?"