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imsosocold · 11 months

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Ace Attorney characters that I think are related

In addition to my “ Godot is Manfred’s other child” agenda.

Richard Wellington and Frank Sawhit:

My favorite pack of thieves. I like to think Frank was stealing in order to earn enough for him and his son to survive. And then Richard was trying to get enough money to bail his father out of prison but once learning who the defense attorney would be for Maggey decided to try to avenge his father. I want them to have a tearful reunion in prison and then escape together to rob more rich people <3.

Furio Tigre and Wocky Kitaki:

Have you seen the last names?!! In all seriousness I think them being related would make the overall crime scene more fleshed out and make its story more cohesive. The Cadaverni rage wouldn’t be over a member getting in an accident with just some thug, but a member of a mob, a rival to power in “Los Angeles”. Though I don’t think Tigre would be considered a legitimate member of the family by the Kitaki line themselves, I think Wocky would look up to Furio as an older brother figure and base his persona around him. Wocky’s aggression to Phoenix is less funny now though.

Polly Jenkins and Goldy Gerwitz:

Imagine the only person who ever cared for you took their own life and you lost everything and now all you have left to turn to is material items. But then coincidentally you come across those who indirectly lead to her suicide but you are too scared do anything and you regret for the rest of your life for your inaction. Just fun with the bois over here.

Herman Crab and Larry:

A STEM and artist duo returns, this time as brothers! It’s the most romance repulsed aromantic against the world’s strongest romanticist ( but Larry is also aro spec, I can feel it in bones). Neither of them can ever have a normal last name and Larry only took his mother’s in order to avoid people making jokes about him having crabs (* cries in the pain of bad nicknames*). In all seriousness , both Larry and Herman are incredibly talented, noble people who will ride and die for those they care about. While Herman would be annoyed by his much younger brother’s antics, he’d still genuinely care for and look out for him. And Larry naturally would be down to help his older brother with any of his schemes.

Simon Blackquill and Daryan:

My favorite black and white animal themed mysterious, dramatic men. I think them being related would tie the Apollo Justice series' events and characters more closely together and give much needed characterization to Daryan ( yet one of many aspects of wasted potential in the Apollo Justice series). Daryan becoming a detective because he doesn't believe Simon could do such heinous acts in a mirror to Klavier and Athena, him trying to gain whatever influence and power and wealth he can which could potentially aid his family. Daryan agreeing to smuggle the cocoons both because he genuinely wants to save people like Simon did, laws be damned, but because being in the good graces of such a high ranking official, in addition to the large sums of money he'd gain in return, could be what saves his relative. The reveal of this plan would hold so much more immediate consequences and affect a wider reach of characters. And Simon, trying so hard to help and protect all those he cares about all on his own, with Daryan being a reminder how damaging that mentality can be and that no matter how hard the both of them try they can't save everyone!!!!

Also yes, Daryan keeps the hair for Simon's sake, who styled it that way as a prank.

Tyrell Badd and Luke Atmey:

Luke wanting nothing else than to be just like his cool, smart, popular father but feeling like he can't properly emulate him on his own, so he lies and cheats to attempt to do so in turn becoming everything his father is against and hates.

Also Luke feeling like his father prefers Kay over him BYE-

Payne and Geiru:

Imagine following in your ancestors' footsteps to join the law system in order to bring ‘pain’ upon evil doers but one of your family members decides to fuck that and runs off to become a rakugo artist of all things. And then you find out years later that they had a child who committed murder in their name and you didn't even get to come across her in court. Poor Payne can't ever catch a break.

Ron and Joe Darke:

The worst father and son duo who commit crimes and escalate situations because they have terrible problem solving skills yet despite that cannot be convicted for the life of them, the former only happening with false evidence. But the main reason I like this idea is because it means Ron took his wife's last name "DeLite" since she is the light of his life and now he isn't in the 'dark' anymore.

Boo all you want.

Jinxie Tenma and Uendo Toneido:

Two of the best ( and underrated) Ace Attorney characters in addition to being great mental health representation! I think they'd have great chemistry and interactions as siblings. Also Uendo deserves a wrestler father who can beat shit out of ableist fucks and law enforcement. <3

Gumshoe and Dogen:

Such a slut for the idea of Gumshoe wanting to tear himself away from the family name and to do good by saving lives instead of ending them yet working in an incredibly deadly, corrupt system that goes against his ideals and desires.

Also Dick's still definitely hurt that Dogen seems to care more about Simon Keyes than him >:)

Constance Courte and Sebastian:

" Uh, if Constance Courte was Sebastian's mom, wouldn't Blaise had make her disappear-"

Bitch, he tried. That loser husband had to back down.

Unfortunately, Constance wasn't able to take her son with her and decided to throw herself even more into her teaching of law, her indirect way of fighting her husband and preventing people from becoming like him. I like to think she got to reunite with her son again after Blaise was finally arrested and Sebastian continued his prosecuting career in her honor.

Anyway Constance Courte is cool and deserved more screentime ( and to be written into a better case lmao).

Cody Hackins and the Fey clan:

I just want more perspective on the Fey family from those AMAB, I can't believe the main AA trilogy went into Kurain Village and the Fey Clan and didn't expand on this. Anyway, Cody's lack of spiritual power, supposedly due to his sex, in addition to losing his mother led to him and his father being discarded from the main clan and looked down upon. Refusing to accept the position of a branch family given to him, Cody's father took the two of them away from the village. While initially having trouble adjusting to such a drastic change in lifestyle and environment, the two of them were overall happier. Cody still faintly remembers Mia and Maya as some of the few people in the village that were kind to him and is unable to accept Mia's death, believing she and Maya "fused powers" and simply cohabit a body now. On a happier note, Steel Samurai is both Cody and his father's comfort show and they and the Fey Sisters ( and eventually Pearl) watch it together.

The Von Karma and the Justice family:

Okay, with names like those, centered around concepts considered essential to the judicial system, they have be to be connected somehow in this series. Whether they're distantly related or rival families or what, both family lines and their influences absolutely permeate the series.

Also 100% the reason Kristoph took Apollo in as his mentee was to spite the Von Karmas.

Lauren Paups and Matt Engarde:

Polar opposite (half) siblings: Lauren is shy while Matt is outgoing, Lauren has low self esteem while Matt thinks highly of himself, Lauren’s a dreamer and romanticist while Matt’s cruelly aware of how the world works, Lauren’s wishy washy and easily swayed while Matt’s is rooted in his ideas and beliefs, Lauren can’t hide feelings or thoughts while Matt constantly wears a mask, yet their most prominent trait, the one that they share, is that they’ll do anything for who or what they believe in. Also they both share self destructive tendencies when seemingly stressed (Matt scratching and Lauren cutting up pieces of their hair) in addition to being heavily dramatic. Unfortunately, I don’t think they ever got the chance to properly know each other but nonetheless the duo would be close ( as much as they’re allowed to be anyway).

Also this beta design for Lauren is Matt Pre- T and you can’t convince me otherwise.

Give me your relationship hcs, I love to hear the brainworms from other people and have them play with my maggots <3

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amazingmsme · 3 years

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Well if You Really Don’t Like Him...

AN: Here’s that fic about Godot flirting with Phoenix just to get at Edgeworth. This was seriously SO much fun to write! Ugh I love all these dorky ass lawyers, I need more content. So here you go, have some jealous Edgeworth, flustered Wright, & a very flirty Godot, all served to you on a silver platter!

Godot sat in the prosecutions office, reading over some old case transcripts. Detective Gumshoe was mulling about the room, browsing some of the books on the shelf. Godot snickered to himself, drawing Dick's attention.

"Something funny Prosecutor?" he asked with a curious smile. It was rare that he heard the other man laugh, so it warmed his heart to hear the sound.

"Yeah, actually. I can't help but notice... Is something going on between Edgeworth and Trite?" he asked, holding a page closer as he inspected the words. "I mean, it's hard to pick up a person's tone just from text, but I can't imagine another way to interpret this," he mused.

"Who? Oh you mean Wright! Yeah, we've all been wondering the same thing. He and Prosecutor Edgeworth have more chemistry than a chemical reaction!"

Godot smiled and shook his head. "Your analogy is weaker than decaf, but your point still stands."

"Hey!" Gumshoe shouted defensively, pouting at the other man's words.

"So I'm not crazy? Do they actually like each other? Because I can't possibly find any other meaning behind, "Court is no place for such fanciful stories. But if you drop by my office, I'd be more than willing to... indulge you?" Did Miles actually say this shit?" he asked, barely containing his laughter. One hand pressed against his forehead, fingers curling in the white locks as his shoulders shook with his chuckles.

"Heh, yeah I remember that. Poor Nick blushed redder than a ripe tomato!" he exclaimed, smiling at the memory.

"Hm, so Trite embarrasses easily? That's interesting," he hummed.

Detective Gumshoe shrugged. "Yeah, but he seems to get flustered a lot more when Edgeworth's involved," he explained. He found the book he'd been searching for, and bid him ado with a nod and quick wave. Diego was left pondering the new information, a sly smirk forming on his face.

The next day he strode into Edgeworth's office with even more swagger than usual. He sat on the corner of his desk, crossing one leg over the other. He slurped his coffee loudly to gain the other's attention. Miles sighed and glanced up at him.

"May I help you?"

"Who me? Nah, I just came in here to chat," he said, but the grin on his face told of an underlying motive.

"Please, you of all people are the last to want to chat while working. What's really going on?" he asked, cutting to the chase. Godot shrugged.

"A little birdie told me you might have feelings for Trite."

Miles stiffened, but other than that showed no outward emotions. "His name is Wright, and that's preposterous. I merely admire his skill in court and respect him as a peer. You would be wise to do the same."

"Really? 'Cause Dick sure thinks there's something more to it," Diego said. Edgeworth snorted out a puff of air in lieu of a laugh.

"And you believed him? Gumshoe is a well intentioned man, but he can let his imagination get the better of him."

"Transcripts don't lie bud. And I can smell the truth like a fresh pot of coffee." Miles rolled his eyes.

"Of course you can," he said sarcastically. "Now if you're done reciting your little fairytales, I'd love to get back to work," he said, opening a thick binder and smacking Godot's leg with the front half as he opened it. He stood, getting the hint.

"You know, that reminds me of something you said to Trite in court," he spoke as he began to pace the room. He piqued his interest, so he continued. "Something about fanciful stories, and him stopping by your office to "indulge" you," he said using air quotes.

Miles abruptly stood, slamming his hand on the desk. "That's out of context!"

Godot shrugged, swirling the coffee in his cup. "Trust me, the context doesn't make it sound any better. I'm surprised the two of you ever manage to reach a verdict, what with all the flirting going on."

"It's not flirting! It's merely playful bickering between childhood friends, nothing more," he reasoned.

"Is that what you call it?" he asked, cocking his head to the side and stuffing his free hand in his pocket. Edgeworth practically growled at him, shooting a harsh glare his way.

"What exactly are getting at Godot?" he asked crossing his arms over his chest.

"So you really don't like Trite?"

"For the last time, his name is Phoenix Wright. The fact that you don't refer to him as such is wildly immature and petty."

Godot smirked in triumph. "You sure are defensive of him."

"Of course I am; he's my friend and a talented attorney who, might I remind you, proved my innocence and convicted my father's true murderer. So I won't stand idly by while you blatantly disrespect him," he snapped. He turned his back to him, busying himself with straightening stacks of paperwork.

"You misinterpret my intentions," he said, holding up his hand placatingly. Edgeworth looked over his shoulder, watching as he sipped his coffee.

"Then enlighten me."

"I admit I've been giving him a hard time. But most guys do that when they have a crush," he bluffed. Miles whipped around to face him.

"Ha! You're lying through your teeth, I know how much you despise him," he said, seeing right through the lie.

"Do you? Or was that just a front I put up to hide my feelings?" Edgeworth paused, considering the possibility.

"I don't know what your angle is, but you should stop while you're ahead. If you're only doing this to get at me, then I'm telling you right now it will all be in vein. But please, don't bring Phoenix into this if it's only a farce. He's had his heart broken before, and I won't allow you to needlessly toy with his emotions."

"Aw, how noble. Truly a knight in shining armor. But if you aren't in love with him, why should you care?"

Edgeworth recoiled, a pink tint coloring his cheeks at the L-word. "B-because he's my friend!"

Godot smiled softly, staring at his reflection in the dark liquid inside his cup. "I wondered what had happened to the hard ass prosecutor I knew. What made you go soft. But then I met Mr. Wright," he said, complying with his wishes and using his actual name.

"Don't act like I was someone to admire. I had lost myself and forgot what justice really meant. He merely opened my eyes," he explained.

"Now that's sounds like a love confession if I've ever heard one. You two go together like coffee and cream: he sweetened the dark bitterness you're known for and made you more palatable."

Edgeworth straightened to his full height, hair falling in front of his face. "Excuse me? I refuse to be insulted in my own office!"

"Well that was hardly an insult."

"You just called me bitter an insinuated that I was intolerable," he deadpanned.

"Heh, I did, didn't I? Well I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"Whatever. I request that you leave my office so that I may get back to work," he said, sitting back down at his desk.

Godot snorted in amusement. "That's the kindest way I've ever been told to get the hell out."

"Now."

"Alright, alright." He turned to leave, but paused at the door. Miles sighed deeply.

"What now?"

"If you really don't like him, then you shouldn't mind if I flirt with him, right?" he asked smugly. Edgeworth's head snapped up with a gasp. He made to stand, a protest already on the tip of his tongue, but Diego shut the door before he could say anything.

Miles was left in his office, seething with a quiet rage. He couldn't go after him, that would only prove his point. So he did the only thing he could think to do. He pulled out his phone and texted Franziska.

be mean to Godot

A few minutes later, his phone dinged with her reply.

lol ok. Why?

because we're mad at him >:(

what did that fool do now?

He thought about his answer carefully before sending it.

he's going to break Wright's heart

No, he couldn't send that.

he accused me of being in love with Wright

He shook his head, deleting the message and starting over.

nothing. Just let him know you're angry

haha got it. I'll whip his mask clean off his face! >:)

He chuckled softly at his sister's antics.

maybe not that mean

By the next day, Miles had mostly forgotten about his conversation with Godot. That was until he walked into the courthouse and was greeted by his stupid smug face.

"There you are Edgey boy!" he greeted enthusiastically, coffee sloshing in its mug.

"Don't call me that."

"Right, only Phoenix can call you that," he teased. Miles allowed a smirk to grace his features.

"Or Larry. He was the one who came up with the nickname after all." Godot hummed as he walked beside him. For a moment, the only sound was their shoes clacking in unison on the linoleum tiles. Then they spotted Phoenix and Maya come out of a debriefing room. Miles shot Godot a glare.

"Don't you dare," he threatened.

"Oh I dare," he said, trotting away and over to his target. Phoenix spotted him coming his way and quickly turned around, grabbing Maya's arm and speed walking away. He kept his head down and eyes focused on the ground. Maya let out a small "ope" sound as he dragged her along. She looked over her shoulder to see what made Nick turn so abruptly down the hall.

"Uuuh Nick? Godot's jogging right towards us," she whispered.

"I know," he said, keeping his voice down.

"Well what did you do?" she asked before plastering on a wide smile to hide her confusion when the man approached suddenly. "Heeeey!" she waved, coming off as overly friendly in an attempt to hide the fact they were just talking about him.

"Hey Trite, whatcha been up to?" he asked, sidling up next to him. He slung his arm around his shoulders and pressed into his side. Phoenix made a small noise of shock, body going rigid.

"Umm, I was in a briefing," he said, casting a glance towards Maya. She merely shrugged.

"That's nice. So what's this case about?" he asked, letting genuine curiosity seep into his voice. Edgeworth was grumbling to himself as he stormed after him. He needed to intervene somehow.

Phoenix was slightly taken aback by the question. "Oh! It's nothing too exciting, just an assault charge."

Godot clicked his tongue, tipping his mug in his direction. "That's a real shame, your best work is on murder cases."

Wright blinked in surprise. "Really?" he asked skeptically. "I thought you said that I was a sloppy rookie who didn't deserve to be where I am today," he sassed, crossing his arms and looking him up and down.

He winced slightly, hearing his own words said back to him. He needed to try to smooth this over to seem sincere.

"Oooooo," Maya said in typical childish fashion, like when another student is called to the principal's office. She shut herself up when Godot shot her a look. A small, guilty smile was still on her face however.

Edgeworth had been able to hear most of the conversation and was eager to hear the prosecutor dig himself out of that one.

"My opinion of you is starting to change amigo," he said smoothly, taking a sip. Phoenix's eyes widened in surprise.

"I'm truly shocked to hear you admit that you've changed your mind," Miles spoke snidely. He purposefully stood closer to Phoenix, subtly separating the two. Godot noticed and smirked.

"What can I say? It's called growing as a person," he snarked back. Godot reached out and grabbed Edgeworth by the shoulder, then had the gall to shove him out of the way. He leaned into Wright's personal space, posture lax with one hand in his pocket. Phoenix had a nervous grin on his face, cheeks growing pink.

"Aaah I'm- glad for the personal development," he said, arching his back a bit to lean away. He gave a quick and confused glance towards Miles, as if to say "what the hell's going on?"

"Didn't anyone ever teach you about personal space? I'm sure he would prefer not to have to smell your coffee breath," he scolded, and this time it was Godot's turn to blush from embarrassment.

Maya snorted and giggled softly, and Phoenix had to plaster his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. His cheeks were puffed up with air as he struggled not to chuckle along. The sight was utterly adorable, and Miles felt pride in the fact that he made him laugh.

Godot's lip twitched in an angry sneer as he straightened his tie. "For your information, my breath is perfectly fine. I make sure to always have gum on me," he explained. Maya and Phoenix shared a look somewhere between amusement and annoyance at their exchange.

Godot looked over at Phoenix and flashed his most dazzling smile. "After all, you never know when you'll need fresh breath."

He let out a quiet gasp, eyes shifting down to his mouth for a split second. Godot pulled out his pack of gum, flicking it open with his thumb. "Care for a piece?"

"Oh! I-um- sure," he stuttered, reaching out and taking one.

"Sweet! Can I have some?" Maya asked, batting her eyes. Godot looked down at her, deflating slightly as he remembered she was there. "Oh, yeah I guess," his voice didn't have near the same tone as when he was addressing Phoenix. She either didn't notice or didn't care, snatching two pieces of gum. She offered one to Edgeworth, which he accepted with a soft smile.

"Thank you Maya. I think I'll save mine for later. Like you said, I never know when I'll need a fresh mouth," he said, looking at Phoenix as he finished the sentence.

He smiled and looked down at the floor as his cheeks got redder.

Maya didn't know what was going on exactly, but she could definitely sense the awkward tension between Edgeworth and Godot. And it was clear that Phoenix was caught in the middle of their exchange.

"Um, I'm just gonna pick Pearl up from the play room," she excused herself, heading to the courthouse's daycare.

"Oh good. Maybe Edgey would like to go with you," he volunteered the other to leave. Phoenix quirked a brow hearing the nickname leave Godot's mouth. "Since when did you start calling him that?" He only received a shrug and a crooked grin in return.

"No offense Maya but I would not. Wright and I have plans for lunch," he bluffed, making said plans up on the spot.

"We do?" Phoenix asked, brows furrowing. Then his eyes widened as he caught on. "Oh yeah we do!" He stood next to Edgeworth, his shoulders releasing visible tension as he did so.

"Oh really? Where are you eating?"

They responded in unison, but with different answers.

"Jack's Burger Shack."

"Sashimi Temple."

Godot smirked, catching them in their lie. "Well? Which is it?"

"We haven't decided," Wright said, looking at Miles for "confirmation."

"Right. I'm good with whatever you want," he said, smiling at Phoenix.

"How can you tell when he's agreeing with you and when he's just saying your name?" Godot teased. He couldn't help but giggle at the question.

"Heh, I don't know, I guess I've just learned how to tell the difference," he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, a half smile on his face and eyes squinted shut. Godot couldn't help but notice the strain on the fabric of his suit as he stretched his arm.

"Whoa, you been workin' out Trite?" he asked and before he could answer, he reached out and squeezed his bicep. His face flushed at the contact.

"Oh y-yeah, you noticed? Glad to see it's starting to pay off," he said, admiring his own arms. He flexed again, striking a new pose.

"Mind if I start calling you espresso? 'Cause you sure can pack a punch," Godot all but purred. Edgeworth couldn't believe that Phoenix was falling victim to his sleazy charm. Who was he kidding, if someone as attractive as Godot hit on him, he'd cave just as quickly. He had to refrain from sneering.

"Ha! If you want I guess you could. But don't start calling me short," he said pointedly, but with just enough playfulness to still be considered flirty. Miles's eyes were still transfixed on Wright's admittedly large biceps. Godot saw the opening and took the shot.

He snapped his fingers right in his face to gain his attention. H blinked and flinched, attention drawn to his smug face. "Earth to Edgeworth. You copy?" He scoffed and shoved the hand out of his face. Phoenix nudged him gently.

"If you wanted to feel them too you could've just said so," he teased.

"That's not-" but his denial died on his tongue when he was met with both of their knowing looks. He turned his head away but still reached out to feel his arm. There was no way he was passing up that opportunity.

"Hard as a rock, huh?" Phoenix asked and yes, he was totally fishing for compliments.

"I was going to say like sculpted marble," he said smoothly. Miles couldn't let Godot be the only one flirting with him. Said man only smirked wider, seeing as he was proven right. Regardless what Edgeworth said after this, it would be undeniable that he had feelings for the defense attorney.

"So, you got room for one more or are you dining at a table for two?" he questioned, subtly inviting himself. Edgeworth was ready to shoot down the request, but Wright beat him to it.

"Uh, sure you can join." Curse his kind nature.

"Sweet. Not as sweet as you, coffee creamer," he let his voice drop an octave, flashing another dazzling smile. Phoenix giggled and hid his face in one hand.

"Oho man, that was like, really stupid."

"Made you laugh, didn't I?" he teased, propping his elbow on his shoulder as they walked. Miles walked behind them and watched the prosecutor like a hawk, gritting his teeth all the while. He was relieved when they got to the parking lot.

"Wright, would you be a dear and ride with me? I'd like your opinion on this case I'm working on," he requested. He immediately perked up and walked over, leaving Diego's side.

"Sure, I'd love to! It'll be nice to give my legs a break from all the pedaling," he joked, walking over to his car and pulled the door handle. When it didn't open he frowned and tried again. And again. He kept pulling, making the annoying clicking noise each time it failed to open the door. "Miiiiiles," he whined.

He shook his head with a fond smile, chuckling softly. He unlocked the car just as Phoenix tugged again. He wasn't expecting that and stumbled a few steps backwards. Godot, never one to miss an opportunity, purposefully knocked his foot out from under him, just so he could catch him in a dip.

Edgeworth gasped as he saw him fall, clenching his fist as he watched Godot swiftly catch him like some kind of techno prince charming. Phoenix let out a small yelp as he fell, gripping onto his vest as he was caught.

His mouth was slightly agape as he stared up at Godot. He wore a sly yet heart-melting grin. Phoenix stuttered out a quiet thank you.

"It was no problem. Be sure to watch your footing next time though," he said, clicking his tongue. The ace attorney felt his heartbeat quicken and butterflies fluttered inside his stomach. Edgeworth's eye twitched in anger and he cleared his throat.

"If my eyes serve me well, which they do, it was you who tripped him," Miles called him out. Godot shrugged guiltily and helped steady him on his feet.

"What can I say? It was just too tempting, just like how you look in that suit," he went on to compliment him. Phoenix's eyes widen, cheeks flushed. He ran a hand through his hair nervously.

"M-me?" Godot nodded.

"Mhmm. It really brings out your eyes. Not to mention how nicely tailored it is." He bit his lip, looking him up and down. "You're about as enticing as a hot steaming cub o' joe," he flirted, laying it on thick. Wright's face turned beat red and he looked at the ground, flattered giggles leaving his lips. He tugged on the collar of his shirt. Edgeworth was by his side in an instant, ushering him closer to the car.

"Where you off to in such a hurry?" he taunted.

"Jack's Burgers," he practically growled, walking around the front of his car. He plopped in the driver's seat as Phoenix closed his door, waving at Godot as they drove off.

Edgeworth's jaw was set and he gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. Phoenix placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and he relaxed slightly.

"Miles what's wrong? You've been in a bad mood since I've seen you. Is it the case? Is that why you've been so grumpy?" he asked, concern clearly written on his face.

He sighed deeply. He should probably be honest with him- or rather halfway honest. He couldn't possibly tell him the whole truth.

"Actually I lied about that. I simply wanted to get away from him." Phoenix snorted in amusement.

"What's this? The great Miles Edgeworth lying? This must be serious," he chuckled, bumping their shoulders together.

He seemed to relax now that it was just the two of them. "He was really starting to get on my nerves."

"Yeah I noticed. He seemed to be in a lot better mood today, especially towards me. I don't know, but I can't help but think he's after something," he pondered aloud. Miles glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

"He's a top prosecutor, he's always after something."

"You're not," Phoenix said gently. Edgeworth took a breath to steady himself.

"How do you know we're not after the same thing?" They reached a red light and he turned to look at him.

"I'd ask what it is, but I have a feeling you won't tell me," he smirked.

"You're right, as usual."

"Well it is my name after all," he joked. Miles chuckled and shook his head.

"That was awful. Why did I laugh?"

"Because you love me," he teased. Oh if only he knew how accurate that statement was.

"Heh, I suppose I do somewhat."

"Nah you adore me. Admit it, I'm your favorite person," he goaded, leaning into his personal space. He even went as far as to lay his head on his shoulder.

"You're tied with Franziska," he admits.

"Wow, that's high praise." He hummed in agreement.

When they arrived at the diner, Godot was already waiting for them. Miles rolled his eyes as he spotted him leaning against the wall near the entrance. And where the hell did he find a toothpick? One leg was propped against the brick, arms folded across his chest and fuck he looked cool. If Edgeworth were a lesser man, he'd want to slap him.

"There you are! For a hot second there I thought you might've changed your mind and tried to ditch me," he taunted.

Miles wore a bored expression. "Don't tempt me."

"Hey, what happened to the Edgeworth that was in the car? All relaxed and smiley?" Phoenix asked, even poking his cheek to try and break the stern facade. He couldn't help but grin at the playful gesture.

"Ah, probably 'cause I'm here," Godot waved him off.

"Yes, that's precisely it," he answered with a rude smirk. Phoenix gasped.

"Miles!" he scolded.

"No no, it's completely my fault. I barged into his office and gave him a rude awakening of sorts. Please, allow me to make it up to you. Edgey."

He scoffed and Godot wrapped his arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. "Lunch, my treat." When Miles turned to look at him, they were practically nose to nose. And Godot was so smug, it was infuriatingly amusing. He cracked a smile and shook his head.

"I'd be a fool to pass up a free lunch."

"Atta boy!" he cheered, pulling Phoenix closer in the same manner.

They were seated at a booth in a corner. Godot motioned with a bow for Phoenix to sit first. He chuckled and slid into the seat. Before Miles could make it to the seat next to him, Godot sat down in the empty spot in one fluid movement. He shot Edgeworth a victorious smirk.

Wright picked up on the tension, drumming a rhythm on the table and whistling quietly. He tried to make small talk.

"Sooo Godot. Saying you like coffee would be an understatement. I'm curious, if you could make your own coffee, what would you call it?"

He perked up at the question, scratching the stubble on his chin. "I couldn't just make one coffee, I'd have a whole brand. It would be an assortment of the darkest roasts and combination blends out there. I think our signature brew would be called Laser Beans. Ya get it? Like laser beams but it's coffee beans," he rambled on about his imaginary coffee business.

"Please, you do not have to explain the elementary concept of your pun," Miles quipped. Just for that, Godot scooted closer to Wright.

"Another popular blend: number 162, the Phoenix. Strong and sweet, with an unexpected fiery kick that rises from the grounds. Just what you need on those long, rough days." Phoenix gulped, staring at the red lines of his mask. Godot cocked his head, looking over at a furious Edgeworth.

"Wouldn't you agree Miles?"

"Yes- I mean no- I mean- I'm not much of a coffee person," he fumbled over his words. He jerked his head to the side, focusing on a crack in the wall.

"I think he's just too embarrassed to admit it," he whispered loudly, making eye contact with Miles as he said it.

"Heh, yeah you got him good with that one," Phoenix agreed.

"Ngh- who's side are you on anyways?" he asked defensively.

"My side," he said, clearly proud of himself. Miles softened at those words, unable to stay annoyed at him.

"Of course you are."

The waiter came and took their drink orders before leaving them be.

"I'm surprised you got water. I was expecting coffee," Phoenix mused.

"It's important to stay adequately hydrated," he explained, browsing through the menu.

"With how much you drink it, I would've thought you'd drop dead asleep without it," Edgeworth teased, looking at his own menu.

"Nah, I could drink eight cups and go to sleep right after. I'm used to the caffeine," he said casually.

"Wait, then what do you do when you need to stay up? Drink a whole pot?" Phoenix asked, bumping their shoulders together. He turned to him with his most charming smile.

"Well, instead of coffee keeping me awake, I could just have you," he said in a sultry voice. Phoenix flushed a dark crimson with an embarrassed, lopsided grin on his face as his eyes shifted between Godot and Miles. He was rendered speechless, the only sound he was able to make was a drawn out "uuh."

Godot grunted in pain when Edgeworth swiftly kicked his shin.

"Quite forward, aren't we?" he growled.

"You know I am," he said, snapping his fingers at him.

"And has your vulgar cockiness ever gotten you far?" he countered.

"Sure it does. I always make it to home base," he teased. Miles was relieved when the waiter came to set their drinks down, disrupting the conversation. They asked if they were ready to order yet, but Godot had spent so much time flirting with Phoenix, that he'd barely looked at the menu. And Miles was so busy keeping him in line that he didn't know what to order either. So they asked for a few extra minutes.

"You should really consider using your time wisely," Edgeworth advised. Godot snorted and mumbled something about him doing the same.

"I think I'm gonna have the Jack classic, what about you?" Phoenix asked, looking across the table at Miles.

"I think I'll have the same," he said, offering a warm smile.

Godot's smirk grew. "I'm leaning more towards the thhhick patty," he said, drawing out the word. Phoenix arched a brow and chuckled.

"You really put a lot of emphasis on the word thick there," he teased.

"What can I say? I like a lot of meat on my buns," he leaned closer, placing a hand on Wright's knee and squeezed gently. Phoenix giggled and scooted away in the seat.

"Hey, watch it. I'm ticklish," he admitted. Godot grinned like a shark.

"Oh Trite, don't you know that's not something you admit?" he teased, repeating the motion. Phoenix barked out a laugh, pushing the hand away playfully. Miles was glaring daggers at them and grit his teeth. He was the picture of jealousy.

When Wright moved his hand away, Godot purposefully interlocked their fingers so that they were holding hands. Edgeworth let out an angry huff and held the menu up to block his view. Or maybe to prevent them from seeing the sneer on his face. The world is cruel however, and Godot is even crueler. Which is exactly why he grabbed the top of the menu and pulled it down to meet his eyes directly.

"Thought you said you knew what to order. Why're you hiding from us?" he asked, elbows propped on the table as he leaned forward.

"I... I'm not! I simply thought I saw someone I don't particularly like and didn't want them to see me. But looking at them now I realize my mistake," he easily lied.

"Yeah, you and I have made a lot of enemies," Godot agreed. He looked between Wright and Edgeworth. "At first I thought you two were. But now that I've gotten to know you both a little more, I realize that couldn't be farther from the truth." As much as he loved riling Miles up, his ultimate goal was to make him admit his feelings for the other.

They both flushed a pale pink, looking away. After the waiter took their orders, Phoenix excused himself to the bathroom. Godot was smiling smugly as he watched him leave.

"It's times like these that I'm grateful for my visor. It would be a real shame if I wasn't able to watch that ass leave, wouldn't you agree?" he asked, looking at him with a shit eating grin. Miles slammed a fist on the table in anger.

He spoke low so as to not cause a scene, but his jaw was still clenched. "I order you to stop this at once."

"What, the flirting? You said you didn't like him, so why should it bother you?" he asked innocently.

"You speak out of your ass, you use crude and childish humor, you're completely insincere, your pick up lines are cheesy and all coffee related, and you're invading his personal space constantly!" he scolded quietly. Godot shrugged.

"He sure doesn't seem to mind. Maybe he likes the attention. People tend to enjoy my company," he bragged.

"You have no intentions other than making me angry," he pointed out.

"And it's working," he boasted. Miles's mouth gaped open as he thought of a response.

"So what if it is? I could just as easily be angry due to the fact that he's my friend, and you're nothing more than some- some playboy who's trying to prove a point!"

"Aww you think I'm a playboy? That's my new favorite compliment," he said, resting his chin on his hands.

Edgeworth raised an unamused brow. "It really shouldn't be. You're classier than that, Diego."

He snorted in amusement. "Even after all those things you said about me?" Miles rolled his eyes fondly.

"Yes, even after all that. So be the bigger man and put an end to this," he reasoned.

"Depends. You got a crush on Wright?"

"I still don't see how that's any of your business."

He shrugged, halfway triumphant. "Hey, that's better than the harsh no I got earlier. You'll admit it sooner or later."

"Not to you I won't," he growled. Edgeworth fiddled with his napkin and laid it across his lap neatly.

"To be honest, I don't care if you admit it to me."

He cocked his head, looking at him skeptically. "You don't?"

Godot shook his head. "No. I just want you to admit it to Trite."

Edgeworth's eyes widened and he recoiled slightly at those words. "Are you insane? I can't possibly tell him that!"

"Tell me what?" Phoenix asked as he walked up. Miles stuttered out an answer.

"Oh! Um, I-I'll tell you later. Now isn't... a good time."

Phoenix gave him a look as he sat down next to him. "You sure you're okay? You're acting, I don't know, weird."

Edgeworth was going to come up with something to say to that, but Godot beat him to it. He held his hands up in surrender. "You got us. There's no reason to lie to him any more Edgey. Truth is, he's planning you a surprise party."

Phoenix's brows shot up. "Wow really? But it's not for another two months or so."

"Yeah well, you know him. Always so organized, and he thinks three steps ahead. Sorry about ruining the surprise," Godot apologized for wrecking the fake party.

Wright rubbed the back of his neck and offered a shy smile. "Don't be! Knowing me, I'll probably forget about it by then. So-"

He was cut off by Godot's phone ringing. "Sorry, one sec." He checked the caller ID, brows furrowing. "That's weird, it's Gumshoe. Hope everything's okay." He answered the call with a flick of his wrist, holding the phone up to his ear. "Hey Dick, everything cool?"

"IT MOST CERTAINLY IS NOT COOL!" Gumshoe screamed into the speaker. Godot winced and held the phone away from his ear. Edgeworth and Wright shared a look of slight concern.

"Is everything okay?" Phoenix asked quietly. Godot nodded and waved a hand as if to say "all good."

"Hey keep your voice down will you? You're about to burst my eardrum," he said with a small chuckle.

"NO I WILL NOT! JUST WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GETTING BETWEEN PHOENIX AND EDGEWORTH LIKE THAT?" Both men in question went stiff as a board, faces turning red.

Godot paled as he was chewed out. "Uuh hey this really isn't the time-"

"I DIDN'T TELL YOU THEY HAD THE HOTS FOR EACH OTHER JUST SO YOU COULD SWOOP IN AN' TRY TO STEAL WRIGHT AWAY LIKE THAT!"

Godot offered them an embarrassed grin. "Uh, can you excuse me?" They both refused to meet his gaze and just hummed in agreement. The prosecutor slid out of the booth, holding the phone up to his ear, speaking in a hushed yet firm tone.

"Listen Dick, you got it all wrong. I was just-"

"No you listen to me pal! Maya told me the whole thing!"

Godot walked into the bathroom of the restaurant to have a more private conversation. "Look, it's not like that. I'm not trying to hook up with Trite or whatever you think is going on."

"... You're not?" Gumshoe asked, sounding skeptical.

"No. In fact, I'm trying to get them together." Gumshoe snorted.

"You sure got a funny way of showing it."

"I'm making Edgeworth jealous so that he'll admit his feelings," he explained, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Ooooh, that's smart!"

"Yeah, so don't go blabbering to Phoenix. I know you can't keep a secret."

"Hey I can totally keep secrets! I just don't want to very often!" he defended himself.

"Alright, are we done here? 'Cause we're out at lunch, and our food should be getting here soon."

"Okay yeah, sorry about the mix up. I'll let you get back to lunch," Dick said, hanging up. Godot heaved a sigh of relief, wiping a few beads of sweat from his forehead.

Meanwhile, Phoenix and Miles sat in an awkward silence as they watched Godot leave. Miles was sitting rigidly, staring at the napkin in his lap. Phoenix twirled the straw around in his glass.

"C-can you believe him? Heh, Gumshoe sure does have an active imagination," Wright said nervously, desperate to break the silence. Miles was quick to agree.

"Yes, he does," he allowed a soft smile to grace his features. "I suppose he's a romantic at heart," he reasoned.

"Uh, yeah. I guess he is," he agreed. The expression on his face was a mixture of nervousness, confusion, and a touch of sadness. Edgeworth took a deep breath. It was either now or never.

"But is he wrong?"

Phoenix whipped his head over to look at him. "What?" He tried to mask the hopefulness in his voice.

"While what he says may seem odd or far fetched at times, he's usually right." He spared a glance at Wright, trying to read him.

"Miles, a-are you saying-"

"I like you Phoenix. As a friend, yes, but... also more," he finally admitted.

Phoenix practically lit up. "Really? Wow that's- I mean- I've liked you since the third grade!" he blurted out, relieved to finally get this off his chest.

"I... also had a bit of a crush. And when we met in court that first time, all those feelings I thought I'd left behind came flooding back." Wright reached out, holding his hand. They stared at each other, warm smiles lighting up the room.

Miles started chuckling softly, and Phoenix cocked his head, an amused smirk on his face. "What's so funny?"

"Godot was doing all this to make me jealous, so that I'd admit my feelings. And it worked."

He nudged him with his elbow teasingly. "Well then, I guess a thank you's in order." Edgeworth groaned, though it was just for show.

"If I thank him then I'll never hear the end of it," he complained lightheartedly.

"Maybe that's not the worst thing. You're cute when you're annoyed and embarrassed," Phoenix cooed, propping his arm on the table to rest his chin in his hand. Miles blushed softly.

"S-stop it, that's supposed to be my line," he grumbled playfully, looking away. Phoenix smirked and pecked his cheek, relishing in the way his blush darkened considerably.

Godot was watching from around the corner of the hall, letting them have their moment. He wore a satisfied smirk as he walked up to their table. Both Wright and Edgeworth scooted away, acting as though nothing had happened.

"Don't play coy you two. I knew my plan would work. You're welcome by the way." They were both rendered flustered and speechless, even as the waiter set down their food.

#phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #godot #diego armando #godot ace attorney #phoenix wright ace attorney #ace attorney #ace attorney fic #i didn't really know how to end this #but i think it's sweet #flustered!phoenix is the cutest fucking thing ever ok #jealous!edgeworth #ok but writing godot's flirting & teasing flustered the hell out of me

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lardguz · 3 years

Text

All You Can Eat Bluff-et

WHEW. This took me a lot longer to write than I anticipated because I got kind of stuck near the end (just like a certain fatass lawyer in this one, hehe) but YEAH. Wow! Hope you guys like gay lawyer feeder/feedee relationships!

Phoenix Wright sat on the couch in his office, formerly known as the Weight & Co. Law Offices, blankly staring at the TV screen in front of him. It had been two weeks since he was found presenting forged evidence to the court and subsequently stripped of his attorney’s badge and defense attorney title. Since then he’d not really had much to do, not being used to being unemployed for the first time in years. He had cleaned the office from top to bottom multiple times in the first few days following his sudden dismissal, trying to keep his mind off the creeping existential dread. His friends had stopped by frequently to check on him when they heard the news, and he put on a reassuring smile to them all, but now? The apathy was beginning to set in. Phoenix sat there, wearing just a dress shirt, an undone tie, and some slacks, watching the news talking yet again about his disbarment, with his hand rummaging absentmindedly around in a bowl of potato chips. He kept bringing handfuls of the crunchy snacks up to his mouth, loudly chewing on them without realizing how much he was eating.

Phoenix had been eating like this for as long as he could remember, but without constant cases keeping him on the move, and all the time in the world to just sit on the couch and mindlessly watch TV, his snacking habits were starting to show on his body. His middle was starting to protrude just the tiniest bit, slightly straining the button nearest his tummy on his dress shirt. As his fingers scraped the bottom of the bowl with nothing left to eat in it, Phoenix got up off the couch and turned off the TV. At that precise moment, he heard the familiar Steel Samurai ringtone that his former assistant, Maya, had begged him to put on his cell phone echoing from across the office. Trotting over to his messy desk, he picked up the phone. “Wright and Co. Law Offi—er, wait. No. Hey, this is Phoenix Wright speaking?”

“Wright, I’m outside your office door,” spoke a familiar voice with a slight British accent to it, “Open up. How long have you been hiding away in there, anyways?”

Phoenix audibly sighed. “Just a couple of days, Miles. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be right over.” He hung up and made his way over to the office door, hastily running his hand through his hair to make sure it wasn’t a mess.

There outside his door stood Miles Edgeworth, the famed prosecutor, long-time rival to Phoenix Wright, and his boyfriend. The silver-haired man had bags in each hand which seemed to be very heavy. Phoenix leaned in to kiss his partner and then welcomed him into his office. Edgeworth looked around at the shabby state of the room, empty snack bags littering the floor, and huffed in mild disgust. “Really, Wright, you live like this? Have you eaten nothing but garbage junk food at all the past week?”

Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, you know, I was always more of an art guy in college than a cooking guy? Ehehehe…”

Miles groaned and dropped the heavy bags onto the couch, sitting down next to them. “Well, it is a good thing I brought you some real food then, Wright. Here, come sit next to me. I’ll show you what I’ve brought.” The well-dressed prosecutor patted the cushion beside him gently. Phoenix lowered himself down next to his boyfriend slowly and looked into his cool gray eyes curiously. Edgeworth opened one of the bags and pulled out a few plastic containers of some sort of soup. “This is homemade potato and leek soup, with lots of heavy cream. Very nourishing. It’s still warm, I made it just before I left to come over here. And this,” he said as he opened the other bag, revealing a single much larger container, “is a devil’s food cake. I also made this myself, but I baked it last night. The frosting is also homemade.”

Edgeworth popped the lid off of one of the containers of soup and, pulling a spoon out of the bag, dipped it into the bowl and lifted it to Phoenix’s mouth. Phoenix leaned back a little in confusion, stammering. “I-I am perfectly capable of feeding myself, Miles! You don’t have to—”

He was cut off abruptly as the spoon was inserted into his open mouth. The soup, with beautiful, bright flavors and creamy deliciousness, practically melted in his mouth. His cheeks flushed crimson as his eyes met his boyfriend’s, who lifted a finger to his own lips in a shushing gesture. “You have done so much for me, Wright. Now it’s my turn to take care of you. Understand?” Phoenix nodded quickly, still a little dazed, and Miles removed the spoon, refilling it from the bowl and bringing it to his lips again. This went on and on, as Miles emptied one container of soup and moved onto the other two, until there was no more left to feed to his lonely boyfriend. Phoenix belched softly, rubbing his distended belly, which strained against the buttons of his shirt even more now that he’d eaten essentially a whole pot of soup by himself. Miles rubbed his swollen tummy sympathetically before leaning over to whisper in his ear. “I hope you still have room in there, Wright, because you still have to eat dessert…”

Removing the rich chocolate cake from its container, Edgeworth cut off a large piece and held it to his boyfriend’s lips, encouraging Phoenix to take a big bite of the delicious confection. He opened his mouth wide and took a much larger bite than Miles had anticipated, taking about a quarter of the slice in one gulp. The two men continued in this manner, the prim and proper prosecutor delicately feeding slices of the moist chocolate cake to his now very stuffed boyfriend until no more cake remained. Phoenix undid the buttons on his shirt to allow his strained gut some relief, the orb of flesh firm and hard to the touch. Edgeworth gave his boyfriend some gentle belly rubs to try and ease his aching tummy before leaving for the night, promising to be back again tomorrow with more proper food to keep the unemployed former lawyer well-fed.

A year had passed since the fateful trial that had left the legendary Phoenix Wright unemployed, and not many people had seen much of the former lawyer since. Only his closest friends, and the occasional food delivery person, had been in contact with Mr. Wright since his disbarment. The one-time master of courtroom bluffs was sitting on the couch in his former office as he did every day now, a small stack of takeout boxes stacked on the coffee table in front of him. Anyone who knew Phoenix Wright in his lawyer days would hardly recognize the man on the couch as that legendary defense attorney now. Phoenix was wearing a baggy hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, having long since outgrown his old tailored suits from when he still practiced law. The loose, stretchy clothing he preferred to wear at present didn’t leave much to the imagination despite not being form-fitting yet. Phoenix’s chest, once a decently defined pair of pecs, had blossomed into a pudgy pair of moobs that even his XXL hoodie couldn’t hide, and his growing gut sat comfortably in his lap, the bottom of his softening tummy rolls peeking out from the bottom of his hoodie whenever he stretched or moved his arms. Speaking of which, Phoenix’s arms were also noticeably jiggly with fat, with rolls that bunched up at his shoulders whenever he reached upwards. He also had a nice, plush pair of love handles that oozed into a muffintop over the elastic waistband of his sweatpants, which his boyfriend Miles Edgeworth had taken quite a fancy to grabbing ahold of whenever they kissed. None of his weight gain on his upper half even held a candle to how his lower half looked, though. Living such a sedentary life for the past year since his disbarment had sent quite a bit of fat to his thighs and rear end. Phoenix’s ass cheeks were enormous, giving him a beautiful pear shape whether he sat his fat ass on the couch or stood up to waddle to the door to get food delivery. Each round cheek was roughly the side of a pillow, and just as soft. His thighs were also thickening at an astounding rate, each one roughly wide enough to get him stuck in some smaller chairs. When he’d weighed himself earlier that week, Phoenix saw that he’d surpassed 350 pounds. If he had still been a lawyer, that number would have stunned and horrified him, but now? He didn’t really mind at all.

The tubby former lawyer scratched at the stubble on his double chin, leaning forward to grab one of his takeout containers stacked in front of him, when the doorbell rang. Phoenix lowered his arm and instead hoisted himself off the couch, his chubby stomach wobbling underneath his sweatshirt as he did so. He walked over to the door to the office, his meaty thighs rubbing against each other uncomfortably as he did so. God, I’m probably going to have to start taking bigger steps when I walk soon, Phoenix thought to himself as he reached the door. He peered through the peep hole, expecting to see Maya or Edgeworth or someone more familiar, but instead he saw a face he never thought he’d see again. Or, rather, the lower half of a face, since the upper half was covered by a very familiar visor. Phoenix hastily opened the door and stepped outside to confront the visitor.

“Godot?!” he shouted, “How did you get here? Aren’t you supposed to be—”

“In prison?” the white-haired man laughed. “Yeah, well, as it turns out, murder in defense of another isn’t a death sentence. Your pretty little boyfriend got my sentence reduced for “good behavior” and “health reasons”. He also said I should stop by and say hey.” The former prosecutor glanced up and down at Phoenix’s body, chuckling dryly. “Good to see you’ve been taking real good care of yourself, Phoenix, despite everything that’s happened to you.”

Phoenix gulped, subconsciously scratching at the bottom of his overfed gut which flopped over the waistband of his sweatpants. “So, you heard about… that?” Godot nodded, and Phoenix sighed softly. “Figures. Yeah, I got played for a fool. Given forged evidence to present in court. I’m sorry for letting you down so soon after I proved to you that I was worthy to follow in Mia’s—”

“Trite!” Godot snarled. Phoenix yelped and reflexively covered his face, expecting to feel a scalding cup of coffee smack into his face upon hearing his old rival’s nickname for him. He peeked around his fingers to see the masked man rummaging around in a plastic bag that was slung over his arm. That was the first time Phoenix noticed that Godot was carrying multiple plastic bags. The older man clicked his tongue decisively and pulled out a small white box, marked with a logo like a coffee cup with three red lines going horizontally across it. He held it out to Phoenix.

“What’s in this?” Phoenix asked curiously as he reached a hand out to take the box. Godot stayed silent, so Phoenix opened the little package. Inside was a large pastry, a cream tart shaped like an attorney’s badge. Phoenix looked down at the confection, then glanced back up at Godot, a look of confusion plastered on his chubby face. The masked man’s eyes couldn’t be seen, but his mouth broke into a sly grin upon seeing the disgraced attorney’s expression. “I needed something to do after I got out of prison, so I decided why not do what I was always born to do and open a nice little coffee shop? We’ve been a massive success, and your prettyboy boyfriend told me you’d been really enjoying sweet stuff lately, so I decided I’d bring a little taste of Café Armando to your office.” He lifted his bag-laden arms to properly show off just how much he’d brought with him. “Got a little something of everything we make back there for you, Wright. Mind if I come in?”

Phoenix swallowed heavily, his mouth watering already at just the prospect of gorging himself on fresh-made pastries. He nodded shakily, unable to form words with his mouth in his dazed state. Godot shouldered past the overweight former lawyer, heading further into the office. He chuckled loudly at the stack of takeout boxes on the coffee table. “Looks like you already got plenty to eat here, Phoenix, but that’s fine, I’ll put my stuff on this side of the couch for you.” Godot dropped the bags of baked goods onto one half of the couch, leaving Phoenix with the other half all to himself.

The portly man sat back down on the couch cushion, his lardy ass spreading out under him to take up the entire couch cushion. He made to reach for one of the plastic bags and grab a box from within, but Godot slapped his hand away. He waggled a finger in Phoenix’s face. “Ah ah ah, that’s not how we’re doing this, Wright. Your man had very specific instructions for me. So you just sit there and look pretty while I handle the hard stuff, tubby.” Godot prodded a finger into Phoenix’s chubby gut to emphasize his point before reaching into one of the bags and removing the box that contained the cream tart from earlier. The older man then swung his legs over either of Phoenix’s thick thighs and straddled his rounded gut, leaning on it lightly while pressing the cream tart to the scruffy man’s lips. Phoenix eagerly devoured the tart in just a few bites, waiting impatiently for the next confection.

The two men continued their feeding session for hours, Godot getting more and more forceful the more Phoenix ate. His fat cheeks and double chins were covered in crumbs and cream, and a few bits of pastries had fallen onto the front of his hoodie, which was now riding up heavily on his distended gut. The soft layer of fat cushioning the outside of the enormous orb was stretched far by the amount of food Godot was stuffing into his former rival. Phoenix’s mouth was constantly full, every time he finished chewing on a pastry another was prompt shoved into his tiring mouth. Godot growled taunts in a low tone the entire time, calling him a fat pig and commenting on how far gone he was after just a year of unemployment. Finally, as he reached into the last bag to grab another pastry to shove into his adversary’s mouth, Godot’s long fingers closed around empty air. Turning his gaze back towards Phoenix’s exhausted, messy face, he grunted in annoyance. “Well, I guess that’s the end of my fun for now, Wright. But before I leave, I got one last thing I need from you…” Before Phoenix could muster a response, Godot leaned heavily against his bloated gut and wrapped his arms around the stuffed man’s chubby shoulders, planting his lips against Phoenix’s cream-covered mouth. Phoenix let out a muffled noise of surprise before melting into the kiss, unable to deny his long-standing attraction for the mysterious masked Godot back from his lawyer days. The two passionately made out for another few minutes, Godot’s sharp teeth digging into Phoenix’s lower lip occasionally. Finally, they parted, and Godot stood up, slapping Phoenix’s engorged stomach as he made to leave the room. Phoenix sat there in a daze for a few moments before the inevitable food coma washed over him, lulling him into a slumber while his stuffed gut digested its feast.

Morning light filtered through the blinds of the former Wright & Co. Law Offices’ windows, shining directly into Phoenix’s eyes and waking him up. The disgraced lawyer yawned and stretched as he leaned back on his couch, where he had fallen asleep sitting up the night before, just as he did every night these days. It was now a little over four years since the once-famous Phoenix Wright had been stripped of his attorney’s badge, and that time had not been kind to his once-slim and fit body. As he yawned, his fat cheeks caused his eyes to squish shut entirely, and his triple chin creased into a quadruple chin. His neck was buried under rolls of fat, showing no separation between chins and neck anymore. His hoodie, once slightly too big for him, was now several sizes too small, and yet he kept wearing it. The only thing it covered was his oversized moobs, which stretched the elastic fabric nearly to its limits just from their girth alone. The sleeves of said hoodie were starting to rip in places on the seams, his pillow-sized fat-coated biceps poking through the little tears in diamond-shaped bubbles that widened as he stretched his arms above his head. Phoenix’s stomach, while nowhere near his biggest asset, was still impressively large, completely visible due to his hoodie not even coming close to covering it now. His gut split into two distinct rolls that were separated by the fold where the upper roll collapsed over his belly button. The lower roll pooled in his lap like a liquid, settling between his overstuffed thighs while also overflowing over the outer edges of them, and flopping over the edges of his knees slightly. His love handles had also become a multi-layered deal, each one soft and squishy and overflowing out of his strained waistband like an overcooked souffle.

Still, due to his sedentary lifestyle since losing his job four years ago, Phoenix Wright was incredibly bottom-heavy. All those months of planting his fat ass on his couch and doing nothing but eating crappy takeout food, sleeping, and watching Steel Samurai reruns on his TV, with the only exercise he got being walking to the door to bring in all the bags of food he got delivered every couple of hours, truly did a number on the lower half of his body. Each of his enormous shapeless asscheeks took up one half of the couch, the cushions completely flattened underneath his incredible weight. The burgeoning bulk of his massive ass strained the fabric of his once-huge sweatpants, with one steadily growing tear going right down the middle of his butt, which would reveal his boxers to anyone behind him if his ass weren’t firmly sat down on his overburdened couch at almost all hours of the day. His thighs were almost as thick as tree trunks, making his pants look like overfilled piping bags, with little rips forming on the seams where his dimpled cellulite poked through. His thighs were so fat that no mater how far apart he spread them while sitting, they pooled under him in a way that they were always touching. The fat from his thighs was also starting to fold over onto his knees, making it gradually harder to bend them when he stood up to get his food deliveries. Phoenix was also starting to notice that his meaty calves were starting to get so fat that his ankles were fusing with the mass of fat that was the rest of his flabby leg rolls. All in all, the former legal legend was nigh unrecognizable to anyone who hadn’t seen him in the past four years and known about his decline into pure sedentary gluttony.

Phoenix felt a buzzing coming from the pocket of his hoodie that currently rested right between his massive pillow-sized moobs, straining his fat arms against his squishy chest. The sheer size of his chest made it hard for his already-overburdened arms to reach things in front of him, especially when it was something so close to his body. Eventually he managed to reach his pocked and pull out his phone and saw that the last of the deliveries had been made, so Phoenix swung his bulk off the couch and began waddling to the office’s door. His soft, flabby gut hung almost like an apron in front of his legs, the lower half of it dangling halfway down his couch-crushing thighs, slapping against them loudly with every heavy step he took. The obese man opened the door and gathered up the piles of takeout containers in his flabby arms, his wobbling gut just barely brushing the floor as he leaned down to pick up the precious packages. He knew he had a double date tonight with his husband and boyfriend, but Phoenix just couldn’t wait that long to have his greedy gut properly filled. He began steadily waddling his way back to his old worn out couch, his shapeless orbs that were his enormous ass cheeks jiggling hypnotically the entire time.

Phoenix slowly lowered his incredible bulk back down onto his sofa, oblivious to the strained groaning of the metal frame beneath his prodigious rear end. He deposited his delicious cargo onto the coffee table in front of his couch and leaned forward, his double-layered tummy splitting into even more rolls as he strained to reach one of the roughly thirty or so containers of food. He grabbed it in his pudgy fingers and sat back, sighing in relief as he opened the styrofoam box. Inside was a triple decker cheeseburger with extra cheese and bacon, with extra fries. Phoenix always gorged on burgers on Wednesdays, it was an old tradition of his and Maya’s to get burgers on Wednesdays nights after working a long case. Now that she was too busy training to be the next Master of Kurain Village, Phoenix opted to just stuff himself with extra large burgers on his own instead. Grasping the massive burger between his sausage-sized fingers, he lifted it to his mouth and took a huge bite, moaning in joy as the flavors of the juicy burger burst over his taste buds. A little bit of grease dribbled down his scruff chins, but Phoenix didn’t even notice. He continued devouring the triple cheeseburger with practiced ease, demolishing the entire thing and all the fries in record time before moving onto the next container, and the next, and the next…

The former lawyer ate and ate for hours, completely lost in the decadence of his burger feast, each one just as fattening and greasy as the last. Phoenix was completely ignorant to the pounds he was packing on in his fast food haze, too busy stuffing his flabby face with his greasy “breakfast”. His fatty arm rolls grew thicker and thicker, ripping the seams of his hoodie’s sleeves to shreds after just an hour of gorging himself. Tears in the stretchy fabric began to form between his massive breasts, each one straining the overburdened sweatshirt in opposite directions. His soft, flabby gut gurgled as it slowly seeped further outwards, filling his entire oversized lap and overflowing over his legs entirely. His enormous ass and titanic thigh rolls finally won the battle against his formerly-loose sweatpants, a series of loud ripping noises and the twang of splitting elastic signalling their end as waves of lard erupted out of them, his meaty love handles and wobbling cheeks resting comfortably on the arm rests of his overtaxed couch as his oak tree sized thigh rolls dangled over the edge of the sofa cushions.

Finally, after just a few hours, Phoenix finished devouring the last of his burger feast, belching into his closed fist after swallowing the last bite. The man lazily looked down at himself, realizing all he could see was his bare tits and the top roll of his gut. Then he felt his soft fatty flesh covering the entire couch, overflowing over the edges, and it hit him: Phoenix had officially grown fat enough to fill his two-person couch just by himself. As that realization was sinking in, he heard a loud noise, like metal bending, and his heart sank. Trying desperately to lower his sagging lard-covered arms to his sides to hoist himself off of the ticking time bomb that was his couch, Phoenix realized he was now so fat that his arms couldn’t bend right at the elbow anymore, his rolls of arm fat folding over the joint and making it essentially useless. Not only that, but he couldn’t even get his arms down to his sides anymore because of his beanbag-sized moobs and layers of side rolls getting in the way. Well, that just leaves me with one option, Phoenix thought to himself as he planted his chubby feet on the floor in front of him. He began slowly leaning forward, trying to inch his way upwards and off of his sofa, but after a few minutes a cold realization dawned on him: his enormously fat ass was stuck between the armrests of the couch. He’d heard of people getting stuck in a dining chair before, but an entire loveseat?! This was ridiculous! Phoenix didn’t have long to think about how incredibly obese he had gotten, as the couch let out one last groaning metallic shriek and gave out under his unbelievable weight. Phoenix let out a yelp as he plummeted backward to the floor with a resounding boom that sent the entire office quaking. Thankfully he had a lot of extra padding to cushion the fall, and he lay there groaning, his flabby shoulders and back rolls pushing his multiple chins and drooping jowls up around his face. Well, at least Miles and Godot will be here in a few hours, Phoenix thought to himself. I may as well sleep off those burgers while I wait for them. The gigantic man yawned loudly as he fell asleep, pinned beneath his own hundreds of pounds of lard, snoring loudly the entire time.

Phoenix woke with a start as he felt something laying on top of his squishy chest. He opened his eyes and was greeted with the familiar red glow of his boyfriend Godot’s visor inches from his fat-wreathed face. Standing over him and looking mildly amused was his husband, Edgeworth, holding a few bags of food in his arms. The chief prosecutor tssked softly as he shook his head at his obese partner. “Really, Wright, I’ve been warning you about that couch for months now, and yet you kept ignoring me. Now look where that got you, stuck laying on your back, pinned by your own greedy ways.”

Godot laughed softly as he leaned forward to kiss Phoenix’s fat lips. “He has a point, Phoenix, you really have let yourself go. You’ve become quite the hungry little hog, haven’t you?” The masked man grabbed heaping handfuls of Phoenix’s flabby jowls as he shoved his mouth against the helpless former lawyer, making out with him with such an intense ferocity that Phoenix didn’t really know what hit him. Their lips parted with a whimper from Phoenix, craving more, but it was cut off by Edgeworth sticking a sticky cream-filled donut in his husband’s greedy mouth. “There will be plenty of time for that later, dear, but for now, I’m sure you must be starving. Let us take care of that little issue first before we get you up off that floor and find out just how big a butterball you’ve become.” Miles passed the rest of the box of donuts to Godot, who was still laying on top of Phoenix’s enormous bulk. He positioned the box on Phoenix’s chins for easier stuffing access and began pressing the fried sweet delights into his mouth one after another, barely giving him any time to swallow one before another was fed to him. Miles sat on the floor beside Phoenix, leaning against his pillowy arm rolls as he began stuffing his husband’s face with large fancy cupcakes, frosting and crumbs flecking his droopy jowls and his many stubble-covered chins.

The tender dual-feeding session was over quickly, with two feeders and one voracious feedee making short work of the boxes of baked goods. Edgeworth leaned over his morbidly obese husband’s arm fat to kiss his round overstuffed cheek. “All finished? Then we should probably get you off the floor now and see how much you weigh, hm?” Godot whined from where he still lay on top of Phoenix’s mounds of man-tits. “Aww, but I’m having fun up here! He’s so soft and fun to pinch and lay on now “ The masked man grinned mischievously. “Plus, it’s so fun to see from above just how far the mighty Phoenix Wright has fallen.” Miles gave Phoenix’s flabby gut a hearty shove, sending the entire expanse of his husband’s fat-swaddled body wobbling so hard that it knocked Godot off of his chest. The two men each grabbed one of Phoenix’s lard-coated wrists and heaved, taking a solid five minutes to get the jiggling mound of pure fat that was once the best defense attorney around back on his feet. Edgeworth then led the pear-shaped butterball to the scale he’d bought last year, watching the numbers go up and up. They finally stopped, and Edgeworth read the display out loud. “Seven hundred and sixty-two pounds. Good god, Wright, you really have gotten enormous.” He pulled Phoenix into a hug, squishing into his pillowy soft body. “I’m so proud of you, dear.” Godot grabbed a fistful of his boyfriend’s chair-sized ass cheeks appraisingly, before grunting in approval. “Yeah, I’d say you’ve become a pretty prize hog, Phoenix. Good work. Looks great on you.”

The two much smaller men escorted their doughy partner as he lumbered his way back to the broken sofa. Phoenix was breathing heavily, worn out from just waddling over to the scale and back, but the couch was completely busted. He had nowhere to sit now. Edgeworth patted his squishy shoulders reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Phoenix. I can get you a special reinforced couch delivered tomorrow. But more importantly, I have a job opportunity that came my way for you.”

Phoenix looked at his husband quizzically. “Job opportunity? What kind?” Miles chuckled. “Well, it involves a lot of eating as a front, but… how good are you at playing poker?”

A young brown haired lawyer was pacing around the defendant lobby of the courthouse. Today was his first ever trial as a defense attorney, and his client was nowhere to be seen. The chubby man was very nervous, loudly muttering to himself in a voice that had clearly been driven hoarse from practicing all night the night before. “It’s fine, Apollo! Everything is just fine! Your client is probably just stuck in traffic, that’s all! He’ll be here in time for the trial! It’s fine! You’re fine! I’m fine!” He took a deep breath and let loose a yell that could probably be heard from across the entire courthouse. “I’M APOLLO JUSTICE, AND I’M FINE!!!” Breathing heavily after such an incredibly loud scream, Apollo wiped his forehead with the back of a pudgy arm and walked over to one of the benches in the lobby, collapsing onto it gratefully. It was then that the rotund young man noticed the array of tables on the other side of the defendant lobby, each one piled high with mountains of food. “What the…” he mumbled to himself, “Who is all that food for…? Is- Is that for me?” He hoisted himself off the bench and walked over to the tables, his fat tummy growling hungrily at the sight of all that delicious food. Apollo was by no means a skinny man, having been well acquainted with stress eating ever since he started law school. Reaching out for a cream-filled donut with one chubby hand, he stopped when he heard noises coming from out in the hall. Loud noises, like a dinosaur was stomping around out there. Curious to know the source, Apollo turned around at the exact same moment the door to the defendant lobby opened. His eyes were greeted with the sight of none other than the Chief Prosecutor himself, Miles Edgeworth. Apollo yelped in shock and bowed his head respectfully, but Edgeworth stopped him. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Justice. I’m not here on prosecutor business. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, though. I’ve heard much about you from your mentor, Mr. Gavin.”

Apollo’s chubby cheeks were bright crimson, flustered to receive such high praise from such a legendary prosecutor. “U-uh, th-thank you, Mr. Edgeworth. I mean! Uh! Chief Prosecutor, sir!” Miles chuckled, a sound that Apollo was certain not many heard. “Please, Mr. Edgeworth will do. Now, I’ve heard you’ve taken over the case that Mr. Gavin was originally meant to take?” Apollo nodded. “Yes, Mr. Edgeworth. Once I heard who it was I would be defending, I insisted! He was always a hero of mine when I first decided I wanted to be a lawyer as a kid. Even after what happened seven years ago, I still believe he’s innocent!”

Edgeworth nodded, satisfied by the fledgling defense attorney’s passionate answer. “Excellent. Well, then, your client shall be arriving shortly.” Apollo looked up at him, clearly confused, so Edgeworth continued without pause. “I said I wasn’t here on prosecutor business, correct? The only reason I came here was to make sure your client could get here on his own.”

Apollo hummed in even further confusion. “What do you mean, Mr. Edgeworth? Is he… injured?” Miles shook his head gently. “You’ll see soon enough. Good day, Mr. Justice, and good luck with your trial.” With that, the Chief Prosecutor left the defendant lobby, his coat tails swooshing behind him. Apollo stood in the middle of the lobby, absolutely baffled, when he realized the loud stomping noises in the hallway had started again, and were getting louder-- and closer. He stood and watched as the door to the hallway was opened, not by a hand, but by an enormous flabby stomach as wide as the door was pressed into it slowly. The wobbling double-decker behemoth of a gut oozed past the door frame, soft enough that it could still fit through despite being wider than the doorway itself. Then came the rest of the doughy man’s front, his enormous drooping moobs and upper belly roll the only thing covered by his tent-sized sweatshirt. His neck was a thick ring of no less than eight flabby chins, all covered in a stubbly beard. His eyes squinted from behind jiggling oversized jowls that drooped down to his shoulders. The mammoth of a man continued shuffling his way through the doorway, squishing all his doughy rolls against the frame. His arms, which were just cylindrical dimpled pillows of fat that were slowly absorbing his round hands at the wrists, grasped at either side of the door frame to try and lever his massive bulk through the door easier. But suddenly, his flowing rolls of lard stopped moving through the doorway, and the flabby behemoth strained and pushed against the walls with his swaddled arms, trying desperately to get the rest of his bulk through the door. Apollo shook himself and trotted over to help the comically oversized man.

As he got closer to the wedged ball of lard, Apollo really got a good look at just how massively obese this guy was, even with only half his body visible. The young lawyer wasn’t skinny at all, but this guy even put his soft and round physique to shame. Apollo was pretty sure he could see the man’s feet peeking out from under the bottom of the exposed rolls of his incredible gut, which came down to just above his ankles. Looking down at his own stomach, which only just barely drooped over his belt, he couldn’t help but feel a little impressed, and maybe jealous, that someone could get just so ridiculously fat.

Apollo coughed nervously before addressing the panting, wobbling blob of a man. “Uh, sorry to bother you, sir, but uh, do you… need help getting through the door?”

The blubbery behemoth responded in a voice that was deepened by all the fat caking his neck and interrupted with wheezy breaths every few words. “Yeahh… tha’ woul’… haah… helph a lot… thin’ my assh ish… haah… shtuck…” Apollo had to take a few seconds to mentally translate what the enormous man was saying through his speech being slurred by his flabby jowls getting in the way of his mouth. “Oh, your, uh, b-backside is stuck? Here, let me grab your arms and try and pull you through, okay sir?” The doughy butterball nodded, his cheeks and chins jiggling as he did, and he reached his overburdened arms as far forward as he could. Apollo had to lean into the man’s cushiony stomach rolls to reach his arms, feeling himself sinking into the warm, soft adipose. He grabbed onto the man’s fat-ringed wrists and began pulling as hard as he could, trying to ignore the way being enveloped between the man’s blubbery tits and tummy made him feel. After a few minutes of pulling the immense man’s nearly useless arms, Apollo finally felt the wobbling flab all around him begin inching forward slowly. He kept tugging at the monstrously sized man’s round hands as he in turn shuffled his titanic thunder thighs through the door, every roll and fold of fat covering them touching at the middle, all the way down to his ankles. Once he got his double door-wide hips and thighs through the door, it was just a manner of getting his fat ass inside, which was easier said than done.

Apollo let go of the man’s flabby arms to take a few steps back and think of a new plan of attack. He scanned the blubbery blob’s body, observing the parts he could now see that were stuck on the other side of the door before. It was no wonder he’d gotten stuck in the door. It was a single doorway, and this man, who was so fat that he’d probably be immobilized by his own weight soon if he kept getting fatter, had a lower half that was wide enough to take up five chairs at a dinner table. One overstuffed thigh was almost as wide as the doorway itself on its own, let alone two of them. His squishy love handles oozed over the top of his sweatpants that probably had more X’s in their size than Apollo cared to even imagine, giving the already definitively pear-shaped blubber bag a overflowing muffin top behind his apron of stomach rolls. His arms rested at a ninety degree angle because of his beanbag-sized tits and plush love handles colliding with fat-coated arm rolls that were the size of his own fat head. Damn, how huge must this man’s butt be if it’s still stuck in the doorway after all the rest of that managed to get through?! Apollo thought to himself, when he noticed the whale-sized lardball eyeing the food tables that he’d almost taken a donut from earlier. “Who’sh tha’… haah… food f’r...? Haah… haah…” the behemoth wheezed. “The food? Oh, I’m not sure. It was here when I got here. No one said whose it was.” Apollo could only stand and watch in awe as he observed what happened next. The monumentally obese man began wobbling his bulky form forward and backward against the door frame, slamming his rolls against it repeatedly as cracks began to form around the wooden framework. He then began slowly inching his thunderous legs forward, having to shift his blubbery bulk back and forth in a painfully slow waddle, his lard-caked thighs touching at all points no matter how far apart he spread his legs to “walk”. As he moved his door-sized legs forward, the cracks around the door frame widened, creating loud snapping noises as he dragged his rolls of fat further and further into the defendant lobby.

Finally, with one resounding crunch, the door frame gave way, parts of the walls surrounding it coming with it, crushed to pieces by the enormous blob of a man and his incredible ass cheeks. The flabby titan’s doughy body surged forward as he freed his backside finally, giving Apollo a chance to finally see the probably half-ton of lard in all his glory, and boy, did it make sense how he’d gotten so stuck in that doorway. The man’s ass was easily wide enough to get stuck in a double door, let alone a single one! Each doughy cheek probably took three chairs to sit on on their own, and they sagged so far down that they were touching the floor! Apollo was stunned. How could someone get this fat and still be up walking around? The swollen mass of fatty rolls wobbled constantly as he stood still, wheezing from the effort of busting through the doorway using his hundreds of pounds of fat as a battering ram. After getting his breathing back to the normal level of heavy breathing for one his massive size, the colossal mountain of man-flesh turned his attention back to the tables piled high with food across the lobby, drooling at the sight of it all. He began shuffling his jiggling bulk towards the tables slowly as Apollo watched in fascinated awe. Each heavy step shook the entire room, his double-decker gut rippling with shockwaves from slapping against his meaty cankles with every step. His shapeless flabby ass cheeks wobbled hypnotically as they bumped against the floor with every movement. His beanbag chair moobs slapped against his flab-caked arms, which rested at an angle even when waddling across the room. His cascade of chins and sagging jowls shook with every heaving breath from the exertion of walking so much. As soon as the man’s gut rolls reached the tables before the rest of him, he flung his doughy body at the plates of food, his fat hands grabbing any food within reach and stuffing it into his greedy face, chewing loudly and getting his chins covered in food. Apollo cleared his throat and spoke to the whale of a man. “Um, excuse me, sir, but, wh-why are you here? This is the defendant’s lobby, not a buffet.”

The barely-mobile butterball spoke around a mouthful of food. “Mmmmph… sho… Milesh… mrrrrmph… dihden… shay…? Youh… ahre… hffff… my… lawyuh…mmmmph…”

Apollo’s jaw practically hit the floor. Gazing at the mound of blubber before him, wearing a tiny sweatshirt stretched across his moobs and sweatpants what couldn’t even contain half of his ass fat, the young defense attorney stammered out a response. “W-what?! So then… y-you’re the Phoenix Wright?! The famous defense attorney?” The man’s swollen fatty head wobbled in something resembling a nodding gesture, his neck too fat for an actual nod. “Wh-what happened to you? Last I heard, you’d been disbarred seven years ago! How did you end up like… like that?” The enormous Phoenix Wright paused his gorging himself to explain. “Haaah… haah… I wohrk… ash a… haah… tashte… teshtuh… urrrrp… fuhll… tihme…” The blob-shaped man smiled cryptically, before immediately returning to stuffing his face with the frantic speed of someone who thought they would starve to death. Apollo rubbed his temples, more stressed than ever. How was he going to defend someone who couldn’t even go ten minutes without eating? This case was going to be an ordeal, he could just tell.

#my writing #fat!ace attorney #fat!phoenix wright #ssbhm #male weight gain

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readerficsbyhyaku · 4 years

Text

Court Caramel (Godot x Reader SMUT) Part 3 - End

author’s note

That’s it for this story ! Hope you enjoyed it :)

The situation that ensued between Godot and you was… peculiar, to say the least. Almost every time you would meet in empty hallways or rooms at the office, he would kiss you. He wouldn’t say anything, but there was this aura about him, his way of walking, smooth muscles rolling under his peacock green shirt, that forbade you said anything.

Sometimes, you would be going from one place to another and there he would be, almost like waiting for you, and he would cage you between the wall and his body. His kisses were slow and gentle, but undeniably passionate. It wasn’t the greedy, toothy kisses that horny people coming home from a party shared, it was the forbidden but delicious kisses you aren’t supposed to share in that place and time, the delicacy of indecency.

Now, every time you left your office to run an errand, your gut twisted in something akin to expectation, even though a part of you repeated that if you got caught, it would be the end of you. Even if they were sometimes not well timed, there was something soothing about Godot’s advances, melting in his touch and tasting his now familiar taste, feeling his always hot lips on yours and his hands ghosting on your waist and hips. Not a word shared, not even a stare, but fleeting touches and urgent nibbles that put your body on fire.

This kept on happening for a few weeks, until something happened.

You were on a very big and important case, you had little to no lead and always scrambling for information. It was the third day of the trial and you desperately needed something the tiniest bit viable to base your theory on, but the trial was growing near and you had no clue yet.

You were scurrying to the archives, hoping some older case one of the witnesses talked about could give you a hint, when Godot barred your route, imposing. You started

“Not right now, please”

But he grabbed your arm and dragged you into the empty archive room, his huge hands lifting your face up for one of his scorching kisses, pressing his body into yours, your back digging into the shelves of documents behind.

You weren’t in the right state for that, so you pushed at his chest, resisted his ministrations, but he still wouldn’t budge. The aroma of coffee was getting to your head, your heart was beating faster and you could feel your arms losing strength, hands getting clammy and wanting to grab at his waistcoat while he did whatever he wanted to you.

So you bit him.

He jolted backwards, hand rising to his now bleeding lip.

“Stay away from me” you said coldly, hands trembling and some kind of anger welling up.

You then turned around, went to rummage through some of the cardboard boxes, tears threatening to spill over. You didn’t look back to see what he was doing, but by the time you were done, he was nowhere to be seen.

You looked like a mess, disheveled, lips slightly swollen, red eyes and the tiniest bit of smudging mascara. But you had a lead.

It would be a big stretch to say that the trial went smoothly, but it went well enough you managed to snag that Not Guilty verdict once more, lifting a huge weight off your shoulders. It lasted only three days, but boy were they hectic.

You didn’t think about what happened with Godot until a few weeks later, when you realized you had almost not seen him at all, and he hadn’t made a move to seek you out, like he usually did.

The regularity of your mutual occurrences had become something you – though you’d never admit it – looked forward to. It had taken a bit of time, but you were getting used to the man and actually enjoyed his kisses, however weird the situation that took you there. You had no boyfriend, and the physical contact was enough to keep some of your frustration at bay.

But now, you barely saw him anywhere at work, and it had you worried. Not really worried about him, since you knew he was doing well in court, but more about your relationship. What happened in the archive room resurfaced into your mind, and you started thinking that he might’ve taken that too literally.

You dwelled on it for a few days, still keeping an eye out for the prosecutor, but you only managed to catch a glimpse of the man turning a corner and disappearing before managing to call him out. The situation was gnawing at you, so you decided to take action.

You sent him an email using your work address (since he had no remorse using a fake name to get to you), and asked him to come to your office after work.

He did not respond, but you hoped he had seen the message.

A few days went by, without any sign of the white-haired man, and you were starting to lose hope. You had stayed pretty late all this time, wishing he would just come unannounced like he had before, not knocking on your door, just a silhouette barred with red light on the other side of the glass. But on the fourth day, you were still working on some reports, you heard your office door open and heavy footsteps coming towards you.

Your heart, or whatever that was, lurched in your throat and got stuck there when the second door opened, and it was Godot.

Tall, his waistcoat and shirt still fitting him so well, large hands stuffed inside his pant pockets, not a smile to be seen gracing his lips.

Shakily, you got up from your desk and walked towards him.

You kept a reasonable distance between your bodies, even if your mind screamed to glue yourself to him, feel him, like he could be an illusion.

“You wanted to see me ?” he asked in his deep, smooth voice, yet keeping a very professional tone.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen you around, so I was getting worried” you managed to answer with the same formal tone, the ball in your throat getting heavier by the minute.

“Been busy” he said, expression unreadable but his attitude clearly cold, holding back.

You didn’t know what to say, you were fighting the urge to cry and the urge to hug him, and the self-destructive urge to just let it all go down the drain.

Godot turned around to walk away after the long, awkward silence that had settled into your office.

“I miss you”

Your hands were clenching at the bottom of your skirt, because if you didn’t hold onto something you would’ve grabbed him.

He paused in his movement, broad back turning around to face you, tall and looming under the cheap neon of your office.

“You told me to stay away, Kitten, so I did as you asked me. And now you’re telling me you miss me ?”

Your sight was blurred by the tears, so you didn’t catch the small smirk forming onto his lips, a tantalizing curl.

“I’m sorry about what happened then, it was a bad time and you wouldn’t listen to me, I’m sorry for biting you, I-“ you babbled, looking down at your feet for you could not handle looking at him, or you would cry for sure.

The shame of the realization, repressed feelings, frustration, all were alien to you until now. They were mixing into a painful experience you didn’t know how to manage.

Then you felt a movement of air and Godot closed the gap between your bodies, hugging you gently against his larger form, one hand grabbing your chin to lift your face up to his.

“Close your eyes, Kitten”

And you did as you were told.

And he kissed you with urgency, with everything he had held back to obey your command, teeth nipping at you, lips pressed onto yours with thirst, greed, whatever you wanted to call it.

You melted into his touch like you belonged there, the lump in your throat disappearing instantaneously to be replaced by a warm feeling in your gut, down, down between your legs. Your cheeks were burning from a mixture of shame and arousal, not grasping entirely why it felt this good to be reunited with him when your whole relationship was weird, but relishing in the feeling nevertheless. It’s like you had a match, someone you could trust no matter what and knowing that you would enjoy whatever he’d throw at you. Except when you were in the middle of a desperate trial, but that was a talk for another day.

You pushed him gently to gasp for air, lips moist from his ministrations and eyes already glossed over, when looking at him was enough to turn your legs into jelly.

He caught your lips in his again and inched you backwards slowly, his hands getting more daring, slipping under your untucked shirt and grazing along the slit of your skirt. It sent tremors down your spine and you only wished for him to do more than just edge you like that, yet at the same time you wanted him to do it more, to be the tantalizing bastard he knew how to be so well until you would beg for him.

In between his kisses, he would suck at your neck while whispering into your ear, hot breath fanning onto your jaw and making goosebumps erupt in its wake.

“How much did you miss me, Kitten ?” he asked in a low voice while his hands were slowly stroking your sides, hot and wide, taking a step with you and making you stumble backwards.

“Did you miss my kisses ? My taste ? How I would pin you to the wall to make out with you until you couldn’t think straight ?” he took another step, wider. You body was electrified by every one of his words, they shook you to your core and warmed it up in a pleasing yet urgent kind of way.

You yearned for him like you didn’t think you could.

The back of your knees met the edge of one of the couches in your office, and Godot slowly let you sit down, while kneeling in front of you. The red glare of his visor shone onto your sweaty skin, giving it a synthwave aura.

At a leisuring pace, Godot began unbuttoning your white shirt and pushed it off your shoulders until it was cast aside and away, leaving you in your bra. You heaved, eyes lidded and looking at him with expectation, skin blazing from his attention. His hands rose again to unclasp the garment and slide it down your arms one at a time, leaving your perky breasts to be seen. You shuddered, wanting to hide your chest with your arms, but Godot’s presence prevented you did anything.

With bated breath, he gently caressed your breasts, using his wide palms and soft squeezes, cupping them, then rubbing his thumb over the nipple in a way that had you shivering. You gasped at each of his moves and when he came forward to nip and suck at them, some tiny, breathless moans slipped out of your mouth.

You tried really hard to not make any noise, considering this was still an office and you feared someone would barge in, but Godot tried his best to make you lose your hold. In between teasing licks, he murmured

“I love hearing your moans, even if you’re trying so hard to hold back”

A soft suck, leaving a red mark on your chest

“There’s no one left around, I want to hear your voice”

You turned your head to the side, cheeks red and unable to let loose like he asked you to. That’s when you felt his hand unzip your skirt and pull it down your legs. Your head snapped back to see him, still kneeling like some diligent butler, undressing you, hands tracing along your legs like you were some goddess he didn’t dare disturb.

You were left in your thighs, which he slowly peeled off you, revealing the smooth expanse of your legs.

You choked out a whimper when he teased the edge of your panties, torn between shame and want. Godot rubbed soothing circles with his thumb onto your hip while he dragged the garment down, down and off, and you were naked in front of him.

You squeezed your thighs together, to relieve your almost painful arousal as well as hide your nether regions from the man in front of you. He continued slowly caressing your legs, whispering praises and calling you “Kitten”, the pet name he had given you.

Delicately, he took hold of your knees and started pushing them apart, checking if you were actively resisting him or not. You let him do it, his warm hands giving you chills and goosebumps. Gently propping your thighs up, you were all on display for him, wet and wanting, and you couldn’t look at him anymore.

His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs and kept them in place, the red light of his goggles giving a surreal hue to your skin.

And then you felt him lick up your slit, a long, flat, broad lick that made your toes curl.

“What are you-“ you started, but soon had to choke out the moans and cries that threatened to spill because of his ministrations.

He sucked your clit, then went back to playing with your folds dripping with arousal, spreading them with his thumbs and making you whimper in pleasure. His mouth was so hot, so good, you wanted more of everything, his touches, his teases, his attentions.

He continued pleasuring you until your legs were trembling, at the edge of climaxing but not quite there, your body having slumped in the couch, unable to hold itself up.

He removed himself from between your thighs, chin and mouth glistening with your juices and that sparked even more need inside of you. Such an unholy sight, yet undeniably sexy.

“You taste like caramel” he said

“Delicious”

And shot you his trademark grin that made you melt even more than before.

You looked at him, still all dressed up, and tugged at his waistcoat.

“I’m completely naked, it would only be fair I got to see you too” and grazed a hand along the bulge in his pants.

Godot inhaled sharply, fists clenching then relaxing.

“Sure thing, Kitten”

You laid back in the couch, waiting for him to undress and you did not expect him to put on a show.

Unbuttoning the waistcoat, then the shirt and slowly shrugging it off, revealing his deliciously tan skin, wide pecs and abs, his muscular arms catching in the fabric and rolling under the warm skin to get it off seamlessly. Tiny silvery hairs trailing down, to his navel and under, leaving a lot to fantasize about on lonely nights.

He was so good, and that wasn’t even all.

His large hands trailed down on his chest, lightly scratching and making him shudder right in front of you, his abs clenching as he started to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

He grinned, hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, and slipped them down to reveal his cock.

You must’ve looked stunned for an instant, and you had every reason to be.

It was a beautiful, caramelly color, precum dripping from its head. The motion had it bobbing up and down heavily, it was nicely curved and pretty girthy.

You swallowed. Hard.

“Let me have you, Kitten”

And you couldn’t say no.

He sat on the couch next to you and grabbed you by the waist, sitting you in his lap. Your back was flush with his chest and you could feel his muscles moving underneath you, the subtle clench of his thighs when he received you, his arms going around you and spreading your legs again, open for anyone to see.

You wanted to hide your face and you did, but he gently whispered in your ear

“Look at us, Kitten”

And you couldn’t say no again.

Your gaze lowered to where you were about to be joined, his hand lining himself to your entrance and the other one spreading your lips in an almost obscene manner, but you couldn’t look away.

Slowly, he pushed his thick cock into you, and your mouth opened into a silent moan.

Despite his good work at prepping you, he was still stretching you a lot and a litany of whimpers escaped your lips as he sunk himself inside of you inch by inch, whispering praises in your ear and one of his hands gently rubbing your clit to ease the pain.

Your hands gripped his arms as he buried himself inside, head jerking back to rest on his shoulder as your hips met. You felt so full, breath short, gut burning and squeezing around him. It felt good in a weird kind of way, and soon his caresses on your clit became too much to handle alone.

You threaded one of your hands in his hair and nudged him with your cheek to move, certain that if you talked it would come out as a garbled plea.

He slowly started rolling his hips, pulling out then pushing back in, making your whole body tremble and shudder in pleasure. Your pussy was gripping tightly onto him and sucking him back in, your insides were on fire and it felt so good.

One of his hands settled onto your lower stomach, and as you looked down again you saw where the two of you were joined.

His thick length being swallowed by your hole, stretching it and pushing inside, glistening with your juices, the sight made your gut twist in delicious expectation.

“Naughty girl” Godot chuckled while still maintaining his languid rhythm, letting you enjoy every detail of his cock passing through you, almost fully pulling out to press back in while you let out whines and sighs.

After a while though, you felt him slow down until he stilled, fully buried inside of you. Worried, you were about to ask if anything was wrong but Godot murmured

“Don’t worry, you know I wouldn’t do something you won’t enjoy”

And he started rocking you on his cock. Even with your eyes open you could see stars because of how deep he reached, almost painfully so. His hand came back to your clit and rubbed it in rhythm with his hips, making you lose your mind.

You were so close, hands gripping at anything, begging him for release, repeating his name over and over again as he continued to rock you on his lap.

You couldn’t tell how long he kept you on the edge like that, while nipping at your shoulder and leaving trails of kisses anywhere he could reach. The only thing on your mind was Godot, Godot, Godot.

“Please, Godot, let me come, please” you begged, your abused clit now swollen and your juices having stained the couch.

“Don’t worry, Kitten. You’ve been so good to me, I’ll let you come”

His hands gripped your thighs and opened them wider as he started positively pounding into you.

You couldn’t articulate anything as you felt his cock hammer at you, gliding with ease in and out until the pressure was too much to handle and a surge of pleasure came crashing into you, coming from where Godot and you were joined and spreading to all your limbs, muscles tensing and pussy clenching around him while you rode out your orgasm.

He buried himself a few more times inside of you, dragging out your climax and finally came himself, painting your insides hot white with his cum.

You were exhausted, ashamed, but undeniable happy. You and Godot dressed back up, cleaning the mess you had done and went to take a drink at the coffee machine. You didn’t know why, but this time around it didn’t taste the same.

It tasted sweet and soft, just like caramel.

#godot #ace attorney #fanfiction #smut #end #reader insert #romance

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someonefantastic · 3 years

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I'm Gonna Give You All My Heart Can Give

Welcome one and all to the first day of psychmas! Find the prompts here. I had fun writing this one, I always love doing narratives and especially ones on Juliet. Hope y'all enjoy! Summary: Juliet O'Hara has spent four Christmases with Shawn and Gus since moving to San Fransisco. Each one is memorable for different reasons. Prompt: Gifts also on ao3 ___

The first Christmas since moving to San Francisco is quiet and calm. It’s just her, Shawn, and Gus. All three of them had traveled to Santa Barbara a few days before to have a Christmas party with the Lassiter’s and Henry and as much fun as that was, she’s thankful to be spending Christmas alone with her fiancé and his best friend.

She’s the last one to get her gift. Gus had gone first, receiving noise-canceling headphones from her and pretending not to see Shawn’s smug face or hear his comments about needing them later. Shawn had given him a detailed map of all the best food places in San Francisco along with the promise that he’d drop anything and go with him whenever he asked.

Shawn had absolutely loved the shiny wrapping paper that she used, spending more time playing with that than actually opening up the present but she didn’t mind. The look on his face as he unwrapped a black hoodie with the words “psychphrancisco” written in red was more than enough to make up for it. And he nearly cried at Gus’ gift, a signed certificate from both Chief Vick and Chief Lassiter thanking them for their consulting services over the past eight years.

Finally, it’s her turn. Gus hands her a small red wrapped box and she bursts into a huge grin upon opening it. It’s a small framed photo of the three of them, plus Carlton, taken during one of their first post case celebratory hangouts. Their faces are younger, less worn by time and stress but the signs of friendship and that underlying bond is very prevalent.

And then Shawn silently slides her another box. The wrapping screams “Gus”. It’s blue with white snowflakes, a gold ribbon down the middle, tied into a bow. The edges are neat and straight and she can barely see the small bits of tape holding the package together. But the gift inside is clearly from Shawn.

It’s two pictures, side by side on one sheet of paper, she and Shawn drawn out in beautiful detail and adorned with watercolor. In one they’re standing in front of their old house in Santa Barbara and the other in front of their loft’s entrance in San Francisco. Her hair is longer in the second picture, a sign of time past but their smiles are all the same, just happy to be together. Below in beautiful letters, swooping and scrawling- a skill that she knows he picked up from his dad- is written: “Home is Wherever You Are”.

Her breath catches in her throat, tears pricking in the corner of her eyes and they threaten to spill over when she notices the glinting ring on her left hand in the second picture. It’s a little artist’s touch- after all the real ring had been stolen- but it makes her heart swell with emotion.

Shawn places his hand on her knee, squeezing slightly and she beams at him. He gives her a lopsided grin and she notes just how cute he is. She’s so glad to be engaged to him.

The second Christmas in San Francisco is a little larger and a little crazier. The Lassiters, Vicks, and Henry all cram into their loft, Christmas music playing and conversation ringing throughout. She loves having a big Christmas, after all, it’s what she grew up with, but a small part of her mourns the loss of it being just the three of them. She also wishes she was actually married this Christmas but that’s something she’ll never tell anyone.

The gift exchange is hectic, with multiple people scrambling and opening their boxes. There’s a lot that she can’t quite recall but she will never forget the look on Iris’ face as she unwraps Juliet’s gift. A soccer ball. It’s white with pink and black stripes and nearly takes out a lamp or two but Iris makes her pinky swear that she’ll take her to go play a match sometime.

This time, Shawn’s gift to her is wrinkled, the wrapping paper sticking out on the edges and massive pieces of tape holding the whole thing together. He clearly wrapped it and the image of him wrestling with paper and tape is enough to make her smile. It’s a small heater for her office as she’d been complaining about the cold atmosphere for weeks now. She’s touched that he would think of something to make her life a little better but that’s just who Shawn is, always listening and meeting her needs. (She’s a little disappointed, however, that it’s not an engagement ring.)

Juliet would never consider herself a resentful person but by the time the third Christmas rolls around, she’s a bit peeved. Her and Shawn are no closer to being married. In fact, he seems to actually be going backwards in their relationship. She’s caught him a few times slipping and calling her his “girlfriend” instead of “fiancée” and she’s spent way too much time wondering if he’ll ever actually be ready to be married. She loves him regardless and thinks that if he ever decides that he doesn’t want to get married, she’ll stay but it’s exhausting having no clue what he’s thinking.

They go to Santa Barbara for this Christmas, spending it in the Lassiter’s house along with Henry and Gus. (The Vick’s decided to spend Christmas in Detroit with Karen’s family.) Shawn makes a joke about sneaking off into his old bedroom and she has to gently remind him that that’s now Lily’s room and there will be no sneaking off tonight.

He pouts for a minute and then Carlton announces that they’re opening up gifts and his attention is elsewhere. She loves it when his eyes light up like that.

He bagged his gift this year. It’s a plain red bag with way too much tissue paper but he’s smiling so big that she’s very distracted from the packaging anyways.

Inside is a hair dryer. The exact make and model as the one on her Christmas list. It’s sweet and practical and exactly what she wanted. And yet… there’s a small part of her that is a little sad. She’d grown so accustomed to his thoughtful gifts that were slightly out of the box in his own quirky way. But she later reprimands herself for thinking that way. At least she got a gift from him. At least he was so kind as to get her something she wanted. At least she has him. It’s not too bad, and sure it’s no engagement ring or mindful gift but having him should be enough. So why does she feel like she’s nearing her breaking point?

Their fourth Christmas together is much, much different. It’s just the three of them again but this time… this time there’s a silver band on her left hand, the diamond glinting every time it catches a stream of light.

She had worried for weeks leading up to December that this Christmas was going to be just like the last ones, another year of engagement with no ring, no sign of commitment from Shawn. But he had surprised her, like he always did, with the best gift of all. They had done it, actually gotten married, standing on that pier. She was bruised and battered, they hadn’t slept in hours and their officiant was a criminal. It was unconventional all right but she wouldn’t change it for the world.

This Christmas she was spending it with her husband. The word still made her giddy and she didn’t know if she’d ever grow tired of referring to Shawn as that. She certainly hoped she wouldn’t.

They’re huddled around the Christmas tree, all three of them decked out in matching red flannel pajamas- Shawn’s idea. Gus comments for the third time that day (and probably the twentieth time since they got married) that he’s going to move out soon, give the newlyweds some space but she just shakes her head, placing a hand on his knee and telling him that he can stay as long as he needs. He is family after all.

Shawn nearly chucks his gift at Gus who in turn shoots him a dirty look. The expression quickly falls, however, when he unwraps it. It’s a beautiful portrait of the three of them sitting on the couch and laughing at a movie. Shawn grins, nudging Gus’ arm, and tells him how even when he moves out, he’ll always be family and more than welcome. She wholeheartedly agrees.

He grabs her gift next, it’s small and flat but a grin bursts across his face as he opens it. A Wonder Woman comic sits in his hands- the first comic they ever bought together- its cover signed by Gal Godot herself. She doesn’t tell him that she waited three hours in line to get that signed or went to 18 different comic book shops to find that specific issue. Inside is a note card from Juliet telling him how much she appreciates his friendship and Shawn has to gingerly take the comic book away from him before he bursts into tears.

And when he hugs them both, she doesn’t mind his sobbing or the slight awkwardness of the embrace. Instead, she thinks that part of her is going to miss living with her husband’s best friend- no- her brother-in-law.

Gus’s gift to her is equally as sweet. It’s a coin, carved with the words Detective Juliet O’Hara-Spencer, and she wonders when he had time to add that last bit or if he had known all along. Regardless, she’s just thankful to share something so special with him.

Shawn slides her his gift after she finishes thanking Gus, a small dopey smile on his face. The wrapping is neater this year but it still points out at the occasional odd angle and too much tape was involved. She gasps as she unwraps it, revealing a green snuggie- the perfect excuse for warm cuddles. It’s soft against her skin and she immediately slips her arms into it, allowing the fabric to encase her small frame. It’s a bit large and he waggles his eyebrows as he tells her it’s made for two. Even if it wasn’t, they’d surely find a way to share it.

Hours later, when they’re all piled onto the couch watching Gremlins, the snuggie wrapped around her and Shawn, she thinks this is the best Christmas in San Francisco yet.

#psychmas2020 #psych #psych fanfic #juliet o'hara #burton guster #shawn spencer #shules #and they were roommates #fanfic #christmas

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the-hidden-writer · 4 years

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A Second Chance: Chapter 5

An Ace Attorney fanfic. Read on both AO3 and FF.net!

Summary: Miles learns the identity of his “dead” mother, and the aftermath of that revelation is a tricky one. Especially when his newfound little sister is trying to turn him into a spirit medium.

AKA Miles is a Fey. Miles also doesn’t really know how to family properly.

[Chapter 1] | [Chapter 2] | [Chapter 3] | [Chapter 4]

Comments make my day! :D

The Promise

You’d assume, being a prosecutor, that one would get used to the atmosphere of a prison. Perhaps many do. Miles, however, doubted he ever could. Not when he knew that there were so many stories confined in its walls, many of them probably stories of injustice. It made him nauseous to think that he was so close to being in one of these himself.

If Phoenix Wright hadn’t intervened.

Waiting in a private visiting room, he couldn’t help but keep his gaze fixed on the ground. He couldn’t deny it- he was nervous to meet the man. They hadn’t really met each other before, but both unknowingly played a part in each other’s story, therefore it sort of felt like it was overdue.

The door on the other side of the glass finally clicked and opened. Miles looked up to see Diego Armando enter, clad in the black and white striped prison uniform with his head still held high. He was wearing his infamous visor, which he couldn’t help but feel relieved at. It was a special request from him that he be permitted to wear it during the visit, although he wasn’t sure if they would grant it. At least the man could see his expression when he told him the news.

“Miles Edgeworth,” Armando said as he slowly sat down in the chair on the other side of the glass (though somewhat visibly disorientated presumably due to suddenly being given his visor) with a small smile appearing on his face. His voice was deep and rough from misuse. “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Miles cleared his throat. “Hello, Mr. Armando. I-”

“Stop shaking, Mr Prodigy. From what I’ve heard you’re no caffeine addict, so there’s no need to act like one.”

Had he been shaking?

In truth, Godot’s story hit a little too close to home for Miles, even before he knew that he had killed his mother. For one thing, to watch Phoenix Wright accuse a prosecutor in court is not something to be taken lightly. It was unheard of, until his own trial where the prosecutor was found guilty of killing his father. Manfred Von Karma. More recently, Diego Armando had been found guilty of killing Maya’s mother, coincidentally also with Phoenix acting as defence.

That man seemed to be a truth magnet.

After that trial, he’d gained a newfound sympathy for Maya. He’d never really known how to tell her properly, but losing a parent in that fashion is not an experience shared by many. Little did he know that they would soon have to both experience each other’s pain with the revelation that they were siblings.

And the white-haired man sitting behind the glass killed their mother. It was hard not to keep thinking of that.

He cleared his throat again. “I’m sure you’re aware of the Kurain Channeling Technique?”

Diego snorted. “Too well.” Was his curt reply.

“Well,” Miles continued, “after an important conversation with her, Mia Fey sent me here.”

Suddenly Armando stiffened, and his relaxed demeanor morphed into one of importance. His posture straightened, his shoulders tensed. It was almost comedic how the mention of one name could change his entire attitude. Almost.

“Why…” he whispered, perhaps to himself, “why isn’t she the one here?”

“Because the matter at hand doesn’t entirely concern her.” Miles responded honestly.

Armando didn’t reply. Miles took that as a signal to continue.

“She told me that you had once studied under my father, Gregory Edgeworth.”

Diego sighed. “I did, but not for long.” A wistful smile pulled at his lips. “The tricks he taught me lingered in my mind everywhere I went. I was young, reckless,” he stifled a humourless laugh, “and it took a lot of convincing to get him to take on a penniless runt like me.”

He turned his head towards him, and Miles could only assume that he was looking him in the eyes. All he got was the glare of the red visor.

“He caved in the end, if only because he wanted to practise on teaching a cub like me before he did it with his own son. Hmm, he talked about you all the time.”

“I see.”

“I taught everything he taught me to Mia, you know. She must’ve taught it to Phoenix Wright.” He laughed quietly. It was an unsettling, hollow sound. “That was probably what got me in the end. Good old Greg, always searching for justice, even from beyond the grave.”

He paused, and the smile faded. “He was a good man. Better than you or I could ever hope of being.”

Miles didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know many people who knew his dad, so any praise (even if it was coming from a murderer) was highly valued.

“I suppose,” Miles said, once he was sure that his voice wouldn’t break, “that you were the messenger between father and daughter then.”

He sucked in a breath and waited for a response. Even without the visor, Armando was good at hiding emotion. His expression was blank as he processed what he’d just been told.

“...You’re kidding.” He said eventually.

“No.”

“Ha… I always saw a piece of Greg in her. I guess that wasn’t just me after all.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

The realisation hit a little too late. Whatever emotional barrier Armando had built for himself suddenly shattered in an instant. His perfected neutral expression turned into one of horror.

“Hold on, are you Misty’s-”

“Yes.”

“So you’re their-”

“Biological brother, yes.”

“God…”

Armando forced a grin. “I ruined another life that day, huh?”

It took all of his effort for Miles not to say “yes” to that too. So he kept silent. It was Diego who spoke next.

“I’m not gonna waste my sins with an apology, because I would be lying to you. I’m not sorry for what I did, as much as I try to be... Regret? Sure, a bit I guess. But I would do it again. I orphaned you and your sister, there’s no changing that.”

To be honest, Miles was expecting an apology when he came in here. However, now he was glad he didn’t get one. He didn’t want to feel sympathy for this man.

He just wanted to leave.

“Thank you,” he said gruffly, “for saving my sister.”

With that, he abruptly rose and made his way to the door, knocking on it sharply thrice. He accomplished what he came to do, and kept his word. That was all.

“Edgeworth.”

He turned to look at Armando, who in that time had removed his visor to reveal white, glossy eyes and a long, deep scar between them. Diego wasn’t looking directly at him, instead was staring straight ahead into the glass. It was a haunting sight.

“Tell Mia… tell her thanks for sending you. And… I want to see her. Please.”

Damn it. Sympathy.

“I’ll consider it.”

And he left.

~._-_.~

Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

“Hello?”

“Mystic Soma! Hi!”

“Mystic Maya! How are you since last time?”

“A lot better. So much better! I’ve kinda come to accept that even though Mom’s gone, she got justice in the end. I didn't even really know her so…”

“I hardly remember her too, but my mother says she was an incredibly nice woman, so she’ll be happy when I tell her. You sound a lot better than last week, I was starting to get worried about your health. You do realize that you’re the mast-”

“Hey Soma, is Pearly around? I’ve got some really important news to tell her, and I just can’t wait!”

“Oh, yes she is. Is it good news or bad news? Should I stay with her?”

“It’s awesome news! But yeah, I think you should stick around. You can pretend you’re cleaning or something like you used to do with me.”

“I did not!”

“You’re a horrible liar.”

“And you’re imagining things. Hold on, I’ll get Pearly for you.”

“Thanks!”

“Pearl! Come over here, Mystic Maya wants to speak to you!”

“...Pearly?”

“H-hi Mystic Maya.”

“Oh Pearly, you’re not still sad over my mom, are you? Mystic Soma told me you were feeling better!”

“...I told her to say that.”

“Oh, Pearly.”

“I-I-I’m sorry! I d-didn’t want to make you s-sad...”

“Nonono, don’t cry! I have some really cool news!”

“R-Really? What is it?”

“I found out who my dad was, and I have a brother!”

“What? B-But Mystic Maya-”

“I know! But that’s not even the best part!”

“Wha-who…?”

“Pearly, you’ll never believe it, but Edgeworth’s my brother! He’s your cousin!! He’s a part of our family!!!”

“...h-huh?”

“Mr Edgeworth’s your big cousin, Pearly! And yes, it is the one you’re thinking of. Tall but not that tall, weird dark hair, always looks like he wants to slam his face into a wall? Him! He’s-”

“No!”

“Huh? Pearly?”

“NO!!!”

“What? Pearly, what-”

“Mystic Maya, what did you say?!”

“Mystic Soma, I-”

“I’ve got to go, Pearly’s really upset.”

“I don’t-”

Click!

“...I don’t know what I said.”

#ace attorney #miles edgeworth #godot #diego armando #maya fey #pearl fey #phoenix wright #a second chance

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ace-attorney-headcanons · 6 years

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Oh hey so you know how godot's hair and eyes changed thanks to the poison, what if phoenix's did too. Which is why hes shown with inconsistent eye colors, its because the poison turned one of his eyes blue and he just wears color contacts to make them match. And like he could have a white streak in his hair that he dyes black and hides with tinted hair gel

This is brilliant! It is totally possible for the poison to have an effect on melanin (pigment that determines skin color, eye color, and hair color). The science behind it is that the poison affects the potassium ion channels in the brain which can change the aggregation of a pigment. Therefore, it is entirely possible that the change in pigmentation of Godot’s hair and Phoenix’s eyes is due to atroquinine!

Also, I love the idea of Phoenix having a white streak in his hair. Maya would so tease him about him “going gray!”

Thank you @vvvvvvyeah for this submission it’s so cool!! 😁

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historyy · 7 years

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tagged by: @francesjanvier thanks<3<3<3 rules - you must answer these 85 statements and tag 20 people. tagging: @quaintnessandqueerness is that 20 people? yes isabelle is just 20 people in a ballgown

LAST

1. drink: regular latte. oh and water 2. phone call: a friend who needed support 3. text message: same friend 4. song you listened to: fidelity // regina spektor 5. time you cried: uh probably yesterday ngl

HAVE YOU EVER 6. dated someone twice: no 7. kissed someone and regretted it: no 9. lost someone special: lost as in died? no. as in friendship wise? yes 10. been depressed: apparently i had situational depression a year or so ago 11. gotten drunk and thrown up: no

FAVORITE COLORS 12. pastel pink 13. lavender 14. black

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU 15. made new friends: yes kind of scratch that probably not 16. fallen out of love: no 17. laughed until you cried: yes 18. found out someone was talking about you: yes 19. met someone who changed you: no 20. found out who your friends are: yikes man 21. kissed someone on your Facebook list: no

GENERAL 22. how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: i don’t have facebook 23. do you have any pets: no 24. do you want to change your name: no 25. what did you do for your last birthday: my bday is fireworks night so we went to my local fireworks! it was ok but i cried (ofc) 26. what time did you wake up: 6.30 then lay in til just before 8 27. what were you doing at midnight last night: sleepingggg 28. name something you can’t wait for: finishing my gd first draft

29. when was the last time you saw your mom: 10 mins ago lmao 31. what are you listening to right now: rain outside 32. have you ever talked to a person named tom: uh ? yes 33. something that is getting on your nerves: my life!!! nah jk my anxiety and weight issues 34. most visited website: tumbl-ugh 35. hair colour: mousy 36. long or short hair: medium 37. do you have a crush on someone: no 38. what do you like about yourself: uh 39. piercings: no 40. blood type: no clue 41. nickname: muffinz. (i ate one five minutes ago its bc i really like muffins) 42. relationship status: single 43. zodiac: scorpio 44. pronouns: she/her 45. favourite tv show: b99, the expanse, agent carter (i miss her) 46. tattoos: no. one day 47. right or left handed: right 48. surgery: don’t think so 49. piercing: you asked this already 50. sport: nice joke mate 51. vacation: tomorrow im going to orlando but i don’t really want to. then europe next month with the fam 52. pair of trainers: adidas gazelle white

MORE GENERAL 53. eating: nothing rn 54. drinking: also nothing rn 55. i’m about to: have a panic attack :) 56. waiting for: godot 57. want: less mental illness 58. get married: idk man probs not 59. career: bbc political correspondent aim high amirite

WHICH IS BETTER 60. hugs or kisses: hugs. whats a kiss 61. lips or eyes: eyes 62. shorter or taller: taller 63. older or younger: older 64. nice arms or nice stomach: stomach 65. hook up or relationship: relationship 66. troublemaker or hesitant: uh

HAVE YOU EVER 67. kissed a stranger: nope 68. drank hard liquor: nope 69. lost glasses/contact lenses: no but i’ve broken them 70. turned someone down: no 71. sex on the first date: no 72. broken someone’s heart: no 73. had your heart broken: not really 74. been arrested: no 75. cried when someone died: idk 76. fallen for a friend: yes..........(cringe)

DO YOU BELIEVE IN 77. yourself: ha! 78. miracles: maybe 79. love at first sight: no 80. santa claus: no 81. kiss on the first date: yes 82. angels: josie was beautiful and angels are real. no.

OTHER 83. current best friend’s name: don’t have one. 84. eye colour: greeny blue 85. favorite movie(s): LORD OF THE RINGS!!!! my faves my faves my faves my Faves!

#replies #about me

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parrafo451 · 6 years

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Film 451: The Disaster Artist (2017)

Friendship and the movies

By Zeke Trautenberg

Tommy Wiseau’s The Room (2003) is one of contemporary cinema’s most notorious cult films. Fans of The Room celebrate its extraneous subplots, continuity errors, and histrionic dialogue. Wiseau's exemplar of paracinema was released in one theater and grossed less than two-thousand dollars. Yet despite its inauspicious beginnings, the film has since become a midnight movie sensation.

The Disaster Artist, directed by the hyperactive writer, director, and actor James Franco, tells the improbable story behind the making of The Room. Franco’s film is based on the memoir by Wiseau’s co-star and best friend, Greg Sestero (played in the film by Franco’s brother Dave). Franco plays the mysterious Wiseau with the intensity of Daniel Day Lewis and the measured crazy of Wild at Heart-era Nicholas Cage. Franco brings technical skill and a real admiration for Wiseau to his performance. The filmmaker and actor replicates his subject's vaguely Eastern European accent, permanent slouch, and tendency to omit definite articles from his speech with uncanny precision.

The Disaster Artist opens in San Francisco in 1998. Greg and Tommy are enrolled in the same acting class. After Greg botches a scene from Waiting for Godot, Tommy volunteers to take the stage. The camera tracks him from behind as he shuffles onstage. His menacing silhouette, crowned with shoulder-length black hair, gives way to a tragicomic vision as the camera cuts to reveal Tommy from head-on. Dressed like a swashbuckling glam rocker by way of Nosferatu, Tommy proceeds to wail and trample across the stage, a mortally wounded creature set loose from the shadow world.

After the acting class, Greg approaches Tommy in the parking lot and asks if they can do a scene together. Tommy agrees and they plan to meet up to rehearse. Tommy picks Greg up at his parents’ house, and proceeds to pursue the handsome Greg in an absurd day-long courtship in which the duo rehearse a scene at full volume in a restaurant, toss a football, and sip Redbull.

Later, the pair make a late-night pilgrimage to the site of James Dean’s death, the aspiring actors seal their friendship with a pinky-swear. While returning from Dean’s memorial, Tommy suggests that they move together to his “pied-a-terre” in Los Angeles to pursue their dreams of stardom together. After relocating to Los Angeles, the two struggle to break into show business. Greg gets an agent (Sharon Stone, in one of the film’s many celebrity cameos), while Tommy, ever oblivious as to the limits of his talent and how others perceive him, pursues auditions for “All-American” roles.

After a disastrous encounter-cum-audition with a producer (Judd Apatow) at dinner time in busy restaurant, Tommy despairs for his future. Greg offhandedly suggests that his friend takes matters into his own hands and make his own movie. Tommy, a master of doing things his own way, embraces the idea wholeheartedly. After completing a script and casting himself and Greg in the lead roles, Tommy assembles the rest of his cast and crew.

In addition to faithfully recreating scenes from the original film, Franco depicts Tommy’s transformation from an earnest first-time filmmaker into a megalomaniacal director. By the end of the much-delayed shoot, Tommy turns abusive. The director berates his on-screen love interest, refuses to furnish water to the crew, and alienates Greg by insisting that his co-star and best friend owes him a debt of gratitude.

The film's final act takes place during the night of the premiere of The Room and depicts the reconciliation of these two unlikely friends. Retaking their courtship, Tommy picks Greg up in a white stretch limo to take him to the theater. As Tommy's film plays for an audience for the first time, the camera alternates between the screen and the audience. As the film progresses, the audience reaction changes from uncomfortable silence to howling laughter. We are witness to the the construction and reception of the film as a so-bad-it's-good cult comedy. Wiseau, who conceives of his film to be a heartfelt portrait of human emotion, is driven to tears by the audience's laughter and abandons the theater. Greg follows him to the lobby and coaxes him back inside, telling him that Hitchcock never made an audience laugh with such force. Tommy, embracing the audience’s reaction, accepts a triumphant curtain call.

The friendship between the voluble director and his good-natured co-star lies at the core of The Disaster Artist. Although the film repeatedly alludes to the homoerotic nature of Tommy and Greg's relationship—exemplified by pinky swears and Tommy's "Babyface" nickname for Greg—it primarily plays this suggestion of romantic love between the two men for comedic effect. The film is more interested in the power dynamics between the two men. Tommy is both Greg’s friend and his benefactor. Tommy knows that Greg’s friendship is not unconditional: his apartment and money undergird their friendship. Ultimately, Tommy’s poorly executed melodrama, which centers on two friends, mirrors his own convoluted relationship with Greg. In Franco’s film, friendship, a phenomenon rooted in sympathy and reciprocity, becomes a metaphor for filmmaking.

These same tenets of friendship inform the relationship between The Disaster Artist and The Room. Franco treats Wiseau’s film as a source of pleasure (and laughter) and depicts the process of making the film as an earnest, though misguided and poorly executed endeavor. Even as Franco depicts the muddled script and slipshod creation of The Room, he treats it as a production worth dialoguing with and recreating. Like a good friend, The Disaster Artist sets out to make light of its cinematic inspiration, and in the process, cannot help but burnish the myth of the man who made a virtue of indulging his instincts and realizing his dream, not with talent or skill, but with cash. The Disaster Artist depicts Wiseau as a later-day Norma Desmond, determined to bring himself and “Planet Tommy” to the screen for all to see.

Director: James Franco

Running Time: 103 minutes

Country: USA

Photos: New Line Cinema

#the disaster artist #james franco #Dave Franco #tommy wiseau #the room #film #párrafo #paracinema

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harvard-narravitas · 7 years

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Finding Susan Sontag: Her Work, Metaphors, and Legacy; by Jonathan Galla

When I began thinking about how to write around the idea of Narrative Medicine, I couldn’t help but turn back to what brought me here: to this field of illness, of narratives, of where the disease meets the written page as easily as it meets the patient’s body. I immediately thought of Susan Sontag, that tour de force writer-critic who redefined how we think about the mythologies of illness. In finding Susan Sontag, we see how life and literature do not have simple barriers. This essay explores how narrative medicine has grown from its initial understandings, through the lens of one of its prolific inspirations, and the legacy of her writing and activism.

Perhaps, a proper introduction to the practice of narrative medicine comes not from a clinician, or a student, but an outsider: one who does not have intimacy with the medical system or its hierarchies, a person who instead captures the experience of illness itself. Thus, I introduce Susan Sontag, author of Illness as Metaphor, “The Way We Live Now,” and many other groundbreaking texts on the relationship between illness, language, and experience. She was not just a writer, but also a figure who has heavily influenced activism and medical practice after her death. A truly international figure, she wrote not only in the US, but dabbled considerably in Parisian intellectual circles and was widely read and translated around the world. As an activist, Sontag spent a significant time writing and practicing her activism in Sarajevo, where she directed a production of Beckett’s Waiting for Godot amid the constant threat of snipers during the civil war (1). Certainly, one could point to the many aspects of her legacy in the present humanities, but one that has often gone overlooked is how she challenged our understandings of illness through her own experiences: most notably, that of cancer.

Cancer was no stranger to Sontag: she was diagnosed once in the 1970s and again in the early 2000s, culminating in a ruthless struggle that took her life (2). This journey, as individualized as it was in her suffering, was one she ultimately chose to share. Her partner, the famous photographer Annie Leibovitz, graphically documented the final moments of her battle with cancer. One can easily find the images online, if not in her large folio-sized autobiographical photobook: Annie Leibovitz, A Photographer’s Life, 1990-2005. I leave you not with the ominous images themselves, but their resonances: just as Sontag famously wrote On Photography without images, so illness transcends the written page, the photograph, or any medium that circumscribes its wrath.

Pre-cancer shot: Susan is lying comfortably on a sofa in their long island house, looking in health with black hair and an intense stare.

Shot one: her long hair with the signature white lock is gone; in place is a jet-white barber’s cut.

Shot two: bedridden, Susan is loaded from the tarmac onto a charter plane headed for New York, her final resting place.

Final shot: a handsewn panorama of the no longer living. She is laid out next to the hearth, arms folded but the marks of a violent death left untouched. Her arms are bruised, and the body looks cold and pale in the light. No one is left untouched by death, the photograph whispers with its art of intimation.

To those familiar with Sontag’s work, her choice to allow these images to proliferate bear no discrepancy with her life’s work to understand, document, and humanize pain. As a public intellectual, she sought to bring the common experience of illness into critical or literary analysis, most notably in her book Illness as Metaphor, published shortly after her first bout of breast cancer. In Illness as Metaphor, Sontag describes the intimate connection between illness and everyday language. Sontag writes of the banality of comparison everyday life to the disease, slowly losing its weight in the imagination with overuse and misapplication. Most importantly, she described not the experience of illness--an experience we all come to know--but how illness metaphors have been appropriated into society: the ‘cancers on our society,’ the ‘plague’ of annoyances. She wrote, “My subject is not physical illness itself but the uses of illness as a figure or metaphor. My point is that illness is not a metaphor, and that the most truthful way of regarding illness—and the healthiest way of being ill—is one most purified of, most resistant to, metaphoric thinking” (3). For Sontag, metaphoric thinking is not the antidote, but the very poison to experience.

What Sontag ultimately argued was that disease, as metaphor, inherently takes on a moral context through its equivocations. The phenomenon she traces is not only a moral dilemma, but harmful to how illness is interpreted and understood. Indeed, humanity has a capacity to trace illness with superstition, from the ‘miraculous starvation’ of female saints in the middle ages to relatively recent hypothesis of a ‘cancer-prone’ personality. Yet this appropriation of the illness metaphor weakens the gravitas of illness experiences, depriving them of their proper significance at best, stigmatizing and demeaning the ill at worst. These ‘ills of society,’ rather than defining social problems, cast judgment on those individuals who are ill, leaving greater questions unresolved.

Sontag’s line of thinking has started a legacy in how we think about disease and its languages. When someone is ‘battling’ cancer, why do we use that word, and what are the implications of the exchange in meaning between disease and war? Certainly, when one ‘loses’ their battle against a disease, it is hard not to wonder if those who won have any superiority, be it due to their genetic hand of cards or biological chance, or something more sinister: their ability to pay for the latest and greatest life-extending treatment, the environmental variables (read: pollution, geography, living in the ‘right’ neighborhood) that lead to the disease being a worse.

Of course, the debate continues, and still I have no answer as to why someone ‘loses’ and another ‘wins,’ dichotomies notwithstanding. But medicine is not about winning or losing--it’s about healing, the easing of the body and spirit. When metaphor dances a dangerous dance with illness, morality soon creeps into the picture. Without an impartiality of language, nobody wins from the inequity that follows.

Today, Narrative Medicine (capitalization intended) does not exist merely as an edgy experiment by writers like Sontag, nor is it a rebellion against the medical establishment, psychiatric institutions, or the common past suspects of indignity of the medical system. It is an everyday approach to best understanding a patient’s chief complaint, an economic alternative to the standardization of charts, Electronic Medical Records, and the endless quantification of the patient’s condition.

Are we returning to the past? An era in which a country doc writes out notes in a dusty workbook and pulls an aspirin out of a mason jar? Not quite. Comical as it could be, narrative medicine exists in a contemporary field of medicine, and importantly, a contemporary understanding of what narratives are--how they exert themselves not only in the medical world, but also our lives and society more broadly. As a future physician, I constantly ask myself what kind of doctor I hope I will become, and who else will work around me. In essence, this marriage of medicine and narratology seeks to acknowledge the limits of diagnostic tools: the chart, the physical exam, the narrative of illness.

Sontag left an indelible impression on the field, and indeed, there is something to be said for how clinicians and researchers think about language in their practice. What does it mean to understand someone’s story when their language is not the same as your own, coming through the translation of an interpreter? What if someone lacks the knowledge base to use that very language? How do clinicians work with marginalized communities to not only aid their understanding, but empower community health by acknowledging their language and narratives? Narrative Medicine, in its wide reaching arc across disciplines, certainly has learned and continues to learn from the ability of language to mediate and transform our understanding of disease, care, and the human condition.

Burns, John. “To Sarajevo, Writer Brings Good Will and ‘Godot.’�� The New York Times. August 19, 1993.

Wasserman, Steve. “Author Susan Sontag Dies.” Los Angeles Times. December 28, 2004.

Sontag, Susan. “Illness as Metaphor.” The New York Review of Books. Jan 26. 1978.

#narrative medicine #sontag #illness #metaphor

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