#its still really hard for Miles when he gets disbarred | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lardguz · 3 years

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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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4ragon · 3 years

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Can't speak for anyone else but I for one would love an incoherent rant about the dark age of the law plotline

Alright buckle up kiddos.

So I have a lot of complaints with Dual Destinies as a whole. It’s a poorly paced mess, the final confrontation was deeply underwhelming, it has all these weird “Gotcha” moments where they put in the most bizarre, logic breaking plot twists and then undo them within ten minutes completely for shock value. And yet, despite all of these issues, there is nothing in this world that pisses me off more than the words “The Dark Age of the Law.”

I hate the Dark Age of the Law subplot more than literally any other thing in Ace Attorney. It is a complete failure of a story in literally every possible way. It not only doesn’t work within the context of Dual Destinies, it also completely flies in the face of everything we understand about the original trilogy! It!!!! Sucks!!!!

But no. That was too coherent. I think we should break this down.

First I’m going to start on a macro level. The Dark Age of the Law is the clearest indication to me that the writers of Dual Destinies never played another Ace Attorney game. They treat this Dark Age of the Law thing like this big bad, this shiny new toy, this never before seen wonder, but??? Corruption has been a CENTRAL part of every single AA game since game one!! Since case 2 even!!!

The Dark Age of the Law is this whole idea that people have lost their trust in the court system. And what do they site as the catalyst for this breaking of trust? Phoenix Wright’s disbarment and Simon Blackquill’s arrest.

And okay. Phoenix Wright’s disbarment is a reasonable one. Phoenix was sort of known for being this paragon of truth and justice, this man willing to do what it took to find the truth and protect people in need. His name being smeared through the mud could very well shake up the foundations of trust that the people had in the court system.

But Simon Blackquill? Simon FUCKING Blackquill shook up people’s faith in the court system?? Simon Blackquill is the reason that people are convinced that the entire system is full of lies and deceit? SIMON CONFESSED!! He didn’t even do anything corrupt!! He murdered a woman, sure, but he then immediately lets everyone know “Yes, I super did this murder. No one else.” And they treat it like it’s this big turning point??

LANA SKYE!! You guys remember Lana Skye? The Chief Prosecutor at the time, who was accused of murder, and who still went to prison for doing like a million other crimes after being blackmailed by the chief of police.

SPEAKING OF WHICH the fucking CHIEF OF POLICE was a murderous monster who blackmailed people and also murdered. Did that have no effect on people’s trust in the courts?

Manfred von Karma? Never lost a case in 40 years, literally everyone talked about how he and Miles were KNOWN to be corrupt? Also, you know, murdered a man in cold blood?

Blaise Debeste??? Chairman of the fucking ETHICS BOARD???????? Like!!! That’s some deep fucking corruption right there!!!! And he constantly talks about the mysterious disappearances around him of people who disagreed with him, does that not shake your faith?!

In Turnabout Sisters, as early as case 1-2, Redd White calls up the Chief Prosecutor (who also is not Lana, just to be clear) and demands his complicitness in covering up his own crimes. That’s how central corruption is to the entirety of Ace Attorney.

And you’re going to look me in the fucking EYES and tell me Simon Blackquill, some 21 year old nobody with no power or influence, who theoretically stabbed a woman and made no effort to cover that up, is the reason the courts have lost the faith of the people? You have the NERVE??? the AUDACITY??? the fucking GALL????? to tell me that SIMON is what caused this? The system was never trustworthy, and if it was, what the FUCK did Simon have to do with changing that???

Horrible. Terrible. Disgusting.

BUT

Let’s pretend for a moment that Dual Destinies existed in a vacuum. First Ace Attorney game you’ve ever played. Never touched another one in your life. If you were unfamiliar with the world that Ace Attorney has already spent six games establishing, does the Dark Age of the Law subplot hold up?

No. No it doesn’t.

So as I’ve said a million times before, it was clear that Dual Destinies should not have tried to juggle three protagonists. It just didn’t work. They learned their lesson and booted Athena out of that protagonist title in SoJ, and as much as I hated that decision, it was at least a much stronger overarching story for it.

Now. There were three main throughlines in Dual Destinies. Athena’s story centered on introducing her, of course, but it also was about her struggle to save a friend who needed saving from the law and also himself. It was very AA1 in that way.

Apollo’s story was a little harder to outline, because a lot of it is saved for the last couple of cases, but it’s really about his relationship with Athena. Coming to trust her, his trust in her being shaken, struggling to overcome that, grief, loss, yadda yadda, and I have my criticisms of how it’s handled, but that’s the gist of it.

And Phoenix needed a story. So they made up this stupid fucking bullshit garbage and dumped it in his lap and said “Here you go, best friend! Our dear money maker! This is what you’re working with!” And then they proceeded to use it to beat the shit out of Phoenix until he started spitting out dollar bills.

Okay no sorry I have no idea what the fuck I just said but liSTEN

The Dark Age of the Law storyline was clearly supposed to have some significant thematic relevance to the story, given how hard they were hammering it into us in case three. It was supposed to mean something, and I think it was supposed to mean something to Phoenix in particular. After all, he and Miles won’t stop TALKING ABOUT IT GOD MAKE THEM SHUT UP

The Dark Age of the Law subplot had nothing to do with that final case. Remove it, and nothing changes, because, again, Simon had nothing to do with the corruption in the first place, and the Phantom certainly had nothing to do with corruption. It’s so surface level. “Uh oh, people don’t like the courts. If you can solve this unrelated crime, everything will be fixed.” And then he does (also Athena should’ve been the one to win the case, but that’s a different problem) and nothing ever comes of it, other than “Hooray, you fixed the corruption!” He didn’t??? Miles what the fuck are you talking about????

If they had woven in the corruption throughout the story somehow, maybe it would’ve found some way to be impactful? But it was a floundering, half-thought-out subplot in an already bloated game that failed to give any meaning or help anyone develop as a character. Hell, it kept falling out of relevancy and only popped in to rear its head when the writers remembered it existed and decided to have yet another person remind us that THIS IS IMPORTANT GUYS NO REALLY.

Like! Okay. What if they tied it more to AA4? I mean Phoenix’s disbarment and subsequent return could’ve actually affected the plot. Have people actively mistrust Phoenix or something. Or maybe have it affect anyone in any way. Sure it divides the fucking high schoolers for that mess of a “power of friendship” storyline, but so could a plot about, I don’t know, electing a homecoming queen or something. It affected Athena for one case, but what did that even teach her other than “Trust your gut, sweetie, don’t do lawyer crimes!” Phoenix didn’t have an arc in this game, and he shouldn’t have had to, unless it was coming to grips with the fact that he was never going to get those 7 years of his life back and the smears against his character were always going to linger. But they didn’t do that, they just needed him in there for brand recognition.

I can handle a lot of bullshit in these bullshit lawyer games. That’s part of the appeal. But unlike most of the other bullshit, this particular threat was unsatisfying, meandering, and unnecessary.

#ace attorney #dual destinies #i love dual destinies guys really #but if miles says dark age of the law one more time #also was this coherent at all?#j #spoilers #meta

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queen-ofsunflowers · 3 years

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DadWorth AU: Part 2 (Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney)

More DadWorth AU! And here we finally get into the details of the games, so the parts that remain the same will be briefly touched upon. This is gonna be longer than the last post, so here we go!

< Part 1 | Part 3 >

Turnabout Sisters

Things actually start a bit before the game does, and its with Kay at age fourteen and ready to start high school. (to me her birthday is in December, so she would be fourteen by the time the school year begins). And she has a certain one in mind.

I’ve mentioned before that Kay ends up idolizing Mia and follows her cases. Being surrounded by law for the past couple of years and wanting to help people (because Kay has yet to learn about the true Yatagarasu), Kay decides that she wants to be a defense attorney like Mia as opposed to a prosecutor like her dad and Miles (I am one of few people that I think subscribe to the idea of Defense Attorney!Kay... but that’s where we’re going here.)

Miles hestiates when he learns that Kay “wants to be a lawyer”, but after pressure from both Franziska and Gumshoe, he agrees to the idea. After studying and working hard, Kay ends up getting accepted to Themis Legal Academy in the defense attorney course -- something she hides from Edgeworth because she’s afraid that he’ll disapprove. But this is something that she really wants to do. i have an idea, shhh--

So, Kay’s first day of school just happens to fall on September 6. If anyone recognizes this date, it means Edgeworth is going to be home late, as he almost always is when he’s working on a new case. Because this is where we hit Turnabout Sisters.

Kay’s first day of school goes pretty well. It’s all getting to know you stuff, so it’s gonna be easy. Everyone tries to keep Kay from finding out about the details of Edgeworth’s newest case throughout the course of the day, but this fails because Miles doesn’t know that Kay looks up to Mia. So he gets very much confused when she gets upset upon learning Mia Fey had been murdered when he goes about their usual conversation about his latest case the next morning.

So, she’s upset and Miles has no idea why. On his side, he finds out the defense attorney for this case is Phoenix Wright. So he’s not doing so well because the past is coming back to bite him in the butt, and Kay goes to school feeling like crap. And things only start to get worse from there when two students in the prosecutors’ course decide its a good idea to mess with one of the students in the defense attorney course.

Enter Sebastian Debeste and Klavier Gavin. (i know klavier’s a good guy, but he still needs the character development to happen) They are not the nicest of people when Kay first encounters them. She’s down, and they decide its a good time to kick her while she’s down.

She confides in this to Ema, who gets super mad about this. She knows that she needs to tell an adult about it, so she somehow manages to tell Gumshoe about this (how they know each other, i’m not sure, probably happened after she met Kay.) And then Gumshoe goes to Miles while they’re investigating the next day and tells him that Kay’s been having a tough time adjusting (Ema had left out the bullying bit, since Kay had made her promise not to tell, thinking it would make things worse.)

Miles takes things into consideration a little bit (he’s too focused on his case), and promises to pick Kay up from school the next day if Gumshoe drops her off (an idea that came up from Gumshoe mentioning it would be a good idea to have someone she trusts there after a bad day.)

The date is September 9, Gumshoe drops Kay off at school as planned while Edgeworth goes to trial. And everything for both of them goes downhill from there. Edgeworth gets his ass handed to him by Phoenix and gets his first loss. Kay’s bullying continues. Too absorbed in his loss and the repercussions of it, Miles forgets about Kay entirely. Kay’s left outside of Themis, heartbroken and her trust in Miles barely even remains. After about an hour or so, she calls Badd to come and get her since she knows he’ll always be there if she needs him.

Miles hears Kay come home, and gets confused when she runs past him and up to her room. Badd explains everything and how Miles is an idiot.

So, Badd’s pissed at Edgeworth. Gumshoe gets mad at Miles when he finds out about what happened with Kay. von Karma is pissed at Edgeworth for losing at case to a rookie of all things. Kay’s upset with him because of what happened. Franziska’s mad at him on both fronts. The media is having a field day with his record being broken. It’s the second worst day of his life.

Turnabout Samurai

So, time goes on since the horrible, no-good very bad day. Miles is trying to deal with everything and everyone being mad at him. He’s becoming emotionally unavailable and Kay’s not helping at all since she’s pulled away from him. Since he forgot about her, she thinks he doesn’t care about her anymore. She just stays out of his way.

Miles is emotionally out of the window and does just what he needs to do to keep Kay happy or so he thinks. He’s too absorbed in his work and stressed out from his previous loss to try and reverse the damage caused to his reputation. Meanwhile, Kay’s bullying at Klavier’s and Sebastian’s hands continues. She doesn’t know what to do about it (even though Ema continually tells her to tell someone, Kay doesn’t want to make things worse.)

Things come to a head for her right around the same time that Edgeworth gets assigned the Steel Samurai case against Phoenix Wright. Kay’s absolutely done with Sebastian’s and Klavier’s treatment of her and remembering Ema’s words, she acts.

Kay ends up punching Klavier in the face when he pushes her over the edge, much to everyone’s surprise. They both get dragged down to the office by a teacher after the fight escalates a little (if it even can be called that, only physical blows traded was Kay’s punch.)

They’re in trouble, they start arguing over who started it, etc. The teacher (who I should note is Courte) puts an end to it, believing that they are both to blame for what happened -- Kay for retaliating the way she did and Klavier for antagonizing her in the first place. With the principal’s agreement, both of them are sent home for the day after their guardians are called.

For Kay, she immediately gets called back by Edgeworth while waiting. Edgeworth is in the middle of the Steel Samurai case, so he can’t do anything. He actually grows irritated over what Kay did, not listening to her explanation over what happened and only saying that they’ll talk about it when he gets home. Kay tries to find someone else who

Meanwhile, Courte takes Klavier aside and tries to find out what happened to cause the whole mess in the first place. Something got into his head that this was how it was supposed to be with defense attorneys and prosecutors (what this is or who that was that planted it is up for debate). He’s told that he’s wrong. They’re both on the same sides of the law, and they’re both there to find the truth -- not to fight about it until there’s a victor. They are allies. Not enemies.

And then Klavier comes back and overhears Kay’s conversation with Edgeworth with Courte’s words echoing in the back of his mind. Klavier’s just like... “okay, she may be a defense attorney, but i don’t think she’s that different from me at all”. Kristoph is a terrible guardian, but the only one that can take care of Klavier, and he understands a bit of what Kay is going through right now because of that.

And immediately feels like shit for how he treated her prior. So when Kay goes to apologize to him from ya know... punching him, it’s him that starts apologizing. And after a very, very long conversation, they decide to start over and Klavier invites Kay to eat lunch with him and Sebastian the next day and even offers to see if he can get her a ride home. Kay reluctantly agrees.

And so their friendship starts there.

It takes Sebastian a bit longer to warm up to Kay like Klavier has, but eventually takes to her when she doesn’t hesitate to point out the mistakes he makes. She corrects him without missing a beat. Kay’s not hesitant to call him out on bullshit when needed. As a result, Sebastian’s a bit smarter than compared to canon.

So, the chaotic duo of Ema and Kay grows to include Klavier and Sebastian. (ema has no reason to hate klavier yet, that’s not until phoenix is disbarred if my theory is right, but his attitude does tick her off sometimes).

Things are starting to get better for Kay, that’s for sure. Miles, on the other hand... not so much.

We all know what happens with him. Unnecessary feelings, questioning just about everything that you know and who you are, etc. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Kay, who wants to try and do something to help. What that is, though, she doesn’t know yet.

Turnabout Goodbyes

Winter break is coming up, and it’s pretty clear at this point that Sebastian and Klavier (the latter moreso than the former) are in tight with Kay and Ema. Kay wants to do something to fix her relationship with Edgeworth, leading to a suggestion of being honest with him about how she feels. If he listens (unlike their guardians), then that means things could turn around.

Kay declines this idea as the first thing they decide Kay should do is tell Edgeworth that she’s in the defense course. She’s still wary about what he might say or do if he finds out she’s going to be a defense attorney rather than the prosecutor he thinks. She does, eventually, agree to talk to him about how she feels. Confessing to being in defense does still linger in the back of her mind.

Christmas starts to draw nearer and nearer, and the two usually spend it together (a tradition born from the first one they had. As bad as that time of year is for Miles, he tries to not let it show for Kay’s sake. Kay doesn’t know about DL-6 and he wants to keep her as far away from it as possible.) So Kay is confused when he heads out Christmas Eve.

Kay has no idea who to turn to... except for one person. So, Christmas morning, while Gumshoe does his best when it comes to figuring out the truth with the investigation, Kay runs all the way down to Wright & Co. Law Offices. (Edgeworth had talked about Wright before in conversations that Kay overheard. That, and it was talked about that he was the only one who managed to take down Edgeworth at school.)

This is the first time that Kay meets Phoenix face-to-face, so he’s pretty confused about as to why a teenager is banging down his door on Christmas asking for help. But, he’s not someone whose going to say no, so he and Maya head down to the detention center with Kay.

Imagine their shock when they learn that the person Kay was talking about is Miles Edgeworth. Who immediately turns around and refuses their help. At all. Because he wants them as far away from this as possible.

Phoenix and Maya leave with Kay, and two out of three are not about to give up so easily. So, yeah. Kay’s finally part of the main storyline.

She helps Phoenix and Maya on their investigation and in the process does learn about DL-6. And her heart just breaks when she learns that her guardian went through all of this. Which is why Kay is relieved when Miles finally

In the meantime, Phoenix and Maya are trying to figure out what Kay’s connection to Edgeworth is since neither of them explained. And all they can get Gumshoe to say is that Kay is someone that knows Miles rather well. (something that’s supported with Kay knowing about Edgeworth’s fear of earthquakes.)

Kay’s in the audience during this case, primarily because Miles expresses that he doesn’t want her anywhere near von Karma (especially for something that would technically be her first trial). But she’s also not going to leave, so she just watches. Kay gets excited when Phoenix starts tearing von Karma’s case apart. (at this point, Kay only vaguely knows von Karma from Reminiscence. She knows that he’s Miles’s mentor and nothing more than that.)

She helps with the DL-6 investigation. The one thing I should note surprises her the most about it is the date which it takes place. Added angst for this whole case (primarily comes from my headcanon birthday for Kay) -- It’s revealed that Miles was careful on December 28th to not let Kay know what was going on with him since it was also her birthday.

Kay has only known Larry for two days, and he’s already giving her a headache (and making her question how Miles and Phoenix are friends with him a little bit). But she’s super excited that he was able to help in the end. She also finds the story about the class trial super sweet, remarking how it reminds her about how Edgeworth used to be like when they first met.

She ultimately is incredibly worried about Miles as the case goes on. Especially with how he thinks that he killed his father. The man Kay knows would never do that -- even on accident. She wants to help as much as possible, even if she can’t stand with the defense. She also wants to stick it to von Karma after everything he’s done. Especially after the confrontation in the evidence room, where Kay lets loose more information than she should, so von Karma (along with Maya and Phoenix) end up finding out about Kay’s relation to Miles.

Phoenix asks her about this later, and Kay explains everything. She begs him to get Miles a Not Guilty verdict since she doesn’t want to lose yet another father of hers. He promises her that he’ll try.

So we get to the final trial day. Kay thinks that Phoenix calling the parrot as a witness is one of the most hilarious things ever later on, but in the moment, she thinks he’s gone crazy, but it works. Miles is declared innocent and she couldn’t be happier... until he flips the switch and confesses to DL-6 after von Karma brings up

Kay gets so mad and upset about this. She corners him in the defendant’s lobby, which is not a pleasant conversation. She knows that Miles is innocent. They’ve been fighting this whole time and he’s just willing to give up that easily? Kay feels like she’s being left behind all over again. She doesn’t understand why Miles won’t “believe in me, who believe in you”. And she storms out. So there’s a bit more guilt on Miles’s shoulders, and a small bit of incentive for him to actually get a not guilty.

So, it cuts to Kay in the hallway making her way back to the gallery. She’s relaying to what’s going on to her friends over a text conversation (understandably, they’re all pissed) when she bumps into someone on her way back.

Yeah... Kay runs into von Karma again. And knowing what she does about him, Kay’s just fucking pissed. There’s a confrontation between the two where Kay comes to understand why Miles is so afraid of this man. He puts an immense amount of fear into her. She just wants to get away.

Kay hits his shoulder by accident in the process and notices the amount of pain it causes him after she runs off. So, long story short, Kay manages to figure out where the second bullet is before Phoenix does, and the trial concludes similar to how it does in canon, but with Kay’s intervention. She’s beyond relieved that Miles is free and von Karma is arrested.

She also feels horrible about yelling, and decides to take her friends’ advice to heart. She almost lost Miles once, and if that ever happens again, she wants him to know the whole truth.

The first thing Kay does after Miles is declared innocent is confess everything to Miles. She’s stammering and nervous and is barely through it when Miles cuts her off because he already knows Kay’s studying to be a defense attorney. She’s not as slick as she thinks, Gumshoe had mentioned multiple times that Phoenix could be someone Kay could learn a lot from, etc. That, and he is Kay’s guardian. He keeps in contact with the school.

He’s not disappointed in her either, which is the one fear that Kay had. He understands not following in your father’s footsteps. If it makes her happy, then that’s fine with him. He is surprised that she finally told him the truth, though. Kay promises not to keep anymore secrets from him. She wants to trust him again.

Things end well between them... as well as they could be after that whole mess, but their relationship is steadily on the mend and all is right with the world.

...until February.

Rise From the Ashes

IF YOU ALL REMEMBER SOMETHING THAT I MENTIONED IN PART 1, THEN YOU KNOW THAT THIS CASE IS GOING TO GET WORSE FOR ONE MILES EDGEWORTH THAN IT ALREADY IS.

Kay gets dragged into this one by Ema when she comes by in tears over Lana getting arrested. Kay mentions what happened back in December and says that Phoenix might be able to help, so Ema drags her down there. Phoenix is responsible for two teenagers rather than one. Again.

let’s just pretend that they don’t have school for whatever reason

Not much changes other than Kay’s involvement in SL-9. People keep bringing up the fact that Ema was not alone. And Kay’s thief skills starting to show up a little bit. Again, she won’t discover the truth about the Yatagarasu until later down the line.

She also wants to kick Gant in the shin more and more as the case progresses.

When it gets to the point where they find out that Miles is going to resign,

It’s only during the last day of the trial that Phoenix (and by extension, everyone else but Maya) finds out about Miles’s connection to Kay when he brings up the fact that there was another witness present when Ema was attacked. And Miles isn’t able to hide who it is any longer.

So, Kay has to testify. And it’s not fun. It all ends with her asking them to leave Edgeworth alone, since he didn’t do anything wrong (or he didn’t know that he was doing anything wrong -- something that is later provable.) So, this case is full of family feels, and Phoenix feels like shit for having to do this.

But in the end, Kay’s memory is a bit more clearer than Ema’s, which leads to Gant’s arrest being a bit easier. Ema still leaves the country to study forensics in Europe, and there’s a tearful goodbye and promises to stay in touch between her and her friends. But the impact that the case leaves on Edgeworth does not change. He feels like he isn’t fit anymore -- as a prosecutor or as a guardian for Kay since he couldn’t protect her.

So, the night of February 25, Kay’s woken up in the middle of the night by Miles. She’s half-asleep, and really doesn’t understand what he’s saying at the moment. He’s saying that he has to leave for a while, and tells her that he cares about her. She’s just like “okay” and ends up falling back asleep.

The next morning, Kay wakes up and the house is just about empty. She can’t find Miles anywhere. She just thinks that he’s busy with a new case that needed him in the office early, or they needed him to help clear up what happened yesterday or something, so she doesn’t think much of it.

That is until Gumshoe picks her up from school early. He never does this. No one really does this without warning, like if its a doctor’s or dentist appointment or something.

Her entire world falls apart when he tells her about the note that they found on Edgeworth’s desk that morning.

Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth Chooses Death.

And that ends Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney. Kay doesn’t interact with the story all that much, but we already have Egdeworth’s perspective on the game for the most part. A lot of this takes place from Kay’s POV... including Justice for All. Which I have some... interesting things in mind for.

#ace attorney #ace attorney au #miles edgeworth #kay faraday #ema skye #phoenix wright #maya fey #dick gumshoe #klavier gavin #sebastian debeste #manfred von karma #queen speaks #dadworth au #kay edgeworth au

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milk-addicc · 4 years

Note

This question will be NSFW. Phoenix and Miles are 35 now. As grown men, do you think they had s*x (not with each other I precise). Phoenix seems pretty innocent back then when he dated Dalhia/Iris but during his disbarred years, I can see him having not serious but mature relationships. For Miles, it's hard to tell if he's still virgin or not. It's seems like the kind of guy who wants to have his "first time" with someone he really loves... what do you think?

/ cw NSFW, mentions of sexual activity

ah, well in most depictions seems like they both have one-nights now and again and i guess thats realistic... on that part of the world hhh.

perhaps i can buy the idea that Phoenix do that type of thing in his disbarred days (its like 7 years long lol) but i like to think he just stick with the “classic hand” more often than trying to go out and date anyone, not only he got a responsibility to raise a kid on his own, he probably still have a slight fear with pursuing some stranger? idk hhh.

as for Edgeworth, i don’t see him as sexually active? but not completely inactive either, he got hormones kicking in now and again he gets wet dreams etc but he doesn’t go to bars and do that stuff? like its not his priority hh at least to me, so maybe he uses his hand too... very rarely. idk it may sound unrealistic and maybe i’m being naive but i live in a small part of the world where this kinda stuff is taboo, you gotta marry before you have your “first time”, and you can even get arrested for doing this without marriage permit so i guess that plays a factor in my views to it being completely normal, to me of course.

in conclusion? perhaps i can see Phoenix having one-night-stands but.. personally i’d just see him being on his own with his hand, same with Edgeworth but barely. i have this funny idea that yes i know he’s opposed to marriages (technically, specifically to women in original Japanese context bc same sex marriages is still not legal in most of Japan), but i bet he’d be one of those who’d pull the “wait for marriage” excuse lmao

but its not like this matters, this doesn’t affect their actual relationship dynamics whatsoever, they’re still the wholesome endgame. the smut stuff and their bedroom games are simple thoughts i’d like to keep for myself like a bonus feature hhhhh.

(also apparently i'm probably like the super minority who has this boring and traditionalist view on their sex life so don't think too much about it hh, almost all nrmt fans i see are the complete opposite of mine lol)

#qna #sex cw #narumitsu #this is just MY view btw yours are still valid heck maybe even better lol #i usually don't think too much of this tbh so don't think too much of my interpretation either hhhh #bc its never the priority for me hhh #thats why i kinda never talk about it ever lol

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amandlas · 4 years

Text

almost gone (in these little moments get your cards out)

tfota | jude x cardan, she doesn’t come back au, no smut, hurtful and punishable tbh (ao3)

entry to jurdan week 2020 by @jurdannet - day 7: wild card! a what-if au had jude tried to make a new life in maine (don’t worry, cardan shows up). heaps of angst. little payout. sorry in advance. trigger warnings: violence, guns, shooting, and death mention.

[canon divergence from twk ending. title from “lay your cards out” by poliça]

gone. she’s gone. avulsed from her land, never hers, and her lover, never loved. the mortal world welcomes her with wide arms, arms that are shorter than she remembers, a little less homely, much less magical. after all, how can the ordinariness of television, powder tea, and surround sound compare to the true magic of faerieland?

vivi says it will be well. of course she does. why wouldn’t she, with her strong blood and pointed ears.

jude stares and stares at the tv. at the window. at the door. she’s not so stupid as to believe it will allay her want, but like programming, she follows the routine nonetheless.

two months. oak is recalcitrant to her teachings. vivi is buoyant in her obliviousness. they do not see her. she cannot see herself. the closest thing she has to a mirror is miles away, attending a new husband and parading with stars dangling from rounded ears. if taryn were to come, jude thinks she wouldn’t recognize either of them.

she is ashamed to watch her pillowcase blotted with tear stains at nightfall.

it’s more embarrassing than waking up the first time to menstrual blood staining her sheets, two stories up in madoc’s estate, knowing not what it meant or what to do.

jude duarte avoids as superfluous emotions as sadness or hopelessness. being a mortal in faerie, those sentiments would wash her out of focus, riddle her with doubt, and with a certainty would so far as kill her.

but, she thinks, i am not in faerie anymore. i am no longer in a place where blood is a better find than tears. where eyes are dry and swords are sated by throats and bellies.

perhaps in her native world it is safer. that’s what jude wanted this whole time, was it not? safety. if she were meant to feel relief, she should feel it now.

survival feels wet against her cheek.

he keeps slugging his damn arms. jude tugs oak roughly to her, fixing his stance, and urges him to strike.

“will i still be king someday?”

as per usual, he tries deflection to talk out of a combat lesson. jude is unmoved. “yes.”

“are you sure?”

she shifts her weight to her other leg. “there is no other way.” his form is poor. she identifies his weaker side and rounds slowly to it. “the crown answers to blood. raise your elbow higher. protect your face.”

oak listens for once. his voice is shrill still. “so there is no one else?”

of course there’s someone else. another bearer of the crown, another royal to lead their nation. but jude grits her teeth and resorts to her best asset: lying. “no. no one else.”

her little brother pauses, their lesson half-present in his mind. intrigued, she watches the scrunch of his brows as he formulates a thought. “unless cardan has a child. then there would be another.”

if he sees her freeze, he doesn’t mention it. the scenario turns her thoughts errant, threatens her with a conniption. some sick part of her wishes to linger on the possibility, but with oak before her and posed to fight, she cannot allow herself that masochism.

oak stands expectant, his arm growing weary and slouching. the least she can do is not lie.

“i suppose.”

he remembers none of the stance the next evening.

“no word from dad. taryn either.”

jude lifts her face to catch vivi rummaging through envelopes of mail. “what, were you expecting miracles? a shift in the weather?” she scoffs, coming back to her task. counting money. hard-earned cash from late shifts of all services and flavors. espionage, theft, the occasional sparring match. the underground fae crime ring taints the soul, but it pays in fifties.

vivi interrupts her quick fingers. “he liked you best, you know. dad always gave more of himself to you than to me or taryn.” she notices her brother sitting at the couch, leans in to rumple his hair. “or oak.”

jude shoots vivi a cruel look, an exasperated look. “what good that did to me.”

her sister’s eyes are fierce as a growling cat where they pin her in place. “quite some good, your highness.”

jude does a fucking great job at not screaming.

she hates to think of the name.

what could his true name be, she wonders? if she commanded it, before the brokering of their epically failed marriage for his release, jude asks herself if he’d given it. if he’d hated her that much more.

her mind swirls with reminders of midnight black eyes, of fingers against her lips and the abstruse feeling of possession by another being.

she won’t think of it. she won’t dream of it. she won’t aerate the two syllables in a whisper of dark sky. she certainly won’t be pelted with the scariest word, the four letters she refused since childhood to allow a place in her. the word that died with a blade on its back as it ran to the kitchen. the word that meant a certain foolishness, a certain danger. she won’t. it’s her new mantra: she won’t, she won’t, she won’t.

falsehoods have always been her strongest asset.

“we shouldn’t be watching this shit,” heather sighs between mouthfuls of red licorice.

they’re leaning on the couch, lined up like soldiers catching their breath amidst pilgrimage to battle. the television blares high. jude notices heather has shifted her free hand to cover oak’s eyes.

she inspects the playing show more closely. one second there’s a wide shot of scenery, familiar in its medieval setting, and the next there’s a person. a striking young woman with silver hair like new iron falling in tresses across pale shoulders.

the figure is so intimate it nearly makes jude jump. “a princess,” she murmurs.

heather shakes her head. “no. oh no. well, sorta.” oak squirms in her hand, breaking free of her hold, to which she sighs and acquiesces. “sure, i guess, but more than that. it’s complicated.”

from her place next to oak, jude nods. “royals tend to be.”

her sister’s lover, or ex lover (certainly an ex something), barrels on. she uses hand gestures to further her explaining. “her father was the mad king, but she was only a baby when he got dethroned. she was exiled from her home, far across the sea. then she married a powerful man, leader of a tribe, and sorta grew into herself. after he died, his rivals and his people tried to disbar her. turns out she had more in her arsenal than was believed.” heather wags her eyebrows at the show.

jude couldn’t be more confused until a huge, black winged creature crosses the screen. “are those…”

“yup,” heather confirms. “the mother of beasts. and her husband’s people, they followed her. even though he was gone, and was their real ruler, and it was unacceptable that she rule on the basis of who she was, they still accepted her as leader.”

jude stiffens. “really.”

they made it seem so close, so easy to reach. the princess-who-wasn’t-a-princess straightens her spine, amplifies her voice. when she speaks, people heed.

heather slices her reverie. “because she has magic.” she points to the overflying monsters. “badass.”

ah. because. she. has. magic.

a non-magic girl slouches back in her non-magic couch, watching a non-magic box, consumed by baneful imaginings.

unprepossessing. that is what they called her. ugly, if wine or fury loosened their vocabulary. how had i let someone who called me that touch me at the collarbones? kiss my throat? call me his sweet villain? jude has no answer. she replays and loops the plethora of adjectives her dear husband and company had called her. wormfood. unsightly. repellent. direful. unbecoming. synonyms alike to the same derivative, final word.

mortal.

the circle of worms, she and taryn. daughter of dirt.

she wishes she were nobody’s daughter.

it takes her three nights after that to realize now she really is nobody’s daughter.

her exile hits the half year.

bride of faerieland. the mortal queen.

a fugacious dream, she finalizes. no more than a fleeting child’s wish. had she remained at home, no, in faerie , she’d never have been queen. not without the people’s approval and not with her mortality. a hollow crown, a fool’s wreath.

she cements it into her brain, sears it to memory. she never. would. have been. a true. queen.

oh, but what a vision they would’ve been. jude, stiff boned with graying hair, and cardan beside her, youthful as ever and tethered to her with ball and chain. unescapable. a fresh minted prison for him. he’d be gagged to ask for her kisses, much less beg for them. when her skin sagged and time plundered her heart, how quick he’d be to run from her. a bat out of hell.

when it processes that she’s thought of his name, written it to existence in the myriad of her thoughts, she breaks into a cold sweat.

she won’t call her exile a blessing. there’s many descriptors for the singular event that redefined the last leg of her fleeting teenage life, and blessing won’t cut it. recently, however, jude has had the chance to add timely to the list.

jude kills a troll. he’d been preying on humans the same time as her abscond to the human realm. this particular troll began his horror streak after developing a taste for the helpless glaze in their eyes at final moments before teeth sunk into shoulders, the way they rolled back or if the occasion came up that the eyelids would fall crookedly. the funny look of a drugged, passed out, mindless loon. except these were dead loons, victims to the desire of a beast. these humans had been lured into the abandoned subway tunnel, but jude had strolled there all on her own.

“that bitch carries the devil,” commented one of the fae. gathered in a ring, stealing glimpses of her over their shoulders.

waiting for her pay, jude kicked the tip of her boot into the solid ground, arms crossed. “that bitch can hear. i may not have fae hearing, but i’d abstain from testing me were i in your shoes.”

the fae she had spoken to was of the sea, and was barefoot. irony not lost on her.

sooner than expected, jude duarte developed a reputation. successful runs, frightening recounts of what she did to earn her money, it swiveled up and circled around her like a tornado. some fae considered testing if the legend was bigger than the person, and some fae had lost the use of a limb. she knew she’d been strong before, but this new world taught her what an unstoppable force she was. had always been.

they give her a nickname. fearful of evoking the name given to her at birth, though being human it had no effect on her. still, shadows shivered at her wake, watching, consuming jude duarte’s trail of defeated foes. in the damp, cold streets of maine, in a world she long since had cut true tethers from, she’s reborn as the wrath.

in her mind, somewhere in the bowels of the elfhame palace, the court of shadows laugh up a storm.

oak grows less querulous and more capitulant to his role. jude in turn decides to do the same with her old-but-now-new home amidst mortals.

she watches tv. repaints her bike. buys new clothes. eats toasted waffles with peanut butter and honey.

when heather mentions a museum across town, jude no longer stares at her blankly. she doesn’t fumble or grasp for words. her foot’s planted on the ground, steady and strengthening.

she becomes inclined to music. an old trait, now in a new ambient. vivi glamours money to grant her a gift, a small excuse to cheer her up. the gadget fits most of her hand, sensitive to her tact and bright during the darker hours. heather hauls her laptop once in a while to upload new songs onto it, teaching jude how to sift through the list.

music player in her hand, jude sheepishly assembles a queue of songs that she likes. tunes that have replaced bards in taverns or notes plucked from lutes.

an aggressive song by a vexed wife goes first, the one with words that hit jude harsher than she wants to admit, the title saying not to hurt yourself. another one called once upon a time. a wedding song turned rock, a “strong electric guitar” according to heather, the singer belting about being loved tenderly. paint it, black by the stones that roll. where once her fingers would’ve stumbled over the gadget’s buttons, today she masters with ease.

the stunted child, the wraith of a human girl she once was rears her head in jude’s dreams. she gains color with each passing day.

by the time her exile hits eight months, jude begins the transition. she intends it to life, gives it air to breath.

i, jude duarte, will be happy in the mortal world.

she wills herself to change on a molecular level. when the desire of faerieland hightails back, she slams it to the back of her mind. she transforms the pain into power, into will. the scar left behind from her banishment becomes fuel for her new life. for the transformation into who jude could truly be in this wide, marvelous, enormous human world.

they don’t want you. they have not once wanted you.

he doesn’t want you. not like you do him.

doesn’t

want

you.

move on, she begs herself. move on. move on. move on. stop chasing after ghosts.

the wrath is elbow deep in a goblin’s guts. he swindled bryern a bagful of gold coin. it came down to her to rescue it back, and assure the impediment of a repetition. that’s when she met her.

“hnnnnggg…” moans a figure across the room.

jude ignored the drugged out junkies on her way in, leaving them in the back burner while working through the bulk of her job. but the turncloak goblin is dead, and was that noisy mound moving?

“help…” she hears.

jude rarely considers herself so altruistic. but the meekness of the plea pulls her across the room, tugs her legs to the sprawled person.

human. a girl, dirty blue hair all too reminiscent of nicasia, but not so polished as to pass for a sea princess. no, this girl appeared on the edge of a precipice, thin coat of sweat across her body.

“more,” the girl begs.

like clockwork. jude squats down to get closer. “want me to get you out of here?”

weakly, the girl nods. “she’ll find me.”

“what’s your name?”

the stranger smacks her lips, eyes rolling in her head. “lolli.”

lolli turned out to be an easy haul but a terrible map. jude exasperatedly dragged her through alleys and corners, hearing the laments of her companion through the journey. lolli got sidetracked from her ride-or-dies, see, shot up a bit too much powder - something she called never - and had an urgent need to return to the clan.

jude’s self-preservation rang high when she knocked on the selected door and met a fae two heads taller than she. his red skin shone bright in the doorway, his glamour invisible to jude’s geas.

“thank you for bringing pop back to us. i’m qylin” he says across from jude, having invited her in and given her a once-over. “uh, you mortal?”

she’s declined a drink, but accepted a chair. “as they come.”

qylin moves closer. “and you took out melbor? pop’s supplier?”

“is pop meant to be lolli?”

“her full name’s lollipop.”

“oh. i see.” a red flush runs across her face. “melbor huh? didn’t catch his name. i did catch both his kidneys though.”

qylin whistles. “damn. a mortal.” he pronounces it with wonder. nothing like she’s used to. it falls with disbelief in her ears.

“that’s quite a might you got in you. here.” in an outstretched hand, jude finds a tiny acorn that no doubt has a message inside it. “if you ever quit meandering for coin and want to run with the real wolves, i’ll answer.”

wolf. she’d been a girl and she’d been a mortal. then she’d been wormfood and after that she’d been a queen. couldn’t say jude once considered herself a wolf, or imagined running with them. then again, she had become so many things far from her imagination.

the ward. the mortal. the queen. the wrath. her list of faces ran endless, each mask pressing heavier and heavier on her fragile composition.

in the beginning, vivi congratulated her like a preschooler with a trophy. “look at you, making an effort. i told you home wasn’t so bad.”

months later they’ve turned to “you are too far out” accompanied by the tapping of her foot, a face riddled by concern. “you’re jumping into danger again.”

vivi didn’t know how jude missed being afraid.

if she dreams of cardan, the sting pulls her awake and breathless into the chirping crickets of the dark hours.

ninth month. her exile is a baby somewhere, born and breathing. a marking reminder of her incipient rule cut short.

jude duarte makes a decision. she steps outside of the girl she used to be, the teenager latched to a world that had not once been hers.

the acorn is light in her hands. she splits it open, unrolling the paper inside, and when she sees the address and phone number it takes her a total of eighteen minutes to pack.

saying goodbye without telling them it’s goodbye cracks a new wound in her already shattering heart.

oak thinks she’s going to the gym. vivi thinks she’s babysitting oak. heather might’ve had a clue, but she kept silent while jude hugged her, muttering a quick thanks for watching her brother while vivi came from the post office.

it appears, after years, she’d learned to say farewell to all things that were close to her.

qylin refrained from asking questions, just as jude liked it. she watched, studied, learned, kept to her rank while scheming for more. the room and cot qylin offers is as home as any she’s had.

when she urged cardan to inveigle the princess of the undersea, it led them to a hidden alcove draped with vines, to a couch where she’d bared more of jude duarte than she had in her entire life. the memory is both a memory and the dream that recurs most in her sleep. their tryst, their unculminated tumble, their fumbled connection, whatever people would want to call it. in her sickest hours, jude allowed herself to think of it with a tender gaze, with a pink shiny filter, with the dreaded word she’d been on the run from for years.

that you hate me. tell me that you hate me.

“i hate you,” jude whispers. “i hate you and i married you and i hate you.” the two phrases weren’t mutually exclusive.

lollipop has been gone for weeks, but her junkie spirit is alive.

the wrath evaded nevermore like cats did water, but the gradual acclimation to qylin’s ring fills her with misplaced ease. it took them damn near six months, but jude finally surrendered her arm.

it pricks, the needle, like the pinch on her finger when cardan stabbed her for the salt in her blood. for the antidote to faerie fruit.

she’s high. she’s at a revel in new york and she’s vulnerable and she’s high.

it doesn’t take long for jude to cement her decision to never do drugs in her natural life again. but once that’s been engraved in her think tank, the world turns mellow and technicolor. it tells her to enjoy while it lasts.

she’s surrounded by leaves, platter of fruit, dancing pixies and slender fae. painful reminders of the home she direly tries to forget.

in a mirage, she pictures black curls under a golden crown of flowers. cruel lips forming a smile.

as if underwater, ears plugged with chlorine liquid, jude hears a seductive voice to her side. “what a pretty thing.” a woman. tall and thin, fae ears and slit green eyes. eyes that fall down to jude’s chest. “busty.”

not all quite there, jude struggles but succeeds in recognizing the tone coming from her courtier. and before she can respond, to her surprise, a second woman emerges from the back of her new companion.

she’s got beautiful straight teeth and straighter talons. “careful. saphine can bite.”

after being called hideous half a life, this come-on douses jude awake like a bucket of water. she studies the two girls and the raking nature of their eyes. she thinks perhaps if she paid more attention she could’ve recognized that in cardan’s eyes. could’ve told it apart from the hatred, the arrogance and the disgust.

without preemptiveness, without pause to think it over, jude tugs both girls to her. her body busts in sensation.

she remembers cardan in a maze, draped in languor and gold faerie drug and girls. black shark eyes watching her while horned girls had their way with him. one kissed his neck, she remembers, and another his knee.

“here,” she scoffs, pushing down sapphire or whatever’s head to her knees. “above my boot.”

a chuckle. “feisty, huh?” she hears, and she truly doesn’t care.

next, jude unceremoniously pulls the second girl up to her neck, leading them exactly where and how she wants them. she’s a constellation of heat and brief spikes of libido.

does cardan think of her? when he’s in bed or bedding someone new, whichsoever activity he performs at night, does jude cross his mind? does he remember her? sometimes in the ridiculous seclusion of her mind she thought cardan would be faithful to her once upon a time. she could slap her own cheeks for such foolishness.

his face appears stark in her memory. deep hollows on his collarbones, raven black hair and eyes devouring her like fruit. his lips, they’d been so soft.

jude leans her head back and laments her ghosts. she inhales sharply.

after the hot spell passes, after jude feels the trickle of tongue make its way up to her thigh and another down her chest, she pushes them away.

why? she doesn’t know. jude is only sure of the fact that she’s tired and doesn’t want this and instead wants a glass of water then maybe a bed.

saphine tilts her head, rolls her eyes, and waves her off, moving along. jude is thankful, for the first time, at being so easily discarded.

a month later makes two years since her infamous exit.

“unless cardan has a child,” oak said. many moons past.

the memory of him brings upon a dream. the opposite to her listless, watered-down dreams she grew used to having.

she sneaks through the palace, it’s name near forgotten to her, crawling against walls or chasing shadows.

he’s there. he’s in many of her dreams and he’s there in this one. hair astray. tilted crown. reclined on a couch, his tail freely swishing left and right.

if he remembers their pact of marriage, he doesn’t bother to show it. no mourning, no sadness, no desperation. unlike the other dreams of him, in this he’s placated. joyful, even, in a way so seldom his character.

jude’s understanding is little.

something squirms in cardan’s arms. when she gets closer it nearly takes her breath away to a fault, threatening to kill her. it’s a baby. older than a newborn but small enough to fit in his arms, to paw at his chin and gargle.

no test could prepare her for this sight.

and cardan. he’s absolutely changed. reinvented in the light of this babe, this creature jude hasn’t seen the face of. because that is his spawn, the tiny tail swishing from its rear indicates as much. that, combined with the black tresses, leaves no doubt that she is looking at a king and his heir.

in the depths of her shriveled dignity, jude duarte senses another break, another disgusting branched crack.

her husband is inconsolable in love. his bright smile slashes wide across his face, softening his sharp cheekbones. he lifts the baby to his face, pressing their noses together, cooing. she hardly recognizes him. but she recognizes the lack of a need for her.

this was a nightmare.

cardan lets the child descend, adjusting them in his lap with heartbreaking gentleness. to her horror, the toddler turns and pierces jude in place with raven black eyes.

she runs cold all over. the child has the look of a girl.

her coloring is unique, darker than cardan’s and any fae’s. it’s closer to… jude’s own. and below the black curls, which she realizes now is actually dark amber brown, there’s ears. rounded, untipped, human ears.

jude is utterly unmoored. the scene melts. she wakes up to hands descending upon her, to frightened questions of why she was screaming and that she’s woken up half of the gang. they cannot get a straight answer from her, and after plowing her with cups of water and aspirins from a quick run to the mini-store, the most they get from jude duarte is a somber face and a fall into her pillow.

jude becomes a gallery of girls. she’s judy, and she’s martina, and she’s amelie with the occasional latika. running in qylin’s underworld gang requires her to. police don’t catch her, fae detectives don’t either, and if by chance she needed to run an errand the name she gave was one of a basinful of fake i.d. cards.

“i once had a twin,” she offhandedly told someone.

“what was her name?” they asked.

jude slurped from a tall gas station soda cup. “doesn’t matter.”

three years. the earnest smile she’d lost a number of winters ago returns tenuously but surely. as a sliver, as a tiny reminder, as a planted seed showing the very smallest evidence of root.

a pixie joins their ranks. young and limber. her cerulean skin reminds jude of a blue court under the sea.

“fand,” she greets the mismatched group. “newborn nomad.”

jude welcomes her by the form of a nod, turning back to the display of headshots splashed on the table, organizing it into a semblance of order.

she feels fand dance around her, suspicious to her presence. she thinks for a hot minute that fand might want to cause trouble. jude focuses her attention to the knife hidden between her breasts.

the pixie stares at her, unabashed, and right as jude thinks to reach to her chest, fand grows the courage to ask. “you. do i know you?”

the question falls flat. “i don’t believe so. there’s little chance our paths crossed.”

fand squints. “well, i’ve just left elfhame. finally broke from that unruly mess.”

lightning forks in jude’s chest, attacking her nervous system. an old phantom possesses her body, causing her to still.

the pixie moves closer, inspecting. “your look, it’s so familiar.”

jude understands in a minute.

taryn. fucking taryn. always, forever, impossible-to-be-rid-of taryn.

summoning years of falsehoods and acting experience, jude breaks eye contact to laugh and feign offense. “all mortals look the same to fae, i’m sure.”

that is not a lie. she learned that from the wickedest prince himself.

when fand slips away from the gang two nights later, jude forces herself to block it from memory.

she’s almost twenty-one. in faerie she might have died since she was eleven.

here, she’s got a family. a rough knit circle of confidants, people she rarely thinks twice about trusting anymore. her music keeps her company, and her growing arsenal of skills, of wins, it warms the smallest piece of her soul.

how could she have hated such a place?

“counterinsurgents. we calculate two dozen below the bridge,” jekka, qylin’s second, explains over a map.

jude’s focus is precise, uninterrupted.

the years, the lack of practice from a simple lack of need to, makes it so that she doesn’t religiously check the perimeter, doesn’t spot a green face. his dark tuft of hair and hooked nose, spying from the window, hidden among leaves and wind.

if she had seen him, she might’ve remembered her old friend. if she’d seen him, she might’ve broken down in tears, or begged for a word, or done none of those things to help jekka figure out their positions for the next day’s raid.

“watch for the sniper!” one of her gang yells.

jude ducks, experienced muscles leading her across the space, the shielded street with broken streetlights. abandoned houses repurposed for criminal night creatures sprawl one after the other. they’ve chosen one a stone throw from the river, so close they could taste the salt while counting bloody fae or human scalps.

five, six, seven leaps and she’s out of shot, crammed into a wedge in the building. she took down three counterinsurgents already. the wrath ran rampant today.

another figure jumps out the window, two yards from her, and takes off running through the backside of the house, the one facing the water. swift as the wind, jude pursues in fervor.

bam.

first the noise like thunderclap. then the pain.

oh.

when they screamed sniper, she expected an arrow. she expected a taut bow and a sharp, easily removed tip of metal. not a bullet.

in the end, jude has been a galaxy of abridges.

she’s had abridged parents, gone before her eighth birthday. that led to an abridged innocence and an abridged life in their rudimentary home in maine. she’s had an abridged relationship with her sisters. an abridged sense of belonging.

she had an abridged romance with a prince and king. that chapter being severed short was, as they all were, not her fault.

she had an abridged marriage. an abridged kingdom rule.

to be culminated in an abridged life. thin and meager.

she hopes no matter how small her garden has been, that each poison flower and cherry blossoms she’s sowed has done its best to enrich the tiny piece of universe allotted to her.

she should’ve known when she saw the river.

in water all began, and in water it ends.

there are no screams. no chaos. the gang has left her, chasing their foes further up the street, looking to corner them. jude? she’s going for a dip. a passage to the next life. she’ll float to it. gargle on the last of life.

“huh,” she whispers.

the ache is pungent in her back, the bullet hitting close to the spine but not quite. deadly, though. deadly for sure.

she wasn’t queen of nothing. she was queen of death, the hierophant of misery. her whole life has been a string of it. well, no longer.

jude duarte reaches the water’s edge, using each fiber of her strength to not fall in quite yet.

in the haziness of all that she’d done and all that she’d run from, he comes to her. in dream, in flesh. she’s not yet in the water.

“jude.”

this has to be the mark between. the straddling line of life and death. because somehow, impossibly, she hears him.

“jude!”

or?...

her brows scrunch in confusion, a naked toe in the river already. she wants to turn, but the seeping life at her back won’t allow it.

she doesn’t need to. long arms surround her, someone moving in front of her to read her face, to see what lies there.

it’s him.

jude’s lids droop. her back is on fire, and she burns in the flames. he’s barely changed. matured into his looks, if she had to put it into words. his tar eyes, slender lips, pointed nose and legendary black curls suddenly remind her of being seventeen.

there’s so much in his face she can barely read any of it. “is it you? is it really you?” he demands.

she’s always been jude. who jude became, that was a different question. one she no longer cares to ask.

“i found you. i finally finally found you.” his voice is incredulous.

is he the harbinger of the beyond? was that his role to play this entire time? her thoughts eddy and murk the more time passes with a hole in her back.

it is an arcane thing, in truth, to be held by a creature she’s craved and despised. her body responds on its own by pressing closer, seeking warmth.

he might be crying. could also be the angle of the sun.

“please,” he whispers.

she hasn’t said his name in years.

“cardan.”

his eyes fall closed.

her mouth repeats the motion, recognizing the familiarity of his name. cardan. once her king. her husband. the sight of him brings forth a wave of emotions, cascading through her like a waterfall.

cardan tugs her close to a punishingly tight degree. “i thought you dead.” he speaks into her ear. “we searched for years. i thought you were gone. gone, jude.”

the word pulls her back, creates distance between them. jude lets herself get lost in his eyes, those splendid eyes, bottomless and infinite, a serene look on her face as she responds:

“almost.”

the fractious prince too arrogant to be a ruler does not stand in front of her. this man is similar, but a sense of strength she hadn’t seen is forefront and shining. jude wishes she could appreciate it.

if only this weren’t the last time.

“so it is you.” she says it with wonder, with a detachment that lets her turn away from his arms and face the river.

cardan’s intake of breath indicates he has finally seen her wound. he twists his neck, shouts to someone far back, hidden in the houses. “shes hurt! SHE’S HURT!” his voice is raw and desperate.

jude walks into the water.

a hand at her arm stops her, keeps her in place, but she shrugs it off with newfound confidence and turns around. cardan’s incredulous face sparks memories of faraway lands and kingdoms.

“what are you doing?” he demands.

jude’s lips break into a smile. how she missed his voice. she walks back until water reaches her waist, then her chest, then the crown of her head.

“stop!” she hears.

the layers of the girl she was, who she is, who she could’ve been, they merge. yes, she had missed faerie. yes, she had wanted cardan. yes, she had wept tears of rage at knowing she could not have either of them back. if she cried now, her tears would turn to river water, melding into the beautiful greater whole.

a hand grips her chest. another tugs on her neck, urging her up, up, up.

air. sweet air in her lungs.

jude gasps, her plans interrupted. the bulletwound at her back sears at the salt water, the sensation so intense it actually numbs her and leaves her feeling very little.

cardan presses her flush to his body. he raises her up, and his face is marked with horror and betrayal.

“how could you?” he weeps. his features are anguished, desperate. he’s shaking her by the shoulder. “how could you?”

jude smiles a wet smile. “remember when you pushed me into the rapids? and you forced my twin to abandon me and kiss your cheeks? i can’t remember a time when i’ve been warm since then. the water, it was cold. like a leech.”

“the roach is gathering for a salve. jude, you will be okay. you need to get out now.”

she realizes there’s something wrong. “wait. no. that’s a lie. i am a liar.” she tilts her face to his, eyes meeting. “you were warm. behind the throne room and in your bed. you kept me warm. but you ripped me from my home and i've been cold since.”

cardan does something she didn’t imagine him capable of. he didn’t do so when balekin beat him. he didn’t do so when his family was slaughtered. he did so this moment, with her encircled by his arms. cardan sobs.

maybe this is when he understands he’s been forever her herald. the marker of her death. their destinies, interlinked, but only for this.

as he bares himself open, jude candidly studies his face. there’s freedom in allowing herself to admit she missed him. missed all of it. her kingdom that never was.

“i’ll heal you,” he implores. his hand runs down wet and shakingly down her face. “you’re my queen. we’ll use our magic. we will, jude, if you stay with me. don’t you get it? the exile was fake. i never meant for you to vanish. i’m begging you, please, help me heal you.”

her forehead falls on his. waist-deep in water, she feels his short breaths fall on her cheek. “you held hatred for me once.”

slowly, miserably, cardan shakes his head. the motion makes her pull away but he doesn’t let her, staying together. “love. i held love, jude.”

love

four letters.

years of running. and it caught up to her all the same.

his words hit her worse than the sniper did. she staggers in his embrace.

“hold.” he says the word with intensity. “i hold, jude.” cardan refuses to let her go, won’t let her fall. “you walked away with my heart.”

thoughts swirl in her head. they swim around like the fish crossing in between their legs.

“hold,” she says weakly.

hold love. he loves me.

impossible. and true.

“huh.”

“hold me,” she asks him. and he does.

he does.

he appears vacillant to his actions save for holding her.

jude can’t remember a time when she wasn’t running. from her parents’ demise. from madoc’s threats. from the cruel fae. from her sister’s betrayal. from cardan’s torments and, apparently, his ministrations of love. from her own shadow.

they haven’t moved from the water. it’s been a minute. it’s been four years.

jude feels her body slag, the water making up for the new deadweight.

“i wish you’d never left me,” he murmurs.

gratingly, she lifts her hand to trace a finger along the hard, straight line and point of her husband’s ear. “cardan, are you here to ask me for a divorce?”

his face breaks. she’s fully leaning on him, his long arms cradling her to his chest. amidst their soaked clothes, she feels the thudding of his heart against her cheek.

jude’s eyes flutter open and closed. “i want to tell you i will. i want to tell you i’ve waited for it. i - ah…” a jab of pain causes her to pause. “i want to tell you it hasn’t been eating me alive to be apart from you. i want to tell you… so… many… lies.”

through her misty vision, she sees cardan shake his head. “you are not leaving me.” the conviction in his voice draws a laugh from her.

“oh, cardan.” it’s the last good breath in her lungs. in the distance, she feels the ripples of someone entering the river, racing towards them. she sees only pitch black eyes. “i already have. i already have.”

they are esoteric, rendered in numinous light. from their entwined bodies in the water, there grow white flowers at the riverbed, their petals straining for the sun.

#jurdanweek2020 #jurdan #jude duarte #tfotaedit #cardan greenbriar #he's kinda scattered in this fic tbh but i promise there is SOME sort of follow-through to the angst #if you survive getting there #this took me all night and now its 9am HELLO THANK YOU FOR THIS MADNESS HOLLY BLACK #note: this will be my last tfota fic fellas #nicky writes #mine #mine:tfota

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sandalaris · 4 years

Text

The Leverage!Community AU that I will probably never write and nobody asked for.

Let’s go steal an AU.

Under the cut because it is long

Jeff Winger

Jeff was a damn good lawyer, with just the right amount of flexible morality that let him bend the law to his whim while not being the kind of a amoral asshole that people avoided (*cough*Alan*cough*). He took white collar civil cases, the kind where the defendant was greedy or lazy or just plain stupid, and the fatalities financial in nature, all designed to keeping Jeff in the expensive life he’d become accustomed to. He was on the fast track to make junior partner when out of nowhere evidence surfaced claiming Jeff falsified his credentials. He soon finds himself disbarred and blacklisted, without even getting a chance to plead his case. Determined to get back to his old life as quickly as possible, Jeff sets off to find the culprit and hires a crew to help him. It was only supposed to be one job, no encores. No repeats... well, maybe just one more.

Britta Perry

The only thing Britta loves more than her cats is a noble cause, but there’s only so much a person can do with a picket sign and a catchy chant. She refused to give up though, going out and fighting the good fight, until she discovered she could do more behind a computer screen than she ever could on the streets. A self-proclaimed hactivist, Britta fights for the underdog even as it lands her on government wanted lists. And if she’s entirely honest, she’s more than a little proud of make such lists. She has a hard drive with the copies of each of her arrest warrants, kept like badges of honor even as she goes through and deletes them from local systems. She doesn’t have time to spend the night in jail when there’s some many other, digital places she’s needed.

She only agreed to take the Winger job because she needed the money after a hack went wrong the Croatian government seized her bank accounts and then went the extra dick mile and sent her address to the feds. She just needs to lay low, do the job, and get paid (she’ll be fine, but her cat needs his eye drops). She has no plans to form a crew, not after last time. But someone’s gotta tell this group of miss-matched criminals what’s really going on in the world.

And then later, when the number of people they keep helping continues to grow, she realizes that maybe not all causes have to be large in scale to be worth fighting for.

Abed Nadir

Abed has always related to the world best through TV, defining the people around him by roles and tropes until they fell into place. For years he dreamed of being a writer and director, but making films aren’t cheap, and Abed learns very quickly that if he wants to follow his dream he needs more than the ideas in head. People aren’t going to just see his vision when he places it in front of them, they need to be convinced, persuaded, need to like the guy selling his stories, and people don’t always like Abed. He can pretend though, pluck a character from thin air, custom made to manipulate people into giving him what he wants, opening doors and wallets. It’s a great way to make a living, addictive and exhausting at the same time, and more than enough to keep him making small indie films in his spare time. He dons new names, new people, at every turn, drawing others to him like a moth to flame. Even if he doesn’t always understand the why of people, he at least gets the how, and that’s enough to get by.

He played witness to one of Jeff’s cases, needed the inside information for a script that never got off the ground. He slipped though, started talking about film and shows and forgot to be George Carmicheal from Long Island and became Abed Nadir, failed movie producer and college drop out. And the thing is, Jeff still liked him, maybe even liked him better as Abed than he did as George. Maybe that’s why he showed up at Jeff’s doorstep, uninvited and unannounced, after hearing about his disbarment. Maybe that’s why he volunteered his real name and didn’t pretend to smile or nod or do any of the things he knows he needs to do to make people like him. Even with the others showed up and he placed them in their likely roles, he didn’t don a mask. For the first time in a long time, he was just Abed, and that wasn’t just enough for them, it was preferred.

Annie Edison

Annie had a plan. Perfect grades leading to the perfect school leading to the perfect life. Her extracurricular were carefully selected, the exact balance of brainy and physical to appeal to the Ivy League schools the Edisions’ had their eye on, all mulled over and weighed to give her the best advantage. Annie was a junior in high school when she OD’d on the little “helper” pills her mom and dad had talked her doctor into prescribing her. Her parents refused to send her to rehab, citing the shame it would bring to their family and dismissing her claims of addiction as attention seeking behavior. She begged and pleaded and bargained and finally they caved on lessening her ridged schedule, making time for her to “destress” in between padding her college applications. Meditation didn’t work, but flipping grown men over her shoulder did and her self-defense class was augmented with MMA and kickboxing. And when the acceptance letters started pouring in Annie let out a sigh of relief, thinking it was over now that she reached the goal. She was wrong.

The pressure didn’t stop so Annie upped her training, which lead to her showing her dormmate a few moves, which lead to helping out a classmate with a stalker problem, which turned into a couple of private security gigs, which got her noticed by a man looking for someone to help retrieve some property that may not have been his, and he passed on her name to someone who offered a lot of money for... well, she’s not really at liberty to say. Annie likes being the best, likes the praise and the testing of her carefully honed skills. But the drive to be the very best at what she does led her to taking more and more questionable jobs and fewer and fewer classes, making up excuses about why she doesn’t come home anymore until she stops all together, and before she realizes it she’s got a very specific skill set and rather impressive, yet bloody, resume that only certain kinds of people would be interested in seeing and all those carefully laid plans from all those years ago have long been flushed down the drain.

Troy Barnes

Troy likes to drive, likes the escape of it and the way no one’s around to tell him what he’s doing wrong with his life or “real men" don’t do those things. Likes the thrill of going fast when night has fallen and the streets are bare of regular people, pitting himself against another person who’s like him, trying to outrun that gnawing pit in their stomach that’s constantly telling them they can’t cut it.

Troy’s not made for crime, not the real kind. Doesn’t think he’d make a very good criminal with his hidden soft heart and lack of long-term planning skills. But when Nana Barnes gets sick, driving is what puts food on table and covers the hospital bills. Its what gets him contacted by a down-on-his-luck lawyer looking a guy to provide a quick get away.

He’s not needed at every job in the beginning, but they make roles for him anyways and he finds his own ways to help. He’s always been good with his hands, mending the broken equipment around him and making improvements to his car beyond what the original designs intended. Passing the time creating small, playful gadgets that the others oo and ahh over. He likes to be useful, sewing FBI jackets and making the crew a meal after a long job, creating for Jeff his fake miracle and putting together an EMP spur of the moment when they realize they need one.

“You’re a regular renaissance man,” they tell him, and they don’t comment when he cries at meeting the clients or mentions how he always wanted to learn to dance, and Troy that it must be a good thing because he’s never felt so comfortable staying put before.

Shirley Bennet

Shirley is retired. She found the Lord and put her sinful past firmly behind her. She doesn’t even miss it. Really. Not one bit. No one would suspect that the sweet little housewife with a penchant for baking can crack a safe in under a minute or that she’s intimately familiar with the security systems employed by the most secure museums. People don’t know how her fingers itch in crowds for the fat wallets and shiny valuables that keep catching her eye, or see the frown of disapproval that crosses her face every time some half-brained car chase ends with the perp getting caught. She’s a good wife and mother, and doesn’t entertain such ideas anymore.

She met Jeffery once before, when he was trying to build a plausible alternate for the prosecution’s case and accidentally stumbled across what Shirley had thought was one of her better heists. She never did figure out how he put the pieces together so quickly and he never put her name on an official documents (she checked. Courthouses really should invest in better security), but after that they kept on eye on each other. And when he comes to her with a job offer, well, she tried to tell him she was out of the game, but that boy can just be so darn convincing when he wants to be and its not like its hurting anybody.

Pierce Hawthorne

Pierce has a lot of money, a lot of ex-wives, and next to zero friends. He’s fairly certain he doesn’t need them, after all he’s made it this long without any, no matter how many times Winger argues on the stand that his loneliness and maladjusted psyche due to a “traumatic childhood” are what causes him to make such poor decisions that lead to such expensive lawsuits. He still manages to get him a Not Guilty verdict or argues with him into settling out of court, and no matter how many times Winger swears this is the last time he’s going to defend him, he still answers when Pierce calls. So when Jeff says he needs money to pay a group of criminals to break into his old work building and find out who got him disbarred, Pierce offers without even stopping to think about it. Doesn’t even call it loan and just hands over the cash like he’s passing the salt.

Breaking the law isn’t cheap, apparently. Although the payouts make up for it most of the time. But the set up, the equipment and the materials, all those upfront costs that someone needs to front, are enough to make most people squirm and Pierce covers them without comment. They always pay him back anyways, and after a couple months, they’ve made enough that they don’t need him anymore. They still invite him though, to the meetings and the plans, making room for him in their little group and giving him a place at the table.

They aren’t his friends, can’t be because Pierce doesn’t need any, but he think he might want some anyways.

#Community #the greendale seven #Jeff Winger #Britta Perry #Abed Nadir #Annie Edison #Troy Barnes #Shirley Bennet #Pierce Hawthorne #Leverage AU #I'd gone back and forth on switching Shirley and Abed's roles #but Abed fits grifter better than Shirley does #even if I think she'd be good at it #and I love the idea of Shirley knowing just how to flirt to knock men and women off their game #but the idea of using Abed's skills at playing roles and him not really being accepted as himself until the team won out in the end

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