darkageofthelol: (You really are a piece of work.)
[personal profile] darkageofthelol
Initiating neural handshake in 30 seconds. 29... 28... 27...

[They must be desperate, Phoenix thinks as he glances sidelong at Klavier. This is the third time they've thrown the pair together since learning they were drift compatible. (And boy, wasn't that a surprise, not least of all to Phoenix and Klavier themselves. Phoenix recalls their first sparring session, which he assumed would end in disaster, or at least mutual frustration. Instead, it ended in mutual bewilderment. The only other times Phoenix had been able to not only predict someone's every move with such accuracy but have his actions anticipated in equal measure were his training sessions with Edgeworth, who'd since climbed the ranks to Marshall.)

With two failed attempts under their belts, one would think the field division would be focusing its attention on pilots who at least get along, thus ensuring a chance at completing a neural handshake.

The fact is, though, they are desperate, and everyone knows it. The last battle came at a high cost, killing two and injuring several more. It would be ridiculous not to exhaust every resource, even at the risk of a third failure.

23... 22.... 21...

Phoenix lets out a lengthy sigh and turns to Klavier with a resigned smile.]


So... Here we are again.
magic_act: (wow! it's like you have a real job!)
[personal profile] magic_act
[there's a sizable crowd at the Wonderbar tonight. Trucy has just wowed them with her latest trick, which involved turning a pair of bunny slippers into actual, live bunnies, using the magic of her famous panties. as the show draws to a close, she takes the stage for one last trick]

Alright, ladies and gentlemen! For my final act, I'm going to need an assistant! Are there any volunteers?

[she makes a show of scanning the tables, looking for that perfect someone]
magic_act: (professional magician and CEO of the WAA)
[personal profile] magic_act
Trucy takes a final bow, having just completed an encore performance. (She had returned to the stage, declaring that her magic panties had gone missing, and a random audience member was selected to help her find them. She'd handed him her hat, from which he pulled all manner of object that had no business fitting in such a small space, yet not one was the item in question. Next had been her cape. It appeared to hide nothing, including the wooden man dubbed Mr. Hat, who had made an appearance earlier, or the elusive panties. Ultimately, Trucy had found them herself, hidden deep within the pocket of her red-faced volunteer, much to the delighted cheer of the audience.)

The crowd cheers anew, as Trucy disappears from the stage in an explosion of confetti. They continue to cheer well after she's backstage, packing her things to head home for the night, satisfied with another job well done.

Satisfied... and a little sad. It's not really home she's returning to, after all.

While she'd done her best to make a life for herself in this strange place, she still feels the absence of her dad very keenly. Time heals many wounds, of course. Most days, she's fine, and the days she isn't, she pushes herself onward with thoughts of what Daddy would say.

Buck up, kiddo. She smiles to herself, hearing his voice in her head. When life hands you lemons, you make lemon meringue! (The original saying had been altered at her insistence, since she hated lemonade.)

Realizing the noise from the audience has died down and that she's been staring into her prop bag for far too long, she snaps herself out of her funk, zips the bag closed, and slings it over her shoulder. It's late, and Uncle Miles will start to worry if she doesn't get back soon. She heads out the backdoor, making sure it's locked behind her, and begins the short trek home through the backstreets.
magic_act: (come on polly! we got this!)
[personal profile] magic_act
[hope you aren't in the middle of anything important, Edgeworth, because there's an insistent knock on your door]
samuraiprosecutor: (Whoo boy?)
[personal profile] samuraiprosecutor
Follow up to this thread.


Edgeworth longed for the day when his superiors would see that mandatory attendance at these charity events was entirely unnecessary. It wasn't as if the Prosecutors Office would not put up a showing without being forced to: many of his colleagues reveled in the chance to hobknob with politicians and local celebrities or pick up other people's vapid trophy wives. Edgeworth, on the other hand, would rather be working. In fact, he'd rather be anywhere but here, and he refused to pretend otherwise, regardless of who he spoke to that evening. It would be in the best interests of all concerned for him to be allowed to skip out on these things.

Unfortunately, he wasn't allowed that liberty. So for now he was stuck in a kind of limbo, watching the glitterati from his post on the sidelines and running over details of the work waiting for him at home to keep his mind from stagnating. He was the picture of boredom until a familiar suit suddenly appeared amidst the crowd. His eyes widened with interest, and he discreetly wended his way through the crowd to approach the man from behind.

"Captain Rogers?"
samuraiprosecutor: (Whoo boy?)
[personal profile] samuraiprosecutor
An air of utter boredom emanates from the booth Edgeworth occupies in the corner of the quiet wine bar. He’s been in this city too long—long enough for his fury and frustration over his captivity to wane, long enough that the strange people (human and otherwise) that reside there elicit no interest from him. He’s so very bored with this place, and judging by his wandering gaze and idly tapping fingers he wants the entire bar to know it.
attorneyatlol: (Hint of a smile)
[personal profile] attorneyatlol
[Phoenix sighs contentedly. Something about tonight is especially nice, he thinks, though he can't say exactly why. It isn't as though it's the first time they've spent their nights like this: him lying on the couch, head cushioned against Edgeworth's thigh, and Edgeworth silently reading a book above him; the TV on, just loud enough for him to make out some words; Sigi happily curled on the floor at his master's feet.

It isn't the first time they've spent their nights like this, no, but it is rare, now that he thinks about it. Too often Edgeworth spends his nights in his study, working on something or another that can't possibly wait until morning to finish. Every once in a while, though, he'll venture out to join Phoenix for a quiet night like this, and as much as Phoenix likes to complain about the man's workaholic tendencies, he supposes it does make these rare moments special.

Smiling, he idly reaches a hand down to gently (and maybe a bit hesitantly) pet Sigi's fur, satisfied when the dog doesn't flinch or move away.

Tonight is especially nice, he concludes, and his happiness inspires an urge he's found himself shying away from for far too long. Without giving himself a chance to think or doubt, he quietly, boldly says:]


I love you, you know.
attorneyatlol: (pleasant thoughts)
[personal profile] attorneyatlol
[Things at Wright & Co have been quiet since Maya's been needed in Kurain more often. When it's especially bad, Phoenix likes to fill the silence with music, sometimes classics like Sinatra, Tony Bennett, and Ella Fitzgerald (or "old fart music", as Maya would say, giving him a teasing look). Now happens to be one such time.

"All of Me" is currently streaming from his computer speakers. With his back to the door, he stands at the filing cabinet, attempting to organize his backlog of files as he taps his foot in time with the beat. Occasionally he hums or sings along, usually painfully out of key.]
samuraiprosecutor: (Umm Edgey)
[personal profile] samuraiprosecutor
Please help me fulfill my love of gratuitous vampire plot. No logic necessary here. One character is a newly-turned vampire, the other is the first human (or other food source) to come across them. Is the vampire valiantly resisting the primal urge to feed or thanking their lucky stars that lunch has arrived?

Setup can be as detailed or vague as you want. Please note in the subject line or tag whether your character is a vampire or vampire chow and any squicks you'd rather avoid. It's safe to assume that violence, non-con, or bloodplay might crop up since, you know...vampires.

Have fun~
samuraiprosecutor: (Pink glare)
[personal profile] samuraiprosecutor
Who: Edgeworth, Shelly de Killer
What: Running afoul of the mob can have bad repercussions, even if you're a prosecutor or one of the world's best assassins.
Where: Unknown
When: ??? :|a
Warnings: Violence/aftermath


Waking up was perhaps one of the most physically painful things he had ever experienced. Of course, that didn't mean as much when physical pain wasn't commonly a part of his life. Edgeworth had never been overly active or engaged in any violent sports, and almost all of the scars he carried were mental. But even beyond those standards he thought this pain was rather extreme. An ache suffused his entire body and came to a head right in the center, along his chest and abdomen. He could only imagine the alarming colors his skin must be turning by now.

A quiet moan escaped him as he slowly rolled over onto his side. At that point he discovered how difficult it was to move with one's hands tied behind one's back. He also discovered the pain he was experiencing could in fact get worse, and his moan became a quiet string of curses when fire began shooting up his arms, through his shoulders, and into his neck. For several moments he lay with his eyes squeezed shut, his breathing shallow as he waited for the worst of it to pass.

Things didn't change much when he opened his eyes, but eventually they adjusted enough that he started to make out vague features in the dark. There were boxes and lots of shelving along the walls. A small, thin window high above, near the ceiling, allowed moonlight to filter in. The room smelled of paint and the artificial citrus stench of an industrial strength cleaner. And several feet away, between Edgeworth and the closed door, was another person slumped on the floor. Their back was turned to him, making identification impossible in the darkness. Edgeworth awkwardly propped himself up on one elbow.

"Are you conscious?" he asked. His voice was oddly calm.
attorneyatlol: (Just your average day...)
[personal profile] attorneyatlol


You're currently standing outside the law offices of Wright & Co! A sign on the door states the office hours (8:00AM - 5:00PM, Mon - Fri), though the attorney who runs the practice has been known to keep odd hours at times, often coming in early or late, staying in well past closing time, or even spending the night.

The door leads into a reception area with a long couch against one wall and an equally long desk in the center of the room. On the desk is a plaque that reads 'Maya Fey', but she doesn't appear to be in right now.

Beyond that, there's another door that reads 'Phoenix Wright, Attorney at Law'. This is where you'll typically find the defense attorney, though how busy he is or isn't will depend on the time of day and whether he's currently embroiled in a case.

[OOC: Some of you may remember me setting up an open post similar to this a few years ago. Basically, it's what the tin says: an RL open to anyone! This is plain ol' canon Phoenix, post-Trials and Tribulations, but if you'd like to resume CR from past games, just let me know! Thanks. ♥]
samuraiprosecutor: (Brooding)
[personal profile] samuraiprosecutor
Who: Phoenix, Edgeworth
What: Earthquaaaaaaaaake!
Where: Los Angeles, CA - The courthouse
When: DDD-verse, pre-relationship.
Warnings: None as far as we know!



Edgeworth lingered in the restroom during the recess, wasting what was for him an unusual amount of time on simple actions like washing his hands and rinsing his face with ice cold water. Unlike some people, he didn't find anything calming in the routine activities. If anything they only bought him a few extra minutes to perform the mental wrangling that was required to rein in his thoughts.

He didn't hate Wright anymore, but by god, there were days when he could remember all too well how it felt. Standing across from him in court was a singular experience. Some days it brought the most exhilarating feeling he'd ever known.

Other days, like this one, he ended up desperate for a way to bring Wright's endless arguments to a screeching halt at almost any cost. There would never be another opponent capable of burrowing under his skin with such vicious and completely unconscious efficiency.
idgiebay: ([PW] Phoenix - fries with that?)
[personal profile] idgiebay
If you notice anything OOC about the way I play my characters or have general questions about why I play them the way I do, please don't hesitate to bring your concerns to my attention! I'm always looking for ways to improve, and I don't mind constructive criticism in the least.

The option of anonymous commenting is always available. IP logging is turned off.

I currently play:

no one :(

Open post

Jul. 22nd, 2012 12:04 pm
teefless: big toothy grin (Maybe we can sleep in)
[personal profile] teefless
[wherever you are, whatever you were doing, you suddenly have a bear-sized black dragon to contend with. what's more, he looks a tiny bit freaked out to be there. have fun with that.]
dcupsofjustice: Mia Fey, smiling at the viewer. ([o] d cups full of justice)
[personal profile] dcupsofjustice
Who: Edgeworth, Mia
What: DDD-inspired. During a virus, the community decides to bring Mia back for a few days--and drops her in Edgeworth's apartment
Where: Los Angeles, CA - Edgeworth's apartment
When: A good while after Phoenix and Edgeworth got together in DDD.
Warnings: None that I can think of! The silliness of the situation?

If Mia hadn't looked in on her friends and family from time to time, she might have been alarmed by her current surroundings: the kitchen of a gaudy apartment that she'd never seen in her life, being watched like a hawk by a dog she'd never met. The fact was, however, that she had been checking in on her friends, and she had seen enough to know that this was Edgeworth's apartment, that the dog giving her the stink eye belonged to him, and that her reason for being here now was likely due to the strange "community" that occupied most of Phoenix's time these days.

From behind a cup of freshly steeped tea, she smiled at Sigi. Phoenix. Maya... It had been a while. Too long, in fact.

She sat, waiting.
samuraiprosecutor: (Must maintain control)
[personal profile] samuraiprosecutor
He couldn’t have said what possessed him to do it. Prayers hadn’t crossed his lips or mind since he was nine years old. Even prior to that praying had been more of habit than an act of belief. So it was especially strange when, in the deepest depths of his nocturnal Hell, fueled by several holiday-induced weeks worth of nightmares and exhausted by a near-deficit of sleep, his desperate thoughts turned to the angel.

'Even you,' some rebellious corner of his mind cried. 'If you could take all of this away I might even worship you, you sanctimonious prick.'

He regretted the thought the moment he thought it. He was disgusted by the very idea of praying to some unfeeling, self-righteous tyrant or any other being that thought themselves above him. Doing something so damnably foolish helped to drag him from that moment of extreme weakness. Chest aching, he rolled over in bed, curled in on himself and struggled to control his haggard breathing. At least he could take comfort in the fact that only he would ever know how pathetically low he had sunk.
samuraiprosecutor: (grumble mutter avoidance)
[personal profile] samuraiprosecutor
((OOC: Continuing this thread omg.))



Luck wasn’t with Edgeworth that night. His workload, the interruptions of co-workers, his own distraction (and, perhaps, trepidation) all conspired together to keep him in the office even later than anticipated. By the time he finally made it to his car it was almost 9:00, and he was feeling simultaneously drained and high with the sickly kind of nervous energy he often felt after concluding a particularly trying trial.

Not quite ready for direct contact, he texted Wright instead; it was a short, polite text, apologizing for the late hour and asking if his partner was still up for dinner. Then he rifled through his briefcase while he waited for the reply, fiddling with papers and struggling mightily with the urge to keep looking at his phone.
samuraiprosecutor: (Dear God...)
[personal profile] samuraiprosecutor
Who: Edgeworth, Tomoe Mami
What: Miles Edgeworth chose death, then something inhuman chose death for him. This time it won't be Phoenix Wright who comes to his rescue.
Where: Paris, France
When: Post case 1:5
Warnings: Attempted suicide



[his suicide note had been sincere. the Miles Edgeworth that left Los Angeles couldn't be allowed to survive. he would come back a new man...or he wouldn't come back.]

[for a while his resolve seemed to hold. he fled to Paris and buried himself in the comfort of the great city's libraries, surrounding himself with the touchstones that had once provided so much guidance. but the more he immersed himself in the world's greatest works on philosophy and social justice, the less meaning they held for him. he struggled to reconcile their contents with the tortuous reality he had lived, struggled to tear down everything he thought he knew, hoping against fear that he would find buried underneath it all something true; something right. he fought for it, forsaking his physical needs with the same frenzied, obsessive energy he once devoted to trials, now focused tenfold on destroying himself.]

[in the end, he failed. in the end, he found himself on the Eiffel Tower, leaning far over the railing and looking down on the glistening city he loved so dearly. the buffeting wind brought moisture to his eyes and a gruff, mocking whisper to his ears. somewhere, someone was laughing, the sound high and cruel. he shuddered as he slowly climbed over the railing to perch precariously on the wrong side. numb fingers gripped cold metal. Edgeworth leaned forward and looked down.]