PARTY PARTY PARTY

[allie]

CHAT DEMANDS IMPROMPTU IC PARTY FOR THE WIN AND THE LULZ

LET'S GO!  JOIN IN!


At the end of the day, your character is led back to their room in the usual manner.  The nurse's hand reaches for the doorknob and the door swings open, then--

Poof!

Your character appears in a large ballroom with an exquisitely tiled floor and a large stone fountain in the center.  The centerpiece of the fountain, shaped like a large fish, continually emits a spray of glitter from its open mouth.  Several tables covered with crisp white tablecloths are positioned near the walls, and a jar of sharpie brand glitter-paint markers serves as a colorful centerpiece for each.

Against the far wall is a long, rectangular table, with two bowls of red punch.  A sign written in fancy calligraphy rests against each: Yes, and No.  In addition to the punch, there are bottles of every liquor imaginable, as well as several fine wines and packs of cigarettes (though partygoers will have to fight for a single lighter).

The bathroom to one side bears a creepy resemblance to the bathroom in a normal house, complete with a medicine cabinet worthy of a lonely 50's housewife.

On the other side are a series of doors leading to rooms.

CURRENT SUB-ROOMS:

Bathroom
Office
Room of Mystical Legal Aging
Vegas Hotel
Broom Closet
Walk-in Freezer

If your character goes into a room, please put that room in the subject line.  Rooms are lockable.  If you want a room that isn't listed, tell me and I'll give it to you.  XD




Since this is not an actual damned event and is not srs bzns, feel free to join in with a character that from another rp if you're a potential player.  If this is the case, instead of entering through a door in the institute, your player would enter through a random door in the RP from whence they came.  XD  EDIT:  Party is now also for trying out potential characters.

The YES punch smells and tastes alcoholic, and has the same effect as a normal spiked drink.  The NO punch smells and tastes like normal non-alcoholic party punch.  IF YOUR CHARACTER DRINKS THE NO PUNCH, IM ME AT QUANTIFYTHIS AND I WILL TELL YOU ITS EFFECT.

THE FIRST RULE OF THE PARTY IS DON'T BE LAME.  THE SECOND RULE OF THE PARTY IS SRSLY, DON'T BE LAME.


FORMER MUSIC
FORMER MUSIC
CURRENT MUSIC
(music will be updated when Allie is not lazy and people give requests)

SMALL PRINT:  Powers and weapons are go as long as whoever you're using them on is cool with it.  Continuity from previous damned parties is intact if you want it to be, or not intact if you don't want it to be.  Clothing is whatever your character wore in canon, whatever they should have worn in canon, whatever they wore in their rp game, or whatever isn't in the dryer.  This impromptu chat party will last until everyone gets bored.

prose plz

Comments

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Edgeworth picked up on the sudden change in tone and feeling, making a noise that could best be described as half-surprised, but certainly not displeased. There was a question in that change, he could tell, but the question was hidden behind something nebulous.

For a moment, he thought of pulling away long enough to ask what that question was and whether it was something he could - or should - answer, but he stopped short. If there was a question worth breaking away to ask, he trusted Wright would have done so. Since he had done the exact opposite, this meant either it wasn't worth asking, Edgeworth couldn't answer even if it had been asked, Phoenix didn't want to know the answer, or it had already been asked and answered.

It didn't matter now, at any rate. Not now. It didn't even matter that this was happening within the context of one of the parties the Institute had taken to throwing now and again. What mattered was the moment itself, what it meant, and how it felt. That decided, Edgeworth pressed back that little bit harder, his lips parting and tongue darting out a bit. He moved his free hand off the desk and to Phoenix's shoulder, not really caring if he lost his balance anymore.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

Easy as walking, one foot in front of the other, he took the silent cue and moved in synchrony and then ahead, tongues meeting all warm wet and oblique angles. He wanted this -- both of them wanted this. That was obvious. And ultimately, that was all that it took to decide him.

Maybe this was real. Maybe it wasn't. He wasn't going to say what was and wasn't possible. 'Possible' had a new definition, and it was one he couldn't begin to understand yet. But he could understand what was happening, and what that meant, and what facts it pointed to. He could understand what needed to be done, and what he was capable of doing himself. And he could understand what he wanted, even if he didn't know how to achieve it just yet.

Most of all, he could understand that the absolute last thing he could afford to do anymore was become so disoriented and uncertain that he did nothing.

This wasn't the sort of position he'd ever had a moment of clarity in, but it didn't seem inappropriate for one, either. There was no bench or judge or client, here. No immediate mortal danger. But it was still something worth fighting for.

At some point that was probably much later than it felt like, he drew back long enough to catch a proper breath, leaning his forehead against Edgeworth's and letting his hand drift further back, fingertips burying in the short hair at the back of his head. It was softer than he'd imagined it being. Softer than he'd imagined would suit him. "I think I needed that," he breathed, eyes drifting open to regard him with a fond, heavy-lidded half-smile.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

"Did you?" There was that smirk again, but a lot softer than it had been previously. It faded almost as fast as it appeared, replaced by a rare genuine smile. "Then, I'm glad I did it."

There was a moment when a thousand things came into Edgeworth's head, none of them sounding quite right; in his indecision about what to say, the words "because it's been too long" were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He flushed, embarrassed, and then added, "I know how weird that sounds, especially coming from me."

Way to apply that brain-to-mouth filter. At least you stopped short of adding that you'd wanted to do it since you saw him again.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

That smile was almost as good as the kiss, enough to mute whatever reaction he might have had to the statement down to a brief, surprised blink. That, in turn, quickly faded into a muted laugh at the sudden self-consciousness that followed it.

"I . . . well, it makes sense, I guess," he replied quietly. If I can get used to the idea of you kissing me and actually enjoying it, then the time paradox really isn't that bad. "Don't worry," he continued, tone conspiratorial, unable to keep himself from grinning at the way Miles was blushing. It looked a little silly, coming on the heels of diving on him and kissing him without any sort of warning. "'Never' was a little too long for me too."

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Miles breathed out a small sigh of relief, following it up with an almost-nervous laugh. That little slip had been looming, and it wasn't anymore, and with that, the blush faded away. "What can I say? You have that uncanny way of dragging the truth from people," he said.

He grinned again, and added, "So, never. That's a lot of lost time to make up for, isn't it?"

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

I wasn't trying, he almost said, until he realized that the only other explanation was that Edgeworth just wanted to tell him the truth (wanted to tell him like he must have back in the courtyard, when he'd hardly been trying then, either). But blaming Phoenix was easier, of course, crediting talents that hadn't even been in use. He smiled to himself at that. If he had to be blamed wrongfully, this was a fine circumstance for it.

"Not sure you can," he replied teasingly, not least because he could not imagine a time or place when Edgeworth would not be a driven, ambitious perfectionist. The taunt was as good as a request, all transparent reverse psychology, and they both knew it. "You can try, though," he continued, and pulled closer to kiss him again before he could reply.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

In that case, then far be it from me to not put forth a valiant effort, Edgeworth thought. It wasn't that he wouldn't have done that before, not at all. It was just that now there was a challenge involved, which made things that much more interesting - even if that challenge was a bluff. He'd take it and run with it regardless.

It was in that spirit that he leaned down again, quickly escalating the kiss to the level of the one before. He curled his fingers just a bit tighter into Phoenix's hair, while at the same time moving his other hand from his shoulder and down to his back.

Replies didn't have to be vocal, after all.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

It was very, very tempting to hook a leg around the back of his knee, pull even closer. It would have been easy. Still, there were messages in that gesture that he wasn't quite sure he meant to convey, even if he wanted nothing more than to charge ahead blindly.

But oh Lord it was tempting, with every muscle in his back twitching tense in pleased anticipation as the fingers pulled tighter into his hair, barely managing not to shiver pleasure as the touch roamed further down his back. When he'd thought, before, that he couldn't really imagine kissing Edgeworth, he realized only now was that what he really hadn't been able to imagine was Edgeworth kissing. But this was him -- surefooted, certain, smug and always ready with something unexpected. And Phoenix responded the only way he knew how -- quick, agile-minded, unwavering. The advance rose to meet him and he met it where he was, grip on his shoulder tightening as he pushed deeper into the kiss, harder. But it wasn't refusal or a rebuttal -- anything but. It was nothing but a challenge. Try harder. Go further. I know you can do better than that.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

There was a half-second of surprise during which a jolt of electricity raced down Edgeworth's spine, followed by - in any other situation, it would have been met with the same gestures that accompanied any other time he had the occasion to meet a challenge from Phoenix. A smirk, a wave of his hands, a finger pointing to his temple. Those were all fine and good, but they didn't apply here, and they didn't apply now.

There hadn't been this dynamic before now, he thought, before realizing that was a lie. It had been there, just as it always would be. One of them threw down the gauntlet, and the other moved to answer and escalate. It was as much about wits and challenges and getting the best out of each other as it was anything else.

Besides, he thought, if they went about this any other way, they wouldn't be Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth. And now, he almost wanted to smirk. There was a height difference, one Edgeworth used to his advantage as he leaned down, pushing Phoenix back a bit. He pulled away just long enough to breathe, then kissed him again. This time there was no prelude, no moment of calm before the storm. It was as much response as it was a challenge of its own: you're not going to make me do all the work, now are you? You're better than that. Come on, quit playing around, and do this properly.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

There was a disparity in height, but there was also a disparity in stability, and Phoenix understood this well. Even as he was forced to lean back a handful of degrees by the broad-shouldered weight above him, he finally hooked an ankle behind the opposing knee and nearly kicked it in toward the desk as he pressed himself closer. Not a dirty move, but nothing entirely mild or orthodox, either -- and if he was someone else, he might have been more self-conscious of that.

What almost felt more scornful of propriety, though, was the hand at Miles' shoulder at suddenly loosed from its grip and moved to his collar, worming a few curious fingers into the pleats of cloth at his neck before finally finding the turn in the band and tugging it loose with a few half-familiar little twitches of his fingers. It was a less complicated knot than he would have thought, and that alone was strangely appropriate.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Miles' response was half surprise and half pleasure, a noise that wasn't quite a moan and wasn't quite a sigh. It was almost accompanied by a shudder, and would have been if not for that little piece of his brain still hanging onto that much control.

At that point, it would have been easy to just push Phoenix backward onto the desk. It was so easy as to be expected, though, which made it less than optimal. That meant Miles just needed to find another way to respond - and then Wright's hand was at his neck, working the knot loose.

That part of his brain that had, up until now, been working correctly, slowed to a crawl. The logic was still there, but now it was obscured by the words I was telling the honest truth when I said it had been too long. It has, and...

In the end, the response wasn't the obvious one. Instead, Edgeworth leaned forward a few more degrees, pushing Phoenix backward with him. There might have been a message in the actions - messages going both ways, actually - but his brain wasn't up to deciphering them completely.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

Phoenix almost wanted to drop back onto the desk, to pull Miles with him. From a competitive standpoint, it was an unorthodox but brilliant move -- it was much harder to stay entirely balanced in that position, bent ninety degrees at the waist, and would have put all the weight of balance and leverage in his ballpark. But it was too quick, at least for the moment. He knew to save his wild cards for a later part of the game. He finished tugging loose the tie at his neck (cravat? he hadn't seen enough of them in his life to know exactly what it was called.), almost too easily popping open the button of the surprisingly short collar. Then the one below that. Then the one below that, until the starched white cotton band was gapping readily.

He broke from the kiss and dropped to his neck without prelude, hand in his hair tightening and pulling them closer together. His skin, in close proximity, was as smooth as he'd expected, all clean and warm and faintly scent-tasting of something vanilla-sweet and musky. He kissed, long and slow and deceptively gentle, before nipping at the clean, sharp line of a tendon. His hand, finally freed of its obligations, swung back and braced him against the varnished wood of the desktop. Unexpected moves were nice, but there was something to be said for security and defense.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

It was all Miles could do at that point to keep from shivering, and he couldn't stop himself from letting out a small gasp. He couldn't really move, at least not without doing something drastic, and to his surprise, he found himself not wanting to, at least not right then. Competitively, it made sense: if you let the other person get lulled into a little complacency, then it was far easier to pull them in later.

Of course, it wasn't all about the competition and power-plays. Miles didn't want to move while Phoenix was doing that, simple as that. It was almost as if moving in the wrong direction would break the spell, and that was the last thing in the world he wanted to do.

And, so, he tilted his head just a little, looking down at Phoenix, eyes half-closed, face flushed, and let his hand start moving in slow circles over his back.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

Hearing that gasp, so relatively close on the heels of the previous noise, was more intoxicating than it had any right to be. Though part of that could have been the brush of fresh-laundered cloth against his cheek, that tea-and-sugar smell overlaying the subtler odors of skin-salt and starch and whatever it was that Edgeworth put in his hair. 'Warm' wasn't a concept Phoenix would've ordinarily connected to Miles either -- the appreciation of warmth required touch, after all. Now, though, he didn't think that he'd ever be able to dissociate it.

He gave a low, appreciative hum, letting the tip of his tongue follow the spot his teeth had grazed. The touch below his shoulderblades felt like nothing but appreciation and quiet approval, and he looked up with a brief, entirely satisfied glance before turning his attention back in front of him, tongue laving a broad, slow line from a point nearly at Miles' shoulder to the base of his ear. He was still electric with the knowledge of exactly what they were doing (and to a lesser extent, the fact that a closed-but-probably-not-locked door was all that was separating them from a loud, crowded party). But all that energy was focused toward acting, returned with every gesture and sound. Just seeing that ramrod-perfect posture unbend and refocus was its own reward; it was a desire he'd possessed before he even knew how to articulate it, ever since the first time he scrutinized a battered newsprint photograph and found himself unnerved by the incongruity of the familiar lift of a slim chin and the eyes that should have been hawk-fierce and impassioned, but instead revealed only a cool smug nothing.

Seeing him ease was its own reward, and feeling it -- well, there weren't words for that. But whatever the feeling was, he was greedy for more.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Was that - no. No one outside, and the noise levels outside would keep anyone there from hearing. Hadn't the door locked behind him? Edgeworth thought it had, but wasn't entirely sure. He thought about disentangling himself long enough to check on the lock, but didn't.

Two things stopped him. The first was the fact that what Phoenix was doing felt too good to stop. The second was an unusual motive: the fact that he generally didn't throw caution to the wind. The concept had been drilled out of him, in favor of careful control and keeping people at a distance.

He wasn't exactly doing a good job with either at the moment. Certainly not with the latter, and for all his trying, that control was slowly slipping. He couldn't stop himself from shivering the moment Phoenix started tracing that slow path from his shoulder up his neck. What was giving up a little more?

It was thrilling, that was what. The decision made, Edgeworth slipped his fingers from their place in Phoenix's hair, running a single finger across his jaw and down his neck. He didn't need to look down to find the knot in his tie and start working it loose.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

There seemed a coy deliberation in the way he ran that finger -- just one finger, as if he were checking for dust or just didn't particularly care. As if, well, he supposed he could remove the tie, as long as they were doing that sort of thing. He couldn't deny that there had been a part of him that had always appreciated that aspect of Miles, the unconscious habit of poise and self-restraint that he wore as naturally as skin. But there was a forbidden thrill in seeing where it warped and yielded, and as the shiver betrayed the bluff of nonchalance Phoenix grinned, humming low against the ear he'd worked his way up to, a falling tone full of appreciation and anticipation and, just below the surface, a hint of approval.

It would have been difficult to take that approval as condescension, though, as his back arched accommodatingly to the hand pressed flat against the rumpled cloth of his suitcoat, favoring it with a bit more weight, a bit more pliancy. He lapped a little further up, teasingly or testingly even he couldn't say, tip of his tongue tracing the dip behind his ear and following forward to the bottom edge of the lobe.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Miles quickly untied the knot in Phoenix's tie, then paused, distracted in the best possible way by that low hum in his ear. He answered with one of his own, pitched just a little lower, all approval and just a hint of anticipation. That pause didn't last for long, and a second later, he started working on the buttons at his collar. If there had been a little flirtatious deliberation a moment before, now his movements were slow, as much teasing as anything else.

He tilted his chin up just a bit, smirking when he felt that arch upward - a smirk that read, 'this is all going according to plan'. Which it was; he took that little bit of extra pliancy and used it to his advantage. With each button he undid, Miles used that height discrepancy just a little, lightly pushing Phoenix back a little more.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

Phoenix couldn't necessarily say that he wanted the upper hand more than he wanted whatever that cat-got-the-cream smirk and the pressure of those certain, steady-moving hands was promising. He let it be known that he was not going down without protest, though, nipping at his earlobe before sinking down to his elbow. It was more comfortable than he would have expected slouching on top of a desk to be, though lightheaded as he was he wasn't sure he would have been able to call anything short of concrete physical harm 'uncomfortable.'

That was until he straightened entirely, a motion which pulled his pants tight across the hips -- definitely tighter than they'd been a few minutes ago. That was uncomfortable. He flushed as he bent one knee, bracing the heel of his shoe against the side of the desk, which was a more forgiving position but not very helpful otherwise. Still not fooling anyone, Phoenix.

He glanced up with a half-smile, voice coming out rougher and softer than he intended, hazy-edged with intrigue and, much as he would've liked to deny it, a certain amount of nervous anticipation. "Planning something?" he asked, too distracted to even try to make that into a complete sentence.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

"I might be." There was more than a hint of a teasing laugh in Edgeworth's voice.

He looked down at Phoenix, letting his eyes wander for a moment, then ran that same finger back up his neck and across his jaw again. "I might just be planning to look at you." That smirk grew a little wider, and he laughed.

"I don't think either of us really wants that, though." With that, he moved in, first kissing Phoenix's lips, then moving to the side. He reversed Phoenix's previous actions, beginning by flicking his tongue over his earlobe, then moving down and trailing slow kisses down his neck.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

It was simultaneously alien and wonderful to watch Edgeworth enjoy himself like this, and Phoenix didn't look away from him, nerves melting from his expression and leaving only quiet pleasure. Seeing the prosecutor lastingly satisfied or relaxed in any way had been a rare sight for most of his memory, and it was even rarer that he saw such a response elicited by something more than simple relief. But here he was, enjoying a conquest divorced from winning or losing. Taking that self-satisfied moment to make it clear that he had what he wanted.

What he wanted. The thought sent a rush of embarrassingly sentimental, comforting warmth through Phoenix. A year or more of thinking that he must have been simply a comfortable fact of life, a voice and a badge and an office, remained still and immutable at the back of his mind. There was still a wonderful newness to the very idea what he would be wanted -- that he could be wanted. He laughed with quiet pleasure, inclining his head beneath the light, alluring touch tracing its same path back up his neck, allowing himself a little shamelessness and leaning up into the kiss. This is nice. This is-

"Ah-!" He couldn't quite silence the vocal edge of the gasp, caught off-guard by the sudden arc of heatlightning the flickering tongue sent racing down to the base of his spine. That's . . . more than nice, he thought dizzily, finding that somewhere in the tensing and gasping he'd shoved a hand inside Edgeworth's suit and was now grasping his vest where it lay over his side. Then the split-second reverie was over and there was the mouth again, moving down his neck; he hummed low, eager gratification as each one continued to creep down from the last.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

That one noise opened the floodgates in Miles' memory. Had that one night in the past really only been a few weeks ago? It felt more like months, almost a year ago now, what with the vagaries of how time operated in this place. It would have been easy to lose focus, to let the questions of how it was possible for time to pass so slowly and why Phoenix had disappeared and reappeared distract him.

Then, that low hum snapped him back into reality. Only you could start thinking too much at a moment like this. At least think about what happened then. He flushed at the thought of those memories, and even more so when he realized he was physically responding to them.

That flush didn't keep him from what he was doing. He had worked his way down to just above the crook of Phoenix's neck. Miles let his tongue trace slow circles over his skin, then nipped the same spot.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

The perfectly-mirrored clip of teeth elicited a half-vocal, grinning 'hah' from Phoenix, half laugh and half pant, as he cocked his head and glanced down at the shine of gray hair as well as he could from the corner of his eye. It felt amazing, everything he was doing -- so of course Phoenix did the only natural thing, and pressed his luck.

"The great Miles Edgeworth, copying a lowly defense attorney?" he taunted breathlessly, the heel of the shoe behind Miles' knee running slowly up the back of his thigh. It was deliberately provocative, but then again, so was pushing someone down on a desk and kissing them stupid.

He didn't suppose that bit of jab and parry would ever quite leave their interactions, and to be truthful he didn't mind that idea in the slightest. But that flush, the chance to fluster him, was the only chink in his armor that he could see right now, and he moved for it on instinct.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Touche, Wright. But then again, isn't imitation supposed to be a form of flattery? With that he switched sides, nipping again, and harder this time. If it left a mark, well, that wasn't his fault, now, was it? No, it most certainly wasn't. "What was that you said about copying?"

He didn't give Phoenix a chance to respond before moving up to his ear, flicking his tongue over that lobe. "No, really. What was it? I'd love to hear."

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

The hard pressure bloomed to a sting, then slowly down to a tingle -- not that Phoenix even had time to process that before that voice was at his ear, all honeyed courtesy and challenge. He shivered, groaning frustration.

"Honest question," he managed throatily, show of resistance betrayed by the way he did not make any movement away, or even obliquely. Not that he easily could have, practically pinned as he was, but it was possible. Still, for the moment it didn't even occur to him, the parts of his brain he liked to consider clever and innovative neatly drowned by those chanting more, more, more.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

"Was it?" There was that taunting laugh again, but this time a little more ragged, a little less composed and careful. It shattered that air of feigned indignance - if it hadn't already been shattered. Miles wasn't entirely sure, and if he was honest about it? He didn't care.

He changed positions again, moving down and kissing the same spot he'd nipped at a moment earlier, then moved back up, positioning himself just millimeters away from Phoenix's lips. "Somehow, I doubt that."