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]

"I take it this magician tended to use special effects offstage?" Edgeworth couldn't help but laugh, and his lips turned upwards into a smile. "Pulling glitter out of a hat along with a rabbit, that kind of thing? Or, pray tell, trying to fly across the courtroom?"

Edgeworth laughed again at that image, then stopped almost abruptly when Phoenix brushed the glitter out of his eyebrows. "...is it?"

The words were accompanied by a faint blush that Edgeworth had tried and failed to control. "I suppose it's on the rest of my face, too," he stammered.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

This was the point at which a very suave man would have segued into a romantic overture, but Phoenix just blinked and slowly flushed, reminded once again that a small invasion of personal space meant something completely different now.

Hey, you can still do it! that sixteen-year-old part of him encouraged. Come on! What would James Bond do? I'll tell you what -- James Bond would have been on that already.

(I really don't think-)

Come on! This probably isn't even real, and you have permission. PERMISSION, man.

The sixteen-year-old part of his brain sounded distressingly like Larry. Or how Larry might have sounded, if he was a little more gender-neutral in his objectification of anything with legs.

He swallowed, and the gulp sounded cartoonish in his own ears. Danger. Danger. Back to the suit, he told himself, but whatever moved his limbs was stuck trying to unjam the controls. Back. To. The suit. Come on.

Instead, he nodded a little, eyes catching the light as it flashed an inch below Miles' left eye. "Just . . . yeah, some here-" he stammered, moving to brush it from his cheek, as if the motion would fool either of them.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

There is a loud party going on outside, I'm covered in sparkles because a kid pushed me into that ridiculous fountain, and I look positively ridiculous. These are not the ideal conditions for any kind of romantic involvement, much less one that was interrupted by an unscheduled disappearance. Besides, we should probably talk about this, because I did spring it on him...

Edgeworth half-expected a rumble, a murmur, or something from the voice, but all he could hear were his own thoughts.

He was surprised to find himself leaning in when he should have been moving away. Come on, Miles, you need to --

Normally Miles Edgeworth had control over his legs, but in his current state of awkward embarrassment, that control had gotten lost. He moved his left foot just a bit, slipping on a patch of that glitter.

The resulting stumble sent him even closer to Phoenix, and the next moment, Miles found himself almost on top of him, one hand on the desk and the other on the defense attorney's shoulder.

In that moment, he couldn't think, and all the reasons why this was a bad idea seemed a million miles away as he leaned in to kiss Phoenix.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

That stumble, he would realize later, had probably been a good thing. It was lucky, at the very least, for a variety of reasons -- not the last of which was that he'd spent several stretches of solitary silence so far today composing, for his own peace of mind, a list of Reasons Why Kissing Miles Edgeworth, At This Point In Time, Seems Kind Of Weird.

It only occurred to him now that 'weird' had never before stopped him from making decisions he found himself pleased with.

As it was, he started and grabbed at Edgeworth's lapels on instinct as he faltered. Which, at the very least, gave him something to tighten his grip in when that thin-lipped, perfectly forbidden mouth pressed to his. The experience was a little akin to seeing a lightbulb burning out -- a flipped switch, and then the momentary, blinding knowledge of too-bright, sparking out along his ribs and knocking the bottom right out of his stomach. Then the simple little 'pop,' and a subsequent wordless, cool darkness. That was it. There was nothing he needed to say in response. Not even inside his head.

After a second or two that might as well have been an hour, he sighed a half-vocal noise of quiet relief and gave a preliminary, cautious attempt at returning the gesture, head falling a little to one side as the steel melted out of his spine.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

There was a split second, right before that sigh, in which Edgeworth had halfway prepared to push himself away, all sputtering apologies and quick backpedaling. The noise, and the following hesitant, careful return sent all those thoughts out the window, replacing them with one single cliche: If this is wrong, then Cod help me, I don't want to be right.

He gripped Phoenix's shoulder a little more tightly, in response to that hum of electricity moving down his spine. His lips parted in what was almost a smirk, and when he finally pulled away, it was with a flush and that same look on his face.

It was all he could do, in that moment, not to further throw caution to the wind, but in the end, some tiny rational part of Edgeworth's brain won out. That part wasn't quite rational enough to form a coherent sentence, however.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

I can understand why I'd do that. Repeatedly. The moment of clarity didn't quite follow through to motion, as his eyes remained fixed on that faint, unmistakable quirk in the lips inches away from them before he remembered that eye contact was generally preferred to staring at mouths. At some point, he also remembered that breathing was a good thing, and shuddered out the rest of the breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding.

He realized that he was probably smiling stupidly, but more of his energy was focused on resisting the urge to grab Edgeworth by the sides of his head and kiss every trace of that everpresent smirk right off of his face. Down, boy. Heel. Stay.

". . . okay. I could get used to that," he managed. He knew he could have managed something wittier, or at the very least less cliche, but his thoughts were still spinning in brainless little circles. Some things really didn't change: Miles Edgeworth could smirk at anything; the world was very quick and even more unpredictable; and if infatuation was a boxer, then Phoenix Wright had a glass jaw.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

That smirk didn't change, even as Edgeworth chuckled. "I'm glad you didn't raise an objection." Cheesy much, Miles?

There were a thousand things Miles wanted to say, ranging from 'If I were more inclined to public displays of affection, and if we had gotten a minute alone, I would have done it sooner,', to 'I could always do it again.' None of those sounded quite right to him; everything was too sickly sweet, too smarmy, or too corny.

In the end, after a long moment of silence and contemplating how on Earth Wright managed to smile the way he did, he finally settled on adding, "I take it that means I should fall into sparkly fountains more often? I'll have to make an effort to find them."

The sarcasm was tinged with a bit more light-heartedness than usual, the kind of thing Edgeworth didn't manage often. "Or does it mean I should trip over my own two feet? That's going to be even harder to manage." He let the smirk grow just a little wider.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

"No- no objections." Even if I did, I'd probably poke his eye out at this distance. Bad kissing etiquette. He laughed under his breath at the thought, gradually loosening his grip on the now thoroughly-rumpled lapels. The impromptu tape mitten had folded in on itself and bit into his skin in places, and his fingertips tingled pins-and-needles as he straightened his right hand.

"I think what it means-" he glanced down at his hand, just long enough to find the free end of the tape and begin to unwind the now-useless improvised lint-catcher. "-is that you can find any excuse you want to do that again." His smile had faded to a little, teasing grin, one that could have easily been taken for flirtation, if the blush still lingering on his cheeks didn't give away that the easy confidence of the expression was as much bluff as anything.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

"In that case," Edgeworth said, that little smirk fading to a grin of his own, "then why don't I just do away with the excuses altogether?" The words were out of his mouth before he could think too much about them. In hindsight, that was only slightly less cheesy than before, but, what was said was said.

He waited just long enough for Phoenix to finish removing the tape, then leaned down and kissed him again. This time, there wasn't the hesitancy or awkwardness there had been just a few minutes ago, and none of the alarm bells were ringing.

In that instant, it was easy to just let what was happening...happen. There was no need to think about it any longer.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

This had to be a dream. An amazing, unbelievably optimistic dream where he was some sort of irresistible kiss magnet, and there was glitter everywhere as some sort of ham-handed metaphor for romance, and the way Edgeworth looked at him was more than that ally-friend-brother glance he'd only seen recently, and rarely at that. All the same, he very, very willingly returned the kiss, taking a surprisingly short moment to work up to the same level of certainty. He couldn't remember doing this, but that didn't stop it from feeling as natural as coming home.

Still, for a second he wasn't sure where his hands were supposed to go. With Dahlia -- Iris, he corrected instinctively -- it had almost always been somewhere safe, somewhere befitting delicacy, palms to cheeks or fingertips to waist. Somewhere that wouldn't elicit a flood of self-consciousness and blushing. But there was nothing shrinking or soft about this, and while there was sweetness, it was not powdered sugar-light, but rather molasses-dark and certain. His hands finally crept up to his shoulders and stayed there, fingertips hooked lightly behind the seam of the suitcoat, as if he needed to keep his balance. It wasn't far from the truth.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

The memory and the reality, as well as a touch of the irony of the situation, were mixing in Edgeworth's head. It was so easy to forget the fact that this was technically the first time this had happened, even though there was at least one major difference. That difference didn't really matter in the end, though, did it?

The time and place were different, that much was true. There was also the matter of reconciling the change in timeline - the two years had changed Phoenix. That wasn't a bad change, though, not in the least.

In the end, though, none of that mattered. What did matter was the fact that Phoenix was here, in one piece, and that was enough for Miles. He moved his hand from his shoulder up and into Phoenix's hair, fingers curling in the spikes.

Besides, Wright, I need to make up for lost time.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

Phoenix's mind had always had a bad habit of wandering; it spotted shiny little mysteries and, magpie-curious, flitted over to inspect them no matter what else he should have been paying attention to. So even as he was sitting on the edge of a very expensive-looking desk and in the midst of an entirely unbelievable kiss, giddy and rapt as a teenager, he couldn't quite let go of the question of 'is this real?'

If it wasn't, he was either hallucinating in some way at the Institute, which he didn't feel like entirely shattering the mood by pondering further, or dreaming. He dimly hoped that, if it was the latter, his roomate wasn't awake to see it -- he'd be condescendingly smirked into oblivion if the guy saw him making out with his pillow. But the other option was that none of this had been real, that it was all a flitting stream-of-consciousness delusion, and he'd wake up to the bloody sunrise of Los Angeles, to Maya and Pearl and Larry and everyone. He'd wake up to the rusted bike and smog, to trying to wrestle information out of Gumshoe.

. . . and he'd wake up to Edgeworth. Pleasant handshakes, dry wit, airline tickets branded LAX to BER like the writ of a death sentence.

He felt like an ingrate, to be so suddenly terrified of something he'd been so grateful for just yesterday. It felt pathetic and grubbing. It felt sick. But what else did he want to do -- stay here, wherever this was? That was insane.

He leaned into the kiss harder, without warning, lips opening enough that he briefly caught the soft-smooth border of Miles' lower lip with his teeth. The excitement burned brighter with fear and indecision, the fuel of a question he didn't know how to answer. He wanted this, though. That much, at least, he knew for certain.

[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.