yes, yes i know edgeworth’s big wet eyes and loser boy personality have captivated us all, but listen. listen.
phoenix wright
phoenix “genuinely unable to reconcile the girl on the stand with the girl he dated for eight months, a cognitive dissonance so profound it’s ultimately explained by them being literally two different people, but which he first sits with for five years and does not talk about at any point to anyone” wright
phoenix “don’t mention that name to me. i don’t want to talk about it. i don’t want to think about it. i am just going to keep myself in this state of perpetual crisis mode focus on other people’s problems until eventually i die and get to hang out with mia on the astral plane and never have to deal with any of these emotions ever again” wright
phoenix “overnight loses his career and reputation and sense of identity while gaining an adopted, probably pretty traumatized eight-year-old daughter, and rather than leaning on his friends for help, or getting therapy, or taking any time to process any of this, he *checks notes* spends seven years dedicating all his free time and energy to investigating the weird fucking circumstances around it and maintains a friendship with the guy he suspects was behind it all” wright
phoenix "runs across a burning bridge and falls through it, half a day after the game establishes that he is terrified of heights, because his friend is on the other side of that bridge" wright
phoenix “i sure felt surprised. maybe i had my poker face on” wright
phoenix “looking back on it that was actually a pretty dark period in my life” wright
phoenix “don’t ask me how i got started. i don’t remember” wright
phoenix “only you stood still, your eyes calmly watching” wright
phoenix “sometimes, life just sucks” wright
just
phoenix wright
crunchiest man in the world
and all i wanna do is chew and chew and chew on him
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stultifera navis rerun AKA thinking about Iberia hours again because a lot of the Iberians have such fascinating relationships with the concept of home but specifically Thorns and Lumen are eating at my brain. like where do you call home when the place that is your home Just Fucking Hates You? Elysium's rewinding breeze specifically makes a point to hammers home how differently Iberia treats its Liberi and its Aegir
(which is especially interesting since this comes right after a conversation where Purestream commented on how despite Leizi being a high ranking government official, there are still some experiences that are universal for all Yanese people - because the experience of what Iberia itself is like isnt universal for all Iberians)
But all that being said, Thorns also straight up states that Aegir is not his home, and yeah, how could it be? How could a place you've never been to, never truly known, ever be your home? How could it ever feel like a home?
so where do you go when the place that you are from hates your people and the place your people are from is completely unfamiliar and alien to you? Thorns' answer at the end of the conversation with Aya is: my home is where i chose it to be. my home is where there are people I care about and people who care about me
in the complete opposite direction, Lumen's oprec asks: why do you still stay in a place that wants you gone? because the people of Gran Faro like Jordi well enough but when push comes to shove, they will want the only Aegir in town gone
and yet, when Rald the messenger offers him a chance to leave Jordi turns him down and when he's forced to escape Gran Faro after the people there literally try to send him to his death (or worse) at the hands of the Inquisitors he keeps trying to go back because like everyone in stultifera navis, Jordi is clinging to his own dreams of a golden age
but the shape of that dream is unique to every character and for Jordi, his dreams are deeply, inseparably bound to the Eye of Iberia, the legacy his parents left behind
and it's this dream of becoming someone great, of bringing about that golden age that his parents devoted their lives to help create that ties Jordi to this nothing town because despite everything, despite the mistrust of the townsfolk and the hostility of the Inquisition and the danger from the ocean, he simply cannot leave it behind
(or, because i personally dislike the official translation,)
"I just see this place as my home"
so yeah. not sure what overall point i was trying to make here i'm just. deeply in love with these stories about chosing what is and isn't your home, of saying you will not call a place your home because it has given you no reason to or saying you consider a place your home even though it has given you every reason not to. deeply unwell about them <3
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I've been really caught up in the thought of gentler, intimate sex recently and the thought of it almost slipping into body worship. I write a lot about men appreciating a feminine body but there's something so lovely in slowing down and truly taking time to appreciate the man you're being intimate with.
I think it’d so grounding to have slow, passionate sex with dbf!bucky. The type where even the pleasure of sex and mutual orgasms comes second to the pleasure of just feeling him.
Because I think being on top, almost just cockwarming him while you steal pleasure from the gentlest touches would be so rewarding. His dick inside you has you feeling pleasantly full but for now, you’ve parked all thoughts of paying it any attention.
Instead, your fingers glide through his hair, parting it with very little resistance. He’d let it get slightly longer recently but it suits him well, as do the few greys scattered through the roots. It feels soft and with each little graze of your fingernails against his scalp, he groans quietly, his hips rising slightly off the bed to press himself impossibly deeper inside you.
He thrives off touch and that’s all you want to give him. You want to touch him and never stop but as you tear your focus away from his hair, you let your hands wander lower. Your fingertips drift over his cheeks, the light dusting of stubble feels coarse under your touch but it’s certainly not unpleasant. Meeting his gaze makes your chest ache because you wonder how often the beautiful man under you sees himself the way you do.
He links his hands in yours, slotting your fingers together before bringing one of yours to his lips and kissing across your knuckles. You didn’t expect this tenderness but God, you need it, almost as much as he does.
“You’re beautiful.” No matter how many times you tell him, it never feels right. It's not the word you're looking for but saying nothing would feel like more of a crime than being inarticulate.
He chuckles quietly to himself and doesn’t say much, watching as you grind your hips, seemingly desperate to remind yourself of the fact his length has found a home in your body.
“You feel perfect.” Your voice is shaky, rational thought consumed by the feeling of pleasure thrumming through your veins once more. Your soft, wet cunt glides down on his length like you were made to fit together like this.
His strong hands land on your hips, guiding your rhythm, keeping you moving nice and slowly. In the meantime, your hands drift from his bare shoulders, down to the expanse of his chest. Your fingertips tease the tiny, soft curls of hair across the breadth of his chest but you’re entirely consumed by the heat of his body. He’s so warm and it’s a very pleasant reminder that you really are here with him. You have all the time in the world.
Reaching the centre of his chest, you feel the gentle thumping of his heart under the flat palm of your hand and for a moment, it all just feels so real. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be than right there in the room you share.
“Baby…” He groans, his voice low, arching his hips off the bed to fuck himself into you because you’ve been so distracted, you let your mind wander.
Fuck, that feels good. The tip of his dick nudges perfectly against your sweet spot, right where you need it and you feel yourself flutter in response.
“Good girl, just hold still. That's it. Good girl.” You do as you’re told, letting him thrust into you from below, losing himself in a way that you only want to encourage because it feels incredible for you too.
Your fingertips desperately try to dig into his chest and you notice how his skin dimples under your frantic touch. Every one of your thoughts are about this man in that moment. Nothing else crosses your mind and nothing else matters. You’re consumed by the smell of his aftershave, the heat of his body and the glide of his cock in and out of you.
“Touch yourself.” He encourages, his teeth gritted, holding back for your sake. He’d usually take the opportunity to touch you himself but this time he needs you to do it and you’re more than happy to. “Please, fuck, I’m so close.”
Hearing him broken like that makes you wetter than you thought possible. He’s always so stoic. He never loses control. He’s calm and reserved and admired for his composure but not when he’s inside you. You’re the only person who gets to hear how he sounds when his self-control slips away and it’s beyond rewarding.
Your fingers circle your own clit, rubbing yourself while Bucky continues to thrust up into you. He's so close to losing it. He's hanging on by a thread, promising to fill you, to stuff you full and make you a mother.
He knows you far too well and you're cumming within a few minutes, mindlessly riding out your orgasm on his dick. His need comes second for just a moment, pleasure making your body tighten and throb around his.
You vaguely register that he's cumming too, shortly after you do. You feel his hips stutter and then the telltale pulses of his cum into your body. He groans, holding your trembling thighs to keep you in place until he's given you everything he can.
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It's so funny (read: infuriating) reading American conservative reactions to the OTC birth control news
Because it's like
Conservatives: Abortion is murder!!! It should never be used as birth control!! Why don't people have sex responsibly???
Sane people: Well, okay, then you should be happy about how the first OTC birth control for women was just legalized, right? That will lead to fewer abortions.
Conservatives: BIRTH CONTROL IS DISGUSTING!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE THE GOVERNMENT PUSHED THOSE POISON PILLS OUT!!
Like it only takes a few back and forths with them to make them admit that they just want women to keep their legs shut unless they're within the boundaries of heterosexual marriage. Then they need to be pushing babies out constantly (well, only if both parents are white or very white-passing).
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If you need an abortion in the United States...
If you are in a state that has banned or will be banning abortion, it is best to protect your privacy! Please view this link before you begin your search!
Call or contact
1-800-230-PLAN (7526)
abortionfinder.org
National Abortion Federation Hotline Fund
1-800-772-9100 (Hotline)
1-800-257-0012 (Referral Line)
National Network of Abortion Funds
Additional Abortion Resources
DO NOT REACH OUT TO PEOPLE OFFERING TO HELP YOU ONLINE!
You don’t know who they are, nor their true intentions. Even if they are kindhearted people who want to help you, they do not have the years of experience that Abortion Funds have in getting women and birthing people the abortion services they need safely & confidentially.
Additional resources will be added as they are obtained.
This is a listing of resources only. This does not constitute legal or medical advice.
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DO YOU KNOW WHAT SPAWNED YOUR EXISTENCE?
[ID: Two lineless, digital paintings, both with warm, dark gray backgrounds. Both canvases are shaped like exact squares.
Painting one shows an adult Bill Cipher, a bright yellow triangle with a top hat, bow tie, cane, singular eye, and long lashes, reaching out to shake hands with the Axolotl, a pink axolotl with an electric blue tail. Bill is looking at the Axolotl casually, and his outstretched hand is engulfed in blue flames, while the Axolotl is smiling at Bill gently, reaching out to take his hand. There are stylized stars, similar to sparkles, in the top right and bottom lefthand corners of the painting. The painting is textured so that you can see the gray of the canvas very faintly through the brush strokes.
Painting two consists mostly of a short passage from Edwin Abbott Abbot's Flatland, written in light gray over the dark background. The passage is the beginning of chapter 7, and reads as follows:
"7. Concerning Irregular Figures
I for my part have never known and Irregular who was not also what Nature evidently intended him to be-- a hypocrite, a misanthropist, and, up to the limits of his power, a perpetrator of all manner of mischief..."
Below the quote, near the very bottom of the page, is a tiny illustration of a very young Bill Cipher. He is drawn completely in grayscale, and is looking down at the ground angrily, fists clenched. He is wearing a pauper's cap and has bandages wrapped around his rightmost angle, which is noticeably longer and more acute than his other angles.
End ID]
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