#Homework and Assignment Help in Los Angeles | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wardencommanderrodimiss · 4 years ago

Text

Witches, Chapter 31: a discussion of the case that’s been hanging over Phoenix’s head for the past seven months

Happy NaNoWriMo Eve Eve! Here’s a chapter.

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches of Los Angeles Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

“Is this a high school or a train station you’re running here, Wright?”

Everyone immediately glances up to the front door. Everyone on this chilly November day includes: Trucy and Apollo and Athena, all who are supposed to be here. Apollo and Trucy sit on one couch, talking through her math homework; Athena sits on the other couch across from them, with Juniper Woods, talking through Juniper’s assignments from Themis. And Vera Misham, perched on the arm of the couch next to Trucy, scribbling frantically in her sketchbook.

The evening after Juniper’s acquittal, Athena had asked Phoenix if she could invite her friend over to the office and use their resources to help her study; Phoenix assured her that any friends of hers had a standing invitation if they thought it would help. (One day he wonders if that will include Juniper’s other friends, Hugh and Robin and Myriam, and if maybe he’ll regret his promise then.) And Vera is likewise always welcome, even if she comes over much less often after becoming apprenticed to Larry.

“Lots of people passing through all the time, what can you do,” Phoenix replies. “Hey, the most out-of-place person here right now is you.”

Edgeworth, still standing in the doorway, not yet crossed the threshold, surveys the five pairs of younger eyes staring back at him. Trucy waves. “Hi, Mr Edgeworth!” she chirps. “What brings you in?”

“I have a few matters to discuss with your father, of course,” Edgeworth says. He seems almost to sigh, or perhaps brace himself, before he fully steps into the office.

It’s always been Phoenix hauling himself over to the Prosecutors Office, not the other way around. After all, Edgeworth always says, Phoenix is less busy and has the time to make the trip, and he always says it in a way that makes it clear that isn’t a barb but a statement of fact, and it’s true but stings every time. For the moment, Phoenix doesn’t point it out. The kids will be eager enough to eavesdrop without being informed that this is an abnormality.

Athena greets Edgeworth as cheerfully as Trucy does, and Apollo’s greeting carries a fair bit more formality. Vera hasn’t looked up from her work in twenty minutes, and Juniper has taken in the scene for several more moments before she seems to realize something - maybe the name Edgeworth, as in Chief Prosecutor, has finally hit - and shrinks a little further into the couch. Phoenix waits in the doorway for Edgeworth to extract himself, leveling a stern look on Trucy and Athena each in turn. Neither of them appear at all cowed. They’re still going to try to listen in. Phoenix has never had a safer bet than that.

Edgeworth steps into the back room with a larger step than necessary, his foot raising up like he expects the floor level to change dramatically between the two rooms. “They,” he says, inclining his head back towards where they can still see Trucy and Athena staring over the back of the couch, “are going to—”

“Yeah, I know,” Phoenix says, ushering Edgeworth over to the kitchen door, which Edgeworth recoils at like he hadn’t seen it a moment ago (he probably hadn’t) and like he never knew there could be a door there (he should have known, Phoenix has explained this to him before). Raising his voice, he adds, “They’re awfully nosy - aren’t you, Truce? - Athena?”

The whispers and footsteps move away, back towards the couches where they should have stayed sitting.

Phoenix takes Edgeworth back through the kitchen to the far door, which on this occasion of its existence leads into a small conference room. Several chairs of varying levels of cushiness and comfort line both sides of a small table, and a small whiteboard leans against one wall. The room has no windows - none of these rooms do. Phoenix and Trucy lived back here for a time, in a pinch, in between apartments, and waking up and not being able to appraise the time of day by looking out at the sky was particularly disorienting. It made it feel even more like living in a fae labyrinth than it literally was.

“I will truly never understand how you can be comfortable in such a place as this,” Edgeworth says. “It is…” He turns about in place, taking in what would otherwise be an entirely mundane room of the sort that Edgeworth exists in every day. “Wholly abnormal and unpredictable.”

“It isn’t, really,” Phoenix says. “Unpredictable, I mean. Abnormal, yeah, sure, definitely. But it’s shaped by what I need it to be, so it can’t ever be unpredictable, not when I’m the one asking.”

“Perhaps not, but you are still not the person in control of making it what you will it to be. You are asking, and nothing more. It is not your powers which actually create it.”

“I don’t have any powers,” Phoenix says, and Edgeworth almost barely smiles.

“I know that. If you answered otherwise, I would have to have words with you.”

“Right.” Lots of people would have words with him. Mia might even have to will herself back into a corporeal form just to yell at him. “So what’s brought you down here? I presume it’s not just to see if I’ve suddenly decided to strike any weird deals.”

The almost-smile vanishes from Edgeworth’s face, and the lines between his brows are even more pronounced. He suddenly looks so much older, and so much more tired, and Phoenix feels like his knees just got whacked with a baseball bat from behind. “We’re running out of time, aren’t we?” he asks.

Edgeworth sighs, and despite his known discomfort with everything about the office including the furniture, he pulls out the first chair he comes to and slumps into it. “This is the second delay I’ve been granted - I’ve had granted on his behalf, not that he’s ever said he wants such a thing as to live. I don’t think I have enough leverage to delay it a third time.”

There’s only so much that even the Chief Prosecutor can do when what he’s trying to do is something as insane as everything surrounding Blackquill, and they both know this. They both also know that seven months of Blackquill’s prosecuting has yielded them no further insights into or information about his crime. No hint of a real culprit, if it isn’t Blackquill.

“When?”

“The end of December,” Edgeworth says wearily.

Phoenix lets out his breath and fumbles for a chair, too. They can’t bring this case to a retrial if nothing has changed, and nothing has changed. Nothing changes. “Do you think there’s any way that the circumstances of our defense can change in the next month and a half, or…?”

“I…” Edgeworth has his head in his hands; Phoenix can’t remember the last time he’s seen him looking so defeated. “I have hopes that we may be able to get something out of him. In time.”

“In time?” Phoenix repeats. “We don’t have time! Unless you have some more concrete reason to think something’s going to happen that might…” He rubs his forehead. Edgeworth doesn’t look up. “Well, you’re the one with the highly classified context for this whole thing. I suppose if you think we’ve still somehow got time, then we do.”

Edgeworth sighs and after several seconds, seems to decide to ignore the passive-aggressive undertone. Phoenix hadn’t meant for it to emerge, but he hadn’t tried too hard to keep it at bay, either. They’ve been through this several times before: the classified information that Edgeworth can’t just hand out even if he would like to, the scant unredacted record of the trial, the defense Phoenix can’t mount with no new information and also none of the old information either. Nothing has changed, and that includes all of that.

“When I spoke with Prosecutor Blackquill the other day, regarding work matters, he told me that you had attempted to visit.” Edgeworth raises his head and rests his chin on his hands.

Phoenix groans and his head falls back against the chair. “Yeah, ‘attempted’, that’s the word. I presume he told you that he didn’t even let me see him, and sent back the message that he’d be happy to talk to me once I knew anything that wasn’t in the public record.”

“Yes, he conveyed something such as that,” Edgeworth replies.

“I figured it was a long shot but maybe considering his attitude towards everything else, Blackquill might not have that much concern for the protocols of classified information.” Phoenix drums his fingers on the table. “Of course, even if that’s true, he certainly doesn’t seem to want this case reopened, so why would he tell me anything about it?”

“That is roughly how my conversations with him on that topic end,” Edgeworth says. “When I told him of the stay of execution, he thanked me for giving him the chance to have his fun in court again but said that he thinks it’s about time I drop this charade and let him go where he belongs.”

“Like - to the grave, is what he’s saying?”

Edgeworth nods.

“He’s really got some sort of a way with words, doesn’t he,” Phoenix says, and Edgeworth snorts. “Almost weirdly poetic, sometimes. I can’t figure him out.”

“I’ve been trying to figure him out for years,” Edgeworth says. “And I wish I could say that this past year has enlightened me in some way - that I have managed to reach some level of understanding as to what he means with all of this. But I haven’t.”

“I think what he means is to be executed as the man responsible for this particular murder,” Phoenix says, and Edgeworth’s ever-present frown deepens. “I know, I know, our goal is to not let that happen. And the question really is why he wants this so damn bad, if your hunch that he’s innocent is correct.” Phoenix chooses to operate under the assumption that it is. Everything about this is insane, and he doesn’t know the half of it. He doesn’t know enough to trust Blackquill, but he trusts Edgeworth, and trusts that buried somewhere in the information he’s not allowed to know, there’s reasonable doubt after all. “Do you think he could be covering up something worse? Some sort of conspiracy?”

“It’s possible,” Edgeworth says, with reluctant emphasis on the second word that suggests while it might be possible, it’s not his preferred explanation. “He was - the reason I’ve been interested in his case for years is that, when he was arrested, there was a particular case that he was working on that obviously he could no longer pursue. That matter was passed to me, instead.”

“Is that what’s so damn classified about all this?” Phoenix asks. “Some case he was working on when - was that case related in some way to some details of the murder that Blackquill is alleged to have committed - fuck, I know there was some alphanumeric case number that goes with that one, you told me—”

“UR-1,” Edgeworth says. “And…” He sighs. “Yes. This may already be more than I should have said, but yes, before his arrest, Blackquill was working on a top-secret case, the details of which became entangled with those of the murder he is said to have committed.”

“Well, fuck,” Phoenix says. “I - I presume that you wouldn’t have given the man free rein in court if you did think that he was innocent of murder but still involved in a coverup of some dark conspiracy.”

Edgeworth looks at him, still looking so tired, so worn-down and weary, and Phoenix suddenly doubts what he just said. “Would - would you?”

“I do not believe it to be the case,” Edgeworth says, and he sounds just as tired as he looks. “I believe that Prosecutor Blackquill is guilty of no more than some very severe perjury, but even if I did think otherwise, if there were no other way to the truth, then perhaps I might do the same. We’ve both gone to some strange, distant ends to pursue the truth, haven’t we?”

Strange, distant, dubious ends - Phoenix would have no room to protest, despite the little voice in his head that whispers, you’re supposed to be better than me. That’s particularly unfair to Edgeworth, and this is all hypothetical anyway; they’re in the situation that they’re in, and Edgeworth hasn’t released a suspected conspirator-murderer into court. Not suspected of such by Edgeworth, anyway.

“So right now, having said all this, there’s nothing we can do.” A redirect back to the more pressing, non-theoretical topic seems like the best path to take. “Nothing but wait for - whatever, something to happen.”

“I don’t like it either,” Edgeworth says. “I may like it even less than you, in fact.”

“Considering you’re the one in charge of this whole thing? Probably.” Phoenix might hate to sit idle - and biding his time feels too much like sitting idle, for seven years he was biding his time and he’s tired of it - but it’s Edgeworth brought him into this. And yes, there are those fundamental matters of making sure justice is served and innocents not sent to the gallows, but Edgeworth knows a lot of attorneys. He could have made this someone else’s problem. It didn’t have to be Phoenix’s, but it was always going to be Edgeworth’s.

They sit in silence for several minutes. The chill in the office means that, of those sitting in the front room who feel the cold, all have started wearing heavier sweaters or jackets. Vera wore the scarf that Trucy made for her last year, despite being well known to not need such a thing. Edgeworth, staring rather blankly at the table, shivers.

“You know,” Phoenix says lightly, “we could’ve had this conversation at your office.”

A gentle nudge: why here?

“Ah.” Edgeworth rubs his arms, from discomfort or cold. “Yes, there was something else. Regarding a mutual associate of both yourself and Ms Fey.”

Phoenix cycles through the list of people he and Mia both knew. Maya and Pearls, of course, but Edgeworth knows them too and would just name them, and he wouldn’t have any reason to be involved with them entirely independent of Phoenix. Then he takes in Edgeworth’s expression of sudden confusion and his muttering - “I just read the documents with his name, why is this always so difficult—” - and it clicks.

“Oh. Godot?”

“Yes. Though I cannot fathom why I cannot remember more than that ridiculous moniker when I—”

“Because it’s fae shit,” Phoenix says. “We’ve talked about this before.”

Edgeworth does not appear convinced, glaring at Phoenix though they have, in fact, talked about this fae shit before. “Your memory is pretty damn good; you know this is weird,” Phoenix adds. “You’re in charge of a veritable coven and you’re still—”

“Stop calling it that,” Edgeworth says irritably, and Phoenix rolls his eyes.

“If it weren’t—”

The lights go out. In the complete darkness, even Edgeworth’s face, two feet away, is no longer visible. “Oh, sorry,” Phoenix says. He holds up his hand and moves it toward his face until he can see it, about at the end of his nose. It might even just be a trick of his mind, that knowing his hand is there, he thinks he can see it. “We can argue about that later; Mia wants to know what you were saying about Godot.”

And with that, the lights click back on. Edgeworth is halfway out of his chair, glaring suspiciously out of the room; he slowly sinks back into it and turns a look of disdain back on Phoenix. Say what he will but the Prosecutors Office is a gathering place for magical and fae-aligned people, just like the WAA is. Edgeworth might not want it to be, but it is.

“Yes, my apologies,” Edgeworth says, his eyes turning all across the room as he confronts the awkwardness of not knowing where to look when addressing Mia. Phoenix tends to glance towards the ceiling, like every word of conversation is a prayer instead. “I thought you both would be interested to know that Godot is now eligible for parole, and if all goes well - and I see no reason why it shouldn’t - he may be released early next year.”

“Oh, really? That’s good to hear.”

Godot is a name Phoenix hasn’t thought about for quite a while; he had been one of Phoenix’s last clients before Zak Gramarye. Maya had pushed for when both Phoenix and Godot seemed unsure. “Maybe that will help us close this chapter. Closure for - well, everything. It’s all been one big spiral the whole way down, but maybe this can be where it finally stops.”

It was a quick defense and a quiet trial for a complicated case whose truth had already been revealed in court. All that had been left was how well Phoenix could argue leniency, for extenuating circumstances - a crime of passion, a brief bout of not being fully in his right mind, because who would be in that situation - and how much Godot even wanted that argued. He’d been ready to lie down and accept the end, had said as much, and Maya’s voice had gone cold in a way it never before had when speaking to him. “No. You stay. The rest of us have to face this, and live with it, and so do you.” She stood behind the bench at Phoenix’s side but said nothing during the trial; she wore her human face but didn’t change her eyes and they just stared out, red as Godot’s visor, across the courtroom to the defendant’s chair.

“I’ll admit that I have some concerns about following up on his release and the terms of his parole, given - all that you’ve told me regarding his name and the way that it affects others.”

“Fae shit,” Phoenix says again, and again he receives a glare. “What, you think he’ll slip off the grid?”

Edgeworth nods. “The man’s name vacates the mind immediately after being read. It would be easy for his records to fall through the cracks and never check in on his status again - it would be easy for him to leverage such a curse to disappear.”

“Hey, at least the odds of him being a repeat offender are real low,” Phoenix says. Edgeworth’s expression does not change. “I know, I know, principle of the thing.”

This time, Edgeworth’s expression does change, into a deepened scowl. “Applying the law equally to everyone is the principle upon which everything we do—”

“I know! I’m just saying, if—”

The lights go out again.

“Not in the mood for spirited debate, huh?” Phoenix asks the ceiling. Through the darkness, he finds no indication of a response, to either the statement or the pun, from either Mia or Edgeworth.

“Most likely because these debates you’re starting are of very little actual interest,” Edgeworth says.

“I’m starting?”

The lights have not yet come back on. Phoenix can perfectly picture Edgeworth across from him, rolling his eyes. Then, a question Phoenix couldn’t picture: “Wright, do you think he would try to disappear?”

Would he? Phoenix doesn’t know Godot like that. He understands him as a ghost, of the most classical definition: left behind with unfinished business. He told Phoenix he didn’t care how harsh his sentencing was and if he never sets foot outside of iron again. What purpose does a ghost have out in the world if it remains once its business is finished? A ghost cannot make new purpose for himself. But Godot is still a living man, not a ghost.

“I don’t think Maya would let him,” Phoenix says. “That’s not what you asked, and I don’t know that, but I don’t think Maya would let him.”

He never looked to See if her words were binding magic. You stay. Stay and live with the consequences of your actions; that could be a curse or a blessing. It could be neither. It simply is. Life is like that sometimes.

The lights blink on, off, and then remain on.

“I see,” says Edgeworth, not appearing to be reassured, as he is rarely reassured by anything that Maya has become involved in. Phoenix knows that they have spoken several times without him as an intermediary, but each conversation that goes well seems to leave Edgeworth convinced that next time is when she will show her teeth. (Her metaphorical teeth, that is. Edgeworth has seen her real ones.)

And yet he still tries to pretend he doesn’t believe in magic.

“I’ve got a question for you, now,” Phoenix says, and Edgeworth raises his eyebrows. “I know after my disbarment, there was a lot of extra scrutiny put on all of my prior cases.” Kristoph made sure Phoenix was aware of that, said in a way where he pretended to be offering sympathy. “And even if they found no wrongdoing—”

“When,” Edgeworth says firmly. “When they found no wrongdoing, because you did nothing wrong.”

He says things like that like his conviction is enough, like if he can remind Phoenix enough of the truth that Phoenix already knows, it will wash away the past eight years so that none of it ever happened. His loyalty isn’t unappreciated, but it does make Phoenix feel like sometimes Edgeworth is talking to the person that he used to be. And that’s a man who’s never coming back, no matter what they do.

“They went through my cases,” Phoenix repeats, “and didn’t find anything, but I know that still wasn’t - people were still side-eyeing my clients. Figured the truth was still far worse than the verdict. I hope you didn’t have to pull too many strings regarding Godot, did you?”

“I didn’t,” Edgeworth replies. Not a lie; not an indication of whether he had no strings to pull or just had a few, not too many. “In truth, that wheel was - not turning smoothly, we shall say, but what force I had to apply was to make the system move again that everyone would have their fair opportunity for parole. Not merely Godot. Or… Ms Iris, back—” Back in Nine-Tails Vale. “She seemed to have slipped my notice.”

“I had no idea she’d been released, either,” Phoenix says. “Not ‘til, think I told you, she showed up with a message from Maya. Back last year when we still weren’t on the best of terms at the time - me and Maya, I mean. We hadn’t really talked about… everything.” Phoenix gestures like it can possibly encompass everything, and it can’t, but Edgeworth knows, and nods. “And she was still angry that I didn’t let her help me.”

“I shudder to think what sort of assistance she would have offered regarding your particular situation,” Edgeworth says, and his mouth twists, no doubt picturing the most gruesome crime scenes that his line of work has ever had to offer. “But I find myself with some particular sympathy for her, as well.”

Of course he does. Phoenix left him in the same position, and if it weren’t for Edgeworth’s justified caution toward Maya and the rest of her her kin and kind, they could have combined forces years ago and given Phoenix a major headache. Probably he would even have deserved it. “We’ve talked about it since then. She’s not angry anymore - or maybe she is, but she’s gotten a lot more subtle with it.”

Edgeworth does not laugh along with Phoenix. It probably isn’t funny. What is a proper response to threats and danger - Phoenix lost his sense of such things years ago. He couldn’t have gotten close to Kristoph otherwise. He couldn’t have gotten close to Mia otherwise.

But what is there even left to say about Phoenix’s bad choices? They’ve been through it all a hundred times before.

“Hey,” Phoenix says abruptly, having circled back through the conversation to find something less volatile to return to. “Speaking of Godot” - they were not anymore - “and incarcerated prosecutors, I wonder if he’s ever run into Prosecutor Blackquill. If they ever might’ve - spoken about something.”

Though given the propensity of both men toward needlessly cryptic statements, such a conversation would be the opposite of enlightening. And so would a conversation with Godot, were Phoenix to go and ask him.

Edgeworth sighs, an understandable response to the two men they are discussing. “I do not know about Godot, but I have previously spoken with Ms Lana Skye, regarding Prosecutor Blackquill.”

“Lana? Did she have anything to say?”

“She said their paths had crossed a few times - it would be six or so years ago now.”

“Back towards the start of his sentence,” Phoenix says.

Edgeworth nods. “She said she was struck by how cordial and kind he was.”

“How - are we sure there isn’t another Prosecutor Blackquill who’s also in prison? Because that doesn’t sound like the prosecutor that the kids and I have gone head-to-head with.”

“Certainly, those descriptors bear little resemblance to the man who I am forced to work with, as well,” Edgeworth agrees. “But this is what Ms Skye said. That while he knew of her circumstances and what had become of the Prosecutors Office during her tenure, he was always unfailingly polite to her. She said that whenever they saw each other, he’d ask if she’d heard from her sister and how she was doing. If she was recovering well from everything that had happened to her.”

Blackquill would ask after Ema. Simon Blackquill, the twisted samurai of the courtroom, a convicted murderer so unrepentant that he stonewalls every attempt to reinvestigate the case, asked after the well-being of a girl he knew only through case files and occasional contact with her sister. “I suppose with his interest in psychology, he might be interested in how that kind of trauma affects someone?” Phoenix offers.

Edgeworth doesn’t look convinced. And Phoenix isn’t convinced either; there’s no useful data to be gathered that far removed from the source, filtered through Ema through Lana when the sisters barely saw each other in person. It just sounds like concern, about a girl he’d never met. A kindness.

“Ms Skye also said that he never spoke of the incident which put him behind bars, and she never asked. Nor did she wish to opine to me about whether or not she could judge someone capable of murder based only on the temperament they presented in casual conversation and no evidence. This was her impression of him, and she noted that she was merely happy to be able to brag to someone about Ema.”

Hardship changes people. Phoenix knows that. And if that hardship began when this Simon Blackquill, the one who having nothing to gain from feigned kindness still always asked the disgraced chief prosecutor about her sister, murdered someone - Phoenix isn’t going to opine on that, either. Maybe that kindness was genuine, and that doesn’t mean he couldn’t also be a murderer. And maybe all that’s left now is his sharp words and cruel tricks, and that doesn’t mean he couldn’t be innocent.

(Sharp words and cruel tricks - but Professor Means tried to use those, to break Athena down, and Blackquill wouldn’t stand for that.)

He thinks about Lana again, and asks, “What about - not a conspiracy, but an accomplice Blackquill could be covering for? Trying to take the fall for someone else?”

“It’s possible,” Edgeworth says, with the exact same tone as the last time he said those words regarding Phoenix’s theory. “The investigation found no hints of suspicious or unknown contacts in either his personal or professional affairs. And while he was acquainted with many people who were employed at the location where the UR-1 incident occurred, everyone else had unassailable alibis.”

If there were people he was acquainted with, then Blackquill wasn’t going out of his way to get to the place where the crime happened. He had to be at least familiar with it, or been there before. That tidbit is currently useless to him, but at this point he’s glad to learn anything new. Anything that Edgeworth might slip and give him, because Edgeworth has rules and standards he has to adhere to, this is the entire problem, they’ve been through this a thousand times before—

They have been through everything before, including Phoenix’s suggestions, less of a joke each and every time, that he should tell protocol to fuck itself, damn the consequences, and tell Phoenix everything anyway. Break some eggs to make omelets, such is the saying.

Phoenix is tired of having to break things.

“At least you could give me one good bit of news today,” Phoenix says. “That’s more than I usually expect from you.”

“Excuse me?” Edgeworth asks. “I am hardly a regular bearer of bad news.”

“You make me talk about Simon Blackquill, and no time has that ever gone well.”

It’s a joke and it isn’t. Edgeworth’s shoulders had begun an indignant hike upwards, but slump again on hearing Phoenix’s response. “You may presently be correct that speaking with or about him has not been particularly fruitful. And the fear does enter my mind that if there ever comes any further development in this case, it may simply be that more people are hurt and no resolution is ever found. It is vexing to find myself in the position of Chief Prosecutor yet still in some respects - helpless, and reliant on the whims of others and the world.”

Phoenix loops those statements through his mind again. Edgeworth suspects that some new development in the case may occur soon and that it will not be good. A culprit still active and willing to strike again - but why now? Over seven years later, why does Edgeworth think now they need to worry? Because of Blackquill? Because of his impending execution? Or could there be something else.

“I’d like to offer some kind of reassurance, but I don’t know enough to know why you feel that way so it’d just be pretty hollow.”

In the following quiet, Phoenix would swear he can hear the cold wind outside the building, even though this room can only debatably said to be “in” the building. Another plane of existence conjoined to the building. Finally, Edgeworth says, “It was in part selfishness that I brought you into this, and for that I am sorry.”

“Selfish? How so?”

“There are very few people within my purview as Chief Prosecutor who do not think that what I am doing is completely and utterly, irredeemably insane. In fact, I may be able to count on one hand those within the Prosecutors Office and the Police Department who have not written off Simon Blackquill as exactly what he presents himself to be - and so have not written me off as hopelessly deluded in this regard.”

Edgeworth’s lips now barely move, silently listing names that Phoenix can’t make out, and his fingers twitch like he is indeed about to start counting on them. “At any rate,” he continues after another moment, “I brought you into this because yes, if the need arises I should like to employ your services as a defense attorney - even if Prosecutor Blackquill would not wish it. But I also needed someone else, who has no fear for their salary, to tell me if I do ever reach the point of taking this too far.”

Maybe he shouldn’t threaten their salaries so much, then. “Too far - Edgeworth, I am going to be completely honest with you. This was absolute lunacy from the start. This entire idea was further than too far. But now that we’re this far, fuck, what are we gonna do but see it through the rest of the way?”

Edgeworth sighs. “I suppose that is a reasonable summation,” he says, beginning to stand. “As ever, I will keep you updated as to—”

He goes abruptly quiet, eyes fixed on a point low on the wall - on the whiteboard leaning there, and the words that were not written on it when they entered the room. Red lettering, smeared in places and trailing off at the end like the writer was running out of energy, or the marker was running out of ink, in handwriting Phoenix knows well even after all these years: THANK YOU.

“I did very little but bring the news here to you, Ms Fey,” Edgeworth says. “But I suppose you are welcome all the same.”

Phoenix turns his head so that Edgeworth doesn’t see him smile. “So,” he says as they return to the kitchen, “you said that there are a few people who don’t think you’re totally crazy? Gumshoe, right?”

“Correct,” Edgeworth says, and he leans against the counter, not wanting to take this conversation back out into the office space that is shared with the kids. “And Detective Fulbright, of course. Beyond them, I think Kay is - perhaps not fully convinced I have not lost my mind, but does not see it as an issue if I have.”

“She respects audacity, if nothing else.”

“Without a doubt. I could say that her interest in him runs solely along the avian line, but that would sell her short. Prosecutor Blackquill told me as well that she has often come by to visit - to bother him, were his words, actually.”

“And she hasn’t turned up anything new?”

Edgeworth shakes his head. “No. And just as many of her attempts to ‘steal’ some new truths have been badgering Detective Fulbright or myself, not Blackquill.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Something for Phoenix to do later: ask Kay to tell him if she ever manages to annoy any of them into giving her information. “Though that still sounds easier to me than getting Blackquill to talk.”

Edgeworth sighs. “I suppose it would,” he says.

They stand there for a while longer, both clearly struggling for something to say, and finding nothing. Once again, they have nothing. They’ve always had nothing. Nothing changes. Nothing has changed. And they have two months in which to get anything.

Phoenix has turned cases around on a shorter timeline than that. He’s solved cases that have been cold longer than this. Why does this one feel so particularly insurmountable - he knows why this one feels so particularly insurmountable. His career was its own fucking cold case. He’s not that same person in the aftermath.

“You’ll let me know if there’s any new developments.” It’s not like Phoenix really has to ask, or Edgeworth answer; it’s more like a promise than a question, a promise that this isn’t ending yet, no matter how many dead ends they hit. The only end will be - well, the literal dead end. The end, when Blackquill is dead.

“Of course.”

Phoenix opens the door back out into the office. Laughter echoes from out front. When they emerge, Trucy is leaning across the coffee table, a phone in her outstretched hand to show off something on the screen. Athena lets out a bark of laughter when she sees it. “Right?” Trucy cackles. “Is that not the ugliest couch you’ve ever seen in your life?”

Oh. This again. Trucy keeps him up-to-date on the latest nonsense whether he wants to know or not; Kay, apparently, intends for Klavier to buy a new couch, whether he wants it or not. She expresses this desire by texting him (and apparently Apollo, who’s the one showing Trucy these) photos of what are indeed the ugliest couches anyone has ever seen. Some of them have to be ironic art pieces. They have to be. Phoenix refuses to believe otherwise. Vera glances over from her perch on the couch. “Those colors should not be near each other.”

“I see that the legal professionals of this office are hard at work as ever,” Edgeworth says. Apollo and Juniper’s heads both snap around, eyes wide in fear, but Athena, who must hear that hidden fondness, grins.

“That’s why we’re called an Anything Agency, duh!” Trucy says. She returns the phone to Apollo’s hands. “C’mon, Mr Edgeworth, you know that!”

Egdeworth, who Phoenix knows does not think Anything Agency is the kind of name an office of varying professionals should be using, merely shakes his head. Despite his best efforts, it takes him another several minutes to extract himself from conversation with Trucy and Athena. Apollo and Juniper remain silent the entire time, still so obviously intimidated as they were when Edgeworth first arrived, but Vera, so often wary of strangers, is at least comfortable enough to go back to her painting.

On Edgeworth’s way out, he keeps his eyes on the ground, just as cautious as he is when he moves through the office of drops that may cause him to stumble or rises which may cause a stubbed toe. It is a problem he has had less and less of as the years go on, and today, as Phoenix trusts will happen, he is allowed to leave without issue. As if this office were any another mundane location untouched by the fae. Or as if the fae patron of the space is particularly grateful.

#roddy fanfics #fic: the witches of los angeles #in the endnotes on ao3 i have a bonus comment that is probably not as funny as i think it is

11 notes · View notes

wish-i-wasnt-a-coward · 4 years ago

Text

Everything and Nothing

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Pairings: Eventual LAMP, Demus

Warnings: Food mention, spacing out, loss of ability to read, mild negative self talk, guilt, mentions of a bully, mentions of intentional misgendering, cursing

Word Count: 1,214

\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\/

Logan was trying to read. He really was, usually, he was very good at reading and chose to do it recreationally. He could focus on the words and tune out the clutter that was the rest of the world. The book would take him to a place where his parents were proud of him, where he could sit still for longer than a minute, where Virgil was comfortable and Patton talked about his feelings. But not today.

He was stuck. The sentence just didn’t make sense, there was no way to explain it without sounding like a complete lunatic, but Logan had temporarily lost the ability to read. ‘Not the best thing to happen in the middle of AP English’ Logan thought with a sigh, bouncing his leg at a ridiculously fast pace.

With nothing better to do Logan looked around the classroom. The week's homework was up on the whiteboard. Frankenstein’s monster, the book they were reading, was written in lovely cursive (which Logan also couldn’t read) at the top. Closer to Logan, Patton sat reading. They had worked so hard to get into this class, and Logan was very proud of them.

School didn’t come easily to Patton, the way it did to Logan. But they were one of the smartest people Logan knew. They were invariably there for their friends, they knew what to say when Virgil was having an anxiety attack and knew what to do when Logan was overstimulated or having a meltdown. They understood emotions like Logan understood math. Logan would be lying if he said he wasn't a bit jealous.

Logan was so zoned out he didn’t even realize that Mr. Flores had moved to stand next to his desk until the teacher spoke.

“Hey, Logan'' the man whispered with a smile, “are you alright?” Logan looked up at him, “um, I’m having a bit of trouble reading right now, it's ok though I can just read this chapter for homework as well.” he replied with an awkward smile. “Oh don’t worry kid, I know what that's like, give me a second '' after a moment Mr. Flores returned with a small box and headphones. “Here, you can listen to the book and do the assignment at the same time instead of reading” Logan took it with wide eyes, “You know how to work these things?” Mr. Flores asked, “Uh yeah, thank you!” the young boy said, quickly sliding on the headphones.

Patton looked back at him and smiled their angelic smile. Logan involuntarily smiled back and began working on the assignment.

\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\/

By the time the class was over Logan’s head had cleared considerably. Patton, of course, had checked on him as soon as they had a moment. Logan was quick to reassure them that he was fine. Both of them thanked any god that may be up there for Mr. Flores. Knowing that without proper action Logan’s light zoning out could quickly turn into a dissociation episode.

Patton was kicking themselves for not noticing sooner. And Logan was feeling like a burden. Neither enjoyed their next two classes.

When lunch period rolled around the glasses gays were hoping that the day may improve for them. Roman had been joining the group during lunch break, and though she and Virgil weren’t yet quite as friendly as the others were, it was always nice to see him.

Logan walked through the crowded lunchroom. He let muscle memory take over as he sidestepped the popular cliques, slipping into a chair at their usual table next to Virgil. Bumping knees with the boy to alert him of Logan’s presence without scaring him.

Virgil didn’t even look up, handing Logan an earbud for the BuzzFeed Unsolved video he was watching. Logan happily accepted scooting closer to the angsty teen.

They were quite the pair. Most of the school was used to the odd friend group. But in many situations, it is not common to see a boy with purple emo bangs, baggy clothes, and heavy black makeup sitting shoulder to shoulder with an uptight nerd who wore ties to school.

But it gets even odder, as the fluffy, happy, sunshine child slides next to the emo reaching over to turn on the close captions. Along with them, one of the two new kids, the one who wore a red trench coat to school, watched over their shoulders.

Despite their oddness, they were important parts of the school’s hierarchy. Patton was the head of the cheer-leading squad and had turned the naturally misogynistic club into a safe space of sorts. Logan was the head of the debate team, this was a very popular club to watch after school. Because he would become very passionate about even the smallest subjects, and when the subjects weren’t small he was known to become violent. Which was entertaining, to say the least. Virgil was less involved than the other two, opting for running the small art program. He volunteered during his study hall and after school some days, helping the art teacher.

The new kid had very quickly established herself as an immense theater nerd and had won the heart of the chemistry teacher who ran the theater program, Mr. Sanders. The cast and crew had also quickly accepted Roman as a part of the team.

But despite the friends that the four had outside of their group, they opted for each other. If you asked Patton, they would say that it was because they were “bestest friends”, Logan would go on a rant about how they balanced each other out well, Roman would say that it was destiny that brought them together, and Virgil would mumble something about how queers always found each other.

Of course, not everyone liked this, and there were people that even Patton would punch in the face if given the chance.

\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\/

The video came to a dramatic end and Virgil let his head fall against Logan’s shoulder. Roman and Patton were teasing each other about something while eating their lunches. He could tell from the look in Logan and Pat’s eyes that it had been a tiring morning for the two of them. It had been a rough morning for him as well.

The bitchiest bitch of them all, Greg had been in both his Math and history class this year. How he got into AP math, Virgil will never know. He was a bigoted fuck and as dumb as a rock. Those two things, unsurprisingly, often went hand in hand.

He had a lovely habit of misgendering Patton and Virgil. It was difficult for Virgil to see his best friend bullied like that and was tempted to tell someone. But for the most part, he just physically and verbally harassed Virgil. Hopefully drawing attention from the others.

If L and Ro ever found out about Greg there would, without a doubt be bloodshed. The two of them could get in trouble, or hurt, or killed, and it would be all Virgil's fault. So he kept quiet about it. He had to.

Logan gently wrapped an arm around Virgil pulling him back down to earth. “Are you alright Verge?” he muttered. Virgil just nodded burying his face further into Logan’s chest. He felt Lo hum in response, continuing his lunch one-handed.

17 notes · View notes

cherrycocaineee · 4 years ago

Photo

3. Jeon Jungkook - First Meeting

A single earbud blasted music into my ear as I rode my bike back home after school. Despite trying to pedal fast and get home before the storm hit hard, I was slowed down by overcrowded pedestrians walking at snail speed on the sidewalk. All I could do to make it less frustrating was listen to my music. Softly humming to the beat of the song, I navigated cautiously through the sea of people. My back felt heavy with my school bag draped over it and I groaned at all the homework I’d have to do once I got home.

Eventually, small water droplets started dropping from the sky and hitting my exposed skin, and soaking my white shirt. Huffing, I pulled my bike over to the nearest place with outdoor seating and something covering my head. Which so happened to be a small coffee shop that I sometimes went to on my way home. I pushed my bike against the brick wall and sat down to wait for the rain to subside, and to pass the time a lot quicker, I decided to get a head start on some of my homework. History was the first one that I took out of my bag. A few minutes passed and the rain was only getting heavier, so I was kind of debating whether I should call a friend to pick me up. However, it wasn’t a good idea because I wouldn’t be able to bring my bike home at the same time. Suddenly, a hooded man ran underneath the coffee shop coverage. His clothes were damp from the rainfall, but he didn’t seem to care. Not wanting to seem like I staring creep, I looked back at my homework. But I couldn’t really help it. He was attractive. His skin was pale but had a sunkissed look to it, his lips were a peachy shade of pink, his jawline was sharp and could probably cut through anything if it were a knife, and his hair looked so soft and fluffy, as the deep brown darkened in the stormy weather. I had to force myself to not stare. I forced myself to do my homework, avoiding making any type of eye contact with the beautiful stranger stands a few feet away from me. “Excuse me.” His sweet, deep voice penetrated my one ear that wasn’t covered with an earbud. Looking up, I saw him standing in front of me, his phone in one hand and his other hand in his pocket. His smooth brown eyes were staring right at me. “Sorry to bother you,” he said, his English choppy, “but my phone is dead and I was wondering if you could tell me what time it is?” I picked my phone up from on top of my history textbook and clicked the middle button, making the screen turn on. My wallpaper was a photo of my best friend, Ophelia, and I at the beach in Los Angeles last summer with her parents. Ophelia was wearing a two-piece swimsuit that was pumpkin orange, and it complimented her mocha skin tone. I was wearing a firetruck red two-piece that had white polka dots all over it. The two of us were standing in the bright blue ocean, hugging one another, as her older brother took the photo. I read the time on the lock screen and looked up at him. “It’s 3:40,” I answered, “almost four.” “Ah, thank you.” He turned around and went to sit at an empty table. I bit my bottom lip softly before speaking again. “If you’d like, you can use my phone charger and computer to charge your phone.” The stranger looked over at me and smiled while nodding his head. Then he was out of his seat and in the seat next to me in a split second. I removed my white iPhone charger and my laptop from my backpack and handed them to him. After hooking the charger to the computer, he hooked his charger to his phone and watched as it turned on. “I’m Jungkook,” he introduced. “I’m Avery,” I smiled, holding out my hand to shake his. His large, calloused hand wrapped around my small, soft one. After greeting one another, we started discussing some random things like the type of music we listened to, family, books we’ve read. I even learned that Jungkook wasn’t from America, which I kind of already figured from his accent, and learned that he was from South Korea. Jungkook even started teaching me some small Korean words. It was a lot of fun, and it passed the time a lot better than sitting here and doing boring school assignments. Jungkook turned to the coffee shop and pointed at it. “Is this place any good?” He questioned. “Yeah, they are,” I answered, “I come here pretty often.” “Do you want to get some coffee with me?” “Sure.” The two of us stood up and went inside the small coffee shop. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee beans, cinnamon, and vanilla filled my nose as we entered. The little chime of the bell above the door alerted the barista that he had some customers. I helped Jungkook read the menu before ordering. While we waited for the drinks to be made, we continued talking. “So you still go to school?” He asked. “Yeah, it’s my senior year,” I replied, “how about you?” He shook his head just as the barista placed our drinks on the counter. The two of us picked them up and headed back outside, continuing the conversation along the way. “I graduated in 2017.” “Oh, so two years ago.” He nodded his head. The rain was coming down hard. I was sipping on my cold brew while watching each drop hit the ground. There were few cars driving through the streets, but really most people stayed out during weather like this. The idea of the roads being too slick and causing an accident was enough to deter people from causing an accident. It was one of the few good things about living in Seattle. As I placed my coffee down, I shook my phone in front of Jungkook while smirking. “Wanna play some iPhone games?” I persuaded, “I bet I can beat ya.” A sneaky, mischief smile appeared on his face, “get ready to lose.” We exchanged numbers and started off by playing 8ball. Jungkook was extremely competitive and he was good too. Luckily for myself, I was competitive too. So for the next hour, we played as many imessage games trying to beat one another. We were tied and the last game we were playing was connect four. The game was hard to win considering neither one of us was stupid enough to let the other person connect four. This game lasted the longest out of all the ones we played. However, as the rain started to slow down, I finally ended up beating Jungkook. I giggled as Jungkook started pouting, crossing his arms, and puffed out his bottom lip. This action caused me to laugh even harder. He looked at me out of the corner of his eyes and began laughing too. Soon the rain stopped altogether, so it was time for me to head home. I packed up all of my things and grabbed my bike. “It was fun hanging out with you, Jungkook,” I giggled, “hopefully we’ll see each other again before you head back to South Korea.” Jungkook nodded, “I liked hanging out with you too, Avery. Since I have your number, I’ll give you a call so we can play some more games.” “Sounds like a plan!” I hopped on my bike and waved to him goodbye as I rode off towards my home. I walked through my front door calling out to my family that I was home. Mom, Dad, Austin, and Jenna were all sitting on the couch when I walked into the living room. Austin looked up at me. “What took you so long?” He asked. “It started raining,” I answered, plopping down next to Jenna, “so I waited for it to stop.” “Good, because the last thing your father and I need is you getting hurt,” mom said, smiling. They were watching Wipeout on the television and soon I was immersed in it as well. That is until my phone dinged and I looked down to see if the message was from Ophelia. It wasn’t, it was from Jungkook. He had sent me a photo of him with the message reading: Can’t wait to see you again. Use this photo for the icon above my number. I smiled and sent him a recent photo of me that Ophelia took telling him the same thing. I hadn’t noticed that Jenna was leaning over my shoulder reading my message until she screamed so loud I felt my eardrum almost burst. Quickly, I dropped my phone in my lap and covered my ear. Austin and I glared at her while our parents looked at her with questionable looks. Jenna picked my phone up. “Ave,” she started, “did you meet this guy today?” “Well yeah,” I said, “he got caught in the rain too, so we chatted a bit, got some coffee, and played some iPhone games while we waited. Why?” “You literally met my idol!” She squealed. “Idol?” “Yeah, those lame Korean boys that she has plastered all over her room,” Austin said, turning his attention back to his phone, “you know the one with seven members in it?” “BTS,” Jenna answered, “you met the youngest member of the group, Jeon Jungkook. You have to give me his number, Ave!” As quickly as she had picked up my phone, I snatched it away. “No way!” I snapped, “I can’t just give you his number, especially if he doesn’t even know who you are. What if he’s not cool with it, Jen?” I grabbed my backpack from next to my feet and went upstairs. I could hear Jenna pouting and crying to mom and dad about me not giving her the phone number. I closed the door behind me as I entered my room and sighed. That’s when my phone dinged again and I looked at it. It was a text from Jungkook. As I read the message, I felt my cheeks burn as they turned bright pink. I shot him a quick message to reply and then sat at my desk to finish up my homework. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about the last text Jungkook sent me and I knew I’d probably still be blushing by the time I went to bed. But I didn’t mind in the least.

#jungkook #bts #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine #fluff #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #jeon jungkook #army #jungkook fluff #fanfic #jjk #imagine #bts scenarios #bts fanfction

45 notes · View notes

onlineclassdone123 · 1 year ago

Text

Looking for reliable Online Class, Assignment, Homework Help services in the USA? Look no further! We at Onlineclassdone.com provide best Online Class and Homework Assistance services in New York, Los Angeles, Houston, Washington DC. designed to streamline your academic journey. Our expert tutors provide personalized support and timely solutions, ensuring your success in every subject.

#education #Online Students Helping Students in New York #Online class help in los angeles #Online home work in Houston #Online 24/7 homework help in Washington DC #online tutoring #tutor #educators

1 note · View note

songtoyou · 5 years ago

Text

Epiphany - Part One

Paring: Luke Crain x Female Reader

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2,204

Warnings: Talks of drug use and recovery, mention death of a family member.

Description: Life has never been easy for Luke Crain. After the death of Nell, Luke realizes that he needs to make some changes. He decided to stay in Massachusetts and attend rehab. He was determined to remain on his path of sobriety. When you get assigned to be Luke’s sponsor, it opens a new door of possibilities that neither you nor Luke expected.

A/N: I finally watched the Haunting of Hill House a while back. I found Luke to be very interesting. This is my take on how Luke would go on with life after Nell’s death and how his continued path to remain sober would look like.

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Updated: Cleaned up for grammar and punctuation errors.

An epiphany is when a sudden and intuitive perception of insight into reality. It can provide a great moment of revelation and present itself as symbolic insight. Some people experience it while others often search for it.

Life was not easy for Luke Crain or his siblings. After the recent events of Hill House, Luke was scared of a life without his twin sister, Nell. Despite Luke being ninety seconds older, he always felt that Nell was his big sister. She was his protector. The only person to believe in him when others constantly sowed doubt. Unfortunately, Hill House ended up taking Nell in the end, along with his father Hugh. Luke was scared. More scared than he had ever been now that Nell was gone.

However, Luke was determined to get clean. To remain clean. He had to do it, not only for Nell but for himself. Both Steve and Theo pitched in to help pay for a good rehab center for Luke to stay. At first, Luke told them, no, but it was Theo who adamantly expressed her desire to support him.

“Luke, you have made it to 90-days. I can tell you want to remain clean. We all see it. Nell still believes in you and so do we. I want to be supportive of you because you’re my little brother and I love you,” said Theo.

With the support and help of his siblings, Luke decided to stay in Massachusetts for treatment. He took up residence with Shirley in the guest house since Theo decided to move out to live on her own. Despite her worries, Shirley believed in her little brother and his determination to remain clean. One could say it was her way to make amends for the guilt she held by not allowing Luke to attend Nell’s wedding.

It was actually Shirley’s husband Kevin, who recommended Banyan Treatment Center in Wilmington, Massachusetts. “One of my sisters went there for her alcohol addiction. She responded well to the program and has continued to stay sober for two-years. Banyan has a good family counseling program, along with outpatient therapy. Pretty much will have everything you need to continue your path for sobriety,” said Kevin one night after dinner.

It did not take long for Steve and Theo to be on board with Luke deciding on Banyan. Both liked what they read of the place. The treatment center was not uber fancy, like the one Shirley paid for all those years ago but also was a tad upscale compared to the rehab center in Los Angeles Luke recently attended.

The therapists and case managers at Banyan were nice and friendly. Rob, Luke’s primary therapist, helped ease him into a routine. Even though Luke was now over 90 days sober, Rob recommended intensive outpatient therapy every day for an hour session. Luke admitted to Rob, along with his siblings, that he was worried about relapsing due to Nell and Hugh’s deaths. He did not want to fall back into old and dangerous habits.

For 30 days, Luke was committed to his intensive outpatient therapy. Talking over his childhood trauma at Hill House and the recent events helped, not only explain his phobias but also tackle his post-traumatic stress. Hill House had a long-lasting effect that damaged his entire family. So much so, that all he wanted to be was numb. To not have to deal with the images in his mind or how the loss of his mother disturbed him.

When Luke “graduated” from intensive outpatient therapy to regular outpatient therapy, Rob recommended a sponsor for him. The Center’s alumni recovery program allowed for past patients who have succeeded in their program to help mentor those currently in the early stages of detox, treatment, and recovery. Having a strong and influential network of sober peers can make all of the difference between an addict relapsing or staying strong through hard times.

That is how you came into Luke Crain’s life. Rob recommended you to Luke as a sponsor. You had just celebrated your third anniversary of recovery. It was not that you had a bad childhood as the reason you turned to drugs. You were not abused, both of your parents were still alive, nor had you experienced any other forms of childhood trauma. Similar to Luke, heroin was your choice of escapism; the way to ease the feeling of pain and suffering. Not your own, but other peoples’.

That was the downside of being an empath.

Of course, no one believed you about being an empath. Your mother had always referred to you as an overly sensitive child and that stress was not something you handled very well. When having to deal with the ability to sense what people are feeling, whether the emotions are happy, sad, scared, stressed, disturbed, or angry, can be a lot for a person to handle. There came a time when taking on the pain of others became too much. You no longer wanted that burden. You no longer wanted to feel anything.

It did not matter how many rehab facilities your parents sent you to or how many times they pleaded; you did not care. For once, you put yourself first. Heroin helped you stop feeling. Helped you feel numb and content. You were happy. Of course, when the high wore off, as it always does, you were back to reality. You hated reality.

The last hit you had made you end up in the hospital. The doctor explained how you overdosed but were able to resuscitate you in time. That was when you finally realized you needed to change. Needed to get clean once and for all. You knew it would take time and patience. That you would not magically become clean and sober overnight. It was a process. Setbacks were a possibility. However, there was always a little voice in the back of your head that helped pull you through the dark times, to motivate you to keep going.

Now here you were about to meet the new mentee that Rob assigned you to. He only gave a little backstory about Luke, but not many other details. You ended up texting Luke asking him to meet you on Sunday at your favorite coffee shop, the As Good As It Gets Café. He promptly replied that he would see you there around noon.

When Sunday finally rolled around, you headed to the café and waited. It was a quarter past twelve and Luke still had not shown up. You were starting to get nervous and wondering if he would ever appear. You were on the verge of texting him when the bell on the entry door chimed, indicating that someone was entering the café. You looked up and saw a very tall, scruffy, and attractive looking man standing by the door. The way he was looking around with a lost kind of look helped pinpoint that this was Luke. You got up from your booth and walked over to him.

“Luke?” you politely asked.

“Yes,” he said.

You introduced yourself and held your hand out for him to shake, which he took. You immediately became overwhelmed with the emotions that permeated this man. There was a lot of pain and loss underneath. But there was also a sense of hope and happiness that felt nice.

“Are you okay?” Luke asked wondering why all of a sudden you had a weird look on your face.

“Hmm? I’m sorry. I’m fine. I didn’t mean to…daze off for a second,” you laughed and pointed over to the booth you previously occupied. You walked over with Luke following.

“I’m sorry that I’m late. I was finishing up some homework and didn’t track the time properly,” Luke shared.

“Oh, where do you go to school?”

“Uh…I take a creative writing course at Bunker Hill Community College,” he replied.

“Nice. How are you liking it so far?” you asked him.

Before Luke could respond, one of the waitresses came over asking if Luke wanted anything to drink. Indicating that he just wanted coffee, the two of you were soon left alone.

“I like it. The instructor is really nice. It is the only course I am taking, so it doesn’t take up too much of my time. My older brother, Steve, actually encouraged me to enroll after I shared some of my writing with him. He’s a writer himself. I don’t know if you ever heard of him, Steven Crain? He has written a lot of books, mostly ghost stories. His most famous one is, ‘The Haunting of Hill House’. Have you read that book?”

“I have not. I tend to stay away from horror genres,” you told Luke.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you. Luke was adverting his gaze to anywhere but you. It was easy to tell that he was nervous and unsure of himself.

“Luke,” you spoke up to get his attention and said, “You don’t have to be anxious or feel uneasy. Getting here, to this step, is a big freaking deal. I get it, trust me. I absolutely get it. I never thought I’d be here. To be completely frank, I always pictured myself dead somewhere in the streets. I’m sure you pictured the same for yourself. But it didn’t. You’re here today because you wanted more for yourself. That is something to be proud of.”

Letting out a sigh, Luke sat back in the booth and crossed his arms over his chest. Sometimes he did not feel proud. He missed Nell. He missed her all of the time. She always believed in him no matter how many times he broke her heart. Nell always forgave him. She was always there when he needed someone to bail him out of trouble.

“You okay, Luke? If you would rather do this another time, that is okay. We can reschedule,” you offered. You could sense a feeling of grief underneath the surface of the man sitting before you.

“No. No, I’m sorry. I…uh…I was thinking about Nellie. My twin sister. She…she died recently. Well, not recent, two months ago. So, it’s still…very…it’s still a lot to handle.”

“I’m sorry,” you told him earnestly. “What was it like having a twin? I don’t have any siblings, so I always like to hear other people’s sibling stories.”

“Having siblings has its pros and cons,” Luke laughed, but continued, “They can be much at times, but I’m glad to have them. Especially now that Nellie is gone. They have been incredibly supportive, which makes all the difference in the world.”

“I really appreciate you sharing this with me, Luke. I know it can’t be easy. I am a stranger after all. You’re actually my second mentee from the alumni recovery program. My previous one …well her story didn’t have a happy ending,” you shared with Luke.

He could relate. When he left the clinic in Los Angeles to find Joey and bring her back to get her clean again. She was nine-months clean at the time but ended up using while being back on the streets. Luke would be lying to himself if he did not say he was rather disappointed in Joey. To him, Joey was someone who he could look up to while trying to get clean. He should have known something was off with her during what would be their last night at the clinic. Joey reminded him of Nell, so he could not stand by and do nothing. Joey helped him during his first week at the clinic. So, Luke felt that he owed it to her to return the favor.

Unfortunately, Joey did not want his help in the end. To this day, Luke still does not know what really happened to her after she swiped the drugs off him and headed towards that alley. But deep inside, Luke knew she did not make it. That her body would either be discovered or continue to rot in that alley. Theo would tell him that Joey was not his responsibility. That he had to put himself first when it came to recovery.

Luke pushed his coffee cup to the side and leaned on the table. You were so focused on your own coffee cup that you did not notice him staring at you intently. He was taking you in and assessing you. So far, he could admit that he found you attractive. You had a nice built. Your clothing was not too flashy. He could tell that you were the type to choose comfortable clothing over fashionable attire. However, it was your eyes that stood out. There was a softness and warmness to them that he found quite soothing. There were no ulterior motives behind them or any sense of malice. Luke could see that your intentions with him were good and that you really wanted to help him in his recovery by being a supportive mentor.

“Hey,” he said to get your attention. “I promised that I’ll come to talk to you if I ever feel like I might…. Or if I just feel like I need someone to talk to.”

“I appreciate that, Luke,” you told him sincerely.

#luke crain #luke crain x female reader #luke crain x reader #the haunting of hill house #oliver jackson cohen

72 notes · View notes

t5ltherapy · 2 years ago

Text

#AfricanAmerican #BlackTherapist #Teletherapy #Therapists

0 notes

pricescigar · 4 years ago

Text

The Terminator AU

Summary: A newly advanced terminator is set on a mission to kill Dietrich's Daughter, Elvira Wolff. However, another cyborg, who was once after Dietrich's own life, has now been assigned to protect Elvira.

Trigger Warning: Explosion, violence, guns, blood

A AU dedicated for @kretentious

The following characters mentioned:

Elvira Wolff - Future human resistance leader

Dietrich Wolff - The father

Stitch - Terminator

Adler - Unkown Advanced Terminator

The year is 2029, the Artifical Intellgience Skynet. Given control previously to the United States nuclear missiles, initiated a nuclear holocaust back on the 29th of August 1997 known there after as "Judgement day" It was catastrophic. Skynet alone, had bigger fish to fry if they wanted to win this war alone.

Skynet sends their new Terminator, designated as T-1000 back in time to 1995. In order to kill Elvira Wolff, the future human resistance leader. This magnificent T-1000 is an advanced prototype, made out of liquid metal (Better known as "mimetic polyalloy") It gives it the ability to take on shape, appearance almost to anything that it touches. And to transform it's arm into blades, and many other shapes at will. Fascinating isn't it? Meanwhile, even Elvira's older self. Had plans of her own, to protect her younger self. A reprogrammed model 101 Terminator T-800.

Elvira Wolff currently lives with her Foster Parents in Los Angeles, as much to her dismay and some hatred of them. Yet all of her childhood her father Diedrich. Had been preparing her, training her. For her future role as the human resistance leader against Skynet, the artificial intelligence. However Diedrich was arrested, and was then imprisoned in a mental hospital. After he had attempted to bomb a computer factory, which resulted Elvira to be put into Foster care. Always been called a "Freak" , "abomination" , "just like your father", "there is no war on the machines." , "they don't exist" Forbidden to contact her own father, Elvira had no choice but to continue to train on her own. To thrive on her own, preparing her for what would be the future. Yet so unaware of the actions of what happened in the future itself, her whole life would be turned around unexpectedly.

Overnight both the T-1000 and the re programmed Model 101 Terminator, made themselves welcome on earth. While in the latter, the T-1000 killed a police officer. And he assumed his identity, and began his journey to find Elvira Wolff and to kill her. Meanwhile the Terminator, was off to find Elvira Wolff and to protect her with his own life.

"No, for the last time Elvira. You're not going out." Janelle said firmly to Elvira, despite her not being her real mother. Ultimately she has the responsibly, in taking care of Elvira. Regardless of her age, at the age of 16 the young girl was still in education. They assigned her to homeschooling, which made things all the easier. She still needed a home, poor father was a looney. As many would say, over and over again. Machines... Ha, they don't exist. Right?

"Well I don't care what you say, I want to go out. I'm tired of being cooped up in the house, I done my homework, I done the cleaning, I done what I personally needed to do... And now I just want time to myself." Elvira replied, ignoring Janelle's wishes as she headed over to the door.

"Todd! Do something, don't just sit there and do nothing like you always do!" Jannelle protested, the Foster father Todd; He and Elvira spoke a few times, yet he understood her anger of not being able to see her father. It wasn't like they couldn't do anything about it, he and Janelle were just there for Elvira and to help her through the last steps of childhood. And into the early steps of adulthood, considering the biological father was stuck in a mental institution. And she wasn't allowed to see him, it must've been hard for the poor girl. Perhaps it was her own way of possibly coping in all of it.

Todd groaned softly, before he got up from his seat. He heard over to the front door, as Elvira was about to leave the house.

"C'mon now kid, listen to her ok? Whatever is troubling you, we can talk about it ok?" He said to her, crossing his arms.

Elvira glanced over to Todd, did she really have to say anything to him? No she didn't have to, she knew they didn't really want her. Moreover, it didn't seem like they had any other choice, Elvira was far from normal at this point in time. Shaking her head without a word she left the house and closed the door behind her.

"I don't even know, what were going to do with that kid sometimes I tell you Todd. She's disrespectful! I tell you that!" Janelle said to her husband, before she headed back into the kitchen in frustration.

Moments later, a knock was heard at the door. Janelle was busy in the kitchen, while Todd usually lounged around and watched TV. She stopped what she was doing, placing the knife down after she finished cutting the Vegetables. Going over to the door, and she opened it to see who it was. Standing there was a tall man, who had one blue eye. The other seemed to be missing, completely white as snow. He wore a bikers outfit, and seemed to have a serious look on his face.

"Excuse me miss, does a Elvira Wolff live here?" The man asked in question looking at Janelle, he was patient. Yet time was ticking, and he needed to find the girl in order to protect her from death.

Janelle looked at the man strangely, what the hell does this man want from an innocent girl? Maybe he was family? She didn't know, but that was the first thing she easily assumed. Yet they didn't mention about no other family member, they didn't even have no clue in who the biological mother was either.

"Oh well, you would... If she was here. Maybe come back later?" She simply gave a kind smile, and then closed the door.

It was only a matter of time, only an hour or so later. Before someone knocked on the door again. A sigh escaped Janelle's lips, it better not be the odd stranger again. Heading over to the door once more, opening it. Only to see a Police Officer standing there, giving her a kind smile. What the hell is a police officer doing here?

"Oh well good morning miss, does a Elvira Wolff live here? I want her to answer some questions if you don't mind of course." The officer asked politely.

"Oh god... Has she done anything?! Oh my god, I'm so sorry if she caused any sort of trouble!" Janelle then began to panic, Todd got up from his seat. And went over to the door, to see what the commotion was all about. To her Elvira did seem like she was a good kid. Just a bit troubled at the moment, but she never expected anything illegal to happen. Never.

"Oh no! No! Not at all miss, just some questioning about her father... As you know, anything to help with further on the investigation on what happened." The police officer explained calmly to her. "Do you have a picture of Elvira? So I can identify her, and being her back here safe and sound?" He offered to her.

"Oh I see, no problem then... Of course sir, hold on just a moment." Janelle nodded, and she went over to the cabinet. Grabbing a picture of Elvira, and she handed it to the Officer.

The officer took the picture from her, and observed it closely. He had to find her soon, and eliminate her by all means necessary. He realised he was looking at the picture for too long, before looking back at the two. "Just like her father huh? Attractive one isn't she?" He chuckled at the two, before then putting the photo in his pocket.

"Does this correlate to the strange man on a motorbike, arriving here earlier? He was looking for her as well, I was only wondering that's all." Janelle asked curiously, looking at the officer. She didn't know if she was right, or wrong but a simply question wouldn't hurt right?

"Hm... No miss, no not at all. I wouldn't wowed so much, good day to you both." The Police Officer, smiled politely said his goodbye and he left the house. And off he went to find Elvira Wolff.

Elvira found herself walking to wherever her feet would take her, as long as she was out of the house long enough to stay away from the house long as possible. She wished she met her mother, she didn't even know what her own mother looked like. All that young Elvira knew was that she was a magnificent, brave and cunning soldier. And that Elvira had to live up to that, and to almost train to become the greatest hero and future resistance leader that they'll ever see.

Both Terminator and T-1000, were looking for Elvira. T-1000 still played the officer part, asking strangers around if they seen this girl. Playing the part, and to adapt to all of the surroundings. Terminator on the other had, was using his eyes. Scanning everything around him, before then seeing a familiar figure. Dark raven hair, Emerald green eyes. Scanning her face, he found his target.

T-1000 and Terminator individually continued onto their chase, and they eventually came across a mall. Elvira wanted to by herself a new book, and perhaps a small gift for her father as well. When she finally gets the chance to visit him, as expected the mall was infested with so many people. Trying to find Elvira won't be easy, but in the end one of them will find her. And would result in a fight, one way or another. T-1000 was asking many people individually, some didn't know who she was and simply apologised and went off. A few were helpful, and lead him to some directions to where they last saw her. He was getting close, he could tell. And in his sight, finally he saw her Elvira. He straightened out his tie, acting professional as possible. Before then immediately starting to walk towards her, she won't be able to get away now. Not anymore.

Elvira finally found her way to the bookshop, which took some time for her to find. The mall itself was massive, and many shops to go with it too. In her gut, she could tell something was wrong. She looked over to a Police Officer heading over towards her, he didn't have a nice look on his face. Which intimidated her greatly, watching the officer approach closer and closer. Backing away a few steps, before she then ran away. Resulting in a chase. Rushing as fast she didn't dare to look back, pushing past people who were in her way. The quickest escape route was to the fire exit, pushing through the doors. She rushed over the corner to escape from him, he was easily catching up with her. The Terminator was walking down the hall as well, holding a rectangular box. The heels of his boots echoing.

"Hey! You're not supposed to be in here! What the hell are you doing?!" A worker watched Elvira running, completely ignoring him as she burst through another section of doors. Taking a moment to catch her breath, before she looked over to the right before seeing the Terminator walking straight towards her. He opened the box, what seemed to be a small pack of roses. And pulled out a shot gun, letting the roses and the box fall to the floor. Loading the shotgun, walking straight towards her.

Elvira backed away, going back the way she came from. Trying to go into one of the doors but it was locked, and wouldn't budge at all. Terminator continued to walk towards her, despite her still running away. The same worker before tried to stop her from running away, from behind the worker T-1000. Elvira knew there was no way escaping, what the hell is happening? She looked over to the Terminator who had his shotgun aimed at T-1000.

"Get down, now." Terminator said, doing what Elvira was told and she immediately ducked down. And he shot T-1000, he then grabbed Elvira helping her up from the floor. And stood behind her, his back facing T-1000 as he began to shoot the Terminator with his pistol. With no avail it didn't do much damage, Elvira held onto Terminator's arm as they was continuously shot at.

When T-1000 was loading his gun, Terminator kicked the locked door down. Putting Elvira in there, in order to protect her. Turning over to him, he shot him with the shot gun. The T-1000's body dealing massive damage, continuing to throw rounds of the shot gun. As T-1000's body threw back onto to the ground, though the shotgun wounds on his body showed a large circle with silver lining. His body regenerated, easily standing up grabbing the shotgun. Helplessly all Elvira could do, was just watch them.

Terminator grabbed T-1000's body dragging him over to the brick wall roughly, creating a crack in the wall. Then pulling it over to the plastered all, damaging it too. In return T-1000 grabbed Terminator over to the plastered wall, completely breaking as they landed into a clothing shop.

Elvira saw this as her chance in escaping, her only thought was going back home. As she ran away from the scene, completely fleeing immediately. What the hell just happened back there? She ran into the parking lot of the mall looking around, there had to be a way to escape. It wasn't like she could still run continously, a vehicle was needed. She found a motorbike, before going over to it. Finding the wires to start ir with ease.

"Just like my father showed me many times... Come on, don't give up on me..." She muttered before then quickly hotwiring the Motorbike.

Managing to hotwire the motorbike, Elvira looked to see T-1000 going after her. It was her time to go, she got on the motorbike before then quickly going away escaping the parking lot of the mall. In a instance, T-1000 began to chase her out of the parking lot and into the main road. Causing havoc on the road itself, putting other peoples lives in total danger. Narrowly she escaped from being ran over by a truck, escaping from T-1000. He saw the truck and took the opportunity, stealing it from the driver and he went after Elvira.

Terminator joined after in the chase, going after Elvira god knows what could happen to her if T-1000 gets his hands on her. The main focus on his mission: Protect Elvira with his life, and he cannot let the mission fail so easily like this. All he had to do was catch up to them, grab Elvira and get her away from him.

Elvira continuously looked back and forth, but also keeping her eyes on the road. Still seeing the Police Officer chasing her, which made her go faster and faster on the Motorbike. Turning a hard right, she drove down over under the bridge. When the coast was clear, she stopped the bike catching her breath before then looking behind. No sight of him at all. Then a roaring engine noise could be heard, hurdling towards her. She looked up to the bridge, the truck hurdler through the debris crashing everywhere. As it landed down, that was Elvira's indication to continue on as she drove away again in a rush.

Terminator easily caught up from behind, in the distance seeing Elvira ahead. He got his shot gun, and shot the gate that had a lock on. Speeding down under the bridge too, the truck alone was catching up on Elvira. The truck was badly damaged itself, dented ruined and everything else. T-1000 finally caught up with Elvira. The truck was bashing against to the end of the motorbike she was on. He noticed the immediate danger, and went through the tiniest of gap. And was beside Elvira before he grabbed her, and pulled her over onto his bike as she sat in front.

"Hey— What are you doing?!" Elvira said as she held on, as Terminator got his shot gun shooting the front tires of the truck. T-1000 losing control of the truck, as it crashes the oil spilling our before it caught fire. Terminator stopped the bike, both of them watching the truck bursting into flames and exploding. He got his shotgun ready, waiting for T-1000 to come out. When only a tire that was caught on fire rolled out, the coast was clear. For now.

#creative writing #writer #writing #short story #the terminator #terminator #black ops cold war #cod cold war #call of duty #black ops #cold war #call of duty cold war #cod #Russell Adler #vikhor kuzmin #Elvira Wolff #alternative universe #Dietrich wolff

15 notes · View notes