Scarred but Not Broken
All things take time to heal, and healing is not always forward. Sometimes steps are taken back even as we try our best.
AN: So here is the first writing on this blog. And yep, it's for Pretty Boy. At this point, It's basically finished (I cannot think of a better ending for it) and is fairly... weird in regards to explaining things about my Self Insert. But, here we go. Hope y'all enjoy it.
The apartment was still strange to them. The windows faced east as opposed to their old western facing windows. The sounds of Washington were different from their comforting lull of a half used back-highway in a small part of a low population province. Even the bed and bedding was different- not enough plush or weight to it.
It was an improvement from… before however. From the month that they spent in the Valley, when the Plaga was trapped in them, starved and dead. It felt like the dirt that beneath their skin would never go away, but the showers in the week since had helped. The long, exceptionally hot, baths helped them feel human again. A haircut helped to even out their hastily chopped strands, though they lamented the loss of their long hair.
It was a necessary sacrifice.
The steam from the bathroom flooded out, and the light of the sunrise caused a glare that blinded them for a moment. Their footsteps were quiet, far quieter than the upstairs neighbors who they swore must wear work boots at all hours of the day. And the stillness of the apartment was undisturbed.
In the daylight, it was easier to remember that they were safe. The night had been long, with their mind warning them against sleeping in a bed. The Ganados- the cultists- always returned to their beds. It was comfortable, yes, but unsafe.
Sleep never came, even after they curled up in a blanket bundle in the closet.
But humans were born for the sunlight. And they refused to deny themselves that. Refused to deny themselves the nature which they sought to return to.
The living area of the apartment was open concept. The kitchen was a small galley one, that they swore they bumped into either side of the counters whenever they turned, with the outer counter looking over the living and dining room. Dining was a bit strong of a word, the small table hardly big enough for the two occupants of the apartment, and the living room so sparse that they swore that it echoed.
A pan is set on the oven, and the makings for breakfasts were slowly pulled from the fridge. Their… roommate was probably the most accurate description for the sheer chaos that had happened- their roommate seemed to stock only the bare minimum. The thought of him helped to keep them occupied as they started to make the scrambled eggs.
Leon was… It was complicated. He seemed like a good man. A dedicated one, certainly. Who took his job seriously but wasn’t afraid to crack jokes to ease the tension. A handsome one to boot. In less, egregious circumstances he would have been a great life partner.
Their eyes first catch on the gold plated band around their left hand’s ring finger. It was pristine, not even three days old, and uncomfortable. Both in what it represented and how it rubbed against the burn scarred flesh of their arm.
And then they cannot tear their eyes away from the flesh of their left arm. Once it was pale and dotted with moles along it. Twenty seven of them, if their count was accurate. Never something they did for a reason, just boredom. Something they could no longer do.
Now it was red. An angry red, with a texture that sometimes they could not reconcile with human flesh as much as they could jerky. It was supposed to be impressive that they could still move it despite the damage done, but they almost wished that it would have needed to be amputated. Maybe if it had, they wouldn’t have been forced into a marriage for a green card to work for a government not their own. Maybe if they were down an arm, they wouldn’t have had to survive the Valley and the Plagas where none of their friends did.
Six Doctors. Four Lawyers. Three General Scientists. Three Artists. Two Ecologists. One Teacher.
Nineteen hikers dead. Nineteen university students out of a group of twenty. Six Doctors who would never help a patient. Four Lawyers who never got to make their arguments against the cruelty of the law. Three Scientists worth of papers that would never be published. Three Artists’ works are forever unknown to the world. Two Ecologists that never got to help the planet. One Teacher who would never inspire the next generation.
The scars along their left side burned, only hurting more on their face when the tears ran along the indent on their cheek and jaw. The arm- burnt and should be unfeeling- shook as they couldn’t breathe anymore. The Plaga in their chest contracted, squeezed around their lungs and forced the air out. Tried to stop their heart because if it couldn’t control them then they needed to be burned at the sta-
“Charlie.”
Hands grasped at them, and they shook. It wasn't enough to shake off the hands. They shouldn't have been so visible. They were safer in the forest, they needed to be away from the village and needed to hide, they needed to escape-
"Charlie." Hyperventilated breaths were pressed against a chest, and they knew the end was coming. The gentle hands were going to stop stroking their hair and try to tear out their organs like they were one of the cows. More tears blurred their vision and they silently prayed to whatever God was up there that the next life be better. "We're safe, Charlie."
Legs surrounded them, their entire body weight leaned against the one who had them. He- his voice was a he and he was strong and that would hopefully mean their death would be quicker- treated them gently for the moment. A soft kiss pressed to their hairline. A seal of their fate, they were certain.
And he hummed, their ear pressed against his chest. It was a tactic to try make them less observant. To silence them to the other Ganados. But their ear didn't pick up the rattling sound of the Plaga in his chest. And an odd scar pressed against their ear.
A vertical line, like Luis had.
Their breath slowed a bit. The sticky and wet egg mix that was on the floor had seeped into their pajama pants, and their body shook from adrenaline. But it was still hard to see, hard to hear, hard to know exactly where they were or if it was a dream or not.
A strong arm lifted their legs and slung them over one of the man's as if they weighed nothing. Their legs were still-life, body weight still low from their month in Spain.
Because they weren't in Spain anymore.
"Where?"
Their mind was still… wrong. Still not able to entirely register what was real and what was imaginary. What was a memory and what was moment.
"Washington." The word mumbled against their hairline, the man's voice rumbled against their side. His hands came around them- shielded them against whatever was outside the small nook kitchen. Left hand over theirs, his ring rubbing against theirs. "In our apartment in Washington."
His skin was clear. While not soft- Leon's job did not allow him to be soft- he was still not nearly as banged up as them. Their much smaller one looked like an anger projected onto his skin.
But he made exaggerated breaths, their own breaths mirroring his. The soft feeling of his on their head helped to calm them down.
"I'm sitting in eggs, aren't I?"
And he laughs a bit, probably from the absurdity and slightly dazed voices that they spoke in.
"We're sitting in eggs." As if to make his point, his legs shifted. Blocked off more of the potential danger from them. "You, uh, might need to have a shower again."
"Probably."
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A federal judge on Monday dismissed the classified documents case against Donald Trump, a shock ruling that clears away one of the major legal challenges facing the former president.
In a 93-page ruling, District Judge Aileen Cannon said the appointment of special counsel Jack Smith violated the Constitution. She did not rule on whether Trump’s alleged mishandling of classified documents was proper or not.
“In the end, it seems the Executive’s growing comfort in appointing ‘regulatory’ special counsels in the more recent era has followed an ad hoc pattern with little judicial scrutiny,” Cannon wrote.
The ruling by Cannon, a judge Trump appointed in 2020, comes on the first day of the Republican National Convention. Even though a trial before the presidential election was considered highly unlikely, many legal experts had viewed the classified documents case as the strongest one of the four cases that were pending against the former president.
The White House referred requests for comment to the Justice Department. Smith’s office has not responded to a call for comment.
Smith had charged Trump last year with taking classified documents from the White House and resisting the government’s attempts to retrieve the materials. He pleaded not guilty.
In a separate criminal case brought by Smith against Trump in Washington, DC, the special counsel was pursuing federal charges stemming from Trump’s attempts to overturn the results of the 2020 election. Trump also faces a state-level election subversion case in Georgia and he was convicted of state crimes in New York earlier this year for his role in a hush money payment scheme before the 2016 election.
Trump’s efforts to dismiss the case under the appointments clause was seen as a long shot, as several special counsels – even during his own presidential administration – were run the same way.
But the fringe argument gained steam when Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas threw his support behind the theory, writing in a footnote in the high court’s presidential immunity decision that there are “serious questions whether the Attorney General has violated that structure by creating an office of the Special Counsel that has not been established by law. Those questions must be answered before this prosecution can proceed.”
Still, Cannon held a hearing on the issue several weeks ago, pushing attorneys to explain exactly how Smith’s investigation into Trump was being funded. The judge’s questions were so pointed that special counsel attorney James Pearce argued that, even if Cannon were to throw out the case due to an appointments clause issue, the Justice Department was “prepared” to fund Smith’s cases through trial if necessary.
Cannon said in her order that the special counsel’s position “effectively usurps” Congress’ “important legislative authority” by giving it to the head of a department – DOJ, in this case – to appoint such an official.
“If the political branches wish to grant the Attorney General power to appoint Special Counsel Smith to investigate and prosecute this action with the full powers of a United States Attorney, there is a valid means by which to do so,” she wrote.
COULD CASE BE REVIVED?
Cannon said in her ruling Monday that the Justice Department “could reallocate funds to finance the continued operation of Special Counsel Smith’s office,” but said it’s not yet clear whether a newly-brought case would pass legal muster.
“For more than 18 months, Special Counsel Smith’s investigation and prosecution has been financed by substantial funds drawn from the Treasury without statutory authorization, and to try to rewrite history at this point seems near impossible,” Cannon wrote. “The Court has difficulty seeing how a remedy short of dismissal would cure this substantial separation-of-powers violation, but the answers are not entirely self-evident, and the caselaw is not well developed.”
She noted in her ruling that Smith’s team “suggested” at a court hearing on the matter that they could restructure the office’s funding to satisfy her concerns.
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Edgeworth’s Glasses
Fair warning, I haven’t played Investigations or SOJ yet but I’ve made some observations recently and I’d like to share them with the AA community.
People talk about Edgeworth's glasses in DD sometimes but something I’ve gotten fixated on is the fact that he takes off his glasses during his trials. It stands out to me so much like; they went through the trouble of ANIMATING him taking off his glasses and for what? Like there has to be a reason for this and nobody really talks about it?
And then I considered his father; his father has glasses, his father was a lawyer; his father, his inspiration and motivation. And yes, people have obviously pointed out how his father wore glasses and how similar Miles looks to his father in his 30’s but there has to be symbolism in him removing his glasses during trials- and then it hit me.
Gregory Edgeworth is a defense attorney, Miles Edgeworth is not. Miles wears his glasses during the investigation segments, he wears them during his investigations likely. He takes them off during court, Miles Edgeworth carries on his father's legacy through his investigations; and only his investigations. He cannot continue his father's legacy through that avenue anymore, that’s not who he is anymore. He carries his father's legacy; he is his father when he’s investigating, he searches for the truth in life and investigations and court, but he’s not that same little boy anymore.
His outlook on life has changed, he never will go back to being that little boy again because he’s watched the consequences of criminals going free. And that’s okay; because he’s still Miles Edgeworth, he still wears his glasses, just not during court.
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