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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years

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Prompt: Skizz discovers Impulse is a traitor early?

well hello there :D hope this is as good as whatever you had in mind! cuz i dont think i got exactly that lol

...

You whisper to impulseSV: We need to talk. ASAP.

Skizz paces back and forth in his room, anxiously waiting for a response. He hasn’t told anyone what he saw yet; even though he knows he probably should, he just doesn’t want to face it. Something inside him is telling him it’s not true, that there has to be a reasonable explanation. He can’t spread this information before he finds out whether or not it’s true.

impulseSV whispers to you: okay, meet me at my villager hole

Skizz jumps into action and rushes out of the building. He doesn’t tell anyone where he’s going, which might be a big mistake.

He runs all the way to Impulse’s villager hole and bursts in through the non-trapped door. But Impulse is nowhere in sight.

Frowning, Skizz spots a trapdoor with a ladder visible under it that wasn’t there before. He carefully climbs down the ladder and finds himself in an almost pitch black underground room, about the same size as the interior of Dogwarts.

Skizz walks out into the middle of the room, looking around in awe.

“Skizz,” comes Impulse’s voice.

“Gah!” Skizz nearly jumps out of his skin. “Don’t do that! Where are you?”

Impulse materialises out of the darkness. “Hey. Did you come alone?”

“Yeah, I did. I gotta talk to you.”

“So talk.”

Skizz takes a deep breath. “I, uh… I saw you earlier today, meeting with the crastle people. I didn’t hear much of what you said, just something about “gaining their trust”. That… Impulse, you’re on our side, right? You’re just pretending to be friends with them?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” replies Impulse easily. Too easily.

Skizz frowns. “Impulse, please tell me it’s not true. Tell me you’re not betraying us for THEM.”

“I’m not betraying anyone,” says Impulse defensively. “You know me; I’m not capable of that. You… do know that, right?”

“I…” Skizz stares at his best friend. “A few hours ago, I’d have said no. But now… I think you’re capable of anything. Tell me the truth, Impulse. Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, of course.”

“You’re doing it again! Switching on the ol’ Impulse charm and saying exactly what the other person wants to hear. You know that doesn’t work on me, buddy. I’ve known you far too long.” Skizz narrows his eyes. “You’re a mole. You pretended to join us but you’re on their side and you’re gonna betray us for them. Am I wrong?”

After a moment, Impulse wordlessly turns away, all but confirming Skizz’s suspicions.

Skizz’s stomach drops. “Oh, god… I trusted you! You- You traitor!”

Impulse sighs. “This is just like you, Skizz: running over here to confront me alone cuz you couldn’t POSSIBLY fathom that you might’ve been wrong about me. Did it ever occur to you that maybe this world changes people? That you can’t truly trust anyone but yourself?”

“No!” Skizz snaps. “I trust Ren and I trust Martyn and Etho and I DID trust YOU!”

“And that’s gonna be your downfall.”

He suddenly shoves Skizz to the ground. Before his friend can react, Impulse brings his foot down hard on Skizz’s ankle.

Skizz screams as they both hear it crack. The pain is immense; it’s definitely fractured, if not broken completely.

“See the thing is, I can’t have you running around blabbing about this to anyone,” Impulse says casually. “But at the same time, I can’t just kill you because that would show up in chat. So I think it’s time I test out my brand new trap and see how deadly it is.”

Tears of pain and anger fall from Skizz’s eyes as he stares into the cold, harsh eyes of the man he used to call his brother. “Wh-Why, Impulse…? Why would you d-do this to me…?”

Impulse just shrugs. “I’m just playing the game, Skizz. Sorry.”

With that, he turns and walks away into the darkness.

“Impulse!” cries Skizz, his vision completely obscured by tears. “IMPULSE! DON’T LEAVE ME! PLEASE!”

He hears the click of a lever being pulled in the darkness, followed immediately by pistons moving. His breathing quickening, he rolls onto his side and pushes himself up, but as soon as he puts weight on his left ankle, he knows he’s not going to be able to use it.

A familiar growl pierces the air, causing him to freeze.

A zombie.

More growls.

A LOT of zombies.

The first one that appears through the darkness nearly gives him a heart attack. He manages to slice it down with his sword, but by then, three more have ganged up on him. Trying to back away, he finds himself completely surrounded by a horde of at least two dozen zombies.

“NO!” he screams. “HELP ME! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!”

The zombies’ claws dig into his skin, and at least two of them manage to bite his arms. Players are able to resist being turned into a zombie through a bite but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Accidentally putting weight on his injured ankle again, Skizz collapses to the ground and curls up in a ball, trying to protect his head and neck. Impulse was clever; he hurt Skizz’s ankle on purpose so he could neither run nor fight for long.

This is it for him. They’re going to kill him.

All of a sudden, a battle yell echoes in the darkness, followed immediately by the sound of zombies taking damage. Multiple zombies taking damage at once. Someone’s come to save him.

The zombies attacking Skizz move away to target this new threat, but they’re no match for whoever it is. Within a minute, all the zombies in the room have been eliminated.

“Skizz!” comes Etho’s voice. “Are you okay?!”

Severely weakened and on the verge of passing out from the pain, Skizz looks up at his friend, unable to muster the words to reply. His vision is swimming, but he can just about see two figures kneeling beside him.

Etho and Martyn. They came to save him.

That’s the last thought in his mind before he passes out.

…

“-is definitely broken. But not like he fell from somewhere and landed on it. More like someone stomped on it until it broke.”

“What?! Who would do something like that?!” “I don’t know. Hopefully Skizz can shed some light on this when he wakes up. Oh my goodness, Ren, you should have seen how many zombies there were. I don’t think it was a coincidence.”

“So… you’re saying someone tried to murder Skizzle? Broke his ankle so he couldn’t get away from the zombies?”

“Yeah, I think so. And we think it was Impulse, too. Etho and I didn’t see anyone else around except him, and the hole was under his villager place as well, so we- Oh, look! I think he’s awake!”

Skizz lets out a quiet groan, his eyes slowly opening. As his vision adjusts to the light, he registers Martyn and Ren by his side, and the interior of his bedroom back at Dogwarts behind them.

“Hey, Skizzles,” says Ren gently. “How are you feeling?”

Blinking slowly, Skizz looks down at his arms and finds them covered in bandages. Beyond them, he can see his ankle elevated in a cast. Nothing hurts anymore, to his relief.

“Alive,” he rasps. “For good or for bad.”

“What happened?” Martyn asks. “Do you remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” Skizz tries to suppress a sniffle at the traumatic memory. “It was Impulse. He’s a backstabbing traitor and he tried to kill me to stop me from telling you.”

Ren gasps, but Martyn just shakes his head, an anguished expression on his face. “I should’ve known. There were so many little clues but he explained them away so well, I just…”

“He had us all fooled,” Ren murmurs. “I’m just glad we managed to get to you before he got away with murdering you. If he had, we’d never have known, and we would’ve continued to trust him.”

“How- How did you find me?” Skizz asks. “I didn’t tell you where I was going.”

“Etho and I went looking for you cuz we hadn’t seen you in a while,” replies Martyn. “We just happened to be at Impulse’s villager pen when we heard you screaming. Luckily, Impulse had just left and I don’t think he heard you, or he might have tried to kill us too.”

His upper lip curls in an expression of disgust. “We bumped into him right there and it was like nothing was wrong. It makes me sick to think that he was up there chit-chatting to us about his villagers like everything was fine, knowing full well he’d literally just abandoned you to be murdered by a horde of zombies. That goes beyond 3rd Life; that’s… that’s just pure evil.”

Skizz nods slowly. “Yeah, something’s not right with him anymore. Whoever that was… it’s not my Impulse. Something’s changed him.”

“Well, either way, at least you’re alive and his treachery has been exposed,” Ren says. “And we will take our revenge on him for trying to kill you. As soon as he’s red, we take him down.”

“Why wait?” asks Martyn, frowning. “Why not kill him now, while he’s on yellow?”

“Because if we do, he’ll harbour a grudge and try to take revenge on US for killing him once he’s red. And if yellow life Impulse is THAT dangerous, imagine what he can do on red. It’s better to wait and come up with a plan so when he becomes red, we can take him out immediately and prevent further carnage.”

A shiver runs down Skizz’s spine. It feels horrible to be discussing killing his best friend when they had been so close only hours before. Despite everything Impulse has done, he doesn’t actually want him to die. He still loves his brother, no matter what.

Even though he’d love nothing more than to punch him in his stupid face right now.

“Skizz?” says Martyn softly. “You okay?”

Skizz clears his throat. “Y-Yeah. I think I will be.”

Eventually.

#3rd life smp #3rdlifesmp #skizzleman #inthelittlewood #impulsesv #rendog #etho #vaunna’s requests

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hanalwayssolo · 5 years

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Coming Up Roses

A/N: First commissioned piece for my lovely pal, @blindedstarlight! Partly inspired by 500 Days of Summer sans the angst, consider this awkward fluff just in time for, well, pre-Valentines. Or something to that effect lol

Also tagging some pals! @valkyrieofardyn @gowithme @emmydots @bleucommelhiver @hanatsuki89 @raspberryandechinacea @noboomoon @animakupo

Link on AO3

Day 70

Today is Tuesday, and your tight-fitting shirt is the colour of a sinful red. Like a bright danger sign breaching his field of view, Cor immediately notices you even out of the corner of his eye as soon as you enter the Citadel training room. You do not meet his eyes, but the sight of you drags him out of focus.

And to think that Cor never, ever loses his focus.

So he misses a step. Fumbles in a split second. His reflexes fail him that Clarus’s fist lands on his face, the swing of the wooden sword sending him flying across the room.

A loud, resounding thud echoes as Cor crashes gracelessly on the hardwood floor. A sharp pain seizes his whole body, and he is aching all over. His head is pounding as if he had also been hit with a lead pipe. A shrill ringing in his ears is deafening that he does not hear the hurrying footsteps, the worried whispers, the swift gathering of familiar faces hovering over his head.

“Shit,” he hisses sharply under his breath, squeezes his eyes shut. What a way to make a fool of myself in front of—

“Are you okay?”

Your voice startles him out of his wits. And when he opens his eyes, yours is the first face he sees.

In a jolt, Cor hauls himself up to sit. Your concern should not have surprised him, but it did. After all, you’re one of the resident medics, and even if you are strictly assigned to the Kingsglaive, looking after the whole Lucian force is your duty.

And of all the medics that had to see him in his shameful hour, it just had to be you.

“Uh, I’m fine. Better than fine,” Cor says, which is an obviously poor lie on his part. He rubs the back of his neck, his head mildly throbbing. Behind you, he can see Clarus eyeing him with a wicked smile on his face.

“Wait—“ you kneel beside him, carefully taking his face into your hands— “you really sure? No head pain, or anything?”

Cor nods. He only hopes that you cannot feel the swell of heat that rises in his cheeks. “Yes, very sure.”

“Well, Cor is a man of steel,” Clarus chimes in, arms folded over his chest. “Someone of his calibre should have his ego checked from time to time. And I wouldn’t have taken him down from his pedestal today, if it weren’t for you, the Achilles’ heel—“

“Clarus.” Cor’s menacing glare is as sharp as his sword, it might have sliced Clarus in half. But Clarus, or course, remains unfazed.

Meanwhile, you raise a confused eyebrow to the both of them. “Uh, am I missing something here?”

“Oh, nothing much—don’t mind us,” Clarus says, beaming a grin. “And don’t worry, I’ll see to it that Cor is as fit as a fiddle.”

“If you both say so,” you say as you hold out your hand and help Cor back on his feet. You give him a smile, and Cor watches you walk away to return to your Kingsglaive friends on the other side of the training hall.

Cor exhales a heavy sigh. “I’m going to kill you for that, Clarus.”

“Back to your threatening habits, I see,” Clarus teases. He rests his arm on Cor’s shoulder. “You know, you could just tell her.”

“Not your business.”

“Wait until Reggie hears about this, then it will be our business.”

“Fuck you,” sneers Cor, shrugging Clarus’s arm off of him.

“Me? Shouldn’t it be fuck her—”

“I’ll tell Joy about this.”

Clarus laughs. “My wife would only be pleased, that I can assure you.” He claps a hand on Cor’s shoulder and says, “Now, don’t you want a rematch to avenge your lovesick clumsiness?”

“This time I will really beat your ass,” Cor says, all smug. A large part of him is still reeling from the warmth of your hand in his, and how awfully perfect you look in that sultry shade of red...

Maybe it really is about time I tell her, he quietly ruminates as he picks up his sword, ready to swing for another round.

Day 45

For the record—his own internal record, that is—Cor is never the type to have a crush. He is also never the type to have a crush on someone to the point of unconsciously knowing all their favourite things, let alone looking forward to what colour of shirt they would be wearing. That may have been Clarus’s thing back in his bachelor days, or some other guy who tends to obsess, but definitely not him. He swears this fact upon his life and his honour.

But ever since he got to know you a little bit better, with all the times you have been spending with him on and off council meetings, he may have that oath completely compromised.

Case in point: he remembers random things about you. You may have briefly shared your interests in a passing exchange or on one of those long conversations you two have had when you were forced to work late in the Citadel, but best believe Cor has it all memorized: from your favourite ice cream flavour to music genres to flowers, down to your usual order at Kenny Crow’s.

Then there comes the matter of your shirts. It is never his intention to look forward to what you’ll be wearing, but at this rate, he knows how you’re much more likely to wear cooler colours on training days with the Glaive; darker ones on days when you are balancing your shift in the infirmary. He has seen you wear every shade of blue and green, but not red. Anything but red. He’ll probably lose his shit once he finally sees you in his favourite colour; he’s already certain that no one will rock red the same way you would.

But today is one of those days that you are wearing neither shade of blue and green. Because as you enter his office, he almost spills his coffee when he sees you in white. And not just any white shirt—a white summer dress, to be precise.

“So here are the physical exam results of the new recruits you requested,” you say by way of greeting. “Monica’s been called by Clarus for an urgent meeting, so she asked me to turn this over to you.”

Right. It was Monica who’s supposed to deliver these results, not you in this godsend of a dress. His dreary office—the oaken shelves, the soulless furnishing—is somehow brightened by your presence. And it’s not even helping how well-lit his office is, streaming in morning sunshine to favour this sight of you. For a brief moment, he struggles to tear his eyes away—until he finally notices that in your arms are a handful of folders, and that you’re gingerly eyeing for a spot to unload all of it.

“I, uh, shit —sorry, here—” In a sudden rush of panic, he sets down his coffee cup, and hastily clears some of the books and binders strewn all over. “You may leave it there. Thanks for your help.”

You neatly place the files over the newly vacated space on his desk. “You’re welcome—“

“Uh, you look really pretty today.” The words stumble out of Cor without warning, as if his tongue had lost its brakes. Fuck. He fidgets at the edge of his seat, stammering to backpedal, “I mean, not just today —sorry, you look pretty everyday, but, you know—“

“No, it’s okay, Cor. Um, well—“ you purse your lips, struggling to stifle the hearty giggle, and is that a blush Cor is seeing on your face? “Thank you. I’m taking the half day off to meet someone, hence—“ you gesture awkwardly up and down your body— “the dress.”

“Oh.” The oh slips out of Cor in a disappointed exhale. His voice evidently drops along with his heart. “Right. I see—“

“But it’s not a date, though,” you say quickly, defensively. “Not that I needed to clarify that bit, but um, yeah.”

“Okay.” Cor nods and laughs sheepishly—but mostly out of a bizarre relief, thank the gods— as he reaches for the back of his neck. “You must be in a hurry—I’m sorry for keeping you.”

You smile. “Don’t mention it. See you around.”

As Cor watches you walk out of his office, all he could bother to think about is how badly he wants you to stay. Stay for a little while, just one more second and I wouldn’t ask for more.

Day 3

When Cor visits the infirmary to retrieve a couple of meds for his headache one dull Thursday morning, the new face that greets him stops him halfway through the door.

“How may I help you?” you ask amiably, a pleasing smile on your face. He briefly scans the room; there is no one else present except for you, the infirmary surprisingly vacant and ascetic: empty beds, clinical equipment properly arranged, the medical cabinets maintained in orderly perfection. Even your desk is sanctified with cleanliness. Not a single sheet of paper astray from your outgoing tray.

“I need some Advil,” Cor says, slumping heavily at the seat across from you as if he is carrying the entire world on his shoulder. “Headache.”

“Oh, alright.” Your smile is suddenly eclipsed by a rather concerned look. You slide him a pen and a sheet of paper tucked in a clipboard. “Please sign your name here and I’ll be right back in a jiffy.” As he quickly fills up the form, his head still in the verge of splitting into pieces, you hastily retreat behind the white curtains, and you emerge a couple of minutes later with a packet of capsules.

Cor returns the clipboard back to you. “So, sir…” You trail off, scanning the sheet, and Cor sees your eyes widen. “Oh. So you’re the Cor Leonis.”

“That I am.” Cor tries to give you a small smile, only that it appears to be more of a weak wince.

You scribble something on the paper. “Have you eaten something in the last couple of hours?”

“No, not yet.”

Your lips quirk sideways. You look at Cor as if you are about to pass some judgment; he could sense how you are studying his face with the way your eyes are fixed on him with a more intensified concern. Then, you say, “I don’t mean to prolong your agony, but will you promise me that if I give this to you—“ you wave the packet in your hand— “you’ll first grab a proper meal before you take this?”

“I, uh—“ Cor scratches his cheek, eyeing you curiously— “sure, yes.”

You raise a skeptical brow. “On your honour as a soldier?”

Cor laughs. “Of course.”

You give him one last look of hesitation before you finally hand him the medication. “Heed my advice, marshal.” Another bright smile crosses your face. For a brief second, Cor forgets to breathe.

New Girl is what his peers in the Crownsguard call you. Our Lady is what he often hears from the Kingsglaive. He never understood why the Kingsglaive seemed to be overprotective with their newly hired medic, but he finally understands all their territorial bullshit.

On his way back to his office, he does heed your advice, but he no longer finds the need to take the pill.

Day 4

No one from your newfound friends in the Kingsglaive warned you about Cor the Immortal. Specifically, no one warned you how infuriatingly handsome he is in person.

You’ve only heard of his name either on the many broadcasts on the radio or television, or came across his impressive exploits in the pages of The Insomnian Gazette. Not a single portrait of him, nor even a single footage of an interview, was ever made public. He never graced the spotlight of his fame; he seemed to hide behind the shadows of all the other great men before him. You can only guess that he’s probably camera shy. Or that he chose to eliminate anyone who ever dared take his photo.

So you were left to speculate what the Cor Leonis actually looked like. In your head, you imagined a fearsome man with cruel eyes who had no idea how to smile, or laugh.

But as soon as you saw his name on the form—in quite a neat handwriting, no less—the face sitting across from you is far from the image you had in mind. In fact, he is quite the opposite.

He has such kind eyes, a striking shade of blue. His handsome face has gracefully wizened, and is set to a perpetual frown. And whatever confidence that possessed you to hold a conversation with him, you gladly thank the gods. Because when he laughs the moment you question his honour—a fucking bold move in exchange for that packet of Advil—you can promise that his laughter could light up an entire city. You can also promise that his smile knocked the wind out of your lungs.

Day 46

“Monica set you up—” Crowe says before taking another swig from her bottle of beer— “and that’s ‘cause I asked her to.”

“You son of a bitch,” you say loudly, trying to compete with the rest of the boisterous chatter of the other Glaives sitting on the other side of Yamachang’s joint. The decadent reek of the grilled garula kebabs wafts the air. It is sweltering hot.

“So how did it go?” Nyx sidles up to the vacant seat next to you, bottle of beer in hand. “Did you blow him away seeing you in that outfit?”

“I don’t know, actually. I think I made it awkward. I even explained that it’s not for a date, but I didn’t tell him it’s ‘cause I’m meeting my parents, and…” You heave an exasperated sigh. “And I don’t think he even likes me that way—”

“Y’know, my good friend—” Nyx loops one arm around your shoulder— “you and Cor are smart in your respective fields, but gods forbid, you two are also the dumbest people I’ve met when it comes to the matters of the heart.”

Your face wrinkles into a confused frown. “What does that even mean?”

Both Nyx and Crowe shake their heads. “May the gods save us all,” Crowe says before she downs the rest of her drink.

Day 70

“I still don’t understand why you’re not telling him,” Monica says as she eases behind her desk in the infirmary, busily multitasking stacking her Crownsguard records and offering you her kind advice.

“It’s not that easy, okay.” You take a fist of almonds from your drawer and begin eating them aggressively. “Besides—” you say in between chews— “he’s just so…”

“So?”

“So handsome.”

“Gods, forgive the man for being blessed by an aesthetically beautiful face.” Monica laughs. She types in something on her keyboard before she swivels to look at you. “But really, what do you have to lose?”

“Well, my pride, for one.” You step away from your desk and sit in front of Monica. “And he’s been a good friend to me. And I don’t want to compromise that just because I like him, and I do like him a lot. I probably like Cor more than I like life itself.”

Monica says nothing. Instead, a teasing smile creeps up on her face. She has fallen way too quiet, and you immediately notice how she is casting a furtive glance on the door behind you...

Shit. You hesitate to turn around. Your heart is pounding loudly against your chest. “Please don’t tell me he’s standing right by the doorway.”

Monica shrugs, rising out of her desk. “I think I’ll let the two of you sort this out.”

As you turn to watch Monica leave, you see Cor leaning against the doorframe.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He walks over to you, unable to hide the smile on his face. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“Right.” You bite your lip. You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. “So how much have you heard then—”

The burning question is extinguished at the tip of your tongue when he takes your face in his hands, his lips crushing yours. In this kiss, he makes it clear that he has heard every word you’ve said. That the feeling is very much the same. That he also likes you more than he likes life itself.

He thumbs the sides of your cheeks, pressing another kiss on your forehead. “I think you should know that I really like you in red.”

You laugh. “I better buy more red shirts, then.”

“And I hope you don’t mind if I keep you this time around.”

The smile on your face aches. “I would like that very much.”

#final fantasy xv #ffxv fanfiction #ffxv #cor leonis #cor x reader #my writing #writing commissions

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canaryatlaw · 6 years

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so today was alright, nothing special really but fine. Woke up at 7, same as every day, left a little early so I could drop my lunch off at the office before heading to court. upon getting to court there was some short-lived miscommunication issues that I don’t want to spell out because I’ll just get pissed about them all over again but they were resolved rather quickly and the rest of the morning was fine. at one point the lawyer I was with sent me to the other side of the floor (there are two parallel hallways on the outside ends of the building with the elevator/stairs in the middle, so I was running from one hallway to the other) to put a hold on a case, and as soon as I got to that hallway I was met by one of the other attorney’s who just sent off boy lawyer to another courtroom to step up on a case and handed me a folder and said “I need you to step on this case that’s about to be called in this courtroom, all you have to say is you need time to issue an alias summons” and I managed to say the other lawyer had asked me to put a hold on the former case and she said she’d take care of it, then she was gone and I was like alright, it’s showtime, folks. these are incremental steps forward that won’t matter in a week (swearing in a week from tomorrow!!) but last time it was my first time stepping up without someone in the room watching me but I didn’t actually say anything, so this was my first time actually saying something, even though it was very simplistic and easy. The fact that we were needing to issue an alias summons also meant there wasn’t going to be an OPC to deal with so that makes it easier. I go in and wait a few cases, then it gets called and I’m a tad bit of a mess, I drop my phone on my way to the bench with a loud thud, then awkwardly pick it up and run to the bench. the actual talking was easy of course, I just said what I was told and he said time granted get a 35 day date and then it was the next case. the only issue now was that I had ran out with just my phone, all my stuff was in the other courtroom, including my pen. so I had to awkwardly ask to borrow a pen from one of the lawyers sitting at the counsel table so I could furiously write down what he said, and then I had to wait to get a date from the clerk which I would still need the pen for and I’m like a hot mess and keep being like “I’m sorry do you need it back??” but he was chill and like “it’s ok, I forget pens a lot so I understand” which I appreciated. Got the date, got the order entered, and it was done. Two Mondays from now that’s gonna be the whole operation, just me handling cases, which is still kind of crazy but I know it’s something I’ll get used to quickly and adapt just fine, so I’m not really concerned. I used my deduction skills to figure out what courtroom that lawyer would be in (meaning I figured out which lawyer she was covering for and where she would be at that point) and returned her folder to her before going back to find my original lawyer. we did a couple other random things before she said I could go back to the office, she was hanging around for a hearing in the afternoon, so I took the train back to the office. and oh, the projects I’ve been given. it’s seemed like they all came out of nowhere, and I got another one today to draft an amended complaint after they fucked up the first one and it was gonna get dismissed, so now I have to fix it but I’m still stuck with the fucked up argument, I can just add an actually good one. So I tabled that for the moment so I could go back to working on the response to defendant’s motion to reconsider denial of summary judgment (nice short name) that I had been working on yesterday. I felt like I was back in legal writing class because I was comparing their motion to the arguments we made in the reply to the initial motion for summary judgment and trying to adapt them the best I can. So I was trying to figure out if I wanted to find a way to distinguish the case law they listed but I figured there wasn’t a super strong way to do that, so instead I argued that the evidence we put forward met the standard they claimed we hadn’t met rather than arguing the standard itself was incorrect. then they had listed a bunch of case law regarding speculative conclusions and the like and rather then spend the time tearing each of those apart I instead opted to be like all of that is completely irrelevant because it’s referencing standards at trial, and this is a summary judgment motion with a different standard that doesn’t require us to do any of the things you just listed. so hopefully that comes out as a good argument lol. I’m not too worried because the chances a judge is actually going to reverse themselves on a motion to reconsider (in front of the same judge who made the first ruling) is fairly low, so it shouldn’t be an issue. it was a bit short, but I decided to send it over as a first draft to see where the lawyer would like me to expound the argument further. so I felt pretty good about that, even if it was a bit short. I ate some of my left over mac and cheese from dinner last night for lunch, then did a few case audits, and after that one of the big guys who had asked me to do some research on the complaints about that big tort case issue in a suburb outside Illinois (it’s not like, a secret or anything, if you’re really curious you can google “sterigenics willow brook” and you’ll find plenty of info) stopped by and asked if I got to it yet and I said I was just finishing up on this and would take a look now. specifically what he wanted was for me to find the complaints other firms had filed on the issue, and at first I was like, do I even know where I would look for those? So I looked at the court website and then went to lexisnexis, and with a few well-placed search filters and keywords I found the 18 complaints that had been placed. So I started reading them and made a summary form for them, listing stuff like law firm, plaintiff’s diagnosis, counts, etc. and went through the rest of them. There was an interesting venue issue so when I figured out what that was I went to tell him and he asked me to print the complaint, so I did that and then read the rest of the cases and summarized them, then delivered to him the printed complaint with the summary of it on top and the summaries of the rest of the complaints so he could decide if there were other ones he wanted to read, as they did have some significant differences as far as counts and such go. I didn't end up doing all 18 because there were several from the same firm that were virtually identical except for the plaintiff’s info, so that wouldn’t have been necessary. It was almost 5 when I finished with that, and I checked my email to find out what files I was supposed to take home, then ran downstairs to pick them up, then stuck them back with my stuff and headed out. Got on the red line and jumped off at the stop by Target because they’ve been bugging me to pick up a prescription they autofilled and I didn’t actually need yet, but oh well, I needed to pick up pads and pens as well as I only have like one pen right now lol. So I did that then hopped back on the train, only to find I was in the same car with the guy I share an office with, which was weird because I obviously had left before him so I had to explain my target run and all that lol which was funny. Got off at my stop and saw plenty of trick or treaters on the streets while I was walking home (if any of them asked me who I was dressed as I was going to say “a very tired lawyer who wants to go home” 😂😂), and I made it home fine. Got more comfortable clothes on, made some dinner out of the leftovers I have, then sat down at the tv only to realize there was no Riverdale on tonight, so instead I switched to the recorded shows I hadn’t been able to watch yet, starting with The Resident. Pretty solid episode, the opening scene may just straight up give me nightmares and that was unnecessary but I get where they were going with it. I then moved on to 911 which is always a fairly emotional show but in this episode they had to put down an injured horse and I swear to fucking I was crying to the point where I was on the verge of sobbing. like it was just so damn emotional I’m tearing up right now just thinking about it. So kudos to them for a very moving episode, with the other stories as well being very well done, especially the one with the bones. Moved onto Blindspot afterwards, was somewhat distracted but got the basics down, pretty interesting episode and a solid flip of the dynamic we’re used to. My roommate had gotten home and was in the shower at that point so I watched some Seinfeld that happened to be on while I waited for the shower, then once I got in there and showered I did the rest of my bedtime routine, ending with publishing the post, meaning I’ve now reached the finish line and will be going to bed now. Goodnight dearies. Love you lots.

#daily journal #October 2018 #Rachel's lawyer adventures

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