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ruby-red-inky-blue · 2 years ago

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random notes on naddpod c1 ep 1-45

shared here in lieu of chewing my very indifferent friends' ears off irl. For whom it may concern. also why do i keep thinking i could keep these to a single post. this campaign has a hundred episodes.

spoiler warning! you will get no context but still

Scoutmaster Denny *murdered* me. The voice, the whole deal. I started this podcast on a trainride and fully lost it over Denny in public

“Let’s cast waterwalking on the boat!” “…Emily, that’s just a boat.”

Hardwon on the dumb mating call idea: "can't we just break a bunch of sticks or something? why do we have to make it horny?" and Murph losing the fucking plot in the background

DM lightly threatens player’s pet, endangers his marriage, more at 10

JONAH

“The animals are going batshit. Even the bats.”

legit every time they describe someone and then land on "they're just hot" almost nothing they describe works for me, it's kind of hilarious

also a truly staggering percentage of the NPCs are naked

Moonshine is saved by an almost literal Deus Ex Machina as Pawpaw descends from the Heavens carried by a very helpful centaur

The reaction to the last remaining dude attacking Beverly in the Ezry lab cracked me up. “We’re trying to watch a cutscene! Read the room!”

whenever Emily shows the slightest hint of disappointment or frustration the world will immediately alter just a little to make her feel better (like retroactively making the stairs unsafe because Emily saved a whole spell slot to climb the wall of the tower). This is the cutest shit and also it took them TWELVE episodes to call Murph out on it

(I'm much further into the podcast now and i can't believe none of them have tried to weaponise this blatant weakness even once)

A BROOMBA is sweeping the floor

nothing is better than Murph doing Pawpaw but his fucked-up sounding seagull is a close second. Truly capturing the personality of those damn bastards, the man is the king of the garbage critters

Emily feels SO guilty about sending this dumb bird to die

Coming into this with the only prior experience of DnD being Brennan and Aabria is kind of wild. Like D20 campaigns you'll get the big philosphical speeches for the emotional beats and here's Murph with an equally heartfelt "Life just sucks ass, you know?"

Hardwon finding out about his parents is SUCH a good scene

“Are they bioluminescent?” “No.” “Can they be?” “Yeah, okay.” (16/17)

“Get out of town!” “I can’t, I’m a mushroom. I just stay here.”

Emily: “Oh, scrying means spying!” “It doesn’t, but-“ Murph, .2 seconds within Emily getting ‘um actually’-ied on dnd: “It does in this game, wiseass.”

Ol' Cobb’s big day!

When Hardwon goes down and the whole table has to watch Murph fight this intense squirmish against himself. Just a guy rolling dice and talking to himself. God that’s so funny (19/20)

Bev’s big day! Also Bev’s first kiss! (19-20)

they’re really going all out for Ol' Cobb. Now he has a tragic lovestory too! (21)

“The High Elves believe that they were banished because they were cousins who wanted to get married. The Crick Elves believe they were third cousins at most. The truth is somewhere in-between.” “Second cousins?” “They were second cousins.”

Not to be cheesy on main but the Crick is such a love letter. Like it’s so obvious how much care and heart went into this almagation of all the silly asides Emily has thrown out

I have one (1) American irl friend and they're from a smalltown in North Carolina so all I'm hearing is people approximating my friend's accent with varying consistency and success

the Crick sounds like paradise and my worst nightmare, simultaneously

having Pawpaw's mother speak and also speak in the most matter-of-fact serious tone (22) is the funniest thing to ever happen. truly inspired.

Hardwon swears fealty to a middle-aged possum? what is happening

Jake v Murph’s ice ban is priceless (23) - “I caught Jake downstairs shovelling ice into his drink out of a bucket with a scoop - you had a scoop! - and he tried to cover it up and hide it!” “It was a joke!” “It sounds like you got caught though! Can you get caught making a joke?” #lifttheiceban

“I’m sure people will get the expedited version of the puzzle solving section-“ “No, give them the nine-hour cut, with just a full hour of us screaming at Murph begging for the answer.” “Join us for our new podcast, Puzzle Dullards.” (23)

Increasingly chaotic openings: “I am furious and I am also Brian Murphy” “If you edit out all my binks, I swear to Melora I’ll… I’m gonna pants you in your sleep!” (24)

Moonshine describing marble as “polite rock”

Emily attempts some straight up gaslighting: “Can I summon Illuminate Mystery?” “…that’s not… that’s not a real spell, you jerk.”

“Murph, if you kill Meemaw regardless of what happens in the fog just because it’s narratively interesting, I will sleep on the couch. For months.” “If Murph sleeps on the couch, is that a Murphy bed?” “No, I’ll sleep on the couch.” “Okay, if Meemaw dies, Emily will be punishing herself.” (25)

Not Murph giving Moonshine crickrot only to be audibly distressed when Emily is sad about it (26)

And then channeling this distress through her fictional pet possum

Pawpaw really is the funniest self-insert character of all time

“Balnor, are you from WWI?” I adore this theory and wish it were canon. But also he talked about fridges a bunch so probably not?

Okay but in all seriousness the whole Marabelle arc is SO GOOD

And Hardwon’s earnest devotion to Mawmaw is actually oddly touching ngl

Murph as the voice of Hardwon’s drug addiction is *devious* (30)

That NPC casino employee making zero efforts at the pirate lingo

Siobhan’s character trying to talk to Pawpaw!! Pawpaw being described as Moonshine’s accountant!!

Literally my reaction whenever pawpaw makes an appearance:

Moonshine backing out of that threesome and opting back in like five times and also roping Balnor into it is GOLD

Genuinely the strategy to fake an immediate orgasm and sprint out in embarrassment is actually probably not the worst way to get out of a foursome? Maybe?

"And Siobhan Thompson as Apple Scrumper." "MVP! MVP! MVP!" "Yeah, Apple is the only one conscious right now." "Right now, MVP stands for Most Vertical Person."

Murph treating his Jersey accent like a full-on speech impediment

"Why are you writing that down? I haven't given you guys anything!" "This is Caldwell, out of character, trying to be helpful!" "No, this is Caldwell, out of character, wanting that money for Bev!"

(in)voluntary horse murder

Emily's thornwhip move!! her MIND

"So do we go and look for him or do I just cast Skywrite and make the clouds say something threatening to him?" "You're going to threaten him with clouds? Okay."

"LIAR! LIAR BOY! YOU'RE NOT A REAL GREEN TEEN!" "I would never lie! It's true! The stratosphere wouldn't allow for it, I'm sorry!"

Murph making a huge deal about how it would be impossible to see skywriting at night when the way bigger issue is that Moonshine is illiterate. They keep forgetting that and it's funny every time

Moonshine firmly believing that Pawpaw knows how to write and him just writing "MO" every time is my absolute favourite bit I hope it never ends

"Wait a minute, you're in the middle of a swamp and you summoned a big, beefy horse?" "Horses can swim! Horses can swim!" "We've all seen Neverending Story, okay?" [crowd boos] "I will kill your horse! I dare you to boo me!" "Don't boo, he thrives off of it..."

Murph is channeling so much rage at something workout related here. who hurt you

"You all killed my family! My friends!" "You also did that." "You might have killed more of them than we did." "Truly all I did was hold a door shut." This is vicious I forgot how off the walls fucked up the whole Josh thing was

"Shit now I gotta do math in front of people."

Caldwell's silly little poems are actually so fucking impressive tho

"What's the damage on that?" "Rolling still." that is SO ominous

Spent this entire fight thinking the Watchman was throwing I beams at the BOB. Deeply confused when Murph said his players would get mad at him if he didn’t count those as spells. They meant “eye beams” as in laser beams from his eyes, and bottom line is English sucks because you can’t communicate anything clearly

“Murph, you’re living it up in this city.” “Yeah, you’ve invented a city full of anti-goof robots.” “The anti-goof police is out in full force.”

Murph setting up a super high-stakes social environment where the cast cannot pull their usual shenanigans and then deciding this will also be the arc where all the NPCs relentlessly flirt at Moonshine is honestly hilarious

holy shit no punches are being pulled in first half of the Frostwind arc. yeesh

Their massively lame "Headgum does Red Wedding" bit

Emily's Melora bits finally went too far: "Oh, Melora is masturbating in the corner!" "... Jesus." "Eww! That's the worst one!" "That is some Blumhouse shit, Emily!"

I think this podcast is the first time I've ever heard the word “brazier” actually pronounced out loud, and I hate it! please stop saying it

Murph taking the occasional run up at the fourth wall to go 'hey this is pretty good! who wrote this' always amuses me. i get it, if I could do that with my own writing i would

the 'one big bed' bit warms my heart. They keep trying to make it weird but honestly i still mostly come away missing big sleepovers

"I'm not afraid of the elements! The nature of mushrooms is sort of -" "Moonshine... mushrooms don't grow here." *Moonshine's life flashes before her eyes*

I know Balnor just confirmed he was around post early 80s because he quoted ESB, but the way he reacted to that whole gnarly giant murder and disembowelment is *really* giving WWI vibes

Starting to suspect Murph also just learned how to pronounce brazier. There seem to be a weird amount of them around, nobody has a campfire or an oven or a hearth or a fireplace…

The life and times of Ram Daniel

“I can’t tell you what a bad place this was to do a blood ritual.” Oh what a good and reassuring thing to hear from your DM

Murph starting to rate their little intros and immediately getting "bullied" into changing Emily's grade to an A (43)

“I sing a quick Gashlight Anthem”

Emily rolling for her dream and dreaming about Pawpaw dissolving, “that’s a one roll you monster!”

Murph stop making fantasy meth sound fun challenge

This party being fifty percent functionally illiterate is somehow still funny

"Bev crit on finding Werther's one time, and then failed a check to see cannons coming at his house, and his mom, his boyfriend and his grandma almost died."

"Everyone is hot, everyone is horny, welcome to NADDPod" well at least he admits it

#naddpod c1 #carrie watches #(listen i have no tags for podcasts so)#i'm having a grand old time this is such a bingeable campaign #will have to relisten to the first arc at some point tho i had a hard time telling the voices apart at the start for some reason #honestly though do NOT recommend for ppl with body image issues there is a strange ongoing fixation going on #like mostly as a bit but it's still emphatically out there #naddpod #long post

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weyounbodycount · 2 years ago

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(Disclaimer: I know nothing about the Dog of War comic plot details other than the base premise. I am making all of this up because @lasernahrwal's comment was too funny, if Weyoun and Damar could be in the Dog of War story)

"You're up early." Weyoun accused as soon as he entered their conference room for the day. "What is that?"

Damar looked over his shoulder, nodding in greeting. "One of our scouts managed to snag some Federation cargo on its way to DS9. I was just inspecting it."

"That looks more... alive than most cargo we acquire." Weyoun walked up to the war table, hands worrying behind his back. On top of an offline screen sat a small animal, bigger than a Cardassian vole and much plumper and fluffier. It looked up at Weyoun with massive, too-innocent eyes and a happy, breathy smile.

Damar reached a tentative two fingers to tap the animal on its furry head. It preened with the attention. "According to reports it's an Earth 'corugi.' A common human pet, but listen to this intel we just intercepted. Apparently these little creatures have been infused with Borg implants. Specifically to identify Cardassian technology."

"Really?" Weyoun leaned over to inspect their jovial prisoner of war. "And that's been sanctioned by Starfleet? They're deploying these on the station?"

The corgi licked the tip of the Vorta's nose in greeting, and Weyoun reeled backwards.

"Aw, finally someone in this quadrant likes you." Damar grinned.

"Eugh," Weyoun sneered and wiped his nose with the stiff sleeve of his blazer. "I'm lucky to be immune to most diseases. Who knows what this thing is carrying from Earth. You are at risk, however..."

"Eh, it's fine." Damar leaned in to scoop the little corgi up into his arms. "I've been observing it all this morning. It does react to our devices, not so much when I show it foreign tech. It's been trained well." He cradled the small animal in one arm, scritching its side with his claws affectionately.

"You look like you're ready to name it, Damar."

"Nawwww..." Damar dismissed without any bite to it. The corgi licked at Damar's hands. Its rear end, where a tail might be present on a vole, wagged back and forth enthusiastically.

"Did you keep pets as a child?" Weyoun was genuinely curious of his partner. He leaned warmly against Damar's side to study the puppy in Damar's arms, or more accurately, the rare tenderness Damar was showing. "You seem rather fond."

"Never allowed to." Damar answered, gruff. "Nature of my mother's work meant we were always moving around to wherever her lab set up base. Didn't want us getting attached to too much."

"Your mother was smart." Weyoun leaned his head on Damar's arm. "I can see you have an immediate weakness for wily little critters."

Damar clutched the corgi possessively and glared at the pouf of hair resting on his shoulder. "What are you talking about."

"...Nothing." Weyoun tutted. "Well. If you allow our scientists to thoroughly inspect the animal for any subspace transmitters, once cleared, you have my permission to keep this animal in the war room."

"Your permission...!" Damar started, then inhaled suddenly. He took a step backwards, clutching the corgi, and inhaled three times more.

"Damar?" Weyoun was alarmed.

Damar released a thunderous sneeze. The corgi yelped and hopped out of Damar's loosened arms. Weyoun wasn't built for quick reflexes, but managed to catch the startled creature and hold him close.

"What language was that?" Weyoun asked. "The Universal Translator didn't quite catch that."

"Ugh," Damar dragged a long sniff, looking sick. "An allergic reaction is what that was. Maybe this is a bad idea."

Weyoun wasn't listening. "Ah, it does feel rather nice to hold the little thing." He closed his eyes and snuggled his cheek in, revelling in the soft texture and warmth of the furry puppy. "I'm glad we agree to keep it around. I'll hold it for you, don't worry."

Damar sniffed miserably.

My sibling taught me how to use the foreground copy paste tool on my phone and I have since been insufferable in chat

#damar #weyoun #star trek ds9: the dog of war #fanfiction of the premise. Haha #The dog is my corgi Gnocchi. She's a butt

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candyheartedchy · 3 years ago

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Watercolors (First Encounter)

Summary: Fethry meets an artist.

Rating: G

Word Count: 832

The aroma of sea-salt filled the air. Listening to the sounds of the waves crashing along the shore, Fethry couldn’t help but smile to himself. A few times he’d stopped and picked up a shell or two. Ever since Scrooge’s deep-sea laboratory got destroyed, Fethry would find himself spending every couple of hours everyday out by the beach. He missed that lab. He missed seeing all the different kinds of sea creatures down there while he took notes and sketches of each and every one. However, it was a bittersweet memory. As much as he’ll deny it, that lab was a prison. Without those sea creatures to keep him company, he was alone. For years, isolated, until the “Little Donalds” came to visit. Now he was back with his family. Back with people. People who he can have actual conversations with. Though that didn’t stop him from talking to the sea life. He likes to think they could understand him. And maybe they did. Sometimes on his walks along the sea, he’ll visit tide pools and talk to the sea critters that inhabited them.

A strong sea breeze suddenly blew by. Holding onto his hat, the duck was quickly alerted by the sound of a disgruntled cry.

Off to the side, a pig was trying to hold her painting in place as the wind kept rocking her easel.

“Stop moving!” she hissed at the art.

Without warning, the wind lifted the canvas into the air.

Fethry quickly rushed over, arms out to catch it, “I got it!” the duck reached out and grabbed the canvas as the wind dropped it.

Pushing back her wind-blown hair, the pig rushed over to her rescuer, “Thank you so much-“ her heart suddenly dropped, “Oh no.”

Fethry was taken aback by the stranger’s reaction before glancing over and cringed as he saw the hand smeared painting. He then looked down at his now paint covered hands, guilty. He ruined the painting.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay.” the pig reassured the duck with a sad smile, “You didn’t mean to. You were trying to help.”

“But... Is there anything I can do?”

The pig pulled out a damp rag, handing it over, “Here, before the paint stains.”

“Thank you, but what about your painting?” Fethry asked, wiping his hands.

“It just wasn’t meant to be.” the pig shrugged, “I’ll try again some other time.” she sighed softly, looking off to the ocean, a bit sullen, ”I guess I could look for some seashells since I‘m here, that always relaxes me.”

“Wait!” Fethry began to dig in his coat pocket, pulling out a handful of shells, “Here, take mine!”

The pig widen her eyes at the collection, taken aback by the offer, “Are you sure?”

“Think of it as a apology. And besides, I have tons already. It’s been kind of a habit lately.” Fethry smiled shyly.

The pig was dumbfounded as the duck poured the shells into her hands.

“There all so beautiful!” She almost whispered.

“I thought so too!” Fethry’s brows then lowered, “I really am sorry about your painting.”

“Don’t worry about it.” the pig then turned and began to watch the sun start to set in the distance, “It’s getting late. I have a painting to restore tomorrow.”

“Oh, you restore paintings?”

“Yeah. My boss is always finding old painting for me to touch up.” the pig stated, “It was my day off today so I thought I could paint some of the scenery in Duckburg to relax, but, well, it didn’t work. But that’ll have to wait for another day... It’s funny, I usually don’t come to the beach, but I do enjoy watching the ocean.“

“Maybe I’ll see you again? I come here everyday!”

“Everyday? For seashells?”

Fethry laughed, “No. I just love coming here! There’s just something about the ocean, you know? Like what kinds of wonders are still out there, hidden in the deep blue. Sea life yet to discover! All the different kinds of fish! I can spend all day out there if I could.”

The pig watched the duck ramble a bit, taking in his features as they soften.

Fethry stopped himself, realizing the pig was staring, “What’s wrong?”

“Huh?”

“Is there something on my face?”

The pig blushed, catching herself, “No. No, you’re fine.“ she glanced off, “But yeah, maybe I’ll see you again.”

The duck smiled.

As the pig gathered up her belongings and placed the seashells in her bag, she turned to Fethry.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

“I guess so! Oh, good luck on your restoration tomorrow!”

“Thank you. Goodbye!”

“Bye!”

Fethry watched the pig leave, smiling to himself before realizing he was still holding on to the paint-stained rag.

“Oh! I forgot to give this back.” he then looked up, realizing the pig was gone before folding up the rag and tucked it into his pocket, “I’ll return it when I see her again.”

#i was bored and wanted to write a little something #❤️ fethryenne ❤️#self ship fanfic #self ship #self insert #self ship community #self insert community #📝 my writing 📝

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thorne93 · 4 years ago

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The Softest Fire (Part 1)

Prompt: Rosaline Vaughan had it all: fame, money, power, glory, a high status job. Until, one day, she woke up, and realized something was missing from her life.

Word Count: 3379

Warnings: mentions of being an orphan

Notes: First Fantastic Beast fic! I could NOT have done this at all without @arrow-guy. They have created a counterpart to this fic, writing it from Nora Vaughan’s perspective (Rosaline’s cousin/adopted sister). Fic aesthetic done by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A long line of wizards and witches had lived before me. Long, long before me. Our family wasn’t famous, and wasn't extremely well to do. As far as fortune or fame went, we were just like any other family. The Vaughans. I was born, in 1897, as Rosaline Vaughan. Soft blonde curls, creamy skin, and ocean blue eyes were my distinctive features.

The only difference for me was, my parents weren’t alive. When I was three, my father’s life was cut short when a horrible accident occurred. He was an auror for the Ministry of Magic, chasing down a criminal. In his pursuit, he was about to apparate… And he did, only he did so incorrectly. Something distracted him, and it ripped his chest wide open. Splinching, I believe is what they call it. He couldn't be saved…

It was only a year later that my mother had a tragic mishap with her potions. She dabbled, even thought of starting a shop for elixirs and tonics… But she’d misread a label… and the whole lab was destroyed.

Their deaths is how I wound up in my Uncle and Aunt’s home, living and being raised with my cousin Nora. They raised me as their own and Nora and I were practically inseparable, sisters, if you will. Lovely, lovely people. My Uncle and my father were brothers, those two got along marvelously, and so did Nora and I, for being two entirely different people.

Nora is seven years older than me. I was beginning to learn how to properly write, read, and do arithmetic when she received her first letter to Hogwarts. I was raised on magic, bred on magic. Nothing about magic was a secret in my Aunt and Uncle’s home. Nora is the adventurous one, the bold one, the dedicated, patient, and the curious one. She was creative, and sometimes pushed the envelope.

On the other hand, I was… quiet, reserved, non-risky one. I never defied, never disobeyed, always kept my nose down.

I often studied the books Nora bought in Diagon Alley weeks before her stay at Hogwarts. By the time I attended… well I was years ahead of anyone in my class.

Most people, including my professors, thought I would or should be in the Ravenclaw house at Hogwarts, given my thirst for knowledge and my nose always in a book. However, Hufflepuff was given to me. I didn’t complain. I had no preference on the matter. Nora had spoken of each house to me when I was younger. She had explained that Ravenclaw was for the well read, the book worms. Gryffindor was for the courageous, the brave. Hufflepuff was for the kind, the steadfast. Slytherin was for the cunning, the quick witted. Each house had something to offer the world, and so long as I got a letter, I was happy to be in any house.

Hufflepuff seemed to suit me well though, in my time there.

In my seventh year, my last year, I was selected Head Girl. An honor and a privilege. I hadn’t really expected it, to be honest. I was too focused on schoolwork, making top marks, working closely with all the professors before and after class. Everywhere I went, people wanted to be my friend. I supposed I was nice enough, perhaps that was the reason. Boys asked me to the Winter Ball every year, and I accepted, solely so I didn’t hear any grief from my aunt and cousin.

Men were hardly ever on my mind. All I had ever wanted, or dreamed of, was mastering magic. Dating and socializing rather got in the way of that at times. I had friends, sure, I attended parties, dances, the like. But I never sought out more friendship than needed. The funny thing was, people seemed to gravitate towards me and my effort to interact was often very little, but somehow, I always ended up the center of every social circle.

Maybe it was my never ending compassion, or desire for real justice that people loved about me. Because towards the end of my sixth year at Hogwarts, a peculiar event took place.

Leta Lestrange had an incident with a Jarvey. For some reason her friend, Newton Scamander, one of my own Hufflepuffs, took the fall for her. He stated it was his. The thing was, you knew it was hers. She’d had the Jarvey a lot, she was also a Lestrange, who were known to be a … finicky bunch. Why Newton took the blame, I wasn’t sure I would ever know. Be that as it may, he faced expulsion. It was towards the end of the year however, and they let him finish his exams and would review his case before the next year. When the seventh year came, I was elected Head Girl. Along with this came many duties, one of which was helping to carry out the sentence given to Newton Scamander.

He was allowed to return for his final year at Hogwarts under one condition: he was not be left alone on the grounds without a professor, other faculty, myself, or the head boy. This became tedious as nearly every professor was always tied up in their work, leaving it to me to follow Newt.

The problem wasn’t carrying out my duties. The problem was I knew who the real culprit was and I had to see Newt be monitored like a feral creature held captive. In this time, I grew fond of Newt. He was a quiet, well to do, intelligent young man who I admired. It was in this time that I began to dislike Leta Lestrange more than I ever had before.

She had a horrible reputation. Bad student, disobeyed orders, it was a wonder they ever invited her back to the school. Not to mention letting an innocent boy pay for her crimes.

But I suppose all things worked out in the end. We all graduated, and went out into the world. Newt got to keep his wand and he graduated the same as the rest of us. In fact, he worked for some time at the Ministry.

By the time I graduated Hogwarts, life couldn’t get much better. Except that I went straight into working for the Ministry with letters of recommendations from every professor I’d had.

From what I’d heard Newt worked for the Ministry for four years. He was in a confidential program for a short while, before being moved to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Then, because of his unsurprising amount of knowledge in regards to magical critters, he was moved again to the Beast Division.

The two of us hardly ever saw each other except a pass in the hall here or there, at least when it came to work at the Ministry. I began in the office of Improper Use of Magic. I found the work easy. Sentencing was swift, just, and easy. My employers saw how bored I was getting and seemed to want to make me happy so they offered to move me into the Hit Wizards division. Quite a bit more faced paced, exciting, and finally, a challenge. Or… it would’ve felt that way if I weren’t as talented and skilled as I am.

During my schooling at Hogwarts, the only professor who seemed to be able to rival my skill set was Professor Dumbledore. Even at the Ministry, no one could raise their wand to me. It was customary, for all employers to learn how their employees worked, trained, fought, defended… Every fight, without fail, I reigned victorious, and much more quickly than my peers.

Rumors, gossip, and whispers about me floated about in the wizarding world.

No one feared me, but I most certainly got the respect I deserved. I never had to raise my voice, give anyone a stern glare, or utter a word to get things done that needed to be done. I rather liked that, the power, the will.

I never thought much of the level of my power, not until people started to constantly mention it. Criminals, peers, colleagues, professors, employers. It was as if people hadn’t seen what studying could do for people.

Even when I realized that I was quite powerful, I had no desire to exploit it, to use it against others. All I wanted to do in life was have a good job, hold a secure career, and live in a humble home. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less.

The years went on, and Nora opened a book shop. Curious, as I was in such an adrenaline rush of a job, and she ran a simple book store. Leta Lestrange had joined the Ministry and that turned my stomach. She was in Department of Magical Law Enforcement, assistant to the head! Of all things. The very idea of her in that position had me fuming. Newt was offered a position to write a book, and he took it. The opportunity allowed him to travel the world and discover new creatures. Nora, my cousin, would sometimes join him.

Nora, however, was one year behind Newt’s brother, at Hogwarts. Theseus Scamander. Now, he was a very well-to-do boy. Always kept, always pressed, always ready for the next promotion. Much like myself, he kept his nose down, and he followed orders, to the dot. He was someone who I very much admired. Even if I wasn’t very close with him, word had gotten around about him. Excellence was often noticed at the Ministry.

It seemed to be though, that Theseus and I were often in the same social and work circles, while the two dreamers -- Newt and Nora -- were off in the world, discovering things. Nora helped Newt at his flat with the animals on and off, when he was out traveling and needed someone to stay behind to take care of what he couldn’t bring along.

Things were starting to get stale around my life. No man, no real loss there. No friends outside of work. Not much but Nora and the occasional chat with Theseus, Newt, and other Hogwarts alumni that roamed the halls of the Ministry of Magic. So, my ears perked up when I heard it may be time to elect a new Minister for Magic.

The campaign began, with the blessing of my direct employer. He headed up the starting program himself. Before I knew it, the election was only a few months away. The polls were looking fantastic, with my name always 100 points ahead of anyone else’s.

But one day… It all changed.

Nothing extreme happened. Nothing dire. Nothing life changing. No mid-life crisis. Nothing extraordinary at all. I merely woke up, with an intense desire to not return to my job, or to pursue being the Minister for Magic any longer.

It wasn’t stress. I handle stress incredibly well. Wear it like a new Chanel suit. Even if it was the stress of the campaign and the very real fact I may be the new Minister for Magic, at least for a part of Europe… I could’ve just withdrawn from the race. But no, this ran much deeper than that.

But seeing as I never do anything hasty, or risky, I sat on it, at least for three weeks, to see if I could shake it. Yet, nothing wavered. The pull to leave a life I’d strived to built was ever present.

So I began job seeking.

“You… want to what?” Nora had asked while I stood in her shop.

“I want to leave,” I stated matter of factly. Why was this so hard to grasp?

“But you’re… you’re practically Ms. Minister for Magic. Why now? Is it the campaign?”

I frowned, waving her off as she filled an order, waving her wand to stack some books. “No, nothing like that. You know me. That wouldn’t bother me.”

“I do know you,” she agreed emphatically. “Which is why I’m concerned that you want to leave at all… but, if you’re serious, I do know that Newt is looking for a full time assistant.”

“An assistant?” I asked, a hint of incredulous in my voice.

“Yes, something wrong with that?” she retorted.

I made a slight face. “No, but…”

“If you want prestige, cousin, you may reconsider staying where you’re at,” she said with a lilt in her voice.

In response, I sighed, my shoulders drooping momentarily in my cranberry blazer and matching silk blouse. I stood back straight and tall though, smoothing out my skirt, looking rather lean in my heels.

“No, that’s perfectly fine… But I thought you--”

“Bookstore’s getting busy, and unless I can find some help…” She peered at me for a moment, wanting me to chime in.

“Cousin, I’d be delighted, but I would enjoy work that took me… away from London, for a bit.”

Nora nodded, smiling gently. “I understand. He’s interviewing for the position. I’m sure he won’t mind if you drop by.”

“Oh, is he home?”

“Just for the week. He leaves on Sunday.”

“Fantastic. I’ll head there now,” I informed with a slight grin.

I made my way through the city to Newt’s humble abode. As soon as I arrived, I knocked twice, and after a moment, the red-haired man appeared on the other side of the door.

“Rosaline?” he greeted, slightly confused. Typically, it’d be my cousin. Or myself and Nora, but I never arrived alone.

“Hello, Newt,” I greeted in return, warmly.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” he suddenly started.

I laughed. “No, no. I’m not here for that. No. Of course you haven’t. You’re just fine, Newt, I promise,” I assured, touching his sleeved arm with my gloved hand. “Do you mind if I come in?”

“Uh, not at all.” He backed up and let me in, showing me to the kitchen, where he made some tea. “What brings you by, then, if you don’t mind my asking. You and I aren’t very--”

“Social?”

He nodded.

I sipped my tea before jumping to the point. “I’m looking for work, and heard you were hiring an assistant.”

He peered at me with incredible shock. “You’re… you’re here about the job?”

I nodded. “Mhm.”

“Alright. Uh, let me just… get my questions,” he said before pulling his wand out. He whisked it in the air and said, “Accio interview papers.” Before long, a few papers came gliding into the room, landing in his hands. He glanced at me nervously before speaking.

He went down a list of fifteen questions, to which I answered them all truthfully. He put his papers down and stared at me for a long time. I kept my hands on the table, my long fingers interlaced.

“Newt? What’s the matter? We’ve known each other for nearly fifteen years…”

He nodded. “I know, I know. It’s not that.”

“Then why are you taking so long to make up your mind. You know what I do, what I’m capable of. I know what you do, what you’re capable of. You know my cousin very well. If you can’t teach me, I’m sure she can... “

“Why do you want this job?” he suddenly asked, curiosity burning in his voice. “Why leave your job at the Ministry?”

“I want this job because… I want something more fulfilling in life. I don’t… I don’t want to spend my entire life in politics, in police work, in… deciding who gets to keep their wand, their power? I want to do something that enriches my soul. I feel that’s needed, to have a good, happy life, don’t you?” I said.

It wasn’t until I uttered those words, there in Newt’s small kitchen that I realized how true they were. I was afraid of giving my life over to the Ministry. Of my life having nothing more to show for it than a plaque or two, a portrait here or there. I wanted my life to feel like it was mine, that I was serving myself, as well as others. My job was never my reason to get out of bed in the morning, nor was anything else, and I wanted to change that. I wanted to wake up, and be thrilled for where I was going, and not just because of the status that job gave me.

“I do,” he agreed with a head nod. “If you remember, my boggart was an office desk in school.”

I grinned at the memory. “Yes. Dumbledore found it amusing.”

“And you? Clearly you aren’t one to fear a desk,” he noted.

“Newt, I left desk work a long time ago. I’m a hit witch now. My life has been out and about for some time now…”

“Then… why change? If you believe it’s satisfying.”

“Not all adventure is satisfying,” I retorted.

He thought for just a moment, but then concurred. “This is true, I suppose. So you’re looking for the right adventure then, hmm?”

“I suppose I am, yes,” I realized with a grin.

“And you think you’d like it here?” he wondered, peering at me, gauging my response.

“I do. I’ve always found your work fascinating. I love creatures, animals. Nora tells me you’re about to set off on another leg for your book, gathering information…”

“But why… me? Why my work? You’re… you’re one of the greatest witches alive. I’ve never seen such talent. The way they talk about you at the Ministry. The way my brother talks about you… I can’t help but think you’re entirely too overqualified for this job, Rosaline.”

A tiny grin came to my face.

“Newt… Your job is to study creatures, learn their behavior, their thinking, their eating, the way they sleep, where they live… And most people say you’re the best at what you do…”

He frowned for a moment, wondering where I was going with this.

“How would you feel if someone told you that you were overqualified for your job? Would you step aside, and let someone else gather the information that you so lovingly gather all by yourself?”

“I think I’d--”

“Hate it? Loathe the idea of being forced to sit in an office? That’s how I feel…Being your assistant is fulfilling work, I’m sure. I wouldn’t let you down. I’d be here early. I’d read and learn all about the creatures…”

After a second, he said, “I can’t pay you what you’re getting paid at the Ministry.”

“I didn’t even bring up salary,” I reminded with a soft grin.

“So you’re willing to take a cut in pay, in status, all to… travel the world with me to find strange creatures?” he asked. Of course, he didn’t think the animals or critters were strange, but to most, they were, and he was trying to get to the bottom of why I wanted to leave a job I’d worked so hard for.

“There are no strange creatures, only strange people. People too dull not to see their beauty,” I noted, almost as if I weren’t answering him at all. Snapping out of my thought, I finally looked directly at him. “I know this isn’t orthodox. I’m sure if it were me, I would be incredulous too, but I’m not here for a temporary position. I’m not doing this on a whim. You know me, Newt.”

“I do.”

“You know I’m not doing this until I can figure out what I really want to do or any of that nonsense. I’ve had a change of heart, that’s all. My heart no longer seeks what the Ministry can offer me.” I stood up, taking a deep breath. “If you’d like to think on it though, review other applicants, I understand. These animals mean a great deal to you, and you can’t just hire anyone. Feel free to think it over, just keep me as a consideration…”

I began to leave. I didn’t want to pressure him into hiring me. He had a right to think on my offer.

When my hand hit the door handle, he suddenly spoke up behind me.

“An hourglass, right? Your boggart… it was an hourglass, wasn’t it? Your biggest fear is time.”

A grin popped onto my face.

“Perhaps it was, Mr. Scamander. Let’s make sure this interview and offer wasn’t a waste of yours.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

Forever Tag:

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#the softest fire #newt scamander x oc #newt scamander fic #fantastic beasts fic

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thecorteztwins · 4 years ago

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Since I did my ridiculous Cat-Marauders thing, I am curious - what animal would you associate most with each Alt-Marauder? I don't mean what animal they would most like as a pet, more like, what animal would be their Harry Potter Animagus form? Don't feel obliged to answer if you don't have any ideas (or just don't feel like it).

AAAH I love this question SO MUCH!! Thank you so much for sending it!! SHAW The animal that I MOST associate with Shaw is big black bulls, to a lesser degree bears and black draft horses. A quiz said his Patronus was a black stallion, and another quiz said his daemon was a kingsnake. I like the bull option best though, horses are too pretty and timid, even the big hefty draft horses are just too TAME even though they’re hardworkers, and a snake seems too...small and subtle. The bull has the connotation of hard work, because oxen, but it’s also terrifying and aggressive and it’s a big bulky creature. (I would also consider a honey badger as his daemon if they weren’t such a meme) I also think he DEFINITELY has the most in common with a hamster when it comes to actual animal behavior, hamsters are greedy hoarders and aggressive if approached and they’re hermits who are solitary but also really like to fuck, but if I were gonna say what animal I’d make him...big black bull, yeah. CLAUDINE Claudine visually reminds me of a white mink or ermine, and they’re pretty scary in terms of behavior too---they’re cute as hell but they’re predators. Their weasel-like appearance also connotates being clever, sneaky, and hard to get a bead. Also, white in general for lab animals, I thought your take on her as a cat that had medical subject was a great one, that was really clever! PYRO Honestly being an asshole cat fits him so well? Like that nailed him for me! But I also like the idea of small, clever yet dumbass, morally ambiguous critters like foxes and jackals for him? Of course they’re not actually morally ambiguous they’re just animals but speaking from a symbolic/human cultural viewpoint. Actually, speaking of canines, dingos! They’re Australian, they’re “criminals” and “outlaws” in their own way in the wild because they’re seen as sheep-killers and people hate them, but they’re also good to their own as pack animals. They’re very chaotic and destructive as pets, much like keeping pet foxes, but they’re also not evil animals at all. Like look at them, they’re good boys, they’re just chaotic assholes. Or maybe a ferret but I don’t think even he’s enough of a chaotic klepto for that! SHINOBI I made his daemon a monkey based around Japanese symbolism, but also the “small morally-grey stupid-yet-smart canine figures” stuff, definitely could see him as a derpy little fox or jackal too. Maybe one of those little dogs who thinks its huge XD MADELYNE My first thought was a parrot or something similar, they’re so super sassy and willful and they fly but are also grounded in literal ways because tame ones will usually have clipped wings. Then, it hit me. Hyena! Hyenas are pack animals, they’re family-oriented, and they’re also matriarchal, they’re a strong woman figure. They’re born with their eyes open unlike most mammals, reading for anything, much like how Maddie was “born” as an adult. They’re tough as nails like she is, because they have to hunt down very dangerous prey and compete with lions in an inhospitable environment. And speaking of lions, everyone always COMPARES them to lions, and UNFAVORABLY so. Everyone also always thinks they’re dogs. They’re unfairly demonized and seen as anything from disgusting cowardly scavengers to LITERALLY being demonic. So like Maddie, they’re misunderstood, demonized strong-woman figures who are tough as hell but also not bad at all even if everyone THINKS they are and keeps comparing them to the “good” animals. HAVEN Her daemon is a cow, her patronus is a unicorn. I often associate her with little deer, though she’s really not slender/dainty enough to BE one, I dont think whales because huge but vegetarian, and unlike many herbivores that can actually be quite hostile, they’re gentle giants, don’t want to hurt other animals and actually will try to deliberately avoid it, and carry a lot of parasites, though not the kind harmful to them (unlike poor Haven) I’d definitely pick a cow, which is funny because I’d pick a bull for Sebastian, just for totally different reasons. I guess it’s like how I associate them both strongly with the element of earth, just opposite aspects (warm earth mother figure, nurturing, growth, soil, flowers, etc vs cold underground, stones, wealth, steadfast, power, etc.)

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hawkstincan · 4 years ago

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I need to vent about some cracky idea xD

Critters, if you know what I mean

Lendgeds somehow ended up on this strange ship. Nothing interesting, nobody there, parts of the ship covering had strange bite marks, but they couldn't find creature that left them and then something urgent came up and they just dropped it. They could return later if there will be a reason. Perks of being on time ship and all that.

Except Nate did find the creature. He just thought it was too adorable to kill! It tried to bite his hand, but it couldn't and begin to pout and Nate was just 'awwww. I'm keeping it!'

Critters were rather sentient. And that one was the last one. Maybe in the whole universe. And they needed to survive at all cost!

And the ship was no good for survival as they learned very soon. Crazy human in charge was scary. They never messed with her staff. Two guys with strange guns were even scarier! They could freeze or burn them or both. Nope. No messing with.

Their human was good, but he tried to feed them greens. Disgusting.

Shrinking human was funny. He talked a lot with himself and never spotted them.

Others weren't worth it's attention. And they couldn't eat anyone. Cause, you know, that scary types cared.

They needed to get out of there. They needed to get on some planet with tasty squishy humans.

So they messed with some wiring and let scary woman find them.

Now everything depended on their human!

And Nate was great. He already decided that he couldn't really have a pet on the Waverider. And he talked to Barry about taking care of his little adorable pet. Barry didn't mind at all. Like how could he? It was the SPACE-PET! Cisco would be sooooo jealous! And he would be eager to help. Cause space-pet!

After a week with critter in Labs only Barry stayed oblivious. (Critter didn't kill any humans, so what's the problem really? Barry never was a fan of rats or cockroaches. and there was no evidence of something bigger)

He cooes with it, when he had time. Even lets bite him a little. Like you do with cats when you are playing.

And critter liked that fast human. He feed them properly. He spent time with them. Talked to them like they were sentient. That was nice. They kinda wanted to be thankful? It was very new and totally strange feeling for them. They usually ate humans, not tried to comfort them!

Fast human talked a lot about the guy. That cool guy out of his reach for so many reasons. Critter could never understand that humans thing. Why made easy things complicated? As far as they learned humans tend to make everything too complicated.

So what could one little critter do as matchmaker? Nothing, at least till The Guy appeared. And wow! That was the scary guy with cold gun. The Guy also pined about someone too out of his reach. Maybe it wouldn't be that difficult to play a matchmaker after all

#ColdFlash #sort of #The Flash #lot #critters #crack #sorry not sorry #no common sense #AU nobody asked for

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youjustgotlawyered · 5 years ago

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Okay, so I’ve reflected a lot on Stranger Things S3 and have some thoughts on it and how the series finale might fix everything.

As much as it physically pains me, I’m going to take Dacre at his word when he says that he’s basically done. I don’t agree with the Duffer’s decision to kill him off because Dacre is an amazing actor, he’s one of the richest and most nuanced characters, and oh yeah, is an abused kid who deserved better. I had a lot of problems with S3, but I think all of that could be a moot point. Why? Time travel, bitches.

Funny enough, I first started thinking about the idea after reading an article from my own childhood, the Tv Guide.

https://www.tvguide.com/news/stranger-things-season-4-time-travel-theories/

So the TV guide article itself points out some great possibilities for time travel, but I’d like to add a few! The more I thought about it, the more it made sense!

1. Hopper isn’t the American. I don’t think Brenner is dead and neither do the Duffers. This was said a long time ago and recently: https://www.insider.com/stranger-things-2-is-dr-brenner-papa-alive-2017-10 So Hopper could be the American, but wouldn’t it be difficult to rescue him so quickly from the upside down for the Russians to already have him captured? It would make more sense for the Russians to actually have a powerful person who could also advance their own technology and odds at beating the U.S. There’s nobody better qualified for that than Brenner.

2. Brenner could know more than we could realize. Brenner also could know about time travel technology or another lab kid who is capable of it. Listen, we haven’t seen all of the kids! Kali is...somewhere, and for all we know she’s the American, but the audience will probably get a little more information about these other kids at some point in time in the show. Kali could also at this time know the location of other lab kids, but I’m betting on Brenner.

3. The world keeps getting bigger, and that’s not a good thing. There are an enormous amount of unanswered questions and honestly, I’m a little tired of an expanded universe! I want answers to my old questions! The Duffers said that they planned for four seasons because the actors are growing up and nobody wants the show to get stale. David Harbour implied four was planned, but he thinks there should be five seasons and that he thinks the ending will be “beautiful.” http://mentalfloss.com/article/579859/david-harbour-stranger-things-ending-is-beautiful So we only have one or two more seasons! I want the big bads to get their asses handed to them! The Americans took these kids and experimented on them, and they are not the good guys. I’m not going to frame Brenner and the lab in a positive way just because we’re set in the fucking Cold War. Let’s get back to Hawkins basics and wrap this shit up!

4. The big bad can only get so much bigger. Anybody notice how the Mindflayer keeps getting bigger every season? How many more Russian nesting dolls are we gonna go through until we’re done? I would say the final big bad is the one we see looming in the Upside Down in S2, unless the Duffers planned for...multiple Mindflayers in this universe. So isn’t the next encounter with the MindFlayer logically their last?

5. Back to the Future. Need I say more?? I think they’ll do a winter season, so it might be winter of 1985 and “Back to the Future” could be a big movie influence in S4 since it was constantly brought up in S3. The Duffers don’t always do their influences consecutively, but I was looking at popular movies in 1986 and some of the movies that Duffers likely would have watched and enjoyed. So there is Short Circuit (escaped lab robot), Howard the Duck (humanoid duck stops aliens), Critters (furry aliens terrorize rural town), and Star Trek IV: The Voyage (they’re in Star Trek and they go to San Francisco in 1986 to...communicate with whales--I had to look that up). Notice a theme? Short of the whales?

6. It might be the only way to actually wrap things up! Okay, let’s really think about this. The best way to stop the Upside Down is to stop El from ever first communicating with the Upside Down and opening the gate in the first place. There is absolutely no way to do that without traveling back in time. If the whole gang is able to travel, there’s nothing that stops them from retaining their knowledge when they go back to their present time, just like in Back to the Future. They could also stop El from ever being tortured in the first place.

What could possibly be more beautiful and sweet than that?! Not to mention we have a whole set of characters who then didn’t die because El never opened the gate in the first place!

Think about Nancy going to school and bursting into tears when she sees Barb at her locker.

Think about depressed Joyce now watching bad reruns with Bob on the couch.

Think about Max actually being the one to push for this before any of the others because she has a hard time coping with Billy’s death.

And yes, because I’m a self indulgent monster, Steve clapping Billy on the back, saying, “Maybe you’re not such a bad guy after all.” Which, Billy can look at him like he’s grown a second head while he mumbling angrily around a cigarette like, “What the fuck kind of drugs are you on, Harrington?”

#stranger things #st s3 #st s3 spoilers #billy hargrove #jim hopper #harringrove #and that's how you end stranger things #I swear I have a really long commute #and it's not good for me to be alone with my thoughts #this is like my first real fandom I've participated in #I'm in too fucking deep #I might actually be mad now if they don't travel back in time #I dug myself into this hole and I am too short to climb out #fml #....stranger things s4

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 5 years ago

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Witches, Chapter 18: I hope you are enjoying these next few casefic-intensive chapters because once we are done with this orca case we are not ever spending this much time on investigations ever again. no, not even for the plot relevant ones. I am only half joking.

anyway, with the holidays over, time for regular updates again.

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

----

Pearl wants to come with Phoenix and Athena to the aquarium to help investigate, rather than stay with Trucy (and Apollo) at the office. It only surprises Phoenix a little - Pearl seems like she’s taken a liking to Athena, and definitely to the aquarium critters.

And she and Trucy can’t possibly have more to talk about, can they? They were awake nearly the whole night talking, filling in the recent years that had passed without seeing each other. Every time he caught a bit of conversation, it was Trucy relaying the story of the cases when she stood as co-counsel to Apollo, of chasing down Tenma Taro and digging up Thalassa’s mitamah (with Apollo), of simply hanging out with Jinxie, with Vera, with Apollo. Apollo, Apollo, the ever-constant thread through the past year, and when he saw Pearl’s face she was concentrating intently, one hand closed around her own wrist. She’d figured something out, surely, made connection between the golden bangle on Apollo’s wrist and golden magic on Trucy’s that marks every Gramarye he’s ever met. But she said nothing, just waved at Phoenix when he told them he was going to bed.

And then two hours later he saw them again to tell them to turn down the music, because Trucy was introducing Pearl to the Gavinners’ backlog and had gradually been kicking the volume up to see what she could get away with without waking Phoenix.

Teenagers.

This afternoon, he’ll be saddled with Pearl and a different particular exuberant and loud teenager, and Athena is excitedly encouraging Pearl that of course it’ll be great and helpful to have her along, and Pearl says that she doesn’t really know what she can do, besides coaxing Rifle close, and won’t she just get in the way—?

“I’ve got an idea of what you can do!” Trucy scrambles away from one of her magic-prop shelves, something tucked away behind her back. “You need to check out the blood stains at the bottom of the orca pool to make sure that the murder really happened there, right? And maybe check for more blood to see if the murder could’ve happened somewhere else that doesn’t pin the blame on Ms Buckler! I have a solution” - she giggles and Apollo rolls his eyes - “for that!” She shoves a bottle of Luminol, and several pairs of the accompanying pink-tinted glasses, at Pearl. “Here you go! One forensics kit!”

Pearl gingerly accepts the bottle, holding it like it’s either fragile or dangerous. “And don’t forget the most important part of forensics!” Trucy’s snickering increases in volume. Apollo groans. “White powder!”

“Huh?” Athena asks, as Pearl accepts the fingerprinting powder and Apollo stifles unwilling laughter in his hand, the kind of laughter when a joke is funny but the listener is so annoyed with the joke that they don’t want to laugh. Phoenix has no idea why they are both acting like this over fingerprinting powder.

“White powder,” Trucy repeats, grinning devilishly. “Guaranteed pick-me-up for even the grumpiest detectives!”

Apollo groans. “Really, Trucy?”

Athena turns to Phoenix. “Er, Boss…?”

“Oh, fingerprinting powder,” he says. “Good idea, Trucy. Maybe that’ll help us figure out who was on scene.”

“Oh, that’s - ooh.” Athena nods, rubs the side of her neck, and looks strangely relieved. “Oh that’s what that is.”

“Great news, Apollo!” Trucy, grinning, leans toward him, and he gives her shoulder a shove to hold her back away. “You’re now not the only one who’s thought that Daddy and Ema do cocaine!”

“I never thought that!” Apollo yells. His voice ringing through the office drowns out the sound of the single Psyche-Lock that clicks into place.

“What?” Phoenix asks.

Trucy is still grinning and Apollo places his free hand over her face. His own face is turning red, red as his suit, red as the blessing marked on his skin that Phoenix sometimes Sees. “You just - you just told us to go get some white powder from the office and give it to her! And you didn’t say what it was and we couldn’t tell what it was—”

The lock shatters and a wheeze works its way up from Phoenix’s lungs. “You thought that I - I described it as ‘white powder’ because I didn’t expect either of you to know what fingerprinting powder looked like!”

“You could’ve told us what it was and what it looked like!”

Trucy wrenches herself free from her brother and tumbles over the back of the couch, laughing loudly like this is the funniest thing in the world. And okay yeah, Apollo’s mortified expression and color is pretty funny. “Yeah,” Phoenix says. “I guess I probably could’ve told you what it was.”

He’s not gonna regret that he didn’t tell either of them, though.

“Hey, Polly, where are you going?” Trucy calls. Phoenix takes the Luminol glasses from her.

Apollo throws his hands in the air, stalking off toward the back room. “I’m going to go hide in the kitchen and hope the door disappears so that no one can follow me! Mr Wright, let me know if there’s anything you need help with for the case.”

“Sure thing.” It’s nice of him to offer to help, even when he’s being reminded of all the shit that Phoenix has said to him and put him through. He’s a good kid.

“Wait, the - oh, yeah, you said we have a magic kitchen yesterday, didn’t you?” Athena frowns, watching Apollo leave. “How does that work?”

“Well,” Phoenix says, “the first part of it is that you stop actually questioning it.”

Magic works under certainty, after all.

Pearl wanders off almost immediately after they arrive at the aquarium, saying she wants to find Rifle and start “forensicking” everywhere she can. “Don’t use it all up before we get to the crime scene!” Phoenix warns, and she turns a very serious stare on him and assures him that under no circumstances will she run out of Luminol. He doesn’t question further, finds it pretty safe to assume that it will be magically regenerating because she thinks it should and needs it to. “Oh, and if you find Mr Rimes, give me a call and let me know where you are. I think we should probably question him again too.”

Athena watches her disappear through the blue gloom of the Aqua Tunnel. “I didn’t get the sense that she had a cell phone?”

“Yeah, she doesn’t.”

“So - you want her to borrow Mr Rimes’ phone or something?”

Fulbright at the orca pool, which is half-drained while Orla whistles sadly from far below, doesn’t let them wander around and trip up the police investigation. But he is amenable to answering some questions and takes all of Athena’s pointed, furious “Objections!” well in stride. She’s still pissed at him for arresting Sasha and Phoenix wonders, were Blackquill a normal prosecutor who was able to come investigate crime scenes himself, were he here now, how much would Athena be yelling at him? Her reaction to being told it was him on the case, yesterday, made Phoenix think she was afraid of him, but that wasn’t what she showed in court today. She acted more angry than afraid.

Maybe that’s just what she does with fear: turns it into anger.

Fulbright explains to them that Sasha confirmed earlier in questioning that she was in the orca pool room at that time, doing some cleaning, the last person to use a key card until the body was found. And the last time the victim was seen was with her, arguing with her. Athena flails about with a few more distinctly unlawyerly objections and then falls sadly quiet, lets Phoenix take over. Before he ushers them out, the detective gives them some prescription medication of Sasha’s to pass along to her. Phoenix accepts it while feeling that this is horribly intrusive of them, important as it probably is for Sasha to get these. Because, sure, they said to Fulbright that they intend to represent Sasha, but he still actually has no idea whether she wants them as her lawyers. His defense got her arrested, after all.

At the Pub O’ Danger, they find the laboratory that DePlume was loitering around unlocked, and meet the aquarium’s veterinarian, Dr Crab. There’s a certain kinship Phoenix feels with the man - he might be incredibly, uh, crabby, but he’s fallen asleep in his mess of a workspace and that is intensely relatable. He also has a penguin chick living in his hair, harassing him, like an antagonistic version of Blackquill and Taka. (As far as office environments go, better a fae ghost harassing him than a penguin, Phoenix will say.) Dr Crab wasn’t around on the day of the murder - he was over doing some business at the Supermarine Aquarium, which of course Athena knows a lot about, across the city - but the night prior he was the one who witnessed Sasha and Shipley arguing. He sends them off with that information and tells them if they find Rifle to send her back to the lab.

Not that Phoenix knows how to direct a penguin to do something, but the point is moot when they run into DePlume first, who’s furious at them for blowing up her testimony in court today. Perks of being the boss - Athena wants a fight, so she can handle the questioning, and Phoenix can duck out of the line of fire, DePlume’s ire. Her line of ire.

Among her other various conspiracies, they learn from her that Jack Shipley’s death came on the one-year anniversary of the orca trainer’s death, which now that they know Shipley wasn’t killed by the orca, can’t be a coincidence, can it? She also tells them that the orca song she heard, when she saw the body, is the old orca song from the show last year, which is not the song in the show Athena knows. It also can’t be the song Orla knows how to sing because Sasha said she knows exactly one song - the one Athena knows - and that still makes that orca a better musician than Phoenix.

There is a lot afoot at this aquarium, but how it all pieces together is anyone’s game.

On return to the orca pool, they find Pearl sitting on the edge, her feet dangling over the 65-foot drop, her sandals barely held on her toes, and her expression primly unconcerned with the prospect of falling. “The ghostly detective said that they’re done investigating here and we could look around if we wanted,” she says, springing quickly and precariously to her feet, balanced right on the edge, and Phoenix’s heart seizes up.

He’d also be a little more worried about her epithet for Fulbright if he hadn’t been sure to assess the detective himself yesterday, which he could do then because unlike in court in April, Blackquill wasn’t around spinning everything out of control. “Because of his white clothes?” Phoenix asks, and Pearl nods.

“He is bright, isn’t he,” she says. “But he’s also not very bright at all.”

Phoenix fails to swallow all his laughter and it emerges from his nose as a snort.

“With Fulbright gone we can do anything!” Athena says, with blatant disregard to the police officers still guarding the scene. Phoenix makes a slashing motion across his throat; they’re going to need help, someone operating the hoist, to get down into the orca pool. (The pool that he really, really wishes wasn’t so deep.)

They all clamber onto the ladder platform. It makes total sense that there’s a way to raise and lower people to the bottom - they have to clean the tank, after all - and Phoenix further wishes he had no idea of it because imagining the moving, before they actually even start moving, is making him sick. He squeezes his eyes shut and grips the railing for dear life. One of the girls pats him on the arm. The whole platform shudders and screeches when it halts. “Mr Nick! It’s time to start forensicking! Do we use the Luminol here?”

“Right.” Phoenix pries his eyes open and regrets it when he sees Pearl leaning half off of their little platform, over the side of the orca pool that doesn’t have any water - there’s a little divider put up in the center, and Orla floating and fweeting sadly on one side where the water is about fifteen feet deep. Pearl begins spraying the Luminol with gusto: over the floor on the drained side, over the props on the drained side, over the water side, over—

“Oops! I just got some on Orla…”

Oh, he’d thought that was on purpose. “Nothing’s happening,” Athena says, peering over the railing, and Phoenix wants to grab her by her jacket collar and pull her back, even though this fall is a survivable one. They might have proven Orla’s innocence, but the idea of Athena falling in the water with her still makes him incredibly nervous.

“We need these special glasses to see the chemical reaction,” Phoenix explains. “Here.” He offers a pair to each of them.

Pearl happily accepts, but Athena squints over them and turns them about in her hands. “That’s quite a fashion statement, huh? Doesn’t really go with…” She holds them up against her jacket and then slips them on.

They don’t go with anything, which is why no one but Ema uses them as a permanent wardrobe piece. But they do their job, showing a blue reaction over the skull rock, which must’ve been the point of impact, and on Orla herself, which is strange because while she was bleeding, it was under her hat, and she’s still wearing that hat. And if she was bleeding underwater, the blood should’ve just floated up through the water and not landed on her tail.

“I don’t think we can take a picture of this, exactly,” Athena says. “I usually just have Widget scan things or snap photos but - maybe if I put the glasses lens up to my phone camera—”

“You’re going to drop it in the water if you do that,” Phoenix says.

Athena shoves her phone back in her pocket and sounds indignantly teenager-ish as she says, “Fine, I won’t try that.”

What’s he talking about? She is a teenager.

“Can you just draw on your picture?” Pearl asks, lifting her glasses up and balancing them on top of her head. With her pink accessories, it almost does fit her fashion. “And mark the general areas that we saw the marks in?”

“Great idea, Pearly! Now let’s see here…” Athena taps Widget and projects one of its screens.

Phoenix inches cautiously past her to look down at Orla. The orca really does seem sad. There’s no energy to her whistles today, and while she’s probably unhappy in such a small amount of water, she’s got to be smart enough to have noticed her routine is very disrupted, and Sasha isn’t around. And now a bunch of strangers, really, are crowding down into her pool and spraying around some strange liquid and—

Wait - wait, is Orla sinking? She dips beneath the surface for several seconds at a time and then bobs back up, but her flippers and tail aren’t working to propel her, and she keeps going under for slightly longer each time— “Athena! Pearls! It looks like something’s wrong with Orla!”

“What?” They both shove their way in at the railing to either side of him, leaning out much further than they need to look down.

“Oh no,” Pearl says. “I got Luminol on her - is that why? What do we do, Mr Nick?”

“We’ve gotta go get Dr Crab!” Athena says. “Hey! Hi! Mr Police Officer Guy! Bring us back up please!”

“Where is he?” Pearl asks. “I’ll go, quick!”

“His office is by the Pub O’ Danger, where we met Ms DePlume yesterday!” Athena says. The hoist makes a long mechanical moan and jostles to life again. “But I’m a really fast runner, so when we get out of here, I’ll—”

Pearl vanishes.

“—go,” Athena finishes. Her mouth stays hanging open, and she blinks several times in rapid succession, her eyes narrowing further each time she reopens them. “Oh, yeah, she’s - wait, Boss, don’t faery rings make flowers or mushrooms or something?” She looks down at their feet. There are no flowers now, just as there were no flowers when Pearl vanished.

“Yeah,” Phoenix says. “Unless there’s a circle already made, but there isn’t so she should have—”

He accidentally glances to the bottom of the pool, now much further away, and regrets it as vertigo kicks in, but he has the answer now, too. “Oh,” he says. “There is. The whole pool is circular.”

“Ooh, that’s clever. She’s really clever.” Athena remains on the platform, while Phoenix stumbles back onto the solid aquarium floor, away from the maw of hell, the death pit, another horrible, horrible reminder that his fear of heights is very valid. “Hang in there, Orla!” she yells down. “We’ve got help on the way!”

The wait is agony. It’s not a long walk to the lab, and Pearl and Dr Crab will only be running back one way, Pearl has to already be there, but the vet has to make rounds of the aquarium, doesn’t he? What if he isn’t there? What if—

“What’s Orla’s condition?” The doors bang open and Dr Crab barrels in, Pearl hot on his heels behind him.

What if Phoenix is stressing himself out extra for no reason? That seems most likely!

“She seemed - really tired? And then she started sinking. Could she be unconscious?” Whales have to sleep, and Athena talked about that somewhere in the mess of everything she talked about this morning, and Phoenix followed none of it but what he can know is that this can’t be a normal orca nap. The species wouldn’t exist if they all drowned when they slept.

“Son of a bitch!” Crab skids to a halt as soon as he has an angle to see how little water is left in the orca pool. “Who did this?”

“You mean it’s not supposed to be drained?” Phoenix asks. “I thought it was for cleaning - or for the police investigation—”

“I sure as shit never authorized any pool draining!” Dr Crab snaps. “We’ve got another pool to put her in when we need cleaning! You, help me out here!”

“Us?” Phoenix echoes blankly.

“No, just all the other people hanging out in this room who I guess you can see and I can’t - yes, you three! The black fabric over there, looks like a pirate flag - that’s the orca stretcher! Go get it!”

Athena and Pearl race around the pool and begin flinging props aside to dig up the stretcher. “Now, you—” Dr Crab points at Phoenix. “The hoist controls over there, get to them!” Phoenix obediently hurries over to the control box on the wall. “Lower it down part way - we’ve got to hook the stretcher on it, drop it down and get Orla on it.”

“Won’t it be hard to get it under Orla?” Athena asks. She and Pearl are dragging the stretcher back as fast as they can, to where the winch has lowered the hooks down far enough that they would be able to attach something to it. Right, Sasha said that they can move props this way, too; the track the hooks are on leads all the way outside.

“It’s tricky, but we should be able to slide it in around her,” Dr Crab says. “It’s easier when the water level is up here and Sasha or Jack would just go in and hook it around her from the water—”

“I can do that!” Pearl says brightly, wrenching the stretcher out of Athena’s grasp. Athena, taken off-guard by the unexpected display of strength, stumbles and lands on the ground. Holding each of the stretcher poles in the middle in front of her, making a kind of canopy, Pearl runs around the edge of the pool until she stands above the side with Orla and the water, and jumps.

Athena shrieks; Dr Crab lets out a startled yell. But Pearl doesn’t fall. She floats, the stretcher puffed up like a parachute, the air itself cushioning her and easing her down, like a leaf drifting slowly down from a tree on a windless day.

It’s fortunate that Pearl never attended school like she once wanted to, with Trucy, to learn more human subjects. Having a basic understanding of physics would really cramp her style.

His curiosity overcoming his fear, Phoenix inches closer to the edge and peers down. Pearl lands gently on the water that turns to ice beneath her feet. She drops the stretcher in the water next to Orla and runs around her, ice appearing wherever she steps and disappearing as she raises her foot, and then the ice disappears from beneath her, sinking her into the water so that she can swim under Orla, grab the other side of the stretcher, and bring it back under her. “Lower the hooks!” she yells up, and Phoenix finally realizes again what they’re supposed to be doing and runs back over to the controls.

“That girl certainly isn’t normal,” Dr Crab mutters. His voice isn’t quite low enough for it to be said only to himself, but it is out of the range that Pearl, from the bottom of the pool, could hear. “Here, she’s got the stretcher attached. Raise it back up.”

Phoenix hits the last button to do that and approaches Dr Crab again. “You uh - why do you say that? About her—”

The question is not a good one in the slightest, but it’s something Phoenix heard a lot with Maya and Pearl and he learned to respond almost instinctively, heading off any questions about any little suspicious behaviors or appearances. Never was it something this blatant - but Dr Crab can’t know all that history behind Phoenix; all he knows is that he just asked an amazingly stupid question. “Hey, buddy?” he says and Phoenix braces himself. “You sure you’re a real lawyer? Or is this why you’ve fallen to defending orcas?”

Phoenix winces. He could’ve taken the general what are you, an idiot? question in stride, but that particular turn of phrase stings more than he expected.

The stretcher, Orla lying on it, rises up to the poolside. Pearl clings to one of the hooks that holds the stretcher, dangling in some well-meant attempt to give Orla as much room as possible. She stretches out a foot onto the floor but she’s still precariously balanced holding the stretcher, half of her body still over the far drop to the bottom of the pool. Athena rushes over and extends a hand to her to pull her to safety.

“All right, get back, all of you.” Dr Crab waves them off as Orla and her stretcher are lowered onto the floor. “Give me some space to figure out what’s wrong.” This time, his mumbling does seem like it’s only to himself. “Could she have eaten something? Gotta empty her stomach…”

Phoenix turns around and stares at the walls. He does not want to see or know how one gets the contents of an orca’s stomach back out. “Um, excuse me, Mr Doctor?” Pearl says quietly, and Phoenix hears the hesitant shuffle of her sandals across the floor. Dr Crab grunts an acknowledgement of her presence. “We were investigating the crime scene and I got some Luminol on Orla by mistake. Do you think that…?”

“What? Luminol? Nah, that stuff’s no problem. Just washes off. Orla’s condition’s got nothing to do with you, young lady.”

“O-oh.” She sounds the kind of relieved where there’s still a lot of fear left over, but one tiny little piece of it has been lessened. “And, um, I—”

“Oh that’s gross.” Athena pops up at Phoenix’s elbow, a thousand-yard stare turned on a blank stretch of wall. “I’m not really - urgh.”

“Don’t have the stomach to be an animal caretaker?” Phoenix asks, and she shudders. Apparently not.

“Listen, missy.” Dr Crab hasn’t chased Pearl off yet. “You don’t have to say anything else. Jack had a policy for aquarium staff, that he didn’t care who or what you were as long as you could do your job well and be safe doing it. And I’ll stand by that - you helped out, I don’t care about the rest, now the best way for you to keep helping is give me space to do my job.”

“O-of course.” There is the sound of Pearl shuffling back, and then she’s squeezed herself in between Athena and Phoenix. “Poor Orla. I hope she’ll be all right.”

“We’ll check with Dr Crab in a minute, once he’s not so busy.”

Can this be a coincidence? The owner dead on the anniversary of the trainer’s death; the orca sick once she’s found to be a framed innocent in the owner’s death. Does someone have it out for Orla? For the whole aquarium at large? What if it’s a ghost? The ghost of the dead trainer, out for revenge on the captain who didn’t protect her from the dangerous animal they worked with, and on the animal itself?

It seems a little absurd, but a ghost wouldn’t need a key card to get in the orca pool room. The biggest problem is that ghosts are very rarely actually real ghosts, but he’ll file that thought away in case they don’t come up with anything else. Blaming magic should be a last-ditch resort, because Blackquill will probably make a show of not believing in magic or fae even though he’s undeniably something more or less than human, and Edgeworth is already going to want to wring Phoenix’s neck for taking an orca to court. They haven’t actually spoken about this, but he has to know because he signs off on everything Blackquill does, and that he hasn’t offered Phoenix congratulations yet on regaining his badge seems - telling.

(He’ll sort it out with Edgeworth later. The case always comes first.)

“I’ve gotta go rustle up some crew members to refill the pool.” Dr Crab jolts Phoenix back to present, pressing matters. “And return to my rounds. You stay here until I get people sent over.”

“Is Orla gonna be all right?” Athena asks.

“She’ll be fine. She’s sleeping now - bit of time out of the water won’t kill her.”

“What was wrong?” Pearl asks. Now that they’re looking back at Orla, they can see a heap of mushy half-digested fish on the floor near her.

If Phoenix had any thoughts of being hungry left, after the traumatic heights experience of going down into the pool, they are long gone.

“That’s none of your damn business!” The return to hostility from Dr Crab makes Pearl jump. Brave man, to know what he’s snapping at and still do it. “I don’t need to share everything with you people!” He stalks off toward the doors.

“Wait,” Phoenix says. “If you’re going to get other staff - there’s got to be lots of people who work here, right? Sasha’s a suspect because she’s got the key card for this room and used it, but couldn’t she have let people in to help her clean?”

Dr Crab turns a withering stare on him. “We run a real skeleton crew during closing hours,” he says. “Me, Jack, Sasha, and Marlon, usually. Time frame for his death, you’re not really looking at anyone else.”

Which only gives them two other suspects. “But there’s so much aquarium!” Athena says. “How do you possibly clean it all and feed all the animals and still have time to sleep?”

“Most of the animal feeders are automated once the prep work’s done,” Dr Crab says, “I don’t sleep much because of this little shit” - he gestures at the penguin chick tucked half-asleep in his wild cloud of hair - “and the rest is none of your damn business either!”

“Sasha says the captain might’ve been a witch,” Athena calls after him. “Does that have something to do with how—”

The slam of the doors echoes loudly through the huge room.

“I bet that’s it,” Athena says, satisfied with herself.

“We should take a look around,” Phoenix says. “Before anyone else gets here.” Every new occurrence pushes this closer and closer to conspiracy in his mind. Dr Crab’s behavior is the tip of an iceberg in a long line of other icebergs. “And we should probably take a look at” - he presses his mouth closed over a reflexive gagging - “the contents of her stomach.”

“Oh, I’ll do that for you,” Pearl says brightly, but she slows as she approaches the fish remains, obviously not quite as cheery at the prospect as she pretends to be. She crouches down next to the pile and begins tentatively sniffing the air above it. Then she relaxes.

“Isn’t that awful?” Athena asks. “If you can smell dried blood and - whatever, isn’t a pile of fish guts just nasty?”

“It’s a very very strong smell,” Pearl says, “but it’s not as bad smelling as it looks.”

“I’ll take your word for it from over here,” Athena says.

“It’s probably subjective,” Phoenix says.

Pearl, still crouched, shuffles forward until her toes are nearly in the fish slush pile. For a moment she intently studies it and then her hand darts out, plunging her forefinger and thumb in and pulling back almost immediately with something colorful pinched between her fingers. “Here,” she says, dropping it in her other palm, and licking her fingers clean of partially-digested fish.

The wave of nausea that passes over Phoenix is more like a tsunami. “Pearls…” She freezes and stares at him. “Don’t tell me Maya’s been that bad of an influence on you, too.”

“Who else has she influenced?” Pearl asks, very carefully not acknowledging the accusation leveled against her. The answer is still obvious.

“Iris ate garbage can pizza crust,” Phoenix says.

“Oh.” Pearl ponders that for a second, rolling whatever-it-is that she’s found around in her palm. “She didn’t always?”

“No.” Phoenix, at age twenty, dumb as he was, would not have dated a girl who ate pizza crusts out of the garbage. He had standards, but of the sort where he was still convinced that women were mythic beings incapable of grossness. Phoenix at age thirty-four is pretty sure no matter who he dates, he himself is the garbage pizza crust person in the equation.

“Pearly, you know Iris?” Poor Athena. She’s so far out of the loop that she can’t even see it.

“Of course I do! She’s my sister!”

“Oh! Oh, she did say something about having a sister, I think.” And that could be one of two people, depending on what she said, and surely it was Pearl, because there are some things that Iris doesn’t mention the way Phoenix doesn’t mention those same things. Knowing that doesn’t stop the momentary flinch. Maybe nothing will. Maybe time, but this much time still hasn’t been enough. The mark around his neck doesn’t fade, nor does the red in Iris’ hair.

“So I guess it’s not that weird, Mr Wright knowing all of you,” Athena continues. “He just knows a family of you. That makes sense!”

“No,” Pearl says. “It’s still kind of weird.”

“So what did you find, Pearls?” Phoenix interrupts. He knows it’s weird. He doesn’t need Pearl divulging anything more on that front.

She extends her hand, showing a red-and-yellow capsule with some faint writing on it, 3 Zs. “Sleeping pill” is his first thought, based on that, but he wouldn’t put it past drug companies to have it actually be something entirely different. “Huh? Some medication?” Athena asks. “Was Orla sick before this too? We should ask Dr Crab what this is for.”

It seems sort of nice - naive? - that her first thought is that it’s medication Orla is meant to have, and not someone trying to drug her. With all that’s happening he can’t count it out. “We shouldn’t,” Phoenix says. “I think he’s hiding something about what’s going on with Orla, and if we show him this he might try and take it.”

What Phoenix can say about being threatened by the mob and tazed and threatened by a different gangster and such forth is that, eventually, he sort of learned the lesson to take care in who knows what he’s investigating.

“I wouldn’t let him!” Pearl closes her fist around the capsule and shakes her sleeves back.

“I know, but we still don’t want to go around starting fights.” There is no reason for them to try and explain how the aquarium’s veterinarian ended up smacked through two concrete walls if they don’t have to. “We can ask for Apollo’s help when we get back to the office.”

“Or I can just go now!”

Without waiting for a response - though Phoenix does call after her, “Yeah, sure thing!” - Pearl races around the pool to the far side where the pile of props has been scattered into more a field of props, and the marker to play volleyball with Orla is painted on the floor. It’s an yellow circle, with two orange footprints inside of it; Pearl bounds into the circle and vanishes, not all at once, but as her body passes into the line of the circle. It’s a sight he never really gets used to.

He hopes Pearl explains where the capsule was found so Apollo can take appropriate precautions, like finding gloves - Phoenix is pretty sure there’s got to be a box of rubber gloves that Ema dropped off at some point - or a plastic bag or not putting his hands anywhere near his face because they plucked it out of orca puke. He should have told her to be sure to mention that. She probably won’t mention that. Ah well. Apollo, and Trucy if she joins in, should be fine. Orca barf probably won’t kill them.

Probably.

“What’s taking her so long?” It’s not even been a minute, he’s pretty sure, and already Athena is antsy, hopping back and forth foot to foot, ready, now that there’s nothing more they can help Orla with, to head out and investigate the next place.

“She probably scared the hell out of Apollo and Trucy and has to calm them down before she can explain,” Phoenix says.

“Apollo probably screamed so loud and when she gets back she won’t be able to hear.” Athena giggles.

After another minute or two, Pearl reappears, rubbing the side of her head. “Did you scare them?” Phoenix calls over.

“Shh!” Athena hisses. “Orla’s sleeping!”

Pearl trots back over, her finger held to her lips, shushing him as well, but once she is less than a foot away she says, “Yes. They both shout very loudly.”

“Yeah.” Trucy’s a singer, among everything else she tries to do in her spare time, and Apollo is just loud, and they both probably have their mother’s lungs. Not that Thalassa has ever screamed at him, because he figures she’s probably like a banshee in that if she ever screams at him it’s the preface to his death. He’d probably deserve it if he got her to that point.

“The detective said he was going to the show stage when he left here,” Pearl says. “He wanted to speak with Mr Animal Feeder. We should go too.”

Several aquarium staff members arrive half a minute later. Phoenix is glad they missed seeing Pearl’s disappearance and reappearance. He can’t expect them to be as chill as Dr Crab.

Fulbright is nowhere to be seen when they reach the stage; Rimes is there with cleaning supplies, a bucket of fish, no penguin, and all the decor of the show set up all around. It isn’t like the mess of the pool room. These props are actually arranged. A cheery hand-painted “Swashbuckler Spectacular” sign lies propped up on some crates, and a skeleton wearing a pirate bandana sits on a raft moored to the side of the pool with a rope. Can’t have it go careening everywhere and get in the way of where the show action happens, he supposes.

“Can I start doing forensics here?” Pearl asks. “I want to use the fingerprint powder too!” She’s beaming again, seeming nothing more than a slightly-sheltered teenage girl with an eagerness to help any way she can.

(Which she is, in part, and not in whole.)

“Sure thing, Small Fry,” Rimes says. “You’ve got the run of the place!” Pearl takes that permission by, literally, sprinting off across the stage, to one of the furthest points near the pirate ship. “And how can I help you out, lawyer-man?”

When Phoenix asks, Rimes happily explains to them the mechanics of the show area, about how the hoist track lets them move props and Orla between the pool room, where they practice, and the show stage. He reluctantly trips up and admits to them the rumor that the captain was taking Sasha out of the new orca show; and then, more angry than reluctant, says that he still doesn’t trust the orca not to have been responsible for the captain’s death. “The other day, during practice,” he says, voice low, “I saw that orca take Sasha in her mouth and just squeeze her, around the chest, so bad she couldn’t even blow her whistle. And I shoulda - I shoulda jumped in there and helped get her out, but I didn’t.�� He hangs his head sadly. “I’m a weak man. Can’t save anyone. Couldn’t help Sasha then, can’t help her now, couldn’t…”

“I can’t imagine anyone who would want to, or even could, tangle with an orca.” Phoenix wishes he had any real reassurance, anything more than what he always ends up thinking, that saving people is a tricky, terrible thing, and he himself always did everything he could and still telling himself that didn’t let him sleep every night. That’s not the answer anyone wants to hear.

“Yeah,” Rimes says. “No one normal, anyway.”

His hand dips toward his pocket, and Phoenix’s heart dips down into the deep caverns in his chest. It could be an innocuous statement and movement, but when Athena asks if he’s sure that Sasha and Orla weren’t practicing the lifesaver trick and Rimes’ attention turns to her, Phoenix flashes a Sighted glance over him. Rimes is normal, almost, borderline normal, but there’s a dark hollow spot on his chest - the shape of a mitamah, like Thalassa, but not the absence of a soul. Just a crack around the edges, loosened but not lost. And in his pocket, the one he reached for when he said he wasn’t strong enough, the energy that thrums there is the shape of a magatama, near to bursting with deep red, angry power.

It’s not that every time Phoenix meets someone involved with magic, he assumes they’re the culprit, because that would be hypocritical of him because he’s also very involved with magic, and - okay yeah he’s still usually a hypocrite. He makes that assumption often. Sure, it steers him wrong, but he steers himself wrong on cases where he doesn’t make that assumption, either, and there seems to be a correlation more often than not.

Someone who’s made a deal that he can See is always bound up in some shit, he can say that much.

“Mr Nick! Mr Nick!” Pearl hurries back toward them, waving the container of fingerprinting powder. “I found some very strange fingerprints!” Rimes and Athena both turn from their debate - furious argument - over Orla to look at her. “Do you want to hear about - oh!” She gasps, her hand coming up quickly to cover her mouth, and still not in time to hide her large fangs that have slipped carelessly through her glamour. For as powerful as she is, that often happens when she’s very startled. Her eyes are wide, red pooling in the center of her dark irises, staring in shock and perhaps a bit of fear (though Phoenix really, really hopes it isn’t) at something behind them all. “Mr Nick, that’s - he’s—!”

Phoenix turns, and comes face-to-face with Simon Blackquill.

Pearl grabs Phoenix’s elbow, her claw-pointed fingers squeezing him through several layers of fabric, and she presses up close behind him. She isn’t quite keeping out of sight of Blackquill, so maybe it’s not an attempt to hide, but more a message - that she is literally and figuratively behind Phoenix, and if it’s trouble Blackquill wants to make, he will have to reckon with her.

Considering her, Blackquill’s eyes, irises and pupils both, flash straight silver. Blue is the color of humans’ Sight; red is unglamoured fae eyes. What the hell is that?

He’s still in handcuffs, still in black, a strange picture in the bright natural sunlight, jaring against the colorful backdrop of the aquarium and the blue sky. And he’s taller than Phoenix realized - across the courtroom, he figured they were more-or-less level, but now it’s clear that Blackquill has several inches over him, a looming shadow able to swallow all of them.

“Prosecutor Blackquill!” Phoenix’s voice squeaks on the first sound he makes; Blackquill doesn’t acknowledge it even with a condescending smirk. “What are you doing here?”

Translation: I didn’t know you were allowed out anywhere but the courthouse.

Blackquill answers like the words are dragged from him, reluctant, not wanting to bother with the defense attorneys, but knowing that he has to or he’ll get some more patronizing reprimands from Fulbright. “Just some business to attend to.”

“With us?” Athena pipes up. She, when Phoenix manages to sort of turn, despite Pearl’s grip on his arm, to look at her, doesn’t appear as concerned as Pearl. Just - confused, more than anything.

“No,” Blackquill answers curtly.

Were Phoenix in a gambling mood, both with his life and on what Blackquill is, he’d ask if the prosecution’s important matter is seeing the penguins, but he’s not in that mood.

“Prosecutor Blackquill very strenuously insisted on accompanying me, so I thought it would be a good chance for him to stretch his legs and get some fresh air!” Fulbright explains, seeming to miss the withering glare Blackquill turns on him as soon as he begins speaking. They don’t really seem to be on the same wavelength about anything.

(Also Phoenix is now more sure that he wouldn’t be gambling if he says the reason Blackquill is here is the penguins. He feels a bit bad for the man, honestly, that Rifle isn’t around, but he also doesn’t think Athena’s heart would be able to take it if Rifle, given the choice, preferred Prosecutor Blackquill to her.)

“Marlon Rimes.” Blackquill’s usage of names has always seemed twisted up backwards, as far as fae custom goes; epithets for all but vanquished foes, while Blackquill doesn’t hesitate to use names, but mostly turns relentlessly mocking nicknames on everyone who doesn’t have his respect. Everything about Blackquill is twisted up backwards. “You will be a witness to the prosecution at the trial tomorrow.”

“What? No!” Rimes flinches backwards. Phoenix steps to the side, Pearl moving with him, to give a clear passage of conversation between the two of them. He wants to be able to see both of their reactions to the other, if either of them notices anything about the other. “Why would I wanna testify against Sasha?”

Blackquill takes a step forward, chains clinking. Rimes stumbles back several paces, opening further distance between them. “Curious that you think what you ‘want’ factors at all into this conversation. Now, come with us.” Another step forward. The air gets colder. The pool water stills and seems to pale.

“Wait!” Rimes holds up his hands pleadingly. “If I go, who’s gonna feed the orca? She’s got a strict schedule, this afternoon and tomorrow morning, and all of the other day shift keepers are afraid to get near her now! I can’t just go—”

An ill-fated but valiant attempt at escape, but Phoenix doesn’t get to find out how Blackquill would go about responding with his usual, erm, finesse. Pearl instead is the one to push Rimes further into the prosecution’s grasp. “Um, maybe I can help?” she says. The pressure of her claws in Phoenix’s arm finally relents. “I can feed her and call in to the trial tomorrow again if I need to! I’m worried about Orla and want to make sure she’s all right and this way I can stay close to her.”

She hasn’t said much about it today, after her outburst when they left yesterday, but she’s still thinking about that, isn’t she. The reflections. She still wants to help Orla.

Rimes stumbles backwards another few steps. “Small Fry, you lost your head? You on somethin’? Even the other keepers who’re trained are afraid of her! You’re just a - a small fry, and that orca’s dangerous, y’know?”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that!” Pearl smiles, with her lips pressed together, her teeth kept out of sight. “All my friends are dangerous!”

Rimes opens his mouth - closes it - opens it and juts his jaw out and shakes his head and decides that this, whatever this is, is something he is going to accept without further questioning. “Yeah,” he says, and then when Pearl realizes a possible issue with her video-phoning Orla in to the trial tomorrow - that she doesn’t have a video phone - he further relents to let her borrow his. “All right. Thanks a bunch, Small Fry, goin’ outta your way to help like this.” He sighs. “I still don’t wanna testify but I’ll at least see what the police have to say and what they want outta me.”

Pearl, clutching the video phone in both hands, returns to Phoenix’s side, pressing her shoulder into his arm. “And I’ll need to feed Rifle, too, right, Mr Animal Keeper? Is that her bucket of fish right - hey! That’s not yours!”

Every head swivels about looking for Rimes’ fish bucket. Taka goes still but for its head, twitching about to peer at them from different angles with its beady yellow eyes, a fish hanging from its beak. Apparently having decided on whatever it was pondering, it throws its head back and horks down the fish, whole.

Phoenix, as clueless about hawks as he is most animals, wonders if that’s just how hawks eat, or if that’s a fae thing, like the hound choking down a cardboard takeout container of Chinese leftovers in one gulp, or Maya biting into a carton of ice cream like a sandwich.

“Let us be off, then!” Fulbright says. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Rimes! You’re helping us further the cause of justice, as we will continue as we discuss strategy.”

“Ugh!” Athena’s disgust is very loud and very deliberately acted for Fulbright’s benefit, or the opposite of benefit. “C’mon, Mr Wright, Pearly! We’ve got our own strategy and investigation to do!”

Rimes skirts several feet around Blackquill, making a few strange hops and skips to get past him as quickly as possible. Fulbright follows, putting himself between Rimes and Blackquill, but Blackquill hasn’t moved at all, instead watching Taka rip apart a larger fish and swallow it in two separate pieces. He blinks his eyes closed and keeps them closed, and, if possible, appears even more exhausted than Phoenix already thought. “You’re wasting your time.”

“Anything we can do to help our client is never a waste of time,” Phoenix says. He’s not going to be baited into a fight, he’s not. There’ll be enough of that in court tomorrow.

“The police have turned every stone in the course of their investigation. What do you hope to find that they have not? Or perhaps you intend to make something that they have not found, instead?”

“Huh?” Athena doesn’t follow the implication. Phoenix only wishes he didn’t know exactly what Blackquill is getting at.

“I want the truth, Prosecutor Blackquill, and I believe the truth is that Sasha didn’t kill Jack Shipley.”

Blackquill snorts. “You ‘believe’. First the orca, now Sasha Buckler. You think you can save them both? That you do not damn one by acquitting the other? Admit you do this for your own benefit - for your reputation, a bombastic, sensational case to wash away the prior association with your name. For the money, because this aquarium surely would pay a pretty penny to not lose its main attraction and the only orca trainer it has left.”

“We’re doing it because it’s the right thing to do!” Athena yells. She has the fish bucket in one hand, and swats at Taka with the other, while the hawk attempts again and again to dive down into the bucket and steal another fish. With a clank she lets the bucket drop to the ground - Taka plunges in feet-first - and storms up toward Blackquill. Pearl reaches out a hand, about to grab Athena’s elbow and pull her back, and stops. “You know how not about the money Mr Wright is, huh?”

“Athena,” Phoenix says quietly. “Don’t. He’s just saying this to get a rise out of us.”

“I interned in a bunch of law offices in Europe” - like Blackquill’s supposed to know she studied and lived in Europe for the past seven years - “and most of them weren’t about the money either, but it’d still be pretty soonish that we’d have to talk about fees—”

“Athena,” Phoenix interrupts, more sternly, because he can see where this is going and it’s not going to make him look professional in the slightest.

“—but with Mr Wright that’s the last thing that ever comes up for our defense, and—”

Blackquill’s sharp laugh interrupts her this time, a sound close to his hawk’s shrieks. “Oh, this is rich,” he says, and in that moment there’s something close to amusement in his tone, but he isn’t smiling even after the laugh, and he drops back into a chilled monotone as he continues. “You certainly aren’t rich, but this is. Sacrificing your students’ livelihoods on the altar of your principles? Concern, is it, for every sad person to come through your door but those that stay closest to you.”

“That’s not true either!” Athena stomps forward and places herself right in front of Blackquill, between him and Phoenix, tilting her head back to stare him in the eyes. Such a stark contrast between them, her fiery hair and clothing the color of the sun and him, dark, drab, and utterly still even with this energetic and furious girl right in his face. “I can pay for rent and food and whatever else I want, for your information, thankyouverymuch, if you even said that not trying to get a one-up on Mr Wright but because you care, which you—”

She gives up, chokes herself off, not another breath to waste on a man who might as well be stone above her. At her sides, her hands curl into fists, and all of her frustration from the words she didn’t finish turns itself into a frustrated, wordless yell. Blackquill lifts his head and turns his face away, surveying the water.

“Prosecutor Blackquill, we should be off!” Fulbright calls. Taka squawks indignantly from its fish feast. “You’ll have plenty of time to argue with Mr Wright and Ms Cykes when you see them tomorrow!”

“Would that I didn’t,” Blackquill drawls. He steps back away from Athena first, but it’s clear this isn’t a retreat, isn’t letting her win, and without another word he puts his back to them. Taka rips a strip of meat off of one of the largest fish, leaving the rest, and flaps up to Blackquill’s shoulder.

“Gah!” Athena’s hands snap back open and she lifts them to her head, digging into her hair like she’s about to pull it out. “I’ve never been so insulted in my life! What an asshole!” Her hands smack back to her sides and she forces her face to relax, puts a strained smile on instead. “I think I need a second to splash off the anger. Be right back!”

She heads for the pool’s edge, stooping down and splashing some up against her face.

Pearl snaps into motion, one hand that was resting against the beads of her necklace yanking away, and were it really a necklace it would have broken apart - but the glamour comes apart instead, the four shining beads drifting in a loose formation in the air around her face, and the magatama following her fingertips as she raises her hand. She stops with her hand up to her face, the magatama hovering in front of one eye. The other squints shut and the magatama hums with faint green energy. “He’s very strange, isn’t he?” she asks no one in particular.

Athena, straightening back up, spots an empty bucket lying on its side and grabs it and scoops water into it from the pool.

“Wait,” Phoenix says. “The magatama - you’re using it like - can you not just see him as he is?” Humans who have the Sight don’t need a magatama to peer through. Fae certainly don’t - or shouldn’t. He hadn’t actually considered whether that would help him cut through Blackquill, but his still sits in his pocket, like always, so at the very least, Blackquill’s general aura isn’t a glamour. Not like Klavier.

“No,” Pearl says. “He’s very good at pretending. He doesn’t want anyone to see him for who he is.” She lowers her hand and the magatama lowers with it.

She’s as vague and directionless with her information as her oldest cousin, sometimes. “And?” Phoenix prompts. “What is he? Can you tell?” “Corpses don’t bleed, do they,” Pearl muses. She might not have heard him asking; she’s spaced out somewhere he can’t follow, puzzling out all that she’s seen and felt, all the little traces of magic that thread themselves around anyone who gets in close. “The heart no longer beats to push blood out.”

“Pearls?” Phoenix asks again.

Athena flings the water from the bucket at Blackquill’s back. His shoulders twitch and he flicks his head backwards, like he’s tossing his bangs from his eyes, and Athena shrieks as the water splashes back over her.

“He would throw himself off the gallows willingly,” Pearl says. “He forfeit his life and his soul with his plea, but his heart won’t stop bleeding and he can’t bring himself to cut it out, too. He needs it.”

“Are you being literal or metaphorical when you say mention his soul?” Phoenix asks. Mitamah always refers to the actual, physical - metaphysical? - bit that can be bought and sold and lost, and while they generally use soul in that same way, sometimes the fae get… poetic. Obfuscating. Unnecessarily obtuse, unwittingly frustrating, and sometimes wittingly frustrating, but that’s usually never Pearl. She tends to think she’s being clear when she isn’t, and then she fears she’s been too clear and someone will be angry with her for divulging their secrets, and then she’ll clam up, and Phoenix is left to decode this sort of thing.

His soul - Phoenix has wondered what he is for months. It would help him narrow it down if Pearl would answer. Does she mean he gave up his morals when he committed murder or lied about it - or was it his literal soul? “Pearls? Can you tell me?”

The floating orbs drift back into place, and together with the magatama take shape as a necklace once again. “He won’t let you save him,” Pearl says, very softly. “He can’t let you see.”

Can’t-cant, or doesn’t-want-to can’t? And if Pearl hasn’t answered him directly by now then she won’t, or can’t. Because sometimes Phoenix thinks this is just how they are, of a culture of secrets and caution, and though they don’t tell him to stop, their rambling indirect “answers” are their attempts to politely steer him away from his faux-pas, showing him how he’s supposed to talk instead. And sometimes he thinks that their inability to answer some certain questions is a complex web of magic in their blood and their realm, rules too complex to follow that they aren’t even aware of that leaves them speaking vaugeries. Is a changeling who doesn’t know what she is aware that she can’t lie, or does she not notice this way she instinctively is? Are there some obscure bargains and bylaws and treaties that trip Pearl and Mia in random places and they never notice because twisting their way around the truth is already as natural as breathing?

Athena’s boots squelch with every step she takes back to them. “Hey, what are we talking about?” she asks. “I wasn’t paying attention.” She balances herself on one foot, hopping every so often to keep upright, and peels off one boot, then switches feet to remove the other. “Pearly, you said something about fingerprints before that jerk showed up? Catch me up on that!”

That’s definitely not what they were talking about, but it’s something they need to know. Pearl explains the prints, made by Rimes’ right hand on the left side of the ladder, the thumb pointing down, like he was gripping it from above, leaning out over the pool. Odd, but Phoenix isn’t sure how to connect it to anything else, and though he always tells himself that the case comes first - Blackquill is still a case that Phoenix will have to deal with, eventually, and existentially, he seems like the most important problem.

#roddy fanfics #fic: the witches of los angeles

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