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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

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HASO “Dream Come True.”

Hope you guys enjoy, and hope you all have a great day!

Adam took a drink before setting the glass back down on the table. Across from him, Donovan Red took a pull on his whisky, drinking deeply before setting his glass down wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m Sorry about your man….. I didn’t intend for things to go that way.” Adam said staring down at the amber liquid in the glass before him.

Donavan signed, “Not your fault. Sometimes pride gets the better of us, and it’s hard to admit that an outsider might be able to beat us at our own game.” he patted Adam on the shoulder, “But you saved my life, which means I am, and will forever be in your debt.” He smiled

Adam tilted his head.

“That doesn’t seem to bother you too much.”

“I think there are much worse people to be indebted to. A least I know you won’t ask me to do something I don’t want to do. Not like other men I know.” He took another drink, the tattoos on his neck bobbing once and then twice as he swallowed, “So, tell me this favor that you are looking for. How can me and mine be of service.”

Adam sighed and slumped back in his seat. He felt like he should definitely be keeping quiet about what he wanted to tell the man, but it was hard keeping it to himself and the people on his ship.It would be nice if someone else knew what was going on.

And wasn’t that the point.

Isn’t that why he had come here.

“When I joined the UNSC, I never thought about politics. I was a fighter pilot and then a spaceship captain. I am no politician, but more and more I find myself having to do politics like things. People ask for my opinions on policy, and they encourage me to support one group over another. I have to manuver as a diplomat for the GA without trying to piss off the actual diplomat, who isn’t too happy that I sometimes get in the way of them doing their job.

I am the human representative to all of humanity, and I have to behave the right way, but, sometimes, in doing what I know is right people get mad at me for it. I am worried one day they are going to give me an order that I just can’t follow. Not to mention that I have suddenly become the figurehead for an entire political movement. Sometimes I have to make speeches now.” he threw up his hands, “I represent a coalition interested in cooperating with the GA and all her interests, but there is a very heavy isolationist mindset on earth that is mad that we ever even joined the UNSC. They have already attempted to assassinate me once, and I have no doubt that they are going to do it again.”

Donavan grunted and looked him over, “Yes, I remember hearing about that.” He looked Adam up and down slowly, “No offence, but you would make a shit politician.”

Adam sighed and nodded, “I know. The only reason that I have so much pull in the arena is based on what I represent, and how the GA feels about me, but now…. Now I am learning that there are factions of the GA that want me gone.”

Donavan rased an eyebrow in surprise, “The GA?”

Adam shrugged and sighed pushing his glass away from him, “Yes, some very powerful people are after me for something I never intended to do.”

“And who is this exactly?”

Adam shut his mouth forcing himself to think about it for a moment before finally making his decision.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, “The chairwoman of the GA herself.”

Red almost choked on his drink, spewing some of it out onto the table before swallowing hard and setting his glass down very slowly.

“WHAT!”

“Adam nodded. I was chasing after some information, and infiltrated the pirate wing of the anti-alliance coalition as a man named captain Kell.”

Red held up a hand, “Hold on, YOU are Kell, no shit. I heard the guy was one badass pirate.”

Adam adjusted his eye-patch, “I AM one badass pirate, but either way, I used that cover to get to their leaders and saw a transmission being sent from the chairwoman of the GA that was ordering those men and women to kill me if they could manage it, and now I don’t know what to do. The chairwoman pretty much helped me get my job. As far as I can recall she was one of the most supportive when it came to my promotion to captain. Thought we were allies if not friends, and now I come to learn that she has been operating behind my back to stage my assasination.”

Red leaned up against the table, “Well no shit, that does suck.” He tapped his fingers together, “And of course you can’t tell anyone without proof, otherwise they aren’t going to believe you. If you are going to come up with allegations like those, then you are going to need hard evidence against her.

Adam nodded, “And I do have some evidence, the recording of what she said, but those sorts of things can be doctored. I need to expose her somehow. I don’t know how all of this fits in of course, but it is partially why I came to speak with you.”

Red waited and Adam continued.

“I can’t trust anyone within the GA, or even within the UNSC. My only option is to go outside the law like my enemies are doing. Fight fire with fire so to say. If they are using the criminal underbelly to try and kill me, then maybe I can use it to try and save me.”

Donavan was nodding slowly, “And you are hoping to fight fire with fire to speak?”

Adam sighed, “I don’t know what I am hoping , but I know for a fact you and your men have the most power in this system, enough that everyone knows but no one questions it. I know you can go deeper than I can ever attempt, and I was hoping that maybe you could keep an eye out for me, track the movements of the criminal underworld so to speak while I try and deal with those people who are pretending to do things legally.”

Red nodded slowly, ‘That is something I can do”

“But is it something you are willing to do?”

He tilted his head back thoughtfully to look up at the ceiling above, “I think it is. Not much different from things my men and I already do accept this time it is going to be for a worthy cause.”

He grinned, his gold capped teeth glittering in the dim light, “I-”

Just then, the implant in the side of his neck began to buzz. He held up a hand for Red to be silent, and the other man nodded leaning back in his seat to finish his drink as Adam answered the call.

“Madam president.” His tone of surprise roused red who raised an eyebrow.

“I have to say this is…. This is rather shocking. I didn’t know that you had this number.”

“I can have any number that interests me Admiral.”

“Yes of course.” He shifted nervously in his seat, “What can I do for you ma’am.”

“Do you know what important event happened on July 20th 1969, Admiral.”

He paused not entirely sure if this was a trick question.

“Go on. I know you of all people would know it.”

“The Apollo 11 moon landing ma’am.’

“More precisely, the 2051 anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing. And it has been long in coming but the Global Aeronautics Space Division has decided to celebrate the occasion by recreating Apollo 11 down to every historical accuracy. The calculations will be done partially by hand and partially by computer. The Ship design will be exactly that of Apollo 11, etc. etc.”

Despite the stress he had been under the last few days, he felt his heart skip a beat.

“Wait, are…. Are you serious! That is amazing!”

“Yes yes.” She said cutting him off.

“And they want…. Or all of us want you to pilot that ship and command the mission as Commander Neil Armstrong would have in his time.”

The only response he was able to manage was a squeak, and he could feel the fangirl in him coming on hard and fast. He tried to clear his throat and remain professional, his heart pounding, a wide grin setting off across his face.

“Yes Ma’am you can count me in.”

“How confident are you that you can pilot the rocket?”

“I can fly anything ma’am.”

“Even so, we would like you back on earth as soon as possible to prepare for the event. This is a big historical recreation, and we want it to go as well as possible.”

“yes ma’am.”

The line went dead and he was no longer able to fight back the grin on his face.

Red watched him before standing, “We will get to work Admiral, and we will keep in contact. It’s good to know that my men and women are going to have something useful to occupy their time instead of sitting around twiddling their thumbs.”

Adam stood as well and took the man’s hand, “It should be a pleasure working with you.”

Red snorted skeptically, “You are too kind. I doubt it will be so pleasant, but consider yourself as a man who has friends in very low places.”

The two of them nodded and Adam excused himself back to his ship, racing towards his rooms with the giddy excitement of a school boy. The clind in him had awoken. He stopped to sit on the edge of his bed staring at the tiny recreated model of the lunar module sitting on the shelf above his bed glowing blue in the neon light above.

How cool was this going to be.

How dangerous was this going to be?

***

Eris was pleased to learn that she was not lactose intolerant. They hadn’t been sure based on her half alien half human anatomy if she would be able to handle some of the more harsh foods of the planet, but everything seemed to be working properly, a fact she was forever thankful for as she polished off her second bowl of ice cream.

She found the treat novel and delectable.

Leave it to human to think of eating flavored snow, or at least frozen cream.

And she liked it when they put little bits of candy on top.

Martha Sat on the floor next to the couch, and her husband sat in his chair watching ‘the Game’. Eris wasn’t sure what the rules were, but she liked watching them crash into each other. She wasn’t a big fan of all the talking they seemed to do in between the crashing together.

Martha and Jim had invited her to stay over for as long as she wanted after she told them the more detailed story of her life. They had been shocked but ultimately unsurprised to learn that she was less than three years old feeling sorry that she never got to have her childhood.

That’s why they were treating her like this, she knew.

They wanted to give her that little bit of her childhood.

She worried that they would be annoyed at her presence, but they seemed to have time with her sticking around indefinitely as far as she could tell . She wasn’t sure how long she was going to be staying, but for now, she was happy where she was.

Of course part of her being welcome had something to do with how Martha had no one to model clothes for her. Since her youngest son left the house she had been forced to model them herself, which made things difficult when she wanted to make alterations. But now that she had Eris, things were going much more smoothly,

At first Eris had been embarrassed to put on the clothing for her.

Once upon a time Eris hadn’t known better in thinking her body was weird. She had floated around without it using a gravity belt and no clothes, letting her long dark hair and ribbons cover what needed to be covered, but the more she learned about humans, the more self conscious she had grown, until hoodies and baggy pants were the only things she wore.

Martha did not approve of her wardrobe seeming to think Eris would look very striking in red or black.

Eris had tried on a few outfits for her nervousness at just how much of her alien otherness tended to show, with plunging backs and short skirts to show off her marble whie legs. Martha seemed to think the ribbons were pretty, and in everything she had Eris try on, they were on full display.

“Do they work like starborn ribbons?” Martha wondered, “I know they act sort of as solar sales, storing energy from the sun and using that to glide.”

Eris paused, “I don’t know. I was born on noctropolis where there is no sun, so I have never tried it.”

“I think you should.”

Eris shifted nervously, “But.”

Martha just smiled at her, “our backyard is fenced in, no one is going to see you.” Eris thoughts bout it for a moment and then set her bowl down to the side. She stood slowly and walked to the back sliding screen door and stepped out onto their back porch.

Technically it was only fenced in on two sides. The backside was open where the forest met their lawn growing deep and black as it went further back in to the depths.

Nervously Eris reached up and pulled off her hoodie dropping iit to the ground.

The tank top she wore had been made by Martha to accommodate her ribbons.

Once upon a time her gravity belt had allowed those ribbons to wave and undulate, but here they sagged with gravity and flowed behind her in the occasional wind current.

She turned around so they were facing the sun and waited.

And waited.

She felt nothing happening and was abut to go inside when.

When something started to happen.

She felt more…. Energized. Her blood seemed to grow warm and a smile spread across her face. At first she thought it was just all in her head, but then the warmth continued to blossom over her.

Her eyes went wide and she hummed softly feeling recharged from the sun like a battery.

She had her eyes closed and was just enjoying the radiation when she heard something ringing from the inside of the house followed by voices.

She was able to tear herself away from the warmth and stick her head inside.

“Adam, how are you doing.” Jim said and Eris could see Adam’s face projected on the TV.

She recognized a bit of herself in him. She had his nose, and his eyes shape.

“You are not going to believe who just called me.”

Martha smiled as she walked over to sit next to her husband, “Adam I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the president herself.”

Adam frowned some of the wind momentarily taken out of his sales, “Ok, yes it was the president, but.” e lit up almost immediately, “But you are not going to believe what she asked me to do.” He didn’t wait for them to guess, “She wants me to fly a recreated mission of the Apollo 11 moon landing. Historically accurate and everything!.” His grin was so wide it looked like he was going to split his face in half.

Martha’s eyes widened, “Really?”

Jim frowned, “That is great Adam, but…. Historically accurate?”

He nodded vigorously, “Yeah.”

“Son yu do realize the computer they used was less powerful than your mother’s automatic blow dryer.”

He waved a hand, “Yeah yeah, I know I know. Most of the math is probably going to be done by hand.”

Jim snorted and Martha grimaced, “Adam, sometimes I wish you had safer hobbies. I mean flying the omen is one thing, with those shields she could probably survive a meteor impact, but you understand the Apollo 11 mission flew in a rocket that that parts no heavier duty than your average tin can.”

“yes , and that makes it even more awesome.”

“I think you are getting dangerous and awesome confused again, son.”

“Oh come on, this is like a dream come true for me. ‘

Finally Martha and Jim sighed and broke out into smiles, “There is no changing your mind as usual.”

Adam grinned, “Nope.”

He turned his head just then, seeming to look through the camera, his eyes falling on Eris. Shock spread across his face, “Eris, is that you?”

She smiled shyly and moved forward, “Yeah, It’s me.”

“What are you doing there, I thought you were working at the hybrid foundation taking care of Glados and the others.”

She shrugged guiltily, “I…. well glados and the others wanted to go back to the adapted planet, and after that others started getting adopted, but then I sort of burnt out and wanted to come here and meet…..” She paused not sure if she should say

Martha put an arm around her, “She wanted to meet her grandparents and extended family.”

Adam looked surprised for a moment as if not having expected that before shrugging, “Just try to avoid mom’s side of the family if at all possible.”

“Adam.” Martha scolded, though she wasn’t actually mad.

He grinned, “I’ll be home in a few days.” he looked at eris, “Maybe I can show you around town when I get back….. If that’s something you’d be interested in?”

Eris shuffled her feet and quietly looked down, “Yeah,i’d like that.”

She wished she could read his thoughts in that moment. Was he only offering to be polite? She knew better than anyone that her birth had not been his fault. He had had his DNA stolen to make her, but still she couldn’t help but feel an affinity towards him. One that she knew wasn’t fiar for her to feel.

He hadn’t chosen for her to be born after all.

Not like other people

Did he just feel guilty?

Was she unwanted?

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thelittlesttimelord · 4 years

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The Littlest Timelord: The Death of the Doctor Chapter 8

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Death of the Doctor Chapter 8 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 8/? SUMMARY: The Doctor’s death is looming on the horizon and Elise is growing every day. What the Doctor doesn’t know is that he has 200 years to teach Elise all he knows. Amy, Rory, and River let Elise in on their secret, because River knows she will keep it. What will Elise do when he’s gone?

[A/N - I know I said a new chapter on Monday but I really wanted to watch and write today once I got home.]

When River, the Doctor, Rory, and Elise got to the children’s home, they found Canton pointing a gun at a door.

“Okay, gun down. I've got it,” the Doctor told him. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and soniced the lock.

“Amy, we're here. Are you okay?” Rory asked.

“I can't see!” Amy cried.

The Doctor opened the door and they rushed in.

The room was empty except for the spacesuit that was lying on the floor.

“Where is she, Doctor?” Rory asked.

The Doctor soniced the spacesuit and River pulled up the visor. “It's empty,” she said.

“It's dark. So dark. I don't know where I am. Please, can anybody hear me?” Amy’s voice asked. Amy’s nanorecorder was lying on the floor, flashing.

Rory picked it up. “They took this out of her. How did they do that, Doctor? Why can I still hear her?”

“Is it a recording?” River asked.

The Doctor soniced the recorder. “Um, it defaults to live. This is current. Wherever she is right now, this is what she's saying.”

“Amy, can you hear me? We're coming for you. Wherever you are, we're coming, I swear,” Rory said.

“She can't hear you. I'm so sorry. It's one way,” the Doctor told him.

“She can always hear me, Doctor. Always. Wherever she is, and she always knows that I am coming for her. Do you understand me? Always.”

Rory’s devotion to Amy always warmed Elise’s hearts. She hoped that one day she’d find someone who would search the universe to get back to her.

“Doctor, are you out there? Can you hear me? Doctor? Oh, God. Please, please, Doctor, just get me out of this,” Amy’s voice begged.

“He's coming. I'll bring him, I swear,” Rory said.

“Hello? Is somebody there?” a voice asked.

A man came into the room. It was the owner of the orphanage. “I think someone has been shot. I think we should help. We c…I can't re…I can't remember.”

They went down to his office and a Silence was lying on the floor, bleeding from a gunshot wound.

Elise gasped and hid behind River and Rory as the Doctor knelt in front of the creature.

“Okay. Who and what are you?” the Doctor asked.

“Silence, Doctor. We are the Silence. And Silence will fall,” it said.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They took the spacesuit back to the warehouse to examine it.

“It's an exoskeleton. Basically, life support. There's about twenty different kinds of alien tech in here,” River said.

“Who was she? Why put her in here?” the Doctor asked.

“You put this on, you don't even need to eat. The suit processes sunlight directly. It's got built in weaponry, and a communications system that can hack into anything.”

“Including the telephone network?”

“Easily.”

“But why phone the President?”

“It defaults to the highest authority it can find. The little girl gets frightened, the most powerful man on Earth gets a phone call. The night terrors with a hotline to the White House.”

The Doctor stepped away and licked his blue envelope.

“You won't learn anything from that envelope, you know,” River told him.

“Purchased on earth. Perfectly ordinary stationery. TARDIS blue. Summoned by a stranger who won't even show his face. That's a first, for me. How about you?”

“Elise, you, me. Our lives are back to front. Your future's my past. Your firsts are my lasts.”

“That's not really what I asked.”

“Ask something else, then.”

“What are the Silence doing, raising a child?” His eyes flickered down to Elise who was staring at the spacesuit.

River’s did the same. “Keeping her safe, even giving her independence.”

“The only way to save Amy is to work out what the Silence are doing.”

“I know,” Rory said.

“And every single thing we learn about them brings us a step closer.”

“Yeah, Doctor, I get it. I know.”

“Of course, it's possible she's not just any little girl.”

“Well, I'd say she's human, going by the life support software,” River said.

“But?”

“She climbed out of this suit. Like she forced her way out. She must be incredibly strong.”

“Incredibly strong and running away. I like her.”

“We should be trying to find her.”

“Yes, I know. But how? Anyway, I have the strangest feeling she's going to find us.”

“Apollo 11, this is Houston. How do you read? Over.” A broadcast was playing on a small TV nearby.

“Why does it look like a NASA spacesuit?” Rory asked.

“Because that's what the Silence do. Think about it. They don't make anything themselves. They don't have to. They get other life forms to do it for them,” the Doctor said.

“So they're parasites, then?” River asked.

“Superparasites, standing in the shadows of human history since the very beginning. We know they can influence human behavior any way they want. If they've been doing that on a global scale for thousands of years…”

“Then what?” Rory asked.

“Then why did the human race suddenly decide to go to the Moon?”

“Ten, nine. Ignition sequence start. six, five, four…”

“Because the Silence needed a spacesuit.”

“One, zero. All engines running. Liftoff. We have a liftoff. Thirty two minutes past the hour, liftoff on Apollo 11.”

River was scanning the suit when it started twitching. Elise jumped back. “This suit, it seems to be repairing itself. How's it doing that? Doctor, a unit like this, would it ever be able to move without an occupant?” River asked.

“Why?”

“Well, the little girl said the spaceman was coming to eat her. Maybe that's exactly what happened.”

The Doctor looked over at Rory, who was listening to Amy talk through the recorder. He walked over to him and sat down.

Elise looked at them.

“What’s on your mind, little star?” River asked her.

“Falling in love.”

“Falling in love isn’t always wonderful, you know?”

“I think it sounds amazing.”

River reached down and petted Elise’s hair. “Don’t worry, little star. You’ll find him one day.”

Elise looked up at her. “When?”

River smiled. “One day.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Finally, the day came that they would rescue Amy. The Doctor, Elise, Rory, and River stepped out of the TARDIS.

“Oh, interesting. Very Aickman Road. I've seen one of these before,” the Doctor said.

The room they were in looked exactly like the spaceship above Craig’s flat.

Elise briefly wondered how he and Sophie were. Maybe one day she’d find out.

“Abandoned. I wonder how that happened? Oh, well I suppose I'm about to find out. Rory, River, keep one Silent in eye-shot at all times. Elise, stay by the TARDIS. Oh, hello. Sorry, you were in the middle of something. I just had to say, though, have you seen what's on the telly?”

The Doctor picked up a television and set it on the console. “Oh, hello, Amy. Are you all right? Want to watch some television? Ah. Now, stay where you are. Because look at me, I'm confident. You want to watch that, me, when I'm confident. Oh, and this is my friend River. Nice hair, clever, has her own gun, and unlike me, she really doesn't mind shooting people. I shouldn't like that. Kind of do, a bit.”

“Thank you, sweetie,” River said.

“I know you're team players and everything, but she'll definitely kill at least the first three of you.”

River backed up to where he back was touching the Doctor’s. “Well, the first seven, easily.”

“Seven? Really?”

“Oh, eight for you, honey.”

“Stop it.”

“Make me.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe I will.”

“Is this really important flirting? Because I feel like I should be higher on the list right now.”

Rory ran over to Amy and was trying to unlock her bindings.

“Yes. Right. Sorry. As I was saying, my naughty friend here is going to kill the first three of you to attack, plus him behind, so maybe you want to draw lots or have a quiz. Or maybe you could just listen a minute. Because all I really want to do is accept your total surrender and then I'll let you go in peace. Yes, you've been interfering in human history for thousands of years. Yes, people have suffered and died, but what's the point in two hearts, if you can't be a bit forgiving, now and then?”

The Doctor was standing toe to toe with a Silence. “Ooo, the Silence. You guys take that seriously, don't you? Okay, you got me. I'm lying. I'm not really going to let you go that easily. Nice thought, but it's not Christmas. First, you tell me about the girl.” The Doctor turned on the TV. “Who is she? Why is she important? What's she for?”

“And we're getting a picture on the TV.”

“Guys, sorry, but you're way out of time. Now, come on. A bit of history for you. Aren't you proud? Because you helped. Now, do you know how many people are watching this live on the telly? Half a billion. And that's nothing, because the human race will spread out among the stars. You just watch them fly. Billions and billions of them, for billions and billions of years, and every single one of them at some point in their lives, will look back at this man, taking that very first step, and they will never, ever forget it.”

“Okay, engine stop. ATA on the descent. Modes control both auto. Descent engine command off.”

“Oh. But they’ll forget this bit.” The Doctor took out his phone. “Ready?”

“That's one small step for a man…”

A Silence appeared on the TV screen. “You should kill us all on sight.”

“You've given the order for your own execution, and the whole planet just heard you,” the Doctor told them.

“One giant leap for mankind.”

“And one whacking great kick up the backside for the Silence! You just raised an army against yourself and now, for a thousand generations, you're going to be ordering them to destroy you every day. How fast can you run? Because today's the day the human race throw you off their planet. They won't even know they're doing it. I think, quite possibly, the word you're looking for right now is oops. Run! Guys, I mean us. Run.”

The Silence started producing electricity from its body and River started shooting.

“I can't get her out!” Rory yelled.

“Run! Into the TARDIS, quickly!” River yelled.

The Doctor ran over to Amy and Rory and soniced her bindings.

Rory and Amy dodged electricity as they ran back to the TARDIS.

“Don't let them build to full power,” the Doctor said.

“I know! There's a reason why I'm shooting, honey!” River yelled, “What are you doing?”

“Helping.”

“You've got a screwdriver. Go build a cabinet!”

“That's really rude!”

“Shut up and drive!”

The Doctor ran into the TARDIS.

River spun around in circles until all the Silence were dead. She flipped her gun around and put it in her holster. “My old fellow didn't see that, did he? He gets ever so cross,” River said.

“So, what kind of doctor are you?” Rory asked her.

“Archaeology”. She pulled out her gun and shot a Silence that was coming up behind her, all without looking. “Love a tomb.” She ruffled Elise’s hair as they went inside.

River ran up to the console and started throwing levers.

“You can let me fly it,” the Doctor told her.

“Yeah, or we could go where we're supposed to.”

Elise smiled.

River looked at her and picked her up, setting her on her hip. As River flew the TARDIS, she explained to Elise what every button and lever did.

“Don’t worry. In a few years, you can fly it yourself.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They stepped out into the Oval Office.

The Doctor walked up to Nixon, who shook his hand.

“So we're safe again,” Nixon said.

“Safe? No, of course you're not safe. There's about a billion other things out there just waiting to burn your whole world,” the Doctor told him, “But, if you want to pretend you're safe, just so you can sleep at night? Okay, you're safe. But you're not really.”

He turned to Canton and shook his hand. “Canton. Until the next one, eh?”

“Looking forward to it.”

The Doctor turned back to the President. “Canton just wants to get married. Hell of a reason to kick him out of the FBI.”

“I'm sure something can be arranged.”

“I'm counting on you.”

“Er, Doctor. Canton here tells me you're, you're from the future. It hardly seems possible, but I was wondering…”

“I should warn you I don't answer a lot of questions.”

“But I'm a president at the beginning of his time. Dare I ask? Will I be remembered?”

“Oh, Dicky. Tricky Dicky. They're never going to forget you. Say hi to David Frost for me.”

They all stepped back into the TARDIS and took off. Their next stop was Stormcage.

“You could come with us,” the Doctor told her.

“I escape often enough, thank you. And I have a promise to live up to. You'll understand soon enough.”

“Okay. Up to you. See you next time. Call me.” The Doctor started to walk back to the TARDIS.

“What, that's it? What's the matter with you?” River asked.

The Doctor walked back over to her. “Have I forgotten something?”

River smiled. “Oh, shut up.” She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

The Doctor stood there awkwardly. “Right. Okay. Interesting,” he said when she pulled away.

“What's wrong? You're acting like we've never done that before.”

“We haven't.”

“We haven't?”

“Oh, look at the time. Must be off. But it was very nice. It was, it was good. It was er, unexpected.” He walked back to the TARDIS and opened the door. “You know what they say. There's a first time for everything.” He went inside, leaving Elise with River.

“And a last time.”

Elise reached out and wrapped her hand around River’s.

River smiled and looked down at her. “Don’t worry about me, little star. I’ll be alright.” She knelt down in front of her. “Be good for your father, okay?”

Elise nodded.

“There’s something on your mind,” River said.

“Can’t you tell me about him?” River smiled.

“He has blue eyes. The most beautiful blue you’ve ever seen.”

Elise smiled. “Like mine!”

“Yes, like yours.”

“Elise!” Rory called, “Come on.”

Elise tapped River’s forehead lightly with her own and then ran back to the TARDIS. She yawned as she stepped onto the platform. Her father picked her up and kissed her head.

“Sleepy, eh?”

Elise nodded.

“Why don’t you get ready for bed? I’ll be there in a bit to tuck you in.”

He set her down and Elise made her way to her bedroom. She walked over to her desk and pulled out her sketchbook. She searched through her colored pencils and found a blue one that matched the color of her eyes.

#eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor imagines #eleventh doctor fanfiction #doctor who #Doctor Who fanfiction #doctor who imagine #amy pond #amy pond imagine #river song #river song imagine #Rory Williams #rory williams imagine #day of the moon

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hms-chill · 4 years

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RWRB Study Guide, Chapter 6

Hi y’all! I’m going through Casey McQuiston’s Red, White & Royal Blue and defining/explaining references! Feel free to follow along, or block the tag #rwrbStudyGuide if you’re not interested!

State dinner (128): A formal dinner held in honor of a foreign head of state.

Prime minister (128): The elected head of the British government.

State dining room (129): The larger of two dining rooms on the state floor of the White House.

Doctor Who (130): A British TV show popular throughout the UK and with nerds in the US.

Red Room (130): A parlor next to the State Dining Room in the White House used for small dinner parties. I couldn’t find anything about a portrait of Alexander Hamilton there, but it seems like each president to move into the White House redecorates it to an extent, so it is very possible that Ellen Claremont could have added one when she moved in.

Profiteroles (131): A French cream puff.

Frog-marching (131): Forcing someone forward, holding their arms behind their back.

Alexander Hamilton* (132): A very bi founding father, who was launched to fame in the mid 2010s by the musical Hamilton. He’s the one Alex is named after.

“God Save the Queen” (133): The national anthem of the UK. (listen here-- this video is filmed in Westminster Abbey, which is where royals get married, for all y’all writing wedding fics)

No-fly list (134): A list of people not allowed to fly within, into, or out of the U.S. maintained by the federal government’s terrorist screening center. The moors (136): A wide-open, incredibly photogenic area of the English/Welsh countryside that have been romanticized and used regularly in romantic literature (think like... Austen and Wuthering Heights and Virginia Woolf).

Fruit basket (143): A typical “hey I don’t know you but I appreciate that you did a thing” gift from a business or rich person.

Herculean strength (143): Hercules (or Heracles, in Greek) was a Greek/Roman hero and demi-god known for his incredible strength and also for killing his family and then having to atone for that but shhh.

Crossed some kind of Rubicon (143): Caesar’s 49 BCE crossing of the Rubicon river ushered in the rise of Imperial Rome; “crossing the Rubicon” typically means taking an irrevocable step toward something.

Washington crossing the Delaware (143): Washington’s crossing of the Delaware river was a turning point in the American Revolutionary War and has been immortalized in a famous painting by Emanuel Leutze.

Potomac (146): A river that flows past/through Washington, DC.

Polo (146): A sport that has been called “the sport of kings”; it is played on horseback and generally associated with incredibly rich people.

Greenwich, Connecticut (146): The wealthiest town in Connecticut. For McQuinston’s (queer) American audience, this could also evoke ideas of Greenwich Village, the historically queer neighborhood in New York City where the Stonewall Inn is located.

J. Crew (147): he said their chinos look weird on his ass back in chapter 2...

Greenwich Polo Club (147): According to their website, Greenwich Polo Club is one of the best polo clubs in the world. (more here)

Circle of hell (148): In Dante’s Inferno, he mentions that hell is made up of nine circles, each of which contains a particular type of torture for different sinners. (More here)

Polo stick/bat/club/mallet (149): Wikipedia says it’s a polo mallet.

Apollo** (149): The Greek god of the sun, who was like... indescribably bi. He isn’t exactly the patron god of queerness, but he has been referenced in queer literature/queer culture for ages.

Lèse-majesté (153): French for “to do wrong to majesty”; an offense to a monarch or ruler.

Scepter (154): The staff or wand held by a British monarch as a symbol of their power.

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* One of Hamilton’s letters to his “friend” John Laurens essentially says “hey wish you’d been at my wedding; my new wife was super down for a threesome”

** A lot of his partners also got turned into plants, which is kind of a bummer, but what can you do

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If there’s anything I missed or that you’d like more on, please let me know! And if you’d like to/are able, please consider buying me a ko-fi? I know not everyone can, and that’s fine, but these things take a lot of time/work and I’d really appreciate it!

—--

Chapter 1 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 7

#rwrb study guide #English Major Brain™️#English Major Brain™#rwrb #red white and royal blue #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry fox mountchristen windsor x alex claremont diaz #alex claremont diaz #nora holleran #june claremont diaz #bea fox mountchristen windsor #pez okonjo

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sohannabarberaesque · 4 years

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Underwater America with Peter Potamus: Florida’s Space Coast

art by MaudeDraws (https://www.deviantart.com/maudedraws)

This story continues a Friday Fanfic series which debuted late last year, in which Peter Potamus and friends go on a cross-country tour of the nation’s most interesting diving sites in the hope of selling their adventures to television. This story takes place early in the summer of 1970.

I drove the bus out of Ocala at around six o’clock in the morning while everyone else inside was still sleeping off our latest refreshing adventure.

Early into the next leg of our cross-country tour, I pondered taking the winding country roads instead of the highway. I eventually decided on the highway, for the roads were generally less bumpy—thereby making the crew less irritable—and faster, even though we had lots of time to get to our next stop: Florida’s famous State Road A1A, featuring the longest stretches of beaches one could ever hope for.

About 90 minutes later, once everyone was awake, alert and begging for breakfast, we stopped at a diner in Ocoee, not far from Orlando, Walt Disney’s latest conquest. In fact, as we sat in two separate booths looking at menus, the conversation turned to the resort.

“What do you think he’s got there?” Breezly pondered.

“Do you think we could get up close and take pictures?” asked a slightly hyperactive Squiddly, shivering with delight.

“Yeah!” Magilla giddily exclaimed. “Maybe we could have a piece of history!”

“Please,” Mildew said in his usual sassy style. “I doubt they’d let anyone near a construction site. Plus, this is Disney we’re talking about, so they’d probably shoot you!”

“Indeed,” I added, dead serious. “I’m not going to waste valuable time going there. We’ve got Cape Canaveral coming up in a few hours.” The thought of me or any of the others possibly getting arrested for trespassing immediately came to mind. “Let me remind you all that even though we’re all having fun here, I’m spending my life savings to make this dream happen. You all have nothing to lose, but not me.”

Squiddly and Magilla clammed up immediately. I figured they knew what I was talking about: nobody else had any means of support. Hokey and his partner Ding-a-Ling only had their street smarts to get them out of jams. Lippy and Hardy were just struggling. While Magilla could simply go back to Peebles’ Pet Shop, it simply wasn’t a life. This was a ticket to a new life for them and I was not about to risk that for something stupid.

Breakfast, otherwise, was nothing special. The coffee was a little too strong for some of them, and some of the meals just weren’t up to par. Lippy, sitting opposite from me, wasn’t thrilled with the slightly-soggy pancakes, either. We still paid for the meal, though, and went on our way. At least Squiddly loved the bagels and lox.

To compensate for the lack of Disney in our lives, we made an unplanned stop at the Tosohatchee Wildlife Management Area in Orange County. The area brings hunters, birdwatchers, campers, hikers, botanists, fishermen and wildlife enthusiasts together under one roof, and today all of the above were out enjoying themselves.

We took plenty of pictures of birds that morning, with bald eagles and kestrels hunting for their next meal, while herons and ibises, among others, hung out in the wetlands. We were also able to get on camera a group of wild turkeys congregating nearby, with Mildew and Hokey instantly regretting not bringing a shotgun—if only we had one.

“Monsters,” Loopy said with a smirk, although I am certain that, deep down, he would’ve wanted it.

The excursion turned out to be a good thing: the heavy showers came in a few miles after we got back onto Route 524. Better now than later.

“Oh, dear,” Hardy moaned. “That’s going to ruin our plans.”

“Aww, don’t sweat it, Hardy!” replied his optimistic friend, Lippy. “Better now than when we’re out on the boat, right?”

“If you say so,” the sour-flavored hyena moped. “I suppose it could have been worse. We could have been out in the water when—“

As if on cue, lightning struck a few hundred feet away from us, startling everyone but especially Hardy, who would’ve jumped into Lippy’s lap had the seat belt not prevented him from doing so—and yet, we all soldiered on past the rain and out of danger, and just in time.

The timing was perfect: the sun shone brightly on the Indian and Banana rivers, the first things one sees before entering State Road A1A from the north. Sandwiched between the two rivers is Merritt Island, home to the John F. Kennedy Space Center, known throughout the world for NASA’s Apollo space missions that eventually put man on the moon for the first time in history.

We stopped at the northernmost point of Florida’s Space Coast—the town of Cape Canaveral, where space tourism and beach tourism combine to provide an unforgettable experience. As we were on a mix of both pleasure and business, however, we immediately sought out a boat to rent for today’s underwater journey.

Once we secured one, we got to work loading our gear from the trailer into the boat. To avoid confusion and clutter, not only are the swim fins and masks hooked to the belt of the harness, our names are marked on the backs of the harnesses so we do not end up wearing someone else’s kit. We then started on our way, into the Atlantic Ocean.

As we continued on our way, we were able to get a glimpse of houses lined along the streets, not far from the Space Coast’s gorgeous beaches. These streets bear the names of past U.S. Presidents, the greats and not-so-greats among them: Washington Avenue. Adams. Jefferson. Eventually ending with Harding.

“Huh. Coulda sworn Van Buren would get his due,” Wally said before letting out his familiar, ear-pleasing laugh, noting the absence of his own street.

Further along the coast, the beaches were endless, although the places had different names. Cocoa Beach? Satellite Beach? Melbourne Beach, just a drive away from the city of Melbourne? It’s all good. You get to enjoy the feeling of sand between your toes.

I made certain to check my gear to ensure everything was operational. I took a breath from the regulator and found no problems. While everyone else was testing their tanks and regulators, I went into the cabin to plot out a course for ourselves using a nautical map.

Now, Cape Canaveral itself is not an ideal place for diving. Consulting the guidebook, I had two options: either explore a natural reef twenty miles out of Port Canaveral in an area called Pelican Flats, or explore the wrecked Dutch steamship Laertes, the Allied cargo vessel sunk by a German U-109 in May 1942. We couldn’t tackle both at once, as those two were a mile apart. As I looked further through the book to see if there were other reefs, it turned out there are plenty of other wrecks along the waters off A1A, some of them much, much older.

My mind was made up: we would be exploring a reef that day. …Or at least, I thought! Maybe some of the gang wanted a change of scene early. If there were other natural reefs along the coast, they were hard to come by. So, I told them we’d go to the reef.

After agreeing amongst ourselves on 90 feet for 40 minutes with a seven-minute decompression stop, we geared up for our journey into the depths in our familiar way: tanks secured to harnesses; harnesses worn and buckled securely; fins snugly worn; mask lenses spat-at-and-rinsed before donning; regulators being given a final check.

art by Kandlin

After a final safety briefing and the dropping of the anchor line, we were about to back-roll into the ocean when an Atlantic flyingfish flew up from the water and landed right on Breezly’s lap. We all had a terrific laugh over it, even after Breezly non-chalantly threw the fish back in the ocean, toward where the little fella had hoped to go.

“We could’ve had some lunch!” Lippy laughed. “Why’d you throw it back?”

“I didn’t want to punish him for one simple mistake!” Breezly replied with a warm smile to match his warm heart.

After that slight delay, we back-rolled into the water and slowly followed the anchor line down to the ocean floor, right next to where the reef was located.

Immediately the ten of us split up into several groups, giving us several times the opportunities for fun things to happen, though the feeling of water against one’s skin or fur is always a source of delight, regardless of the results of these dives.

One thing we noticed was that the reef was not a coral reef as some of us had hoped. Instead, we found plenty of short seagrass, an important source of nutrition for some of the aquatic life. The lack of coral gave me the first impression that the reef resembled a formation of mossy rocks and boulders one would perhaps find in the woods.

On the ocean floor nearby, Hardy swam close to what appeared to be a small, wide formation. It looked like it was a little smooth to the touch, unlike coral, so he brushed a few fingers along the length. The “formation” moved slightly, causing Hardy to jump back a little. The thing Hardy touched was a Florida sea cucumber, one of many such invertebrates found along Florida’s waters. To reassure Hardy, Lippy gently picked it up and showed its underside, with its many rows of tube feet, and the oral tentacles on the front side. Hardy nodded, having fully understood.

Meanwhile, Hokey and Wally, apparently not yet over their hunger pangs, scoped out a sizable group of lobsters congregating beneath a portion of the reef. With no net with which to catch them, and no way to bring them back, lest they carry it with them throughout the dive and even the decompression stop, they were at a loss. Even so, they were not about to be defeated.

Hokey beckoned for Loopy to swim over. Once Loopy joined the pair, Hokey pointed to the lobsters that were taking cover, then rubbed his belly to communicate everyone’s favorite language—food.

Loopy looked at Hokey quizzically, pointing up to the surface: did Hokey really intend to take his dinner up to the boat? When Hokey and Wally nodded in the affirmative, Loopy shook his head, not wanting anything to do with it.

Wally, however, had a plan, and he started to take off Loopy’s scarf, despite the wolf’s objections. Once Hokey got into the mess, Loopy had no chance. He then laid down one end of the scarf by the lobsters, waiting on one of them to take the bait. It didn’t take long, as one of them gripped the scarf.

Excitedly, Hokey pulled the scarf out, but the lobster, sensing what was happening, let go and rejoined the others.

Wally laid out the bait again, but before a lobster could hook onto it, Loopy, disgruntled, snatched the scarf away and swam far from them in order to put it back on. So much for lunch.

Meanwhile, our camera-octopus, Squiddly, located a gorgeous queen angelfish swimming alongside me. The somewhat fluorescent-looking colors on its body make it stand out from most of the other fish. Getting to experience seeing one up close is exciting enough, but when about a dozen more show up in the vicinity, you get worried about whether or not you actually loaded the film into the camera!

Some of the others were able to witness a loggerhead sea turtle swim by them. Mildew started off by following it, with Loopy instinctively joining his lupine companion. Soon, Lippy and Hardy were on the chase as well, though I do believe they just wanted to pet it. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why they couldn’t just get it over with and form a conga line.

I followed Magilla and Breezly when they decided to stray a little from the reef. We had reached a sandy area where the two of them went fish-watching, without any of the others getting in the way.

We were able to witness a group of African pompanos on their way to the reef. While the juveniles prefer to go where the ocean currents lead them, adults prefer the coastline, in depths of up to 100 meters.

Outside of that, we were unable to find many fish of interest, outside of a solitary cocoa damselfish that swam right between the polar bear’s and gorilla’s bodies. The two of them turned around in unison just as the fish passed them; perhaps those two should have signed up for synchronized swimming instead.

We were about to rejoin the group when we saw what appeared to be a large school of fish—at least from a distance. As they drew ever closer, however, we realized they weren’t fish, but a group of about three dozen manta rays swimming towards us and above us. We quickly turned around, kicking our legs as quickly as we could, swim fins waving up and down, so that we could alert the others. We were going to get a chance to swim along with the rays.

art by Enookie

Squiddly got in front of us so he could capture this epic scene. I positioned the other camera at a different angle, and we were on our way.

As we followed the group of rays, we were awestruck by the graceful movement of their pectoral fins. Taken individually, it’s a gorgeous sight, but to witness over thirty of them doing it was like viewing real-life natural art.

Mildew had the right idea when he swam the backstroke. The rays’ movements, combined with the limited light of the sun, made for the best viewing experience.

The mantas have a pair of horn-like cephalic fins on either side of their mouth. When the manta forages for food, these fins flatten in order to channel food into their mouths. At the surface they will feed on zooplankton such as shrimp and krill. At deeper depths such as these, they will feed on small or medium-sized fish.

As were were approaching a variety of fish, we had no choice but to let them be. Squiddly kept filming, yet kept a safe distance. As the rays fed on the sundry fish, I discovered, while editing this film for broadcast, that one of the rays may very have well feasted on that same cocoa damselfish Magilla and Breezly saw earlier. That’s the way life goes for an animal: one day you’re minding your own business, and the next day you’re gone. I would talk about life’s fleeting mortality, but that’s for some other show. It was time for us to ascend, anyway.

In deep dives, nitrogen starts to accumulate in the diver’s body. If a diver ascends like one usually would in a relatively shallow swimming pool, these nitrogen gases could turn into bubbles, thereby causing decompression sickness, which can be potentially fatal.

To help relieve the pressure, the diver’s ascent must be approximately thirty feet per minute. Depending on the details of the dive, a decompression stop may also be necessary fifteen feet from the surface. In this case, because of a 90-foot dive for 40 minutes, our wait was seven minutes. Even in dives at shorter depths, precautionary safety stops of three minutes may be required.

Because of the potential for danger, it is advised that dives are planned carefully. Use the most conservative figures when consulting dive tables. Know how much air you have, and do not plan lengthy dives if you don’t have the air to do a safety or decompression stop.

Squiddly Diddly, bless him, doesn’t have those disadvantages we mammals have. While we waited to ascend again, the good old octopus took the time to take one last tour of Pelican Flats, showcasing all its flora and fauna in its glory, however fleeting it may be. Who knows—maybe the fish Squiddly caught on camera could be the next to be swallowed up by a manta ray!

After the decompression stop, we made our final ascent to the boat, where we climbed out of the ocean, one at a time. Some of us laid back, gear still on, a little worn out from overstimulation.

“All those wasted years of trying to catch lambs,” Mildew chuckled. “Now this is living!”

“Who woulda thought? Swimming with manta rays!” Magilla said giddily, removing the gear one piece at a time and drying himself off.

“I think all of us needed that spark in our lives where we truly got to experience something special,” said I, stacking my fins and mask together as Squiddly climbed back onto the boat, the last to do so. “We’ve all forgotten how much of a thrill life could be. All we’ve been doing before is trying to survive.”

Lippy and Hardy, having known the feeling for years, nodded in agreement.

I slowly arose from the ledge and walked to the cabin. “All right. Let’s get this boat back, we get the gear back in, get our tanks refilled, and then finally we relax. I hear there are some good seafood places here.”

“How about a lobster?” Hokey said, smiling, eager for something exquisite.

“Me, too!” Wally added.

“Eh, we’ll see,” I said with a laugh, and the others were pretty much amused.

Once back on shore, we got the tanks refilled and all the gear loaded back onto the trailer. We bade farewell to Cape Canaveral and continued further south along A1A. Although Cape Canaveral isn’t a haven for divers, what we did see was good enough to warrant a visit, and the beaches are still very exquisite. If you would like to get to know NASA’s space program up-close and get wet and sandy—preferably not at the same time—set aside some time to visit the Space Coast.

Although we never got a chance to explore the Laertes shipwreck, a greater opportunity arose pre-dive when I learned of an early 18th-century Spanish ship, part of the doomed 1715 Treasure Fleet that transported goods and treasure from Spain’s territories back to the mainland. In our next episode, in which we travel to Florida’s Treasure Coast, we will explore one of those ships lost to a hurricane, the Urca de Lima, and perhaps come away with some treasure of our own.

#underwater america #scuba diving #peter potamus #fanfic #sohannabarberaesque #magilla gorilla #squiddly diddly #breezly bruin #hokey wolf #wally gator #lippy the lion #hardy har har #mildew wolf #loopy de loop #submission

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mollyscribbles · 4 years

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I miss reading about conspiracy theories. I went through a phase as an X-Files geek when they were fascinating to me, but now that I’m older and reality sinks in . . . well, as someone else put it, it was nice to think the government was only hiding cool stuff like aliens instead of human rights violations.

so y’know what, for one post I’m going to just list some of the best “zany” ones I can think of (and please feel free to add your own). Not the racist ones or evil ones, just weird ones.

(for the sake of lulz, we’re going to be ignoring “established facts” and “logic” like “Loch Ness couldn’t actually support a breeding population of plesiousaurs” or “plesiousaurs weren’t actually dinosaurs” for the sake of going “hey wouldn’t it be cool if somehow a dinosaur got in Loch Ness and survived all this time?”)

feel free to use any of these against less zany conspiracy theorists you might have to deal with during the holidays, btw.

* Stanley Kubrick was hired to fake the moon landings, but was such a stickler for detail he insisted on shooting on location.

* Devil’s Tower and other mountains like it are actually giant petrified tree stumps; an intergalactic logging ship is responsible for removing the rest of the tree.

* The Lost Cosmonauts. Not the worst thing the Soviet Union has been accused of, ultimately no more sinister than the Apollo program. Basic idea is that they sent people up before Gagarin but they didn’t survive and just wanted to make themselves look more successful by claiming they got someone back alive on the first attempt.

* While Lee Harvey Oswald made a sincere attempt to kill JFK, the kill shot accidentally came from the Secret Service agent who scrambled to defend the president. Everything that followed that made conspiracy theorists go nuts was actually just a frantic attempt by the Secret Service to hide the fact that one of their own failed on the job in an even worse way than everyone thinks. They did orchestrate Oswald’s death, but only to keep him from going to trial and saying something like “I thought I missed.” No motivations are ultimately involved except a desperate attempt to save face.

#Conspiracy Theories

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 4 years

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Witches, Chapter 17: Blackquill wants to fight an orca; Phoenix wants to fight Blackquill; Athena contains within her a multitude of whale facts.

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

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Phoenix leaves early, tells Trucy he’ll meet her at the courthouse, and stops by the office first. The computer wakes up slowly and when it finally does, it’s as blank as Phoenix left it last night, not a word of assistance or encouragement. So he’s on his own. All right. Fine.

On his way out through the front, he stops. The lid over the piano keys is opened, something lying directly on the keys. His old badge, weighing down the corner of Lotta’s photograph, a snapshot out of time, poorly planned, Phoenix and Larry both jostled about by Maya, and Edgeworth almost smiling at that, and Gumshoe the only one who’s timed it right, with confetti fluttering through the air fallen from his hand. If he squints with the Sight from the right angle and distance, like it’s one of those illusion puzzles, sometimes he’ll see Mia standing to the side, smiling.

“I can take a hint,” he says, setting it back down on the piano. He can’t see her in the photo today, but it’s okay because it being here, not on his desk, and his badge here and not in his desk, means that she’s here, not frozen in a photo. “All right. I get it. I can do it, and I’m not alone.” He has people to help and to keep him in check. He’s not going to lose a second badge.

At the courthouse he smacks himself in the face with cold water, hoping to knock sleep out of his eyes and with it, clear out the dust from eight years of not playing the lead. Athena bounds into the defendant lobby sounding as cheery as ever and announcing that she ran a few laps around the building to get ready, but tired bags hang beneath her eyes and he tells her such when he asks her if she got any sleep. “Do I really look that bad?” she asks, prodding at the skin below her eyes. “I’d better do something about that. Prosecutor Blackquill gives me shit over everything and I can’t leave another opening. Hey, Trucy!” she calls, as the other two members of the agency enter with Pearl. “You don’t happen to have concealer, do you? Or Apollo, do you? I need to look like I actually slept soundly and I’m desperate.”

“Sorry,” Apollo says. “The only cosmetics I use are hair gel.”

“You mean it doesn’t naturally do that?” Pearl gasps. “I thought for sure…”

“Concealer, coming right up!” Trucy produces a round makeup compact from her Magic Panties - she carries those around in a purse and everything that would normally be found in a purse goes into them - and holds it up to Athena’s face. “No, that’s not the right shade. Hold on.” She plunges her hand back into the waistband and pulls out what appears to Phoenix to be pretty much the same, but comparing it against Athena’s skin, Trucy nods, satisfied.

“Since when do you wear makeup?” Phoenix asks. They’ve had talks about this topic. Why is it all so expensive. Why is this a scam industry that breeds insecurities. No I’m not buying you lipstick. You can buy it yourself when you’re much older. Yes I’ll buy you that lip gloss that’s in a narwhal-shaped container. That’s not really makeup.

“I don’t,” Trucy says. “This is old stage show stuff we still had!”

“We” being the Gramaryes, surely. She pats away the dark circles under Athena’s eyes and with a wave, wishes them both luck, and skips off for the gallery with Apollo and Pearl in tow.

Leaving Phoenix to enter behind the bench, chat with this judge for the first time in a year. If he really thinks about it, this judge - this man, he was going to think, but after all these years he’s not really quite sure how to assess what the judge is or isn’t and whether he’s a being that exists in any capacity outside of the courthouse - has seen him at his lowest, to rise as high as he could, and crash again, sink lower than that, and now here he is again. This judge has presided over all three trials where Phoenix has been accused of murder. He saw Phoenix’s first trial and his last and now he’ll see this second first.

He tells Phoenix that standing here as a lawyer makes him look younger. Phoenix thanks him and decides not to mention that it’s definitely shaving that makes him look younger. Might as well just take the compliment, if it’s a compliment, and not another “baby-faced” jab.

“And you look as young as ever, Your Honor,” he replies, and it’s true, really - his face hasn’t changed a bit since Phoenix first met him. No more wrinkles, and no less. Eternal, unchanging, a fixture of the courtroom who Phoenix knows how to work with.

And then there’s the prosecutor. The latest prosecutorial mystery for Phoenix to unravel. Another one to save.

Prosecutor Simon Blackquill has an even more frightening visage staring at him at level across the courtroom, rather than looking down on him from up safe in the gallery. Not that safe isn’t anything but relative when it comes to a man who throws silvery slices of wind with the slash of a finger and whose hawk flaps about as it pleases, but in the gallery Phoenix is just one of a sea of faces merely observing. Down here at the bench? He’s the man who offered to defend an orca, with nowhere to hide and nowhere to run from the man who brought an orca to trial.

Funny how all this works.

Blackquill berates Phoenix for bringing this case to court, never mind that it’s Blackquill who actually brought this to court - and the poor judge got this case late last night and skimmed it and missed the part that the defendant is an orca. But otherwise Blackquill seems - to be taking this seriously? Enough to speech-ify on the fact that they have an orca to be prosecuted here.

“Though she cannot be present in the courtroom, nor speak for herself, we will treat this defendant as any other,” he says, casting a glance toward the screen being set up behind the witness stand; hopefully in a few minutes Sasha will have Orla on video phone, introducing the defendant to the court and perhaps charming then with her cuteness. Phoenix has had enough witnesses try and play cute to turn the judge and gallery against the defense - it’s about time he gets to have that power on his side. “Man or beast, we stand equal with the same value to our souls.” He pauses, eyes narrowing at his own words. The hawk on his shoulder ruffles its feathers. That’s a loaded word, for someone who knows magic: humans have souls, fae don’t, animals don’t, and fae animals certainly don’t. A soul or lack of one is no indication of moral judgment or standing. It’s just an extra piece of the self that can be cut loose and used in magic, and this seems to be what Blackquill is pondering, and his bird getting at, because he amends himself. “To our lives and hearts. Take Taka, as much a person in spirit as the rest of us who stand here today.”

Phoenix would love to know what Taka is, whether it’s just an ordinary bird, a fae creature, or a familiar - Blackquill doesn’t give a hint, and Phoenix doesn’t know what the difference between a fae animal and specifically a familiar looks like. And even if he did he can’t see through Blackquill’s twisted aura to know.

The Twisted Samurai distorts everything around him, that even if Phoenix wants to test his eyes on Athena next to him, he can’t. The courtroom falls into darkness when he tries, inconsistent silver light throwing the colors off where they aren’t inverted. Athena’s wide eyes appear nearly gray, not blue, and her hair dulls similarly; he sees double of her, sometimes, like he’s dazed or cross-eyed. And across the courtroom Blackquill has eyes almost straight white, and nothing else of him the same. His shape twists and breaks like his reflection in a wavy funhouse mirror has been reflected into a rippling pond, his hair changing lengths, his skin all the depth of white tissue paper, veins and blood and bones below, a dead man walking. At his steadiest, his entire body simply trembles at the edges, like energy barely contained in a vessel too small for it, a person held together in a form that doesn’t naturally belong to them; and all of him either stark white or black, and mostly white, patterned like a photonegative of himself.

Phoenix closes his eyes and gives himself a moment to reset and readjust to the regular world that he’ll see when he opens them.

“The question, then,” Blackquill continues, while Athena squints in confusion at Phoenix because he’s been squinting at her with the Sight, “is what one - what our orca, in this case - has done with that life, and how stained and shriveled their heart.”

Then he decides to prove that the greatest monster in the room is him, immediately after the first witness testimony - from Norma DePlume, who is as much of a terror as Phoenix expected, and she and Blackquill as nasty to each other as he could have imagined - when he demands the judge give his verdict, because they’ve heard everything they need to, and, ��deliver your judgement so that I may carry out the sentence.”

“Objection! Hold it!” What the fuck! “You aren’t - you aren’t planning on killing Orla yourself, are you?” Beside him, Athena can’t keep her “what the fuck!” contained, or rather Widget warbles it out, and Phoenix really, really wants to know who programmed the robot to say fuck. “Is that what you’re implying—”

Blackquill says nothing, merely smirks, and Phoenix decides that he absolutely, definitely, does not want to actually know the answer. If Edgeworth wants him to defend this man, which he does, that’s not an “if”, Phoenix would rather not think that this case only went to trial because Blackquill wanted to take a literal stab at fighting a whale. He’d like to think it’s because he and Athena and Pearl found some decent proof, reasonable doubt, and because of what Blackquill said there in his opening statement, that animals have value and deserve a fair chance, too.

(Maybe he just said that to get it on the record hoping for reasonable doubt of his own and a fair trial for Taka when that goddamn bird inevitably hauls off and claws someone’s eyes out.)

(Edgeworth didn’t even warn him that Prosecutor Blackquill had a murder bird! Is the logical conclusion that Edgeworth didn’t know about the bird? Points toward fae creature, a la Gavin’s hound, except who the hell is managing to summon any fae anyone in prison? That place is iron for a reason. Or maybe after everything else, Edgeworth figured this is nothing to Phoenix.)

“We have a right to cross-examine!” Athena’s shrill and rightfully indignant cry rings out over a shriek from Taka that sounds like laughter. “We’re always allowed to, you know!”

“I simply hope to spare us all the waste of time that comes as consequence of your methods,” Blackquill replies, directed more at Phoenix than Athena, who like last trial he seems to mostly be ignoring, “and spare you the heartbreak of burning yourself to ash in a fight for a ‘Not Guilty’ you will not win.”

Like yesterday, Phoenix wonders if they’re talking about an orca, or something else. About Blackquill himself, and the task regarding him that Phoenix has been given. Does Blackquill know what Edgeworth has asked of Phoenix? It sort of sounds like he does.

“Okay, but I’m still going to cross-examine,” Phoenix says. And maybe drag it out a little more than usual, just to let Blackquill know he’s not intimidated.

And DePlume likes the sound of her own voice, so maybe they’ll learn something new from her, some piece of information she hadn’t meant to let slip, if they push on her every statement.

What Phoenix learns instead is that Blackquill likes penguins and thinks them the only part of the aquarium actually worth anyone’s time, and apparently no one told DePlume that the victim died of blunt force trauma, not being bitten by the orca. Not that it helps; there’s more security footage than the short looped bit that they saw behind Fulbright’s back, and that does actually show that Orla had the victim in her jaws, and Blackquill can put a good - bad - spin on it. Sure, it wasn’t when the victim was killed, but it certainly was proof of her malicious intent, toying with a corpse like she’s a cat caught the canary - Blackquill stares Athena dead in the eye as he makes that analogy - but not even hungry to eat it, just taking another life between her teeth as a game.

A game, and singing the while she does it. The theory, working from their preliminary autopsy report that Jack Shipley died instantaneously from a brain contusion, is that Orla headbutted him into the glass of the tank. DePlume didn’t see any moment of actual impact - that was what Phoenix saw on the security footage, Orla with her head tipped out of sight behind some tank decorations - but came to the conclusion that this was definitely the exact time of the victim’s death. A conclusion extrapolated from something that Phoenix really, really wishes Sasha had mentioned: a year ago, another orca trainer at Shipshape Aquarium died under such similar circumstances.

DePlume wrote a whole damn book about it. Sasha entirely neglected this critical fact. Phoenix is going to scream. Maybe faint, instead, get just a little wobbly in the knee area, because Blackquill has this all in the palm of his hand, all under control, and what a horrible mess he would make of a jury trial. Start with them biased against him on basis of that tricky little matter, convicted murderer, and end with them swayed however he wants them to, just as he plays the gallery, but they aren’t the ones making the final call.

(Edgeworth fretted often about what a particularly charismatic and manipulative lawyer could do to the jurist system, and Phoenix thought he was worrying over Klavier, his charm, his glamours, his celebrity status. How likely instead that he was concerned with Blackquill, already planning ahead to when he would place him back in court?)

Though if Phoenix is going to faint for any actual reason, it’s the picture that Blackquill has projected up for the court. A page from DePlume’s book, half the sheet taken up by a glossy color photograph of the dead orca trainer - so that’s the kind of writer DePlume is, a sensationalist one, like some others he could name. The unfortunate girl was probably around Sasha’s age; her body lay on the edge of the show pool, water puddling beneath her and dripping from her long dark hair. Her shirt has flowing puffy pirate sleeves in a soft powder blue fabric. Almost the color of Trucy’s show cape, and it’s hard not to think of his daughter, but it’s even harder not to think of someone else wearing that color and killed while performing at her profession. It was a rehearsal, not a live show, when Thalassa died, but—

Reflections, reflections. He keeps running up against familiar faces on the corpses in this case.

“Athena! Phoenix! Please!” Sasha pleads from somewhere out-of-sight, while Orla, centered in the screen, chirrups in confusion, but when she makes sound, she shows off her powerful jaws full of teeth. “Orla didn’t kill anyone! Please, we’re begging for your help!”

Orla waves a flipper, the gravity of the situation not really clear to her.

The trainer who died last year - if Orla really did everything DePlume says, biting and headbutting, they should see marks of that, blood and bruises, and there’s nothing. Logic himself out of fear, that’s right, he can do that - Orla can’t speak, but she understands them, and Sasha in part understands her. Sasha has faith in her. Phoenix has to have faith in Sasha.

“You’d be better off saving your breath, you sad slippery pup.” Blackquill leans forward, elbows on the bench, laughing, and Phoenix really, really does not like that. “Perhaps you did not see his face, but allow me to tell you - when he saw that photograph, he turned even paler than me. You were yourself rather afraid of the orca then, weren’t you, Wright-dono?”

Not enough for him to play the judge and gallery against the defendant, now he’s trying to turn lawyer and client against each other, make them lose faith in the other. How discouraged must Sasha feel, to be told Phoenix is doubting too?

“For shame, to take up the matter of a client who you have neither the courage nor drive to defend, and further crush them under the false hope you’ve given.”

“Nothing about my defense is ‘false’, Prosecutor Blackquill.” Keep his face and voice calm and level, don’t give Blackquill an inch or a twitch to work from. “If you’re hoping for an easy win by talking me into giving up, I assure you, it’s not going to happen. Orla is my client, and I don’t give up on my clients.” Whether or not she can speak to him doesn’t matter. That she’s an orca doesn’t matter. You can never truly know if your client is innocent or not, Mia said once, a very long time ago. And she’s right, and was always right, because even Truth can get subjective and messy, be talked around, and relying wholly on it made him an arrogant idiot. All you can do is fight with everything you have.

And he’s going to. He’s going to do Mia proud, orca or no.

“I see the trust that Sasha has put in Orla, and I respect that.” He sympathizes, after all the nightmarish cases when he’s had to trust someone that no one else would, or trust someone who didn’t even trust himself. “So I’m willing to have faith in Orla, too.”

“Yet you do not know the first thing about orcas, do you?”

“Is that relevant?” Phoenix asks.

He relishes the surprise that grips Blackquill’s features. Time to find out whether the Twisted Samurai, master manipulator, is smart enough to not be taken in by a tactic Phoenix has had seven years to perfect, playing the idiot and being underestimated. If it can’t get him anything about this particular case maybe he’ll learn something more about Blackquill himself that can help Edgeworth.

“Do you know why they are also known as ‘killer whales’?”

What kind of trick question, and how actually relevant—? “Uh, because people have a tendency to fear what they don’t understand, and because they didn’t understand orcas and just saw their teeth, they presumed that these creatures were out to get them too?”

That’s basically a psychology explanation, right? He’s basically working on Athena and Blackquill’s level, in their wheelhouse, now, right?

Blackquill stares at him. One of his eyes twitches. Taka scratches its head. The question is written plainly across his features, the icy stare and the cold scowl: how did you pass the Bar, twice?

Joke’s on him; Phoenix doesn’t know either.

“No,” Blackquill says. “That is not it.”

“It was a good attempt,” Phoenix says, glancing to Athena for confirmation. She shrugs, her teeth pressed together in a failure at forcing a smile, and she sharply sucks in her breath. Okay. Ouch. That noncommittal of an answer is a hell of an answer of itself.

“The reason,” Blackquill says, stressing the word, now acting along the belief that yes, Phoenix is a fucking idiot who needs to be addressed accordingly, “is that they are cunning and merciless predators known to hunt and kill even true whales. They are also known as ‘wolves of the sea’ for that same reason, that they are clever, powerful, and dangerous creatures who hunt in packs.” How, in the midst of going over the case, preparing witnesses, and filling in the gaps of the evidence Fulbright had, did he, from prison, have the time and resources to do this much research on orcas, down to etymology of the name? “Tell me, does that sound innocent to you? Does that not sound like the creature we have here on stand today, and her capacity to so efficiently kill a man before entertaining herself with that corpse?”

So he thinks orcas are smart enough to ascribe malicious intent to, and he’s doing his damndest to convince everyone else of the same. “My goodness,” the judge says. “So they truly are ‘killers’? Though may I ask, what do you mean by ‘true’ whales?”

Phoenix wondered the same, but if there’s time for a tangent then he’d rather use it to reconvene with Athena, steady themselves, and figure out how to work past this huge gap in their knowledge. It looks really bad, all the pieces they weren’t aware of. They need a new angle of approach as everything they’ve done so far has been smacked down—

“Oh, I can help you with that!” Athena says brightly, and her ponytail sways from side to side as she bobs up and down with uncontained glee. “Technically, if we want to get pedantic, which we do” - spoken like a true lawyer; Phoenix could shed a tear with pride - “what’s known as a ‘whale’” - she makes quotation marks with her fingers in the air - “is different in our informal everyday usage than in taxonomy. You traditionally wouldn’t call a dolphin a whale, right?”

Maybe Phoenix won’t have an opportunity to confer with Athena and will just ponder how dire this case has gotten on his own, while Athena spouts Whale Facts. If Blackquill meant to distract her, it’s working, but Phoenix is not honestly sure he could’ve expected this to happen, or the judge to ask. Either way, Blackquill hasn’t turned his back bored on the tangent yet; he has stepped back from the bench, arms crossed, the chain between his cuffs tangled up around them, eyes half closed, maybe glad for the break.

“But,” Athena continues, “you could! Technically! So from, like, primary school biology we know that classification in taxonomy goes, kingdom phylum class order genus species, but there are orders within orders and suborders—”

“Athena,” Phoenix says, not sure she can even hear anyone else but herself right now, “I don’t think His Honor needs this much detail.”

“Yes, do stop her,” DePlume says with a roll of her eyes.

Which makes Phoenix immediately want to change his stance and tell Athena to continue talking, but someone else gets to it first. “Let the lass go on,” Blackquill says dryly. “Don’t crush her spirit. I’ll do enough of that myself when we get to the next testimony and the sentencing.”

“—and so there’s a smaller order known as Cetaceans, that’s literally just, derived from Ancient Greek for ‘whale’. But this whales order contains two more even smaller orders, and those are toothed whales and baleen whales. Baleen whales are what you’d consider ‘true whales’, basically, like blue whales and humpback whales, and they’re probably what you think of if you were asked to picture a whale. But toothed whales include dolphins and orcas and narwhals—”

“Wait,” Phoenix says. “Narwhals aren’t giant fucked-up seals?”

Blackquill closes his eyes entirely.

“Nope! They don’t have a fin on their back, so maybe that’s why you got confused, but belugas don’t either, and they’re whales as much as narwhals are! But the short of the orca matter” - wasn’t the judge’s question about what a true whale is, not how orcas are taxonomically classified? - “is that they are actually classified within the dolphin family. Orcas are dolphins! So if you’d call a bottlenose dolphin a whale, you can call an orca a whale. They’re both the same amount of whale! Or informally you can just keep using the words ‘dolphin’ and ‘whale’ however, with no regards to which animals are genetically most similar, and people will get what you mean, because words mean what we’ve made them mean and that’s how we use them. But since you wanted to know, now you know!”

“I - yes.” The judge is slightly taken aback by her enthusiasm. “Thank you, Ms Cykes. You really have done your research for this case.”

Phoenix somehow has the feeling that she knew that long before this case.

“And yet.” Blackquill leans forward, his eyes alight and alive, a point ready to be made even off the back of something not case-relevant. “You dispute and explain the ‘whale’ part, but never once say a thing to refute the ‘killer’.”

“I - but, I—” Athena turns helplessly to Phoenix, her mouth opening and closing without any more words coming through.

“I simply cannot bear to hear more such drivel from the defense about trusting a killer,” he continues. “Can you, either, Your Baldness?”

Phoenix would’ve been thrown out of the court after bringing a bird in (or a whip, or for throwing an enchanted coffee mug across the room), or for even half of this amount of contempt for the judge - the rules have always been more lenient for prosecutors, he’s always known that, but there’s never been such a stark demonstration of it. Once this trial is over, he’ll take that up with Edgeworth. Far from the most important action to take to level the field, not by a long shot, but might as well make a note of it.

“Funny that he’s talking shit on ‘trusting a killer’,” Phoenix mutters, “when he’s the convicted killer here, asking the judge to trust his case.” He snorts, but Athena doesn’t laugh or make a sound. She stares across at Blackquill, drumming her fingers on her collarbone right next to Widget. The one to laugh is Blackquill himself, even though Phoenix was taking care that he wouldn’t be heard by anyone but Athena, to keep that from being an on-the-record statement when he’s said enough bullshit that already will be going into a transcript. (Goddamn narwhals.)

As if Blackquill wasn’t enough of an uncomfortable, inscrutable mystery. Where’s his damned bird? Taka isn’t close to Phoenix, but it isn’t right with Blackquill, either; it splits the distance, and Phoenix doesn’t know how good a hawk’s hearing is. Pretty good, he thinks. He’ll ask Kay if she knows. And Taka heard, what was his name, the tanuki from Mayor Tenma’s trial, talking to them in the lobby after, and what Taka heard got to Blackquill, got to Edgeworth. Is that how this works?

“I’ve been told I can’t take a hint,” Phoenix says, louder, and Taka circles over the room and decides to settle now on the judge’s head. “And I certainly am not going to take this hint of yours to give up, Prosecutor Blackquill, because I’ve also been told I don’t know when to quit.”

“Your self-awareness does no credit to you,” Blackquill says. “Very well. Witness, tell them what you saw, and what you heard. Deliver the fatal blow to their deluded determination.”

Back to work.

It’s touch and go, like every case, every time, just like Phoenix remembers, but they work through DePlume’s testimony, keep pressing the possibility of a human killer. Suggest that Orla was manipulated, given the command to start singing by a human culprit who wanted to draw attention to her, frame her, and create a witness. He’s pushing the bloody coin at the court as much as he shows his badge to witnesses during an investigation - and he’s not gonna stop doing the latter any time soon, not now that he’s got a new badge to be proud of because it means he survived and that’s worth announcing to everyone, right? - but the judge is coming around, surely—

And Blackquill is not; Blackquill’s a damn tricky bastard who has a blood-covered burlap bag, the exact piece of evidence Phoenix desperately wanted to find. He has the bag, he knows Phoenix wanted it for proof, but since he’s known of it since yesterday he’s had time to spin a tale that keeps Orla as the perpetrator. He’s prepared it to the point that it’s not even a bluff: he has Marlon Rimes as a witness to confirm that something happened, a loud clattering noise from the orca pool room that Blackquill argues is the moment that Orla, by pulling on a flag lying underneath them, upended four-hundred pounds of show props all precariously stacked, right down onto the victim’s head.

When Rimes said he had come here on Sasha’s behalf, because she had to stay behind with Orla - that wasn’t the full truth, clearly.

Not that Rimes is exactly happy to testify for Blackquill, either. The story is dragged out of him: he was up in the staff room around 10:10 am, roughly the time that DePlume saw Orla with the captain’s body, when he heard a crashing and peered into the room to see the props had all fallen, after they had been cleaned up neatly the prior night. “Just to clarify,” Phoenix says, already certain that Rimes is lying about the timing of this, but he wants to get the most information he can from this fake story if it might help him figure out why Rimes is lying. “You heard the sound, couldn’t go in the room because you need a security key for that” - Rimes nods - “but peeked in and couldn’t see the victim” - Rimes nods a second time - “but could see the props?”

Rimes nods a third time. “Yeah. The rest of the stuff mighta been blocking my view of the captain, but I could see a bunch of those gold coins lying all about everywhere.”

And the current running theory is that the gold coins, via bag, are the murder weapon. Phoenix has staked the case for a human culprit on those coins. “I suppose it fits as a certain tragic thematic,” Blackquill says. Phoenix braces himself for tasteless remarks. “With the pirate theme that the victim pursued for his aquarium, and consider how many pirates lost their lives in pursuit of gold. Perhaps it’s faery gold; I’ve heard that unfailingly claims lives. Or perhaps the orca wished to be compensated for her labor, and saw fit to take the matter between her own teeth.”

There it goes. There’s the cruel biting words, the nasty chuckle, Blackquill laughing with himself when no one else is. “We all deserve to be properly paid for our work, do we not? And I myself shall have a fine meal tonight.”

Several questions arise, none relevant to the case: how exactly is Blackquill paid? He’s a prisoner on death row; money isn’t exactly an issue, or worth anything, to him. Maybe he’s compensated with better food than standard prison fare. Maybe that’s what he means. Maybe it’s that and not the alarming, outlandish, prospect Phoenix can’t shake, not when Blackquill wears that cloying smirk across his face, the one that suggests he knows something more than he’s letting on, and he took the time at the beginning of the trial saying that he wanted to “carry out the sentence” - read: kill, because if Orla was guilty she’s going to be put down.

So, well, knowing Maya for as long as he has, there’s no way for him to discount the possibility that Blackquill, talking about dinner, means that he wants to kill and eat an orca.

(He’s tried for a while to figure out what it is that drives Maya’s appetite. Does she just think human food tastes better? Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around, that faery food tastes so exquisite that after having it, anything else is ashes in a human’s mouth? Is that even true? Something else to ask Thalassa. But for Maya, he’s not ever figured out whether it was just a trait she was born with, an insatiable void within that she’s driven to fill, or a way that she revels in the human world, that to get food here it’s a simple price of money, with no debt incurred, no complex magically binding rules of hospitality. Eating plastic packaging, though - the Gavins’ hellhound does the same, swallowed a whole takeout container that Phoenix offered it as a gesture of “please don’t kill me” - he’s got even less an idea.)

If this, though - this with Blackquill right here, the insinuation that might say more about Phoenix than Blackquill, about what he’s dealt with on a regular basis and how every place he turns these past two days he sees it - if this could be how he gets the answer to the “is he human or fae” question, so help him—

(If it’s anything for Blackquill, if he’s anything like Maya, then this is a thing about dominance, about being the one at the top of the food chain. About having any ounce of control over someone’s life, even if his own is out of his hands, and he on death row. Hey, is that analytical psychology? Everything that Athena refers to as “analytical psychology” means Phoenix doesn’t have a clue what it’s actually supposed to be.)

“Good to clear that up, Mr Rimes, thank you,” Phoenix says. Blackquill’s grin widens. He knows Phoenix is deliberately, consciously ignoring him. He knows that he’s gotten under his skin.

(Hell, he’s been there for months already, but more in the way of a faint itch, and now he’s plainly a knife jammed through Phoenix’s chest. Isn’t stabbing someone a way of getting under their skin, both literally and metaphorically? And he wouldn’t put it past Blackquill to stab him, literally. With magic, sure, but still.)

“Now,” Phoenix continues. “The trouble is, Mr Rimes, that there’s no way you could’ve been in the staff room at that time. Is there not a certain young woman whose acquaintance you made yesterday, in the food prep room, at this same time that you claim to have been in the staff room?”

Another thing to bring up with Edgeworth, in terms of legal reform: maybe some sort of public service announcements about the consequences of perjury? Make some informative posters to put up at bus stops and subway stations. That couldn’t hurt.

“Sasha’s under enough stress now, y’know? I didn’t want her to have to come in and testify. Figured if anyone should have to go up on the stand, it shoulda been me.”

“That’s a very…” Phoenix pinches the bridge of his nose. Very noble? Very stupid? Why not both? “Very kindly meant, thing to do, Mr Rimes, but that’s still perjury.”

“Yeah,” Athena says. “It seems like a lot of trouble to go to just so that Sasha didn’t have to come in and say yeah, she heard a noise. And now she’s got to come in anyway, and you’re in trouble too now. Why would you go to that extent?”

Why indeed.

He tells them. The calendar they thought was his, the one Pearl accidentally picked up, the one that tells them that the victim met with someone at the pool - that wasn’t his. He thinks it’s Sasha’s. He worried suspicion would fall on Sasha.

And now Phoenix is worried by that prospect, too.

He didn’t miss this part of being a lawyer, not at all. Damn all of it.

Rimes leaves to return to the aquarium, take over orca-sitting while Sasha has to testify, and that leaves Phoenix and Athena to pace around the lobby like fish swimming circles in a tank for the rest of the recess. Just waiting, helplessly, to know what horrible new revelation will come next.

Sasha’s testimony is about the same as Rimes’, except for the part where it’s actually true. Orla kicked up a fuss, DePlume started screaming, which of these happened first she doesn’t remember, because finding your boss dead in an orca tank doesn’t help one maintain a firm, linear thought process to exactly recall it later. No surprises there. Lacking any other strategy, Phoenix nitpicks and nitpicks at her testimony until even she is annoyed with it, even though he’s the lawyer she came to for help and she knew from the start that he cross-examined a parrot so she should expect that this is the strategy and the strategy is bluffing and bullshitting.

But it gets them places. It gets them information about the way the props fell over the victim, that Orla couldn’t have dragged him into the pool after they fell because that would’ve disturbed the scarf that landed on top of his body, the way that once again Phoenix’s entire theory is wrong and he’s got to dispute his own suggestion that he built this case on, the bloody coin as the murder weapon. It’s not. He disproves his own bluff that got the case to trial in the first place.

His real argument, his unwavering stance, is simply that Orla was not the killer, and against everything new they pull from Sasha, that holds true. The victim most likely fell to his death in the drained orca pool. Orla was manipulated, using one of the new tricks she’s learning, to grab the victim’s body and bring him back up to the surface. Sasha and Rimes get her to demonstrate, on the video phone, with a practice dummy. Blackquill’s case about a killer whale is losing ground, fast; Orla’s too endearing. “The whole gallery loves her!” Athena says brightly, and her voice and stance both turn smug as she adds, “And Prosecutor Blackquill’s shut right up!”

Planning a counterattack is well within the realm of possibility for why he’s silent. He might also be convincing himself that whale meat would taste nasty anyway. Or Phoenix might be terribly uncharitable, and Blackquill never intended to eat the orca. He never said it outright. He just had a look about him that didn’t seem innocent, if he’s ever seemed innocent, which Phoenix does not believe he has. Probably shouldn’t say that about a sort-of client, but here they are.

Also here they are, with the judge agreeing, ordering an investigation be done of the bottom of the orca pool, and Blackquill still sullenly silent, the trial inexorably rolling to its final conclusion, a verdict, Orla saved—

“Prosecutor Blackquill!” Fulbright makes a loud reappearance, waving a manilla envelope with one hand and with the other trying to extract a paper from the envelope, and he isn’t really doing either with any dignity. “The thing you ordered has come in.”

“Hmph.” Blackquill doesn’t raise his arm to accept the paper - finally extracted from the envelope - Fulbright offers him. He doesn’t move in any way, doesn’t make a sound or an indication of a command, and Taka alights from his shoulder, snatching the page from Fulbright, talons piercing through it, and circling up to the judge. “If you would read that out to the court, Your Baldness.”

“Ah - and what is this, exactly?” The judge slowly pulls the sheet lose, care made to avoid his hands getting close to Taka’s talons, but also to not rip the paper even further.

“An updated autopsy report,” Blackquill replies.

“God damn it!” Phoenix should not say that so loudly, and saying it out loud at any volume is too loud with Athena around, especially when he’s been over Courtroom Manners 101 with her and had the lesson basically boil down to don’t challenge the prosecution to a fistfight by the dumpsters in the back lot and don’t curse on the record. But the words escape from him anyway, like air knocked from his lungs when the prosecution roundhouse-kicked him straight in the gut. “Why now? Just when it’s going good for us—”

“During the recess, a particular thought occurred to me,” Blackquill says. He’s the one ignoring Phoenix, now, though there’s nothing smug about it, only chilly disdainful professionalism. “I asked the body to be reexamined, bearing in mind what had been nagging at me. Now.” He jerks his head to the side, directed at the judge.

“Very well.” The judge casts one last cautious glance at Taka before he allows his attention to turn to the paper. “Let’s see here… The cause of death, blunt force trauma, shown to be consistent with - with a fall? A fall of around sixty feet? But the orca pool is sixty-five feet deep! This report backs up the defense’s claims!”

Blackquill nods once.

“What?” Phoenix’s yelp is even louder this time, never mind that this is good news. It’s good news. It’s solid evidence in favor of his claim and his client. Why does it feel like someone still has a foot on his chest?

“The orca could not possibly be involved with what happened with an empty pool,” the judge says. “This autopsy report proves her complete innocence!”

“Yes,” Blackquill says, at length. Even it being his autopsy report, it takes him several seconds to finally acquise. “I suppose it does.”

Taka spreads its wings and flaps back to Blackquill’s shoulder.

“Then we did it!” Athena bounces again, her excitement bubbling over into obvious physical expression, just as her every other emotion refuses to be contained. “Prosecutor Blackquill can’t even object! He isn’t even trying! You’ve done it, Boss! You saved Orla!”

His agreement with her, they’ve done it, Orla’s safe, emerges as a sticky click from the back of his throat. Words don’t come, and another choked attempt at response is lost against the clack of the judge’s gavel. “This court finds the defendant, Ora Shipley” - right, Phoenix had entirely forgotten that Orla’s “legal” name is something different than what she’s called - “not guilty!”

An expected Objection! doesn’t follow, not from Blackquill, not from a different witness, not anyone. Beside him, Athena woops and throws her hands in the air, extended a bit toward Sasha, who pumps her fist in the air in return. “Phoenix! Athena! Thank you both so much!” She springs out from behind the witness stand and calls over to the video phone, “Hey, Marlon! Give Orla some celebratory snacks!”

“Sure thing! Congrats, Sasha!” Orla on screen is pelted by a hail of fish, catching only about half of them, like someone flung a whole bucket at her. He probably did, in fact.

The judge clears his throat, taps his gavel once. “That concludes today’s—” He taps the gavel again, raises his voice a little more. “Today’s proceedings!” Court’s never going to be officially dismissed at this rate, with the hubbub; Athena’s leaning over the bench now, grinning, saying something to Sasha, and Orla chattering loudly. She’s so caught up in the fervor, but Phoenix still waits for the other shoe to drop, always is waiting for that, and he still concentrates enough that he hears, over the sound of her and Sasha’s laughter, a low, throaty chuckle drift across the courtroom.

Then Blackquill slams his palm on the bench, and the courtroom goes quiet enough to listen to the rattle of the chain echo into silence. Athena, basically lying sprawled across the bench , pushes herself up. Sasha has frozen.

For a moment, Blackquill doesn’t move, his eyes fixed down on his hand on the bench. Then he raises his eyes up, his face alight with smug triumph. “My sincerest thanks, Wright-dono.”

“Huh?” There’s no way this goes that’s good, is there? Maybe Blackquill could surprise him, like the updated autopsy report surprised him, or maybe he’s going to have to ask Athena how many languages she knows and how to say oh fuck in all of them. (She knows German, right? He could pull double time with that, between swearing in court, and driving a few people he knows up the wall.)

“For your work in drawing out the truth.”

If Blackquill had a personal stake in wanting to know the truth behind this case, that would be one thing, but—

“Now, Fool Bright. Arrest this woman.”

“Certainly!” Fulbright throws up a jaunty salute with two fingers. He and Blackquill are the only ones moving, like they’re the only ones alive, everyone else turned to stone, unable to do anything but wait. “Sasha Buckler, you are under arrest for the murder of Jack Shipley!”

“What?” Sasha springs backwards, knocking into the bench and grabbing onto the edge of it to hold herself up.

“No! I don’t believe it!” Athena smacks both of her palms down on the bench, pushing herself up entirely off of her feet, suspending herself in an attempt to be taller.

The shoe dropped. “For what reason—”

Blackquill cuts him off before he finishes asking the question. “Come now. You must have had some idea in your sorry sad head that this would be the outcome. The drained pool in the orca room accessible only by key card - the orca being framed with its show commands. Who else had access and ability to be on the scene and properly manipulate the orca? She and the victim are the only two who participate in the training and commanding of the orca, and her security card, last night, had the last recorded usage until the body was discovered yesterday morning.”

“Yesterday, we requested security card logs from the company that handles them,” Fulbright says. “Apparently, the aquarium employees don’t know the card usage is tracked. Come along now, Ms Buckler. It’s time we have a nice long chat down at the station.”

Card usage records, think Phoenix think; he’s run up against this kind of thing at least once before. What are all his theories and bluffs to get around that? If employees didn’t know that their ins and outs were recorded, someone who had their own card would probably use it, but a culprit who didn’t have a card would still have to steal it, even if they didn’t know they could frame someone that way.

Objecting at this point won’t stop what’s in motion. Fulbright takes Sasha by the upper arm, escorting her away, and she follows in a dazed trace. But Phoenix is not going to not object, if he sees any way to, and Sasha is his client about as much as Orla is, and Athena is indignant and seething beside him. “Why would Ms Buckler have come to us for help with Orla’s case if she intended to frame Orla?” he demands. “Why wouldn’t she just let Orla be blamed and escape the scrutiny?”

Blackquill snorts. “She’s quite the performer, acting the part of such a worried girl concerned for the life of her friend. Perhaps she thought to even better sell her concern this way, knowing all the while with a witness, the margins of victory were quite slim for you. I of course suspected her from the start. That the orca may have been a malicious killer, or may have been a pawn and victim herself of someone so heartless as to place the blame upon the unwitting - I considered both possibilities.”

Phoenix should have figured something was up, that he had another culprit ready to blame, when the update to the autopsy report arrived. If Blackquill ordered the body reexamined for - what, exactly? The differing patterns of blunt force trauma for being slammed by an orca against glass versus falling a long distance? Squish versus splat? - then did he expect that the defense was going to find that angle? If he wanted the examiners to specifically consider falling, then that meant he realized Orla was innocent. And if she was innocent, then he could just switch targets. He was waiting for this since they put Sasha on the stand.

He had unwitting pawns of his own.

“I really must thank you again.” Blackquill is undeniably enjoying rubbing salt into the wound. “I surely could not have done this without your assistance. After all, you were the one who put the witness so at ease as to bring forth the information about the orca’s lifesaver trick.”

This is not the kind of defense-prosecution collaboration that Phoenix signed up for.

“Wait - wait!” Sasha wakes to the reality of her situation, snaps out of the confused daze the accusation put her in, and starts dragging her feet, not slowing hers and Fulbright’s trajectory out of the courtroom in any way, but succeeding at making a horrible squealing noise of her shoes on the polished courtroom floor. “I didn’t kill the captain! I would never do anything that would hurt Orla! I - oof!” Fulbright seems about two seconds from lifting her off the ground and simply hauling her from the courtroom that way. “Please! Phoenix! Athena! I—”

Her voice fades and a door slams.

“Sasha—” Athena has her feet back solidly on the ground, her hands still pressed against the bench, fingers curled under her palms to form trembling fists. She doesn’t speak again, doesn’t move again. Even once the judge has adjourned the court - this is Orla’s trial, after all, and she is resoundingly innocent - she remains still, her eyes fixed blankly out into space. Phoenix has to tap her on the shoulder to get her moving, and even then, when she does, she walks with the same slow cadence that Sasha did as she tried to figure out what was happening. Widget is still lit up, displaying its sad purple-bluish face, but Athena might as well have shut herself off.

“What a horrible end to a trial,” Trucy says, shaking her head. They’re already in the lobby waiting, she and Apollo and Pearl, all serious and solemn and surprisingly quiet. “It was going so good! I was so excited for you both! And then—!”

“She didn’t do it!” Athena blurts. Widget snaps to red. “I believe that with my whole heart, I know it, Sasha didn’t do it! Her voice and her heart were both saying the exact same thing, that she didn’t! And no one listened!” Her anger teeters on the edge of tears. “The whole court should’ve listened and no one - no one—”

“Well, obviously you listened,” Apollo says. He looks pretty uncomfortable with her distress, drawing himself back, his arms tightly folded together, but as he speaks, Athena’s body snaps up straight, her head level again, eyes wide, like she was just doused in cold water to finally wake her.

“I - Boss!” She spins around to face Phoenix. “Boss, we have to defend Sasha! We have to get to the detention center to see her, right now! Right now!”

“The police aren’t even going to be back at the detention center yet,” Phoenix says. “They do have to drive there, you know. It’s not like it’s - wormholes or anything.” He deliberately goes for a word far from fae connotations, far from something that will give Pearl, Athena, or Trucy any ideas. “We’ll go back to the office and regroup, figure out how we approach today’s investigation at the aquarium, and we’ll go there—”

“But you’re going to be defending Sasha too, right, Boss?” Athena demands. “If you’re not, then - then I - and—” She looks to Apollo and Trucy, her words all tangled up, but the intent clear: she’ll do it with or without him.

“Of course I will be,” Phoenix says. “But the police will be interrogating her for a while, probably, so we should do some investigating first, so we’re not just waiting around at the detention center, and so we can have something actually helpful to tell her, because…” He drags a hand through his hair. It’s the way this always goes, the up-and-down trajectory where after every crescendo there’s a further place to fall, and if he ever proves innocence in one matter for certain, something else waits in the wings to tell him he lost a different round he didn’t know he was playing.

“Because what, Daddy?” Trucy asks. “You think she’s going to want a different lawyer? You proved Orla didn’t do it! She sounded really grateful to you and Athena! Of course she’d want you as her lawyer!”

“I should’ve seen this coming,” Phoenix says. That’s the trouble: Blackquill said he must surely have had some idea of how this would end, and he did, and he pushed it away, and it caught up to him. “And figured out - some way around it, asked Sasha what her alibi was and what she was doing because if we were proving a human culprit then of course the prosecution could turn it around to—”

“But how could you have seen that coming?” Athena glares at him like he’s a lying witness on the stand, and she, ready to tear him apart verbally and physically. “That Prosecutor Blackquill would - ugh! Prosecutor Blackquill.” She says his name like a curse, the tone that Maya always used on Edgeworth’s name at the beginning. (Then he stopped being such a pain in the ass and became their friend and she stopped using his name at all.)

“How could you have even thought to ask Ms Buckler those questions?” Trucy says. “Like ‘hey you were the only one to use the security key in the past 12 hours right’? Or ‘did you leak any of your top-secret orca whistle patterns to anyone else’ or ‘how do we break into police files to get the full security camera footage’ or—”

“I get it, Truce,” Phoenix says. She squints doubtfully at him. “No, I do, really. But the thing is—”

She rolls her eyes and turns silently to Apollo, the obvious sentiment conveyed that this further objection is him further not actually getting it, and Apollo snorts, and Phoenix’s heart clenches up with a vice around it that they’ve only had a year and not a lifetime to perfect their silent, condescending, sibling communication and they don’t even know that’s what this is. It’s the same way Edgeworth and Franziska can cast the briefest glance at each other but convey three levels of disdain and mockery and coordinate a savage teardown of whatever sorry fool has earned their ire—

Where was his original thought going?

“The thing is - this happens all the time, to me, with my cases. Where everything I do to prove my client innocent just further pushes them, or someone else they love, closer to drowning. Just makes it worse.” Edgeworth’s new confession, an accusation against Ema. A last accusation against Maya, her own mother. Phoenix’s own badge because he tried too hard to save someone with it. Just the highlight reel. “And it’s kind of horribly crushing every time. I didn’t want you to have to go through that, Athena.” Look how badly it affected her. She asked him something like that back when they first met, didn’t she: what happens if no one listens to you? And here it went, and hurt her badly.

All four of the kids stare at him, unblinking, confused. “But then you would’ve had to defend and investigate all on your own!” Athena protests. “And - and then you’d have no one to share the crushing despair with!”

“I don’t want to share that,” Phoenix interrupts. “I’m pretty sure I’m cursed.” And like the other ways he’s cursed, he’s afraid that sooner or later it will take one of his kids as victim. Less horrible than Death catching up to them, of course, but still. He’s put them all through enough.

Pearl studies him intently, chewing at her thumbnail again. She concentrates hard enough that her glamour starts slipping from her eyes, turning them red. “I don’t see anything,” she says. “I mean, Misfortune could do it, but you only got that when you stopped being a lawyer.”

Apollo recoils. He knows exactly where that one came from.

“But your win record is still kickass!” Athena punches her fist into her opposite palm. “So even if it happens you still pull it off! And I want to learn how to do that! From Apollo and from you, too!” In his logical, detached brain, he can keep a good distance from her, and then when she’s staring him in the face reminding him of why he became a lawyer and the good things he’s done - it’s that much harder. “C’mon, if we’re going to the office we’d better go now! We’ve got investigation to do!”

“You know,” Pearl says as they head for Athena’s car, “you sure do know a lot about orcas. And I didn’t get to learn much about Orla at the aquarium, unfortunately, and I know she’s not the point of contention in court anymore—”

“Do you want me to tell you more orca facts?” Athena interrupts. As though she honestly needs the excuse that Pearl was going to offer her, of teaching them things they can use in court to defend Orla. Pearl nods.

On the drive back to the office, Phoenix gets the other front seat, and Apollo, Trucy, and Pearl squish themselves into the back. Athena chatters animatedly to the rearview mirror the whole time.

“Was there something you wanted to say to me, Athena? Or show me? That’s a very large book you have, there.”

“...Junie brought it to me from the school library. Since I haven’t been able to go in lately.”

“She did? That’s very kind of her. And what is it - An Encyclopedia of Marine Mammals. Very nice.”

“Mhm. I’m nearly done reading it.”

“You’re reading the whole thing? Cover to cover?”

“Don’t you do that with books? Um… being a lawyer is a lot of reading, isn’t it? You should read it all. To make sure that you don’t catch an innocent person by mistake.”

“I do, don’t worry. I wouldn’t want any person sent to the gallows for something they didn’t do.”

“Then why don’t you read whole books?”

“I don’t read entire encyclopedias. You know, a lot of libraries don’t let you take them home with you at all. You just look up what you want to know while you’re there.”

“But I want to know everything that’s in this encyclopedia.”

“Well, then I suppose you know better than I and I shouldn’t be telling you what to do, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Do you want to hear something I’ve learned so far? Um, since you’re always taking time to, to teach me what you’re learning.”

“I’ve heard it said, and found it myself to be true, that by teaching something you learn it better yourself, too. It helps us both that way. It’s very efficient. Go ahead, tell me something about marine mammals.”

“I’ll try and find something you wouldn’t already know.”

“I’m a law and psychology student, not a marine biologist. I don’t know anything. How about you tell me about - penguins?”

“Birds aren’t mammals, silly! But I can tell you about orcas. They’re black and white like you and penguins are, too! They’re the largest member of the dolphin family - they’re not whales at all!”

“Killer whales aren’t whales?”

“Nope! And the ‘killer’ part, is because sailors would observe them hunting and killing baleen whales, and they were first known as ‘whale killers’ and then that got flipped, somehow. And now people tend to think of them as vicious killers, but they aren’t! Wild orcas have never killed a human! They’re just strong and hungry.”

“That they gained that reputation is unfortunate but not surprising. Humans have that tendency to fear what they don’t understand, and to not bother understanding so much of the world around them. To presume that their impressions of the world constitute its one objective truth.”

“...”

“I’m sorry. The cases I’ve been studying lately have me pondering this sort of matter quite a bit, lately. This and worse.”

“Do you want to talk about those? That might make you feel better?”

“...how about you explain to me what a ‘baleen whale’ is.”

“They don’t have teeth - they’re the ones like humpback and blue whales that have, like, bristles in their mouth that they filter in plankton through. That’s what baleen is! It looks sort of like my hairbrush over there.”

“Speaking of, you certainly don’t look like you brushed your hair at all today.”

“No? I… Mom’s been busy all day working, and I was busy reading so I didn’t think I…”

“How about I go get it and fix your hair so that you look presentable, and you tell me more about orcas.”

“I look fine!”

“You look like it was arranged by nesting birds looking to make a comfortable place to raise their young.”

“Pbbbbft! Oh, but did you know that orcas are one of the only species of mammal besides humans and other primates that undergo menopause? Female orcas who can no longer have babies stick around to help raise other babies and take charge of the group. Different populations of orca tend to live in different-sized pods but for most of them, the babies even once grown up don’t leave on their own and instead they’ll stay with their moms for their whole lives—”

#roddy fanfics #fic: the witches of los angeles

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ONE GIANT LEAP Brockley Jack Theatre 2 – 27 July 2019 “That’s one small step for man…” Neil Armstrong INTERVIEW WITH WRITER & DIRECTOR OF ARROWS AND TRAPS THEATRE, ROSS MCGREGOR LPT: Hello Ross, We’re rather pleased to have another chat with you about your company, the award nominated Arrows & Traps but also wanted to grill you a little bit on your new writing, ONE GIANT LEAP. How long did it take you to write it? Hi there, how lovely to be asked. I have a somewhat unusual process in that I pitch the idea to the Jack, book the slot, design the artwork / poster, get the show on sale, start selling tickets and only then start writing the script. This is partly due to the quick turnaround of shows and my lack of time between, and also that we have to book these things quite far in advance as the Jack is a popular and sought-after space, but also because I have an issue with self-discipline, and so if I didn’t have a concrete deadline, I think I’d still be tinkering with Frankenstein, a show I wrote and produced in 2017. One Giant Leap is the first completely original piece that I’ve written without a source material, and it took me about two weeks to get onto paper. ONE GIANT LEAP is celebrating the fiftieth Anniversary of the Apollo 11 Moon Landing but it seems you have got your own spin on it. Could you tell us the story in nutshell? Yes absolutely. It’s a comic take on the greatest conspiracy in history. It centres on Edward Price, a producer of a failing 60’s sci-fi show called Moonsaber – which is basically a poor man’s Star Trek. Edward’s life has fallen into a rut, his wife has left him, he’s lost his house to the IRS, and Moonsaber has just been cancelled in its first season. All looks grim, until a representative to President Nixon comes to his door with a suitcase of money and a proposition. The Apollo 11 Moon Landing is four days away, but due to the moon being about a hundred degrees too hot for photographic film; they can get there, they just can’t film it. And what is a massive propaganda exercise without proof that you actually did it? So they ask Edward to fake the footage by any means possible, if he can do it, he can bring Moonsaber back to life for another season, if he fails – he loses everything. Where does the comedy come from? Mainly from the people that Edward employs in Moonsaber. They’re a ragtag bunch of actors, stage managers and technicians, and due to the show being cancelled – they’re falling apart at the seams – it’s down to Edward to keep it all together, to pull off the greatest lie in history, whilst trying to save his marriage, salvage his career, and keep the lies he’s telling intact. It’s a study of the creative industry, a satirical and loving homage to theatre. We’re not trying to say anything serious about whether the moon landing was or wasn’t real, but more provide a raucous night out at the theatre, and keep you laughing about it on the Overground home. Why is it important to offer a lighter comedy in theatre right now? I think, at times, theatre can take itself too seriously, and become too myopic about tackling the dark and dreadful issues that are affecting society – I’ve lost count of how many shows there are about Brexit playing right now – and whilst that’s great, and admirable - speaking for myself, after the last year I’m sick of the darkness, I’m bored by the constant stream of depressive updates about the rise of the Right, I can’t engage with it, the European elections gave a victory to nationalists, we gave a state visit to a racist, homelessness is at an all-time high, and we’re literally cooking the planet to death. There are sometimes when I just want a great night out and forget how scary the world seems right now – laughter is the best medicine – not as a retreat, but a reminder of the good in us, of the joy, of the light. As the company is repertory, you’ll be working with some actors you know very well. Did you have any of them in mind when you were writing the script? I certainly wrote two of the eight roles with long time company members Will Pinchin and Lucy Loannou in mind. And whilst yes, the roles are tailored to suit both of them - I did write the roles of Howard and Alchamy to stretch and challenge Will and Lucy, because I’d never seen them play characters like that. Will is nothing like Howard, and Lucy isn’t at all like Alchamy, but in way, they’re made for those roles, and for me, they’re perfect choices. I do like working with the same actors repeatedly, it is true, because you build up a short hand of technique and approach, but also you build up a trust. The actors in the company come in on day one, sort of knowing what to bring me, and what kind of vision I’ll probably have, since my style is something of a constant, but also I’m able to, as their director, cast them in roles that perhaps play against type, or test their flexibility and skillsets. I’m not an actor, but if I were, I’d hate to play the same roles every time, to only get the “intense one” or the “dopey one” or the “awkward one” – I’d want to think I could play anything that was thrown at me, and I think our rep system allows for experimentation and exploration. What has been the hardest part of the whole process to date? We’re only in the first week of rehearsal, so nothing too taxing thus far. Hands down, the hardest part of a comedy is when you’ve rehearsed it so much you no longer find it funny, at which point we need an audience. One Giant Leap hasn’t hit that point yet, obviously, but I think most comic work benefits from the response and energy an audience gives. Theatre can be electric when you have that to play off, but in terms of where we are – One Giant Leap’s greatest challenge is the analysing of why something is funny, and making sure it’s that way every time. It’s all about timing. For many years I laboured under the misapprehension that stand up comedy was just a funny person being funny with a microphone, that was until I saw Dylan Moran do the same set twice in the space of three weeks. He has a very casual, off the cuff, almost improvised way of performing, and I assumed that it was just his natural charisma and quick wit, until I saw the set the second time, only to find it was identical to the first. All the pauses, the stresses, the tangents, the quips, all of which was honed, polished and a work of precision. It was funny because he’d worked out the best way to get the laugh, every time, and that’s beyond art, it’s science, it’s music. Traditionally Arrows and Traps have produced a selection of brilliantly adapted classics, including Dracula, Frankenstein, Crime & Punishment and Anna Karenina. Have you got a soft spot for one of them? I loved the breathlessness and breadth of Anna Karenina, the precision and murk of Crime & Punishment, the thrill and gothicism of Dracula, and the humanity and pang of loss in Frankenstein. I think my favourite adaptation, if I had to pick one, is probably Frankenstein – but that’s purely subjective, and there was something about the biography of Mary Shelley, which we incorporated into the show, that really spoke to me – in the sense of a creator and a creation, a parent and child, a sinner and the terrible revenge. You’ve also got THE STRANGE CASE OF JEKYLL & HYDE coming up at Jack Studio in September. Your adaptations of the classics have been Arrows and Traps main focus, so does ONE GIANT LEAP herald a shift away from this? No, in fact because I know the next season of shows, One Giant Leap is perhaps the anomaly. Our work normally has a dark bent, we favour drama with funny lines as opposed to an out-and-out comedy. We’ve only ever done one full comedy before, The Gospel According To Philip back in 2016, so this is something of a return to that. I knew that the company was changing, and wanted to make a swansong to the current phase of work, I had originally planned for it to be TARO but that story ended so sadly, I wanted the last one to be lighter, more celebratory – there’s something inherently amusing about the various tropes you usually get in the theatre world, and so I thought a comedy would be a fitting homage to where we’ve come from, and a clean break to where we want to go next. The company has been going from strength to strength, what are the things of which you are most proud? Mainly, that we’re still going. Most theatre companies on the fringe don’t make it to their third show, we’re on our seventeenth. Part of that is sheer stubbornness, there have been points where any rational person would have thrown in the towel, but there was always something in me that would never bend, never break, never give up. It’s part ambition, part not wanting to fail, part wanting to make my father proud of me, part bloody-mindedness, part theatre-addiction. I think production-wise I’m most proud of The White Rose, to what that achieved, all the five star reviews and the Best Production Offie-nom, but of course I’m also very proud of the other twelve times we’ve been nominated for Off West End Awards, the relationship we’ve built with the Jack, the bond I have with my creative team and my casts, and just the fact that people seem to like the work. It’s still always funny to me when a reviewer calls us “critically-acclaimed” or “renowned rep company” – to me it’s just me, telling the stories I want to tell, with people I want to work with, you don’t always think about how it looks from the outside. I’m just producing the theatre I’d like to go and see. It was rumoured that you would be leaving fringe theatre for other careers, partly because of problems with funding. Was there are truth in that? Absolutely! And in a sense, this is still completely true. I am indeed done with fringe. I think I got to The White Rose in 2018 – where we got the Offie-Nom for Production, we had eight 5-star reviews, four 4 star reviews, we’d completely sold out, and done it the cheapest way possible, and we still didn’t break even. Which was very hard to take, and forced me to face the truth – you cannot hope to attain best practice ITC rates for your casts / creatives / yourself if you only do 15 shows in a 50 seater and you don’t have subsidising support from an arts grant scheme. It just isn’t possible. So I made the decision to stop producing work. Now obviously, with the shows being booked so far in advance, there were still three productions upcoming in the diary that I had to honour. But knowing I was quitting, and that this was the end for me, was too hard to bear - ultimately I had to face the fact that theatre is my life, and I could never leave it – so I had to find a way to make it work financially, not just for myself but for everyone else in the company, particularly the actors who are so often completely screwed over in fringe, and often end up working for nothing. Which is where the idea to change the model came from. Shrink the casts and sets to a more tourable model – 14 people down to 4 – and engage a tour booker to take the productions out of London to larger spaces that could widen the potential revenue. The Jack is our home, and we will always premiere all our shows there, but then we will take them into the provinces. The vision is still the same, adaptations of literary work, and biopics of iconic figures of history, but the remit and scale of the endeavour has changed. I don’t see it as an ending, just a moving from one phase into another. But yes, absolutely, the 8-10 handers, movement-heavy, ensemble, big music, huge shows – this stage in our trajectory is ending with One Giant Leap, and whilst I see why it has to end, a part of me is sad to see it go, because there was something so wonderful about doing a massive 15-hander like Three Sisters. Are you one of those people who is meticulously planning the future? Yes indeed, because really we have to plan ahead in order to book the shows with the venues. We’re doing One Giant Leap next month, and then move to Jeykll & Hyde in September, both at the Jack – and then Hyde goes on tour for about six months, with an opening of our next biopic Chaplin coming about halfway through the run in February. Because I’m overseeing contracts, and touring plans, and writing the scripts as well as casting each show and most likely directing each one, I need to know where we’ll be and when we’re doing it – I’m trying to build a book of shows, a repertoire that is constantly touring, moving forward, and ever-evolving – reaching more audiences, and engaging with new communities. In the meantime, we can’t wait to see ONE GIANT LEAP. Could you give us a little flavour of what’s to come? In terms of shows after One Giant Leap, we have Jekyll & Hyde - a dark, political thriller set in a post-Trump America – a gritty examination of the corruption of power, then Chaplin – which tells the story of the 20th Century’s most famous clown, documenting his path to becoming the iconic Little Tramp – and his meteoric rise from Victorian poverty to Hollywood fame. After that, we’re bringing back one of our most successful productions of 2017, Frankenstein, revisited and rewritten for a more tourable model, and then a biopic of Marilyn Monroe, called Making Marilyn, which covers the Norma Jean origin portion of the star’s life. After that – who knows? I’ve always wanted to tackle Madame Bovary – and I’d like to bring back TARO as it was one that I was particularly proud of in terms of its style and poetry. Finally, your shows at Brockley Jack are becoming legendary, it’s a great partnership. What are the things you’ve learnt about theatre whilst working at Brockley Jack? So much. The Jack has been a great place to develop my approach to stagecraft, and how to tell stories as clearly and engagingly as possible. Since we joined the Jack, we’ve built a vision of the style we want to have, and how we approach each difficulty, or tricky moment to stage, how our work with movement and text interconnect, and what we look for in our ensemble for each show. And, I guess, ultimately, I’ve being able to return to my training as a writer, and I’ve been so lucky to have so many opportunities to experiment with my writing, and get to think about how to tell a story and how to build each character. Playwriting is not something I’ve tried before, and I’ve loved delving into each of the worlds that the Jack has opened the door to. But I think most of all, I’ve been honoured by the patronage and support of Kate and Karl – and they’ve shown me the power of hard work, diligence, and care – if I ended up with anything like the talent and acumen they have, I’d be very happy. @June 2019 London Pub Theatres Magazine Ltd All Rights Reserved THIS SHOW HAS ENDED ONE GIANT LEAP Brockley Jack Theatre 2 – 27 July 2019 directed by Ross McGregor produced by Arrows & Traps Theatre Productions Box Office > Below: Rehearsals at Brockley Jack Studio "We’re not trying to say anything serious about whether the moon landing was or wasn’t real, but more provide a raucous night out at the theatre, and keep you laughing about it on the Overground home." "... speaking for myself, after the last year I’m sick of the darkness, I’m bored by the constant stream of depressive updates about the rise of the Right, I can’t engage with it, the European elections gave a victory to nationalists, we gave a state visit to a racist, homelessness is at an all-time high, and we’re literally cooking the planet to death." "Most theatre companies on the fringe don’t make it to their third show, we’re on our seventeenth. Part of that is sheer stubbornness, there have been points where any rational person would have thrown in the towel, but there was always something in me that would never bend, never break, never give up. It’s part ambition, part not wanting to fail, part wanting to make my father proud of me, part bloody-mindedness, part theatre-addiction." "... knowing I was quitting, and that this was the end for me, was too hard to bear - ultimately I had to face the fact that theatre is my life, and I could never leave it – so I had to find a way to make it work financially, not just for myself but for everyone else in the company, particularly the actors who are so often completely screwed over in fringe, and often end up working for nothing. Which is where the idea to change the model came from." " ... most of all, I’ve been honoured by the patronage and support of Kate and Karl (Jack Studio Theatre) – and they’ve shown me the power of hard work, diligence, and care – if I ended up with anything like the talent and acumen they have, I’d be very happy." In celebration of the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Apollo 11 Moon Landing, Arrows & Traps Theatre bring their critically-acclaimed approach to a brand-new comedy set in the back streets of a Hollywood lot. One Giant Leap is about the power of having an impossible dream, realising it’s impossible, and then trying your hardest to fake it and hope no one notices.

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spellbounding-slytherin · 5 years

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So, talking about my Novels a bit more....

Hey there its Vira!

Thought I would talk about my novels a bit more, just so you guys know what you all would be getting into.

So, lets talk about Novel 1.

The Rings of Gallilea: Sworn to Rebirth

(Aka: TROG/ TROGSTR)

So here are the main plot points of the novel:

It is the sacred duty of the Celestial Trinity (the Sun, Moon and Earth) to protect the life in their solar system from outside alien threats

An imperial speciest race known as the Cantillians dub Humans inferior to them, thus sparking a war between them the Celestial Trinity.

The nine planets ally themselves with the Celestial Trinity to protect themselves from a God-destroying weapon created by the Cantillians known as the Catalyst.

The Rings of Gallilea are formed in an attempt to protect the solar system.

The goddess of the moon utilizes their influence on humanity to create a re-birthing curse. As long as humanity shares legends of the gods they will not die.

During a battle with the Cantillian emperor (known as the Serpent) Earth is hit by the Catalyst, destroying his physical form.

One-by one the Rings of Gallilea and the Celestial Trinity fall.

Eventually it is only Mercury The god of knowledge, Moon, the goddess of magic and Pluto rhw God of Alchemy left

In order to save humanity, Moon forces Mercury to give her an "unforgettable" curse so she will retain her memories as a goddess.

Moon uses what is left of her magical power to trap the Cantillian emperor in a diffrent dimension, before she is killed.

Moon falls to earth taking on the form of a human infant.

She is found by the son of a former cult leader and raised moon aware of her godly identity.

Out of gratitude, moon grants her new father figure the "Power of The North Star" and shares a magical bond with him

Their mission now, is to locate the fallen Gods and prepare them for the fight against the looming Cantillian threat.

In summary:

The Rings of Gallilea is a magical Sifi adventure, with sub themes of romance, and drama. The message of The Rings of Gallilea is self-sacrifice, defying fate, humility and mercy along with second chances.

Lets meet our cast!

Luna Abyss- our female lead, Luna is the Goddess of the moon and Magic. Before what Luna refers to as "The Fall" she was regal, elegant and refined. Growing up on earth with her drunkard guardian Victor, and running from government officials who seem to pick up on Luna's signals wherever she goes changed her quite a bit. Luna uses her twin blades Artemis and Frigga to fight off the Cantillian forces sent by recon forces. Luna likes dancing to loud music at ungodly hours, getting fast food at midnight, dogs, and exploring places she probably shouldn't.

Terra Greenwood- Our male lead, Terra is the God of Earth, Nature and humanity. Terra grew up with his Grandma after his dad walked out on his drug-addicted mother. Terra is a member of the Apache Indians, and lives on a reservation in Greenville New Mexico. Terra, despite struggling with depression and minor anger issues, dreams of living a normal life. Getting a good education, a well paying job, taking his grandma and moving far away from Greenville....that Is until Luna shows up. Terra fights with his magic spear Gia, and can command Earth and Nature on a whim. While his abilities are still weak, with some training there is no doubt that Terra can return to his former Glory. Terra enjoys driving his old pickup truck down town, while listening to the hard rock radio station, helping his grandma take care of her garden, and hanging out with his best friends Mitchel and John.

Stella Brighton- our rich mean girl archetype. Stella is the goddess of the Sun. Stella grew up in her mother's mansion sheltered away from the middle and lower class, until one day she forms an unlikely friendship with Terra. An Unlikely friendship turns into an unlikely crush and an unlikely romance. That is until Stella's hopes and dreams are crushed when she discovers her mother and Stepfather have planned an arranged marriage for her. Stella breaks off her relationship with Terra and keeps her head held-high. Stella fights with her fiery bow, Apollo, and can spark a wildfire wherever she pleases. Stella enjoys shopping, traveling, taking selfies, and flaunting her status as Student Council President.

Mitchel James- the Nerd boy archetype, Mitchel is the God of Mercury, Knowledge and Communication (arguably revenge as well) As a young lad, Mitchel idolized his dad, who was in the military. Oftentimes it would be him and his mom while his dad was on deployment. Mitchel took a liking to computer science and technology, because thanks to that he was able to keep in touch with his dad even when he was far away. When Mitchel was 8 years old his dad died in active duty, and it wasn’t long until his mom took to a Sugar Baby lifestyle to try and provide for Mitchel without having to get a job. Mitchel is bullied at school for being the scrawny nerd boy, and takes revenge on his bullies by hacking into their computers and leaking their search history. After Luna rolls into town Mitchel's world is flipped upside down. Suddenly he isn’t armed with just brain-power but physical power. Mitchel fights in a way that is unique to the Rings of Gallilea. Mitchel can create Angels to fight as champions for him. He also uses a Chackram named Athena. Mitchel enjoys hacking into local security cameras to see whats up around town, exploring the dark web, arguing with radical political activists on-line.

John Kingsman- The play-boy Archetype, John is the God of Jupiter Kings, and lightning. John lives what is arguably the best life of anyone in the rings. His parents breed police dogs. Meaning his house is always full of puppies. John's dad is a former military officer, and both him and his mom are current police force members. John is the baby in his family, but is held to high standards. Be home before 7, get good grades, and take care of the dogs. John fights with his Claymore Sword, Odin, along with special abilities like lighting and psychological manipulation. John, obviously enjoys taking the dogs for walks, playing basketball, and going to the shooting range with his mom.

Hotaru Kawaguchi- The goth archetype, and Goddess of Saturn, Time and Death. Hotaru's parents immigrated to the United States after the death of Hotaru's older brother, Hikaru. They came here to give the intellectually gifted Hotaru better opportunities as she grew older. To help support her, the family opened a restaurant in the down town area that quickly became one of the most popular spots in town. Hotaru never really got over Hikaru's death, and took comfort in the macabre. Over summer, Hotaru picks up a second job to earn enough money to afford her dream car, working in an occult shop. She also finds herself involved in an unlikely summer romance. Aside from being able to freeze time and communicate with the dead, Hotaru fights with her staff, Hades, that can transform into a scythe. Hotaru loves books and quite sunny spaces, she likes painting, meditation, watching Elvira specials, and helping her mother and father learn better English.

Aries Vailakis- the Jock archetype, God of Mars and war. Just like Stella he too grew up with rich parents. His family comes a from proud Greek heritage, and own a chain of Mediterranean style restaurants. Aries is a star member of the football team, and is expected to take over the family business when he gets out of college. Most people think there isn't much to Aries other than food and football, sometimes Aries thinks that too. But being a competitive teenage god, can lead to some intense shenanigans. Especially when family, love and blackmail are involved. Aries fights with some seriously thick brass knuckles that spit fire. His brass knuckles can also transform into a large shield, Neiro. Aries likes cooking, working out, watching horror movies with his S/O, and very secretly likes looking at minimalist homes in the Greek countryside in homeowner's magazines.

June Smith, the flip Archetype, Goddess of Venus beauty, seduction and battle. June's mom divorced her dad to be with another man when she was young. Years later June would find out she died of cancer without telling her or her father. Needless to say June had a rough start in life. Given that her dad was the high school principal, she couldn't even act out and punch some nerd in the face. In the day light June masquerades as the nerdy turtleneck loving teacher's pet kinda girl. At night June flips ditching her turtle neck for something low cut and preferably leather. Sneaking out under the ruse of sleep or studying, June slips out to hang out on the edge of town with the local biker gang known as the Black Cat Bikers. Junes got the best of both worlds, her dad wrapped around her finger, and her legs wrapped around the back of her boys bikes. June fights with the sword Atalanta, and can change into any weapon June sees fit. June can also manipulate peoples hormones, making them fall for her or anyone. June will never admit it, but she likes wearing pink fluffy sweaters, she also loves getting fucking drunk, going out to see drag shows, sleeping in until noon, and playing with makeup.

Serena Paisley- The hippy archetype- Serena is the Goddess of Neptune, the ocean and family. Serena is the younger twin sister of Heath. Serena grew up close to her mother, who was somewhat of helicopter parent. Serena’s mother owns a brewing company, and is heavily involved in the Greenvile political scene. growing up in a spotlight Serena wanted to use her spotlight to encourage others to do good, and can often be found doing charity work. One big secret Serena has, is that she is a big fan of smoking weed. being a politicians daughter was a stressful job after all. Serena, can command any body of water and has great people skills. Her very loyal weapon is her trident, Namaka. Serena’s hobbies include Yoga, smoking weed, collecting crystals, playing the pan-flute, and thrift store shopping.

Heath Paisley- The rich boy archetype- Heath is the God of Uranus, Ice, Snow and Vengeance. Heath, is the polar opposite of his sister. He grew up chasing the affections of his long-distance father, who is an actor in Hollywood. Heath has a cold demeanor, and takes a some-what sadistic pleasure in controlling others. He is the student council president at the private school he and Serena attend, Hayden Heights Academy. Heath is secretly insecure about his sexuality, and is in denial about being attracted to men. Heath spends a majority of his time covering for his sisters ‘distasteful shenanigans” in student council meetings, or following in the footsteps of his politician mother. Heath has the power to control Ice, and cold temperatures, he can also force criminals to admit their deeds.Heath fights with twin sickles Poli’Ahu and Endymion.His hobbies include: casual business luncheons, bossing his underclassmen around, and he secretly likes it when his S/O leans over his shoulder while he is trying to work.

Romeo Barns- The rebel archetype- Romeo is the God of Pluto, Alchemy, and Transformation. Romeo has always felt like a social outcast, specifically because he discovered his godly powers at a young age. Romeo lives with his overly preachy preacher uncle, who believes in only one good god above. Romeo, being a sarcastic little shit, decides he needs to be everything his uncle isn't. Romeo sells weed for the Black Cat Biker Gang, his true "Family". Which is how a filthy little grunge rat like him became friends with Serena Paisley. Roemo's godly body grows organic blade-like structures which he can use to defend himself. His clawed-gauntlets, Thanatos and Cerberus add an extra punch. In his spare time Romeo can be seen around town riding his motorcycle. At night he is out spraying unique and vulgar messages on billboards. At school he likes to read the "boring unpopular books" like Catcher in The Rye and Lord of The Flies, and strumming along to his favorite songs on his base guitar

And thats just novel number 1! I'll make a second post about novel number 2 since this is already a quite lengthy post.

Let me know what you guys think, and if you wanna see more.

See ya later

- Vira!

#novel #novelist #writers #writing #writblr #author #sifi #fantasy #meet the characters #gods and goddesses #plot #magic #ocs #oc #oc fanfiction #oc facts

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catindabag · 1 year

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TBOSAS on Crack short take (10)

*The 24 OG Mentors playing “The Most Likely to” Game*

Festus: Since we’re all here, let’s start things off simple! Who is most likely to graduate with High Honors?

Androcles: That’s too easy! Coryo, Lysistrata, Urban, and Io Jasper. A.K.A the best debate kids of our year.

Diana: True. Next. Who is most likely to fail Dr. Gaul’s class?

Arachne: Sejanus Plinth and Festus Creed!

Sejanus: Wrong! My father will pay the school to let me pass her class.😎

Festus: And I’ll just ask Urban and Coryo to hack Highbottom’s computer and change my grades again.

Domitia: Typical as usual, Creed. But whatever~. Who is most likely to eat a human leg?

Coryo: *looks at Persephone Price* I think we all know that Perse-

Persephone: That was one time!

Hilarius: Your crazy dad would disagree-

Persephone: And it was Arachne Crane’s Maid!

Coryo: Percy, stop. We didn’t asked for details-

Persephone: And I was starving and she was delicious!😫

Arachne: I knew it! I knew-

Apollo: Okay! Who is most likely to use their parent’s name to get away with murder?

Dennis: Livia, Arachne, Felix, Androcles, and maybe Hilarius!

Livia: What?! I would never-

Dennis: Don’t deny it, Cardew!

Livia: Shut up, Dennis! Go suck a di-

Lysistrata: Next question! Who is most likely to disown their own parents?

Clemensia: Sejanus, Hilarius, and Iphigenia! Have you seen their defiance lately?!

Iphigenia: I’m not defiant-

Clemensia: No offense, Moss, but you’re forcing yourself to be thin as a stick, while your family literally runs the food industry.

Iphigenia: Oh, c’mon! I told you that I’m in a rebellious diet!

Vipsania: Don’t say the forbidden word, Moss!

Iphigenia: Rebellious.

Vipsania: She said it again.😱

Pup: To be fair, all of them have severe daddy issues.

Sejanus: That’s a lie. I don’t have daddy issues-

Coryo: Yes, you do, Babe.

Sejanus: Yes, I do, my love~.😍

Hilarius: True. I even gave my own father a restraining order to never secretly approach us again.

Dennis: Isn’t Mr. Heavensbee also banned from the school grounds?

Hilarius: To be fair, my mother was banned too.😔

Sejanus: What did she do?

Hilarius: My mama illegally installed secret surveillance cameras in all of our locker rooms without the Dean’s permission.😞

Juno: I’m so gonna tell my daddy about this.

Clemensia: No offense, Hilari, but your father is a creep.

Coryo: Yeah. He once tried to flirt with me and Felix.

Felix: At the freaking public library.

Coryo: And he also tried to invite me, Clemmie, and Felix to go on a secret “beach trip” with him to District 4.

Hilarius: My old man invited you guys without me?!

Coryo: That’s not the point!

Juno: Next! Who is most likely to have a crush on their assigned Tributes?

Gaius: Lysistrata and Domitia!

Lysistrata: Oh, c’mon! You can’t deny that this year’s District 12 male Tribute is just built differently~.

Domitia: And have you seen Tanner’s dance moves?! I might be the “Dairy Heiress” of Panem, but Tanner can sweep me off my feet-

Palmyra: On to the next question! Who is most likely to volunteer as a Tribute in the Hunger Games if the prize was a lifetime supply of cheeseburgers?

Hilarius: That’s so obvious! Festus and Pup are going to volunteer for sure!🤣

Festus: He’s right.

Pup: Can’t argue with that.

Io: But the real question is, who is most likely to win the Hunger Games if they were reaped as a Tribute?

Coryo: That’s so easy. Palmyra, Vipsania, Urban, and Persephone.

Florus: Please elaborate.

Iphigenia: Palmyra will win by poisoning the food and water supplies of her enemies.

Arachne: Vipsania through brute force.

Sejanus: Urban by simply refusing to die before uncovering all of the secrets of our universe.

Coryo: And Persephone will surely win by eating everyone else.

Persephone: Yeah, that’s sounds about right~.😌💅

Livia: Me next! Who is most likely to wear a ✨pink miniskirt✨ to save his comrade’s life?

Androcles: Easy again! Felix Ravinstill!

Florus: To be fair, our Class President will do anything for us.

Felix: Yes, I would.😌 But who’s the comrade who needs saving?

Apollo: Hilarius Heavensbee?

Felix: *sighs* I might beg for a longer skirt.😒

Hilarius: That was one time!

Felix: You’re just like your father, you skirt stealer!

Hilarius: I was drunk!😩

Vipsania: Next question! Who is most likely to become a ✨Sugar Baby✨?

Festus: Coryo! Definitely Coriolanus Xanthos Snow!😂

Coryo: What do you even mean by that?!

Festus: Don’t deny it, my friend! We all know that Sejanus is your sugar daddy!

Sejanus: Hi.😀

Coryo: He’s my boyfriend! Not my-

Hilarius: He’s extremely rich and he pays for your clothes, rent, and groceries. So he’s technically your ✨Sugar Daddy✨.

Coryo: You’re not wrong. But he’s still not my sugar-

Sejanus: My Coryo, my Snow Angel, marry me!! Marry me and you can have my wallet, my car keys, my gold encrusted wristwatch, my blueberry cookies, and my mansion!

Coryo: Babe, calm down! I’ll marry you next year!

Sejanus: This year!

Coryo: Sure. This year.

Livia: Wait a minute! I thought his ✨Sugar Daddy✨ was Casca Highbottom!

Coryo: Ew. That’s illegal-

Livia: I swear I saw the drunk Dean crying and calling him “Crassus, my love!” the other day!

Florus: And I thought it was Strabo Plinth.

Sejanus: Not my scheming old man!

Coryo: What the heck?! What is wrong with you?!😭

Sejanus: Stop bullying my gorgeous boyfriend!😠

Lysistrata: Besties, stop being mean to poor Coryo! We all know that the superior ship is ✨SNOWJANUS✨!

Sejanus: Yeah! Snowjanus for the win!

Coryo: I give up! Game’s over! I’m going home.

*A very drunk Casca Highbottom lurks from the corner again*

Drunk!Casca: Sickle, I am telling you the truth! Something is definitely wrong with those kids!

Prof.Sickle: You don’t say.😒

Drunk!Casca: Me? The ✨Sugar Daddy✨ of Crassus Xanthos Snow? I’m already his beloved boyfriend!

Prof.Sickle: Who?! Crassus? Do you mean Coriolanus?

Drunk!Casca: Who the heck is Coriolanus?! I only know one gorgeous Snow!

Prof.Sickle: Sure. Whatever you say, Cassy~.

Drunk!Casca: Now give me back my morphling bottles!

Prof.Sickle: Not until you give me a raise!😠

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wallpaperpainter · 4 years

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Top Five Fantastic Experience Of This Year’s Arnold Schwarzenegger Movies | Arnold Schwarzenegger Movies

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delicatelyvaliantchaos · 5 years

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joly-and-the-satellites · 7 years

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So uhm College AU? Grantaire running against Enjolras as President of the student government just to piss him off but Grantaire actually wins and he panics because "this wasn't part of the plan Bossuet stop laughing!" And he ends up asking sour Enj for help.

((Hopefully this is alright, anon!!))

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. It was just a joke, for the love of god - just a harmless, playful little jest to get Enjolras’ attention, and maybe rile him up a bit. It was Grantaire’s favorite pastime, after all; and something he was rather skilled at, if he said so himself. The point stood, regardless of his talent: running against Enjolras for the position of Student Government President was nothing more than a joke. Hell, he’d even treated it as one - he wasn’t serious in the slightest, never dressed the part, was never on time, didn’t put up any posters asking for the votes of the other students… whereas, predictably, Enjolras was taking it all in stride with a certain solemnity; the exact opposite of Grantaire’s approach. He was clearly doing all he could to secure the position for himself - which was more than any of the other runners were doing by a mile. There was never a doubt in R’s mind that he would win by a landslide come election time; which was the deciding factor in whether or not he’d run against him. Enjolras already had it, as far as he was concerned. Which was why, when it had been announced that Grantaire had been named President, he’d choked on his drink to the point of scaring Joly into thinking he’d somehow managed to drown himself. Now, Grantaire was sitting on the edge of his bed, wine bottle in hand, wide-eyed, and struggling to fully grasp the situation. It was absolutely ridiculous. Sure, he was sociable with others, got into less altercations, and was generally more laid-back and involved in things outside of politics than Enjolras; but that hardly meant he was President material! He was a far cry from it! He was no problem-solver, nor was he well-informed on the concerns and questions of the student body, as a whole or as segments; and he didn’t even understand what it all entailed! Did he have powers? Could he actually do anything with his title? Was he suddenly going to flooded with questions from other students? Would it give him any leeway if he turned an essay in a few hours past due? Grantaire ran a hand through his already unkempt hair, and took a swig from his bottle. “I cannot believe,” he started, only to be cut off by a snort from Bossuet, who sat next to him. He shot him a disbelieving glance - the other had a hand over his mouth to hide a mirthful grin, but his eyes were shining with laughter he was barely holding back. “I cannot believe - they elected me! What the fuck!?” Grantaire groaned in sorrow. He was nowhere near drunk enough for this. Bossuet broke into honest laughter then, shaking his head and wiping at his eye as if he’d teared up. R gaped at him, lowering the bottle to the floor before he turned to face him. How could he laugh!? This was an absolute disaster! “This wasn’t part of the plan, Bossuet!” He protested; this time, Bossuet snorted. Joly, who was at the desk typing up a paper on his laptop, snickered under his breath this time. Grantaire whipped around to face his other friend with a look of shock. Joly cast an innocent glance over his shoulder before he went back to typing, but his shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. Grantaire couldn’t believe this betrayal from his own best friends! It was treason! Dissent in the ranks! “Stop laughing!” R said, exasperation clear in his voice. “Alright, alright - I’m sorry!” Bossuet grinned, holding up his hands in surrender. It was exceedingly obvious, Grantaire decided, that he was not at all sorry. “It’s just… you were kind of asking for this, ‘Taire.” R was sure he was gawking at him; but he could safely say that his confusion was perfectly reasonable. There was no logical explanation for why R had won the election - but that hardly mattered now. Now, he was stuck with the aftermath; and more importantly, how he was to deal with it. He had responsibilities now that he wasn’t even aware of, he was sure, and he’d feel a bit stupid if he were to ask a staff member what his own job was supposed to entail. But he couldn’t travel through time, and he couldn’t call it off, or pass the job along to someone else– Grantaire grabbed his bottle from the floor again. “This is insane,” he groused. Joly leaned back in his chair with his arm slung over the armrest, the wood creaking faintly. He raised an eyebrow at Grantaire, seemingly doing all he could to withhold a smile. “He isn’t wrong, R. You knew the risk you were taking,” he informed him, a little giggle slipping out between his words. “Maybe you should just call Enjolras, admit that you don’t know what you’re doing, and ask for his help.” Grantaire choked on the wine he was gulping down at that suggestion - Bossuet, ever helpful, whacked him squarely between the shoulders. Grantaire ended up coughing. “For a doctor, you’re causing your patients a lot of problems,” Bossuet teased as R finally caught his breath, grabbing a half-emptied water bottle sitting on the bedside table instead. Joly shrugged a shoulder playfully, turning back to his laptop with a shake of his head. “I’m only saying - you need someone’s advice, R, and Enjolras would definitely be willing to help. Besides, he’s still a little bitter about the loss. Maybe this could gloss things over with him…?” Grantaire sighed heavily at that, dropping his head onto Bossuet’s shoulder for support; the other patted his shoulder sympathetically. Yet another downside to winning this horrendous election. Enjolras had suspected that Grantaire was only antagonizing him by running; and no doubt, he was probably more than just a bit upset about losing it to him in spite of his best effort. He had sent a short, too-formal ’Congratulations on the win.’ that morning, and he had not seen a single text or call since - apparently, neither had anyone else, with the exception of Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Grantaire liked to get him riled up, yes; but he didn’t like to make him angry, let alone upset. For all Enjolras was undoubtedly annoyed then, R knew he was at least a little morose about losing, and the knowledge was tearing him up a bit. He hadn’t intended to win; and never would he intend to cause him any dismay. But if he called now - admitted that it was all a joke gone wrong, that he had no idea what he was doing and couldn’t handle the duties of President on his own - Enjolras would be furious, and rightly so. Grantaire finally insisted, “I can’t call him.” Bossuet took a deep breath, leaning back on his hands - R followed the motion seamlessly, too distressed over the situation to bother with sitting back up. For all that their advice seemed impossible to follow through with, he was incredibly thankful for their presence here. He couldn’t ask for better friends than these two. “I agree with Joly-” “Thank you.” “-you really should call him. Whatever you think will happen, it won’t; I promise,” Bossuet assured him. “He might be a little annoyed, but he’s not going to hate you for asking for some advice. Just trust us on this one, alright…?” Grantaire glanced at his phone, which was sitting by his pillow; he had a handful of texts that he hadn’t yet responded to, almost all of which were concerning his position as President of Student Government… aside from some link to an undoubtedly ridiculous video Joly had sent him ten minutes ago. His head was suddenly filled with the thousand routes this scenario could follow. Enjolras might be furious. He might be annoyed. Maybe he’ll hang up. Maybe he’s blocked R. Maybe he won’t answer at all. Maybe… Bossuet nudged his shoulder lightly, as if hearing his doubts. Grantaire gave a heavy sigh, grabbing his phone as if sentencing himself to death as he shot Joly a rueful look. “I don’t understand why you’re always right.” Joly gave him a too-sweet smile, batting his eyelashes at R as he unlocked his phone. He pulled up his contact list - Apollo was the first name. He tapped the name, opening it up; but he just couldn’t bring himself to press the call button. His eyes wandered to the contact picture - one he’d snapped at a protest a year or so back, where Enjolras was holding a pride flag high over his head and above the crowd, his hair illuminated by the midday sun. God, he was stupid. Bossuet reached over, fast as lightning, and pressed the call button. R felt his heart stop as he scrambled to end the call, fumbling with the phone and almost dropping it. “Bossuet!” He screeched in horror, much to the amusement of the other two. Luckily, he hung up before anyone could answer - and he immediately shot the other a look of mock-annoyance before tackling him, almost throwing them both onto the floor. Bossuet pulled R’s hood up over his head and yanked the drawstrings shut with a laugh, pushing him back by the face. Temporarily blinded, Grantaire flailed to smack his hand away with a laugh, struggling to pull the hood loose and back from his face…… and his phone was playing Enjolras’ custom ringtone. Suddenly, the room was in dead silence, save from the phone’s tune. All of them swiveled to stare at it at once. Enjolras’ picture was on the screen - he was calling back. “… Joly, my love, text Bahorel, please.”“Why…?”“I need to know if R can legally kill me for this.”“Yes, probably.”“I’ll leave my lucky socks to you.”“Those socks are not lucky.”Grantaire was running on auto-pilot when he took the call; maybe he was a bit more drunk than he’d first believed. He held the phone up to his ear almost cautiously, glancing between the two as if they could offer him any help. Joly have a guilty smile, and Bossuet shrugged helplessly. “Hello? Grantaire, can you hear me?” Enjolras asked from the other end of the call. He didn’t sound upset, nor did he sound annoyed - but he was definitely on the fence of both. Grantaire cleared his throat nervously. “Uh… yes. Yes, I am hear you.” “You called me and hung up before I could answer,” Enjolras stated. “Butt dial,” Grantaire said quickly. “I sat on the button.” “Grantaire.”“Anyway, how were classes today? Anything interesting happen? Any essays? Projects?”“Grantaire.”“Yes?” He croaked. “Why did you call?”Silence overtook the call for a moment. Oh, no. How was he to explain this? He hadn’t had any time to think over what he would say, how he would ask, what he’d do if Enjolras didn’t take the request favorably–“Is something wrong?” The other asked, much more softly. Grantaire was so taken aback by the question that he couldn’t quite respond; he wasn’t even sure if he was breathing properly for a moment. “Are you alright? I can be over in five minutes, R, give or take-” “No! - no, it’s alright, really, you don’t need to come over. I, uh… I’m perfectly fine. Nothing’s wrong. But I… might need help with something.” There was another break of awkwardly heavy silence, and Grantaire was suddenly very aware of Bossuet watching him in nervous anticipation. Enjolras sounded guarded when he next spoke, a certain edge to his words. “With what?”Grantaire took a deep breath to steel himself, feeling as if his face was burning. God, this was embarrassing - maybe he’d stop picking at him after this. (He knew he wouldn’t, but it seemed a sound solution.)“I… don’t think I can actually be President of Student Government, because I’ve got no idea what my responsibilities are and I didn’t intend to actually win or be taken seriously…?”Silence dragged out unbearably. It felt like seconds were crawling by at the pace of an elderly snail. R, for a moment, wished he would have just lied about it, or made something up on the fly. That would have been much easier than whatever hell he was about to unleash. “Unbelievable,” Enjolras said shortly. He didn’t sound furious; he wasn’t raising his voice. But then again, he didn’t need to. His tone said enough. He cringed. There was the fire and ice Grantaire was expecting. “You do know that any sort of election within the student body isn’t to be treated like a joke, correct? This was serious. I was serious.” Enjolras continued on. R ran a hand through his hair, shoulders slouching like a scolded puppy. “Yeah, I know. But… for what it’s worth, I didn’t think I had a chance in hell at winning. I was so sure you’d already won it,” he replied, hoping he wasn’t just feeding gasoline to the flames. Enjolras sighed sharply; Grantaire could almost imagine him rubbing at his temple to push back a headache. Wrong move on his part, apparently. “So what do you need to know?” Enjolras asked, his tone clipped and words short. Oh, you’ve put your foot in your mouth this time, Grantaire thought to himself bitterly.

“Well… I was really thinking that maybe you could just… help me do the right thing?” R started, trying not to sound too hopeful. Maybe if he took the right approach, Enjolras wouldn’t be so sour with him; maybe he’d convince him to help and patch things up between them a bit in the process. “You know better than I do what the other students need, I mean. You’re more in touch with what’s wrong, what’s unfair, what needs fixing; I just thought that… well, that you could help guide me along…?” The air was filled with the anticipation from his friends, and worry from himself; he could hear his heart drumming away as if caught between his ears, and could almost see Enjolras, sitting in his own room, phone in hand while he considered the request. Finally, he gave an annoyed huff. “Fine. But you had better not run against me next year, R.”Grantaire grimaced. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”“… I’ll be over soon. I’d rather talk in person than over the phone,” Enjolras announced. He sounded a bit aggravated, but nowhere near as incensed as he’d been before - really, he just sounded exhausted with the whole situation. R was hoping that was an improvement, if nothing else. “Have I ever told you that you’re the best person in the world, Apollo?” Enjolras immediately went back to his long-suffering, exasperated tone.“Please, don’t.”“No, really.”“R, I’m hanging up.”“Oh, come on! What will it take? Do I have to serenade you? Take you to a romantic dinner? I hear that the restaurant down on–hello? Enjolras?”“Did he hang up on you?” Joly cackled, already closing his laptop to leave. “No,” Grantaire argued childishly. “He lost service, that’s all.”

#I call this one: Karma's a Bitch #alternatively: R Has No Sense of Consequence #les miserables #modern au #enjolras #grantaire #joly #bossuet #college au #exr #modern au exr #college au exr #joly's journal

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