#Peter Nureyev needs a hug

[scarlettrust]

They made it as far as Neptune’s capital city before Nureyev stopped driving.

He pulled the Ruby Seven to the side of the street, turning off the engine. They were just outside Salacia, on the outskirts of one of the city's many suburbs. It was silent, the roads empty and lit only by a flickering street lamp in dire need of service. But still Nureyev was cautious as he stepped out the car, his head on a pivot as he checked for cameras.

There was a bank across the street, its glowing sign proudly advertising an ATM. But a carefully aimed laser from his pocket made short work of its camera. By the time anyone thought to reconstruct what was left of the tape, he would be long gone.

Hands trembling and heart aching, that thought shouldn’t have hurt nearly as much as it did.

Fold it away.

The bus depot was only a few kilometres away. It would take him to the spaceport, where one of his three shuttle tickets would get him far away from here. Each one had been paid for under a different name, and each one was headed in a different direction. Even Nureyev wasn’t certain which shuttle he intended to catch, he would pick at random when he got there.

Nureyev grabbed his bag, and slung it over his shoulder. It was light, small enough to fit under his seat on the shuttle and packed only with essentials. Everything else had been destroyed when he… when he…

Unbidden, his eyes burned, filling with tears. Nureyev tilted his head back, jaw clenched as he blinked rapidly.

Fold it away.

There was only one thing left to do. With hands trembling so badly he nearly dropped it, Nureyev pulled Peter Ransom’s comms out of his pocket, with its purple case and dangling fox charm. The tiny thing had been a gift from Rita after their second week aboard the carte blanche, handed to him with a hug and a fit of giggles.

The charm spun lazily on its tether, orange enamel glinting in the streetlight. He snapped it off, slipping it into the front pocket of his jacket before powering on his comm. It came to life with a chime and a flurry of missed messages.

He ignored them all, pausing only to muster a watery smile at Juno’s lovely face staring up at him from the wallpaper. With a few button presses, he erased everything from the device. The SIM card was removed in short order and snapped in two before he dropped the comm and smashed it beneath the heel of his boot.

All in all, it was a far nicer funeral than Peter Ransom deserved.

Behind him, the Ruby seven whistled- low and inquisitive as its headlights flashed. Nureyev rolled his shoulders as he grasped his emotions tight and shoved them somewhere deep inside him.

“Thank you for bringing me this far.” He told it, running a grateful hand along the slope of its hood.

The greatest getaway vehicle in the galaxy. If it wasn’t for this car, Nureyev wouldn’t have been able to escape Dark Matters. Even if he wasn’t the one they were looking for, Rex Glass was not something easily forgotten, or forgiven.

Another chirp, more enthusiastic than before as the driver's side door popped open, the engine turning over with a hopeful rumble. But Nureyev shook his head.

“Not this time, I’m sorry to say.” He said sadly, taking a step back. “This is where we part, I fear. Go back to Carte Blanche.”

He had spent years of his life idolising this car. Stealing it from the Oasis Casino had been one of his greatest achievements as a thief. It had saved his life so many times over the last few years. His, and far more importantly Juno’s.

Nureyev only prayed it could save the detective one last time.

The Ruby revved its engines, back tires spinning in place and spitting up gravel. If it wasn’t a car, Nureyev would call the display petulant.

“This isn’t up for debate.” Nureyev told it firmly, jaw clenched against the burning behind his eyes. He had made it this far, he would not cry now. Not when it was his decision to leave. Not when he had torn apart everything that Juno had tried to build for them. Not when this was his fault. “Go find Jet and the others. They need you.”

Outside of the city lights, Nureyev could just make out the stars through the dome. If he squinted he could pretend that one of the glowing white specs was the ship he had left behind. The ship that Dark Matters had invaded.

But if they had the ruby, then maybe the crew of the Carte Blanche still stood a chance. Nureyev may have abandoned them, but he couldn’t… He wouldn’t… He had to do something.

Warm metal nudged against his legs as the Ruby inched forward, vibrating with the force of its engines. But Nureyev turned his back on it.

“You are the greatest getaway car in the galaxy.” He forced out, fists clenched at his side.“They need you. I can’t take you from them. Now go, Ruby.”

The blast of a horn shattered the silent night. But louder still was the whip crack of Nureyev’s voice as he whirled on it.

“I said GO!”

Nureyev bit down the pang of sympathy that clawed at his throat as the Ruby whistled, low and dejected sounding. Its door slammed closed, gravel crunching beneath its tires as it backed away from him

Breathing hard in the wake of his outburst, Nureyev watched it turn around and drive away. His nerves were struggling as tight as garrote wire as the Ruby’s thrusters activated, burning orange then blue as it lifted into the sky.

Nureyev couldn’t look away, even as the Ruby faded from view. Tears poured down his cheeks- he wiped at them futilely, but it did nothing to stem the tide. A strangled sob escaped Nureyev’s lips as his only way home left without him.

He was on his own now. As he was meant to be.

[urjover]

me: i love you peter nureyev i love you hugs you kisses you loves you

me getting out of bio (we talked abt the skeletal system), bees buzzing under my skin: i need to break him PHYSICALLY.

[eyecollective]

Statement of Juno Steel

Horroreyecollective

Fandoms:The Penumbra Podcast, The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Teen And Up Audiences

Major Character Death

Other

Complete Work

22 Aug 2024

Tags

Major Character Death Rita & Juno Steel Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Benzaiten Steel & Juno Steel Benzaiten Steel & Sarah SteelJuno Steel & Sarah Steel Diamond Hijikata/Juno Steel Ramses O'Flaherty & Juno Steel Juno Steel Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Peter Nureyev Benzaiten Steel Rita (Penumbra Podcast)Sarah Steel Diamond Hijikata Jack Takano Captain Hijikata (Penumbra Podcast) Miasma (Penumbra Podcast) Canonical Character Death Canon-Typical Violence Canon-Typical The Lonely Content (The Magnus Archives) Canonical Child Abuse Child Neglect Child Abuse Canon Non-Binary Character Statement Fic (The Magnus Archives) Abandonment Nonbinary Juno Steel Juno Steel Needs a Hug Hurt Juno Steel Post-Episode: s01e18 Juno Steel and the Final Resting Place Emotional Hurt Manipulation The Lonely Fear Entity (The Magnus Archives) LonelinessSuicidal Thoughts Not A Fix-It Lonely!Juno Eye Trauma Prompt Fic Angstober 2024 Episode: s01e01-02 Juno Steel and the Case of the Murderous MaskImplied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism

Summary

Statement of Juno Steel about how he only hurts people so it ends here, statement begins.

Day 31: It Ends Here

Series

Part 1 of Angstober

Language: English Words: 1,344 Chapters: 1/1 Collections: 1 Kudos

[ao3feed-jupeter]

How Can I Let You Care For Me (When You've Broken That Trust Before)

by Lo_AndBehold114

After meeting Juno Steel, Peter Nureyev had some choice words regarding the detective's self care habits, particularly when it came to his wings.

He's beginning to feel like a hypocrite about that.

(picks up where If I Could Be Allowed to Take Care of You (Because You're Certainly Not Going to Do It) left off. I wouldn't recommend reading this as a standalone, but I'm sure it'll still make sense)

Words: 1112, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Feathers Tangled in Your Fingers

Fandoms: The Penumbra Podcast

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F, M/M, Other

Characters: Peter Nureyev, Jet Sikuliaq, Juno Steel, Vespa Ilkay, Rita (Penumbra Podcast), Buddy Aurinko, Ruby 7 (Penumbra Podcast)

Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel, Rita & Juno Steel, Buddy Aurinko/Vespa Ilkay, Buddy Aurinko & Vespa Ilkay & Peter Nureyev & Rita & Jet Sikuliaq & Juno Steel, Rita & Jet Sikuliaq

Additional Tags: Wingfic, Alternate Universe - Wings, Wings, Peter Nureyev Needs a Hug, POV Peter Nureyev, Hurt Peter Nureyev, Junoverse | Juno Steel Universe, The Penumbra Podcast Season 3, Wing Grooming, Mental Health Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Peter's internal dialogue is not super healthy, I'm really just piling mental illness onto Peter Nureyev, whoops

Read on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Hj5DkM7

[mollymauk-teafleak]

but they’re one and the same

Nureyev is a man of contradictions, Juno realises when he sees how he interacts with children in a situation all too familiar

Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment on Ao3, it makes my day 

---

When Nureyev had told Juno how amazing it was to see new planets practically every week, to never stay in the same place, to experience the uniqueness of every corner of the galaxy, he hadn’t believed it, not really. It had felt like something a character in a stream or a novel would say, and you could trust that they believed it but it would never be true for you, not in the world you lived in.

Juno thought he knew all planets were the same, at their core. If people never changed, how could the surfaces they walked on? He’d assumed the solar system was just eight and change repetitions of the same rotten system he’d seen on Mars, people either hurting others or getting hurt themselves. Heartbroken cities with paint over the cracks, a nice neat circle around the people who had money and the people that didn’t you could read in the amount of parks and unbroken windows.

And he’d been right, to a certain extent. But he’d realised, as a bona fide member of the Carte Blanche, that both could be true. A crowd of impossible things that didn’t seem to go together could all actually be true, he’d found.

Nureyev would always say that his favourite planet was whichever one they were currently on. So right now it would be Saturn, second largest in the system, with it’s beautiful pale blue sky with its layers and layers of billowing, translucent clouds, streaked with those ever present rings, like giant parenthesis around the whole thing. Only a fraction of the planet was habitable, most of it being clouds that solidified and thickened as you moved further in, making glancing up feel like being at the bottom of an immense, white well.

The markets of Saturn’s surface were famous, Nureyev told him, because where other planets had modernised from the early settlers and shifted to brick and stone and metal storefronts, Saturn had kept it’s stalls of wood and flowing silk in a hundred different colours. It was for the aesthetics, apparently, to mirror the bazaars and souks you could have found on Earth centuries ago, to remind them that they hadn’t come all that far from home.

But this wouldn’t look much like the history books, Juno thought. The bones of it were there in the fluttering, colourful hangings and the wares laid out on woven blankets. But he doubted that twentieth century Earth had shifting holograms projected in the air to entice customers, stalls selling spaceship parts and AI downloads and cybernetics or food stalls with fruit from half a galaxy away. And he doubted the stray cats looked at you with quite so many eyes.

But it was beautiful and it was alive. About ten songs from ten different buskers swirled together in the air, meeting in a strangely non-cacophonous melody. Juno could smell spice and honey and herbs he couldn’t even name, he heard voices in dialects he didn’t know and fashions he could barely wrap his head around. It was all just noise and colour and bodies, bright and beautiful in ways he hadn’t encountered yet, things he’d spent so much of his life being unable to see.

It helped when his hand was in Peter Nureyev’s. They had a day off while their latest haul was sold, what Buddy jokingly called their shore leave, and all week Nureyev had eagerly been talking about this one particular stall that made the best honey cakes in the galaxy. Juno had been surprised his refined, wine connoisseur husband even entertained the idea of street food but he apparently had a must visit on every planet and wanted to watch Juno’s face while he tried each one for the first time.

Juno was more than happy to go along with whatever he wanted. His smile hadn’t slipped once from his face since he’d woken up that morning, he was comfortable and content and being eagerly pulled through this colourful new world by the man he loved. He would have ran to any one of Saturn’s eighty two moons if Nureyev had asked him of it.

They finally found the stall he was after, a tiny one that was little more than a blanket and a small awning covered in red silk, hemmed in by much bigger and flashier ones. It was manned by an elderly person who Nureyev tipped double for two paper cartons of small, circular cakes dipped in translucent gold.

“Okay, okay,” Nureyev grinned, spearing one on a tiny wooden fork once they’d collapsed onto a bench, “Close your eye.”

Juno chuckled, “Babe, come on, I’m starving! I didn’t have any breakfast cos you said we were going to eat our weight in these things.”

“Please?” he put on a playful pout and batted his eyelashes, stretching out the word, “Just for the first one. It’s worth it, I promise.”

Never having had any intention of saying no, Juno closed his eye and dropped his jaw for Nureyev to feed him the cake, imagining how it would taste better on his lips when he kissed him.

It was five seconds before he realised he’d been waiting a little too long.

“Uh...babe?” he prompted to no response but the background noise of the market.

Finally he opened his eye, seeing he was suddenly alone on the bench. For a split second that felt like an eternity, Juno scanned the crowds around them in a panic. Their last job seemed to have gone smoothly but what if it hadn’t, what it they’d left something or someone had caught wind of it and Dark Matters or a rival group had taken Nureyev in that moment his eye had been off him.

Fortunately, he saw him before too long. He wasn’t struggling in the grip of some sunglasses wearing suit and he didn’t have a hack job modded laser knife being held to his throat. He was just crouching at the mouth of an opening between the stalls, what they would call an alley if the buildings here were made of brick, facing something in the shade, something hiding from even the weak sun of this outer planet.

Juno frowned, approaching slowly just in case there was some kind of threat. Not that he didn’t think Nureyev could get himself out of any trouble that found him but there was value in some back up. And it wouldn’t have been the first time one of their dates had turned into a firefight.

But all he saw when he came up behind Nureyev, walking so his boots didn’t disturb the gravel under them, was a young girl. She clung to the shadows of the waving silk above them but that didn’t hide how her hair was long and uncombed, her cheeks were smudged with dirt and eyes wide with want and hunger. There were no shoes on her feet, just knotted strips of fraying cloth, and all she wore was a dress that didn’t fit, getting ragged at the edge.

Juno inhaled softly, feeling his chest tighten.

Nureyev was already talking as he approached, mid sentence, his voice low and comforting, “...would you mind telling me your name? Mine is Peter.”

The girl didn’t know what to make of him, it was clear. She wouldn’t be used to people actually acknowledging her, not just letting their eyes slide off her form like she didn’t really exist.

“May,” she eventually murmured, her eyes not settling on Nureyev’s face.

“That is a lovely name,” he said gently, “It makes me think of springtime. That’s my favorite season. What’s your favourite season?”

May shifted from one foot to the other. She was so small though whether it was from her age or her malnutrition or just the way she was holding herself so she could hide better.

“I like...when the fireflies come out,” she whispered, directing it at the ground between them, “Summer.”

“That must be beautiful,” Nureyev spoke like this was any normal conversation, rather than one happening in a hidden corner at a volume barely above a murmur, “You seem like a very nice girl, May. I’m very glad I met you today.”

Wariness fringed her gaze as she risked a glance up at his face, her hands knotting in anxious fists at her side. But she didn’t look like she would bolt at any moment.

“Do you know that stall over there, May?” Nureyev pointed back the way they’d come, “The cake stall? A person called Olla runs it?”

May nodded immediately and Juno realised what his husband had just done. He’d made sure the girl would know the cakes had come from a trusted source, that they were safe.

“Here, I ordered some but I don’t think I’m hungry right now,” Nureyev held out his still full parcel, still warm and steaming in the air, “Would you like them?”

The girl had clearly been living on the streets for a long time, she hesitated before she reached out and took the cakes. Almost immediately she began to eat, unable to focus on anything else. Nureyev just waited patiently, not even having to look as he took Juno’s carton too when he held it out to him.

The second portion allowed May to slow before she gave herself a stomach ache, honey on her fingers as she glanced back up at them and murmured, “Thank you…”

“It’s our pleasure, May,” Nureyev insisted, “This is my husband, Juno, by the way.”

Juno raised his hand and waved, smiling gently. How many smiles had he gotten when he was that age?

Nureyev pulled out his purse, “May, you don’t have to take this if you don’t feel comfortable, but I’d like to give you something to help you get by. Is that okay?”

May’s eyes widened when she saw the creds he held out to her, the full purse without hesitation.

“It’s okay,” Nureyev smiled crookedly, “I know this must seem strange. But I was a lot like you when I was your age and I’d like to help however I can.”

May considered that, clearly still unsure if she was dreaming or not, but she took the purse all the same. Better to take it and consider afterwards.

“Thank you. Inside there is a card with my number on it. If you ever need anything, May, or you feel like you’re in trouble, please consider calling me. I know people on this planet, good people, who’d be pleased to help you. I’m just sorry I can’t stay and talk for much longer.”

May held the purse to her chest and nodded slowly, managing to meet his eyes.

“It will get better, May,” Nureyev promised, his voice strong and sure, “I promise it will.”

With that, he stood, still moving slowly so he didn’t startle her. He bowed slightly, thanked her sincerely for her time and walked away casually like he’d just met an old acquaintance in passing. Juno flashed May another smile and followed, finding he had to jog to catch up. Nureyev was walking faster than he’d realised.

He couldn’t help a glance back over his shoulder into the shadows but May was gone, just two cartons with honey still clinging to the inside left on the gravel.

When he was side by side with Nureyev again, he wasn’t surprised to see tears behind his husband’s cat eye glasses. Wordlessly, Juno reached out and squeezed his hand, giving him as much time as he needed. As it happened, he needed as long as it took them to cross half the markets.

“I just…” he said suddenly, the words bursting out of him, “I just remember when I needed to hear that. When all I needed was for someone to see me. So every child I meet who's clearly struggling, I just take the time to talk to them. And when I have the ability to help, I do.”

Juno nodded, lacing their fingers together even tighter, “I wish there were more people like you. People who cared.”

Nureyev gave a sigh with a slight tremble to it, stroking the tears from his eyes with his thumb, “But there’s still millions more…”

“And you’re just you,” Juno murmured, “You can only do what you can do. Don’t take the weight of it all on yourself, not when you’ve just done everything you could do.”

Nureyev glanced at him, the corner of his mouth quirking up, “So the next time I say that to you, will you believe me?”

“Probably not,” Juno admitted with a rough chuckle.

Nureyev came close, leaning into him as they walked into the night, already gathering with Saturn’s shorter day.

Reality could hold several contradictions at once, Juno had learned. Things that made each other impossible, things that were impossible inherently, it welcomed them all. People never changed but each one was unique. Planets were the same. People could be thieves and family. Someone could be gone while also being in every move you made, every word you spoke as yourself.

The universe could be cold and cruel and brutal, chewing most people up into bits and spitting them out. It could be beautiful, full of music and laughter.

And it could have someone in it like Peter Nureyev.

[fanficireadandrecommend]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Characters: Peter Nureyev, Juno Steel, Rita (Penumbra Podcast), and Vespa cameos Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Peter Nureyev Needs a Hug, Marriage Proposal, Yes this is a proposal fic, No it may not go as expected, but please bear with me I promise it ends happily! Summary:

"The thing is…I don’t think Ransom realizes I’m okay with it," Juno says. "I haven’t talked a lot about my…past relationships with him, but he gets the gist. I’m worried that he wants to propose but thinks it might, I donno…make me uncomfortable.”

“Then tell him you’d be happy to marry him!”

“I can’t do that! I don’t want him to know I know!”

“Well, then…” A sly smile crosses Rita’s face. “Why don’t you just propose to him first?”

[blue-mood-blue]

“Do you think I’m dead?”

Nureyev sets down his pen. Wherever he’d been before now, whatever space his mind occupied, washes away with cold water. The voice behind him (on the bed, he imagines) sounds only mildly curious. “Again?” He barely breathes the question into the air in front of him, and it doesn’t reach that far back.

“You know, in a cold ditch somewhere,” Juno continues, teasing. Nureyev knows what he’d see if he turned around, down to the last detail, so he looks at the desk in front of him instead. It’s familiar - the same whorls in the wood grain he’d seen hundreds of times, the same scattering of papers and the other paraphernalia inevitably collected when one lives in one space for an extended amount of time. Most of them don’t exist anymore, purposefully and dispassionately removed by his own hand. Left behind and lost in the chaos, not to be found again.

Something traitorous in his mind supplies: Just like the person behind you, isn’t that right?

Juno doesn’t say that. Not this time. They’ve had this conversation often enough that Nureyev thinks every barb and biting word his detective could possibly come up with have already been aimed and fired into his back with the expert eye of a sharpshooter, but they’re still here. If there’s a right answer for that question, Nureyev hasn’t discovered it yet.

“Why would I think that?” The opening salvo is a hand he’s played before, and Nureyev wonders if Juno is disappointed. He doesn’t sound as if he is; he never sounds like much, while they talk around each other.

“You read the file.” A shifting of sheets. Juno is making himself comfortable, and Nureyev picks up the pen again. Anything else. Anything to keep his hands full, his eyes pointed in front of him. Anything to prevent him from giving in and walking to that bed, because that would be a mistake. “One shot, lethal, aimed at the heart. And if that’s not bad enough, tossed into the airlock that was opened, what, no more than a minute later? I think she had it down to the second, didn’t she? For someone with no one left to report to, Wire still writes up one hell of a report.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” It’s a weak denial. It even sounds weak, worn thin with use.

“Optimistic of you,” Juno says, still mild. Still not accusatory, or angry, or any of the things he should be. “Especially since you know how many prisoners were on the ship out of there. You think I would have let that asteroid blow up with Rita on it if I was alive to do anything?”

Nureyev clutches the pen. It creaks with the pressure. There’s a fresh wound that Juno’s poking at now, prodding into bleeding; Nureyev tried. The moment he’d realized the prison had a prisoner less than it should have, the moment he’d ferreted out a sliver of information that might lead him in the right direction… He’d looked anyway. He’d wasted valuable days sifting through debris, unsure if it was a relief or new agony every moment he didn’t find anything. He didn’t find anything. The exhaustion broke down a wall in him, and he’d had the fleeting thought that maybe it was better that Juno was gone if it meant he didn’t have to know Rita followed him.

The thought had been unkind to Nureyev. It had teeth, and it tore at him until all he could do was find a quiet corner, retreat, and let it do its damage until his breath could squeeze out from his chest again and his heart stopped pounding like footsteps running from a threat somewhere above him. He left that moment more damaged than he’d entered it, and he’d left the asteroid still in pieces with no answers.

“You don’t know that. You can’t know that.” The words sound breathless, forced around the pressure pushing at his chest. Nureyev is bent double over the desk, his forehead close to brushing the surface, and he doesn’t know when that happened. He doesn’t remember moving, but isn’t that just another facet of his new life? Lost, skipped time, when he doesn’t know where he goes except that the dark and hollow feeling of it chases him down?

The bedsheets rustle again. It’s an act of strength that Nureyev is quickly running out of, not to turn and look. “You would have found me by now. Or Sasha. Maybe I would have found you. What do you think it means, that I’m not anywhere?”

“That you’ve gotten better at hiding. That I’ve taught you how to run.”

“You know better. I know for a fact that you know better than that.”

There’s a shift, a creak, as bare feet rest their full weight on metal floor. Nureyev thinks he can feel every footstep behind him, getting closer - stalking him, cornering him, hunting him down until the darkness has him again. He doesn’t look. Juno keeps talking. “You’ve looked for me. I know you have - used every trick I taught you about chasing someone down who doesn’t want to be found, and all you got for your trouble was what Sasha Wire could tell you - the make and model of the blaster that fired the hole into me, the timestamp of how many seconds elapsed before I entered the airlock and exited the other side, the final count of who left on that Dark Matters ship. You thought about going to my office, until you did a little digging and realized the lease was up and someone else was there now. Called every contact of mine you knew, and even got some answers - but no one heard from me, not recently. So where did I go? Where am I now?”

Tension crawls into the lines of Nureyev’s back, holding him taut. Juno is behind him. Juno is leaning over him. He can feel warm breath on the back of his neck, and the fear of what he’d find wars with the need to lean back into that embrace - the hollow, lonely core of him that won’t stop bleeding, has no closure to either patch itself whole or tear wider into something more final and fatal. He wants. That want terrifies him, as much as the possibility Juno speaks into his ear.

“You wouldn’t plan on breaking into that prison,” Juno tells him, voice low and empty like he has no energy left to summon more emotion than that, “If you thought you needed to get back out. You’re gonna try at freeing our family, and it doesn’t matter to you if you die in the attempt. Am I wrong, Nureyev?”

He lets the last few inches go, a puppet on a string with a wire cut, his head resting on the desk. He’s run out of tears a few times already, and even though his eyes sting he finds the well is still dry. “Why are you doing this.” It isn’t a question, because he’s already heard the answer. “Why do you keep telling me this.”

Juno leans closer. Nureyev half expects hands at his throat, but Juno would never, not even here. The weight of him, warm, presses against Nureyev’s back. His arms wrap around Nureyev’s chest from behind, and the dry sob cuts through him.

Anything else would be kinder. Anything else Juno could do would be more merciful than this, but Nureyev doesn’t fight him away; he needs with a sudden desperation that can only hurt him later. One more second, his mind negotiates. I’ll pay whatever I have to for just one second more.

“Because I’m dead,” Juno says. There’s a tired compassion there, a gentleness Nureyev doesn’t want. Anger would be easier. “I’m dead, and you know this is the only place you’ll see me again. So you keep bringing me back, to have this conversation again and again - so you can hear my voice, before you forget what I sound like.”

Nureyev whines out something sharp and pathetic, past words. Juno holds him closer, and he leans back into the embrace… breathes until he feels like he can talk without breaking. “And do I still have it right, love?”

There’s a kiss on his cheek. It feels like a knife, quick and cutting. “I think so.” They stay that way for a stolen moment - before Juno shatters it the way he always does. “Look at me?”

How can Nureyev not? When it could be his last chance, when Juno asks in that voice he remembers from the quiet of their shared bed after a moment of vulnerability, after a nightmare, when he might never have another opportunity to do anything for Juno… how can he say no? Juno pulls away just enough to allow Nureyev to turn in his chair.

Blood. It’s all Nureyev can see, soaking into Juno’s shirt from the… from the hole punched through him. It’s dripping onto the floor. It’s lining every footstep Juno took to reach him, sinking into the bed behind him, covering Nureyev’s back and dripping onto his hands. Nureyev can’t breathe. He’s seen it all before, every night for weeks, but he can’t breathe through the fresh horror of it.

“Juno,” he chokes out. He reaches for the wound with some detached thought of stemming the bleeding, stopping this from happening, while he looks up and confronts dark eyes that are already empty and glassy. Juno can’t see him. Juno can’t hear him. Juno is already gone, and Nureyev fights the relentless truth of that while his face contorts, unbidden, into the strange shapes that grief inflicts on him. “Juno, no, you… you can’t…” His hands reach Juno’s chest, and the blood is tacky. Juno is cold. Nureyev’s breath dragged out of him. “No, no, this isn’t - this isn’t real, you aren’t -”

Dead.

But he is, isn’t he?

He comes back every night to remind Nureyev of that. Nureyev brings him back every night to lose him all over again.

The sound that comes out of Nureyev is too soft and too tired to be a scream; it’s just the echo of one, grown worn with use. He doesn’t think about the feeling of blood sticking to him, or the cold, stiff, unyielding sensation of a corpse. He leans closer anyway, wrapping his arms around Juno and holding him in place as if that will do any good - as if he can recapture the warmth of seconds and more than a month ago.

“I love you.” Broken words, whispered into the wound, falling from his mouth to fracture on the floor. Too little and too late. Juno doesn’t answer.

When he wakes, more tired than when he fell asleep, he’s not sure if he can remember what Juno’s voice sounds like. He’s not sure he’s strong enough to try.

He’ll hear him again, anyway.

Every time he falls asleep.

[det3rra]

there is nothing i want more than to stay

[ID: A digital painting of Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev from The Penumbra Podcast. Juno is a black lady, with short, coily hair, dark skin, and a short beard. He is wearing a purple turtleneck and reddish pants. Peter has his hand on Juno's face and is wearing a white puffy shirt tucked into a purple corset and multiple rings. He has short black hair and red eyeliner. The background is a sunset, with stars and a planet behind the pair. END ID]

[megamindscum]

Jupeter is my OTP

Call that a spaceship 😏😎

[incorporealbagelbeing]

Yknow I bet that not only is Nureyev gonna step up while Buddy's down. I feel like its gonna play into the crew actually having a reason to rescue him after he inevitably gets kidnapped as his strong moral core prevents him from actually selling out the crew and CMP. Like. Everyone aside from maybe Juno and Rita mistrust him. If they all have a strong reason to see his worth to the crew, the rest of them may actually want to rescue him when he gets in more trouble than he already is.

Also I'm like. 90 percent sure the Ruby7 is gonna save Buddy because its already

Manufactured a second Eye of Jupiter Bomb

Come to get Jet, Rita, and Mtendere

Helped perform the Pelican Bootleg

Apparently is rapidly gaining sentience

Doesn't have a normal engine?

Healed itself from the ship's crash

Like. I fully believe that she could manufacture a new heart for Buddy/the engine could be a replacement (although I don't want to lose Ruby). Anyway the Heart of it All I hope is referring to Ruby being a critical part of the team, Buddy's love for her team, her heart and however they fix that, and Nureyev fully coming into the family as a key player and as they all grow to really, truly, all care and trust for each other so that there will be that much more pain as Nureyev has to face whatever his debtors have in store

[armanikenma]

Jupeter definitely listen to Lorde’s Pure Heroine religiously in the middle of the night while they stare out the window at infinite space refute me i dare you

[ao3feed-jupeter]

How Can I Let You Care For Me (When You've Broken That Trust Before)

by Lo_AndBehold114

After meeting Juno Steel, Peter Nureyev had some choice words regarding the detective's self care habits, particularly when it came to his wings.

He's beginning to feel like a hypocrite about that.

(picks up where If I Could Be Allowed to Take Care of You (Because You're Certainly Not Going to Do It) left off. I wouldn't recommend reading this as a standalone, but I'm sure it'll still make sense)

Words: 1112, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Feathers Tangled in Your Fingers

Fandoms: The Penumbra Podcast

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F, M/M, Other

Characters: Peter Nureyev, Jet Sikuliaq, Juno Steel, Vespa Ilkay, Rita (Penumbra Podcast), Buddy Aurinko, Ruby 7 (Penumbra Podcast)

Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel, Rita & Juno Steel, Buddy Aurinko/Vespa Ilkay, Buddy Aurinko & Vespa Ilkay & Peter Nureyev & Rita & Jet Sikuliaq & Juno Steel, Rita & Jet Sikuliaq

Additional Tags: Wingfic, Alternate Universe - Wings, Wings, Peter Nureyev Needs a Hug, POV Peter Nureyev, Hurt Peter Nureyev, Junoverse | Juno Steel Universe, The Penumbra Podcast Season 3, Wing Grooming, Mental Health Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Peter's internal dialogue is not super healthy, I'm really just piling mental illness onto Peter Nureyev, whoops

Read on AO3 at https://ift.tt/EBWMhl1

[brokengingerbread]

Discord servers

I just found out that discord servers are really fun so if you guys have a discord server i can join in on :

- The Penumbra Podcast

- Rick and Morty

- Prodigal Son

- Sherlock

- Caravan Podcast

- Marvel anything(but especially Tony Stark related)

- WTNV podcast

- Big Mouth

- Disenchantment

- Yaoi manga and/or anime

- Good Omens

- Eos 10 podcast

I'll add more when i remember but if you are in one could you please add me? Or send the link?(still not completely sure how this works)

[pawpawwithshoulderpads]

Juno steel is so fucking good im gonna cry

[fanficireadandrecommend]

Chapters: 4/4 Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Characters: Peter Nureyev, Juno Steel, Others are mostly background but I'm tagging, Vespa Ilkay, bc she features heavily in the last two chapters Additional Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Whump, Whumptober 2020, Hurt/Comfort, Hiding Injury, Claustrophobia, Peter Nureyev Needs a Hug, And also a lot of therapy tbh Summary:

Nureyev has to focus on the plans, because if he doesn’t he’ll start remembering other things. He’ll remember hours spent in a closet where he’d been ordered to hide by Mag. He’ll remember the way he was scolded for the state he was in when he was finally let out, because "Fear is a weakness, Pete, and a thief can’t afford to be claustrophobic."

He’ll remember a Martian birthing chamber miles under the ground. He’ll remember being trapped in a robot body in a server farm about to be destroyed, trapped in a cast, trapped in debt-

Trapped, like he is now.

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Jupeter fic Angsty, but not really sad?

“Can’t we just pretend?”  Juno asks himself hopelessly.  

He can’t sleep.  He doesn’t even want to try.  He’s been carved out and left hallow for way too long.  He doesn’t know how to deal with being full again.  Of anger and grief.  He’s getting better.  He is.  But this is a lot.  Nureyev is in his bed.  His bed and so is he.  But there is pain between them.  

Nureyev is so damn collected.  And Juno almost believes it.  Months in between where Juno caused a world of hurt, and Nureyev is being the goddamn adult.  Of course he is.  Juno can tell that there is hurt in his eyes.  Peter Nureyev isn’t trying to hide that.  There is hurt, yes but he is still so goddamn open and trusting and if he hadn’t done a lot of growing recently he would have met that stupid trust with the acidic gunk that serves as his insides.  

But he can’t spew that rage.  It isn’t meant for Peter.  It never was no matter what Juno pretended.  

He just wants to hold Peter and never let him go.  Never again.  He wants to hold on to that brave and beautiful future.  And he will if he doesn’t screw it all up again.  

Not like he can run anyhow.  A spaceship isn’t meant to keep two individuals away from each other.  They are stuck.  

Which means there is a long talk coming for them both.  He can feel it building in the air.  That static between them.  Two bodies.  A decaying orbit.  Their meeting won’t be pretty.  It’s going to be messy and Juno will be a mess and hell even Nureyev will probably be a mess too, but that’s what he does... did.  

He’s trying.  

And he knows he won’t be able to sleep until that passes.  But he is just so tired.  So damn tired.  

He wants to close his eyes and burry himself in Nureyev’s shirt and feel Nureyev’s body heat and smell that intoxicating cologne.  

But he can’t because he’s two shaky breaths away from sobbing.  

So he takes a deep breath and says it aloud.  

“Can we just pretend?  Just for one night?”  His voice almost doesn’t shake.  Almost.  

“Pretend what, Juno?”  He doesn’t deserve that gentle tone.  Not now. Not ever.  

But maybe he ...will?

He’s trying.  

“That I could have gone with you?   That I didn’t leave?  That you stayed too?”  Because even if he can’t have that for his past.  Or maybe even for his future, he needs that because he is tired so tired.  And Nureyev is tired.  “That I didn’t mess up.  That I didn’t hurt you.  I want to have that talk.  I want to have that, you need it even if you won’t say.  And I sure as hell need it.  But not tonight, please...”

He runs out of steam, but without a moment of hesitation, Juno is engulfed by lean, warm arms and a sent like far away spices.  

He lets his few tears be absorbed by Nureyev.  

There will be more tomorrow, but tonight they can both pretend.