#and juno steel ended in a place where i just feel like waiting to the next season like the mysteries are solved

[ernmark]

Juno Steel and the Case Closed (part 1) reaction

It's been a while since I've done one of these, hasn't it?

But it's the last episode, and I wanted to be here for the end. So if you'd like, some thoughts and theories under the cut:

It was a solid choice to have Nureyev go-- to make this final story about Juno and his world and his life, rather than specifically about their relationship. But also, the choices made around Nureyev's leaving-- holy shit.

Because here's a man who's spent the last twenty years entirely defined by his relationship with one man, and now he's cut loose and of course he's flailing to re-establish himself in a different orbit. And you can hear it in his voice, where it rises into something halfway to panic (amazing job, Noah Simes), and you can feel exactly how horribly wrong it's going to go if he goes down that road. And then there's Juno, who's healthy enough to be the voice of reason, even when it hurts him? Who makes it clear he's willing to wait until Nureyev is ready for him? Oh my god, that's perfection. (And Nureyev going maybe back to Brahma-- my little fanfic writer heart did a leap there). Nureyev may very well be back next episode (I suspect he will, if only for the final moments), but I really like this as an ending of their arc-- not the neatly laced up riding off into the sunset together, but looking forward to that sunset and being actually ready for it when it comes. It makes my heart feel so good.

--

And from that happy moment, to have Juno go back to Hyperion, to his office, and immediately start slipping back into his worst self? Oh, that's too real-- in a way that I am very happy with. Because he isn't 'fixed'. Juno 'born-a-sad-baby' Steel won't ever be 'fixed', not by romance or a vacation or a wonderful new family dropping him reminders of how much they love him. What's wrong with him isn't something that can be fixed-- but this time around it's different. This time around, when he yells at Rita she stands up to him (with a small, tremulous voice, because goddamn standing up to people you love is terrifying). I am so proud of her for that, and of him for backing off. It takes a palpable effort for him to rein himself in, but he's making that effort-- and he knows how, in a way that I don't think he did in those early seasons. It's a choice he's making, over and over again, just like it's a choice he makes to keep replaying Jet's wisdom instead of drowning his misery in tequila.

(Another kudos there: that Juno's problem isn't addiction, not the same way it is for Jet-- alcohol isn't a problem for him when things are going well, but it's easier to retreat into a bottle than to deal with his feelings. It's a distinction you don't see very often. Honestly, the way this show has dealt with addiction has been really refreshing to see.)

I've said from the beginning that one of the things that really drew me to this show was how it handles Juno's depression-- as a genuine mental illness that's an inherent part of him. And it's enheartening to see him struggle with it, but now be able to reach out for the tools and the support he needs. And that support doesn't have to be Jet literally talking him away from the bottle, or Rita or Nureyev petting him and making him feel better. He can reach for the pieces of them that they leave behind. And he can wish the Ruby 7 a good journey home, and send Nureyev to find himself, not without pain and grief, but without completely losing himself to it.

That kind of story gives me so much more hope than any kind of 'happily ever after' ever could.

--

And then the designated mystery, which has me so freakin' excited:

Nightmare.

She is the culmination of so many plot threads that I've been picking up on for so long and I'd completely forgotten about, and I am so freaking excited to see it.

I was in such a rough place emotionally when we last visited the most obvious of those threads, I genuinely don't remember if I posted meta about it or not, but it definitely struck some bells:

When Juno rescued Rita from Dark Matters, the safehouse she was in was described as being full of items that were clearly meant for a child. At the same time, Sasha was having Rita destroy all evidence of her own life so thoroughly that not even Rita herself would be able to find traces afterward.

It seemed most obvious to me that she was hiding a child (one that, I didn't realize until Juno remarked on Nightmare's area code, could have been hidden in the suddenly repopulated New Town without anybody asking inconvenient questions about who she was or where she came from). Also her taking care of a child would explain her ever-escalating reactionary tendencies-- she certainly wouldn't be the first parent who descended into authoritarianism in a misguided attempt to protect someone.

So some theories about who and what Nightmare is:

Alessandra's daughter is the most obvious, of course. (I still hold onto that theory that Sasha was either the Worst Client that Juno told Alessandra Strong about, or else that Sasha was the cheating spouse in that story.)

Nightmare could be Annie Wire's daughter-- assuming that Annie survived the factory, grew up, had a child of her own, and then died for real this time, leaving her grieving sister to raise her niece.

Nightmare could be Annie Wire herself-- dead, kept in stasis, revived by Dark Matters technology, and then whisked away to the safe house.

Nightmare could be a clone of Sasha and/or Annie. Honestly, not digging this theory, but I might as well throw it out there.

Nightmare could herself be a Radical, not unlike the Ruby 7, who's taken on Sasha's appearance and stayed that way ever since (after all, Sasha would have been at just about the right age when she was recruited by Dark Matters)

From a narrative standpoint, I'm most fond of the idea of Nightmare either being Annie or Annie's daughter, personally. Because that's literally the second mystery we were given, and it was pointedly never solved. As much as I like the idea that some mysteries just aren't and you have to make peace with that, I'm a big fan of long games like this, and of tugging on threads from the beginning of a story when you're wrapping up the end. That's especially true for Sasha's arc closing here, back in Hyperion City. Sasha's voice was one of the very first that we heard in this series, and Sasha's trajectory has always been a funhouse mirror version of Juno's. She's always been an integral part of his story. It seems fitting that her story gets wrapped up alongside his.

[ananxiousgenz]

TPP HADESTOWN AU PART 4

ANOTHA ONE. i am so sorry guys, but the muse has possessed me and i literally cannot stop writing. this is no longer a flash fic. i am now a slave to the au. this time will be a direct continuation of part 3 because honestly i wanted to keep writing that but i also just wanted to post it so consider this a kind of part 2 to part 3 if that makes sense

tpp mutuals come get your juice!!! @smidgen-of-hotboy @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @urjover @one-joe-spoopy @waters-and-the-wilde

when he said his name, juno heard it.

ringing in the background like the hum of a crystal wine glass.

the song.

when peter nureyev said his name, the song echoed with it.

"your name has the same melody," juno breathed, eye wide and searching for some kind of answers on the face of this strange, beautiful man. how could his name have the song of spring laced through it?

nureyev shot him a sideways look and took a sip of his drink. "so. what do you do for a living, lady who's going to marry me?" he questioned, leaning back in his chair and looking juno over with a gaze he could only describe as skeptical.

"oh! well, I work here at the bar with rita. she's over there. but you've met her already so I don't know why I'm introducing her."

rita gave a friendly wave from her perch behind the bar.

"I also, um. I, uh. I sing. sometimes. not all the time. i'm not bad at it. typically when I do sing, someone will give me a couple bucks. it's nice. oh, and uh, I can play guitar too, but I haven't done it in years, and to be honest, I don't really want to-"

nureyev cut juno off, looking away disinterestedly and downing the rest of his drink. "that's nice. so you're like all the other bar workers in existence. that doesn't exactly sound like something I'd want to marry."

suddenly, the butterflies that had been gradually building in juno's stomach began to unexpectedly drop dead.

"heyyyyyyy, that's not very nice, mista nureyev. mista steel isn't like all the otha ladies you eva met! he's a very supa awesome lady who I love workin' with and-oh oh oh! mista steel! you GOTTA tell him about that song you're workin' on! it's so pretty! and important! I'm sure mista nureyev would LOVE to hear about that!" rita cried, bounding off the bar and hustling over to deliver another drink to the table.

"oh, uh, yeah! I'm working on this song to bring spring back again," juno said, feeling mildly embarrassed that rita brought it up with this man who was still basically a total stranger. "it's not done, honestly, it needs a lot of work. but, when i'm finished with it, it will hopefully fix.....everything."

"wait just a moment." nureyev's brow furrowed and juno's stomach twisted at the sight. even when he was skeptical and defensive and bone-tired, he was still so damn attractive. gods, what juno wouldn't give to just kiss him right now- focus, steel, he's trying to talk to you-

"so you say this song will bring spring back again?"

"yup! at least it should."

"that's...." nureyev placed a finger over his lips in thought. "I haven't seen a proper spring in at least a decade, maybe more. the world has been so wrong in recent years... I shudder to think where it would all end up without the return of warmer weather."

"well, that's the idea with the song. I want to fix it. all of it. when the song is done it should put the world back on track. more sunshine, springs, falls, rain and flowers. you know. all the stuff that's just sort of been missing. maybe you could help me out with it!" juno grinned a bit sheepishly.

"and why would I want to help?" his eyes were cold, almost as cold as the biting wind and frost outside, but juno thought he saw the beginning of a thaw at the edges of his facade.

"because, mista nureyev. he's real good at makin' people feel like life is worth livin' again with that music of his. also, he makes the BEST chocolate cake i've eva had! and frannie agrees with me!" rita chimed in, cleaning the bar top as best she could with her short stature.

juno snorted involuntarily, marveling at rita's ability to constantly be focused on food. "it's true, I won a local competition a few years back for that cake."

nureyev's face had half a smile on it now, and the butterflies in juno's stomach turned into a hurricane.

"so you can make people feel alive again? that's quite a gift, juno. but what else can you offer me?"

"huh?"

"say, for example, if we were to get married. who would pay for the wedding rings? times have been hard, and gold is scarce. how would you do it?"

juno thought for a moment. "the rivers. they've got plenty of gold in them, and if my song works, they'll give it all to us for wedding rings."

nureyev's eyes glinted with something juno suspected was either curiosity or suspicion.

"what about a wedding feast? or a bed? good food and better beds are hard to come by these days. what would you do about that, juno?"

"the trees would take care of the wedding feast, and the birds would take care of the bed."

"with your song." nureyev cocked an eyebrow as though it was a question.

"well, yeah, of course."

"you talk a lot about that song. why don't you sing it for me?"

a wave of panic stuttered through juno's mind. "I can't. I told you it's not finished."

"you said you wanted to take me home and marry me, is that true?

a sly smile crossed nureyev's face, and goddammit it only made juno want him even more. "yes," he breathed.

"then sing the song for me, juno."

juno hesitated, then nodded in spite of himself. he shouldn't be doing this, he knew he shouldn't be doing this, but he couldn't help it.

he was in love.

and lovers need the spring like a flower needs sunshine. so he'd sing the sunshine back for peter nureyev.

he stepped back, breathed in, and let the notes flow from him like water from a faucet. the song flooded the room, hitting the walls and rushing back to his ears in perfect harmonies, and for a moment, he was back in that wheat field with benten, strumming guitar as he danced like a pheonix rising from the ashes, spinning around and around and around like he was the center of the universe.

and then the song ended. and juno was back in a shitty roadside bar, holding a perfect dahlia in his left hand, with peter nureyev staring at him now, eyes wide and sparkling.

"that's...... you...... how did you do that?" nureyev asked quietly, standing from the table on unsteady legs and taking the dahlia to examine it with shaking hands.

"i didn't do that, the song did," juno muttered as nureyev gently touched the immaculate petals of the dahlia, still damp with dew. rita beamed at juno from the bar and gave an overenthusiastic thumbs-up. juno just rolled his eyes again.

peter nureyev looked at him then, all of the previous frostiness gone from his eyes and something like amazement and love and hope spilling through them.

juno decided that he liked it when he looked like that. it made him feel like he really could fix the whole damn world with that song of his.

nureyev seemed to come to some sort of conclusion and slipped the dahlia into the buttonhole of his traveling coat. "so, what time does your shift end, my dear juno?"

juno thought for a minute. "uhhhh, the bar closes around 10. why?"

his eyes gleamed like a pair of stars as a smile twinkled on his lips. "didn't you say you were going to marry me?"

[waters-and-the-wilde]

okay speaking of wrestling and also apropos of 'Rita drags him in by his tie', I was previously having Thoughts about imminently post Got His Ass wherein Rita is bound and determined to drag Nureyev kicking and screaming back into being family again so uh. scenario.

Rita corners Nureyev for A Conversation after they Get His Ass, like plot resolution denouement loose ends and stuff where he's in the clear debt-wise, made his peace with Slip however that looks, he and Juno Have Talked but they're like just on the other side of Having Talked. like Things Are Okay but also everything's just so raw and they're being So Careful with each other, it's like the early days on the Carte Blanche again and it's hard to shake the feeling that any more disturbance is going to topple whatever they're trying to rebuild

so Nureyev is just. his whole brain is full of fire alarms. he's vibrating in place like a greyhound that just got picked up at the shelter after it got spooked and ran away from home. this time he has no high ground as the injured party, he and Rita have known each other for a year now so there's a lot less of her initial 'sniff out the new beau' hesitancy, and sure he knows Rita well enough that it's obvious she's not gonna up and Ruin Him on purpose when she wholeheartedly volunteered to get him out of the mess he was in but still. she's the most unpredictable person he's ever met, he has no idea how this is going to go.

like logically he knows that he and Juno are working shit out and logically he knows that Rita's kinder than the people in her life deserve and might continue to tolerate him, but ultimately she's Juno's best friend who might well just be about to give him the mother of all 'you're on thin fucking ice' shovel talks, like she can't possibly still approve of him anymore right??

so he's scrambling to do preemptive damage control, he's throwing everything he's got into trying to Fix This. going on about how he knows what she must think of him and how sorry he is and that all he has to say for himself is that he only wanted to keep Juno safe, that he couldn't bear the thought of dragging him down with him, not when he was free and their family was together and he knows he should have ended it when Juno asked him to and he just wasn't strong enough and Rita's like. yeah that's nice i know Mista' Nureyev, hey can I tell you what I said to Mista' Steel when he told me about leaving you in that hotel?

and Nureyev shuts up and braces himself and nods very seriously and then she's like, actually you might wanna take off your glasses for this, and now he's extra confused and possibly even more terrified, and she waits until he's put them in a little case and set it on a side table and then there's just kind of a blur and a whole Rita NYEEERRRRRRAAaGGHHH!!!! noise and WHOOMP

pillow to the face

(for context. in my brain. I sorta presume that Juno told her about what happened with Miasma at some point in the aftermath of Newtown bc he owed her an explanation about both times he went missing, and yes she was glad that Juno didn't run away on an adventure across the galaxy without her but she knows a dick move when she sees one and also probably has the full context of baby Mista' Steel's self-sabotaging romantic choices (Juno said there was a whole thing about him walking out when he was with Diamond so I am assuming that Rita was privy to any number of related incidents over the course of those years). finding out that he passed up the chance to run away on a romantic adventure with the mysterious and dashing gentleman who he'd been mooning over for month, who was apparently also smitten with him the whole time and saved his life and tried to take care of him when he lost his eye?? she waited until he was staring into the bottom of his glass and then started whaling on him with a pillow)

anyway Nureyev doesn't get a chance to do much except yelp and sputter and get his arms up before she whacks him with the pillow again. and again. and starts yelling like 'YOu! are! such! a! big! dumb! baBY! Just! 'Cause! YOU! Think! People're better off! Without you! Don't make you! All! Noble 'n stuff!'

and he gets with the program pretty fast, which is to say that he's just on the floor letting her do her worst because that's just what's happening now

'alright I yield! I surrender! have mercy your honor!'

'DAMN! RIGHT! YOU! DO! DidN'T! Captain! Mom! Teach! you! aNYThInG! Big! Stupid! Tough guy! Tryin'a! Do it all! Yourself! We're! S'posed to be! FaMBLY! Now you're! Stuck with us! FoReVeR!!'

tackles him with the pillow. starts tickling him. both of them are shrieking. he vaguely registers that Juno has appeared and is slouching in the doorway 'my love i beg of you call off the attack i'll do anything' and Juno's like 'sorry honey i'm a little busy' and is holding up something that is probably comms-shaped and 'Nooooo, Juno how could you, JUNO SINCE WHEN DO YOU KNOW HOW TO RECORD THINGS'

(and the thing is Nureyev was just letting it happen because he assumed this was catharsis for Rita's sake and sure it's not not for Rita getting it out of her system but she processes things pretty fast you know? and she runs out of steam and goes off to get a snack and he's just there on the floor with his hair in his face kinda punch-drunk and Juno sidles up and sits beside him and whoops turns out Rita found the Release Feelings Valve and Juno's like 'yeah she does that. went a lot easier on me but I think that was mostly because I'd just gotten out of the hospital when i told her about all that.')

(a couple months later Ruby turns up to scoop Jet in the nick of time from a dangerous raid on Dark Matters and he asks what it's been up to and it pulls up the footage that Juno copied to the databanks. he gets a good kick out of the fact that Rita was on the same page about the whole 'he is solitary and overconfident and alone he can only fail' thing and that she got the opportunity to address it in the most rita way possible)

[zuretha-metal]

Update 05/20

Hello From The Hallowoods- Finished the available episodes and started a re-listen when I found out that new episodes came out a couple of months back. Haven't finished it because it's been a busy year but oh my God, I don't know if I said it before but I love this show. The creator is amazing, they do so many cool voices and I try to emulate Diggory Graves when my boyfriend asks me to read the OG Sandman comics out loud to him. Diggery gives me Sandman vibes and no one can take that from me. The ending of the arc I listened to, where Percy gets the recognition he'd been waiting for, when they finally defeat the Instrumentalist...I wish I could get that. It was beautiful. Poignant. Almost made up for Walt. Almost.

Old Gods Of Appalachia - New episodes have come this way too and it was so fun to re-listen to the stories and get back into the lore of this show. I remember the surprise and drama of finishing the available episodes last time and this time, new details that I've picked up and focused on have made the show strike me in an entirely new way. Particularly the Good Mother Ministries plot line and Cowboy Abshire's. Can't wait to start new episodes and foam at the mouth about it.

Juno Steel (S4) - I love me some Peter Nureyev backstory. We have been waiting ages for this. Juno trying to cope with his whole existence and his feelings is very well-handled and God help me I love Puck Falco for treating people like people. They fucking rock, okay? I'm just glad they got Rita.

Second Citadel (S3?) - I'm sorry, but the Petrichrous ritual was supposed to be sexy, in my mind. I thought they were gonna, ya know, do some lizard kissing on the altar and create life. Sure it wasn't really how that ritual was supposed to go but a girl can dream, can't she? But noooo, Sir Tristan the Cold had to swoop in and drag my fave away from my other faves and now they're just, monster hunting, I guess? I loved the Plane of Mirrors! Quanyii trying her best to be strong for everyone by taking a magic edible was just absolutely hilarious, and the fact that the place brought out everyone's fears was really a very cool way to get perspective on their characters. I'm excited for the rest of the season for sure.

Kisses In The Dark- Am I here because I liked Izzy Hands a bit too much in Our Flag Means Death and have been devouring media with Con O'Niell's voice in it in an unhealthy way ever since I finished watching the show, twice? Absolutely. I don't know if he's Death or a vampire with like, acid-venom? Regardless the imagery is lovely, his monologues and soliloquies are just breathtaking and I am in love. I consumed this media as fast as he consumes his prey. It's a problem. I have a problem and that's okay. Everyone should listen to this. It's got TMA vibes, it's got Broadchurch vibes. Just, murder and romance and secrets and monsters. It's just fucking lovely. The only drawback is bc it's remote audio it can sound a bit weird when shifting characters.

Wolf 359 (again) (yes, again again) - yearly relisten. I am officially shifting my favorite character line to include more people. For one, Warren Kepler. The man is a fucking mad hen, with a great poker face. He played both sides until it came down the line and he picked humanity. I also just, love Hilbert and how committed he is to his work. They stopped him and his first thought was, "Let's blow them up." That's my kind of man, apparently.

Peacemaker Pod is- Great follow-up to the show. I loved getting to hear the creator and the actors commentate and give their thoughts, even if it was a bit cheesy. I certainly gained more perspective on the show and the way the actors played their parts. I'm just glad they've only killed one of my favorite characters so far in Peacemaker. If they get a second season and kill my faves I will probably just die. Same with Our Flag Means Death. If they kill my fave before his redemption arc I will just walk into the ocean. Long story short, great podcast, and a great show. Watch it. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

My Running Favorite Podcasts List:

The Penumbra Podcast - Juno Steel mysteries. I've dipped my toes into Second Citadel, not sure if I want to sacrifice my soul for it just yet. As for Juno's stuff, I would die for every member of the Carte Blanche and the first episode still gives me chills, even on the fourth relisten.

Welcome To Night Vale - my first podcast. My favorite baby. I listened to this thing walking the mile to and from campus and the mile across the highway to work for a year. I based my marching band tech assignments in Night Vale 's school district. Go Scorpions! (The web address is floating around somewhere out there if you're interested in the Big Rico's Sell-A-Slice fundraiser for new marching band uniforms!)

Good Morning Night Vale - Great recaps of episodes and the cast are just...abolsute goblins. Very feel-good. Good for my soul, good for yours, good for the All Mighty Glow Cloud's - all hail ❤

The Two Princes - Absolutely lovely. Short, dynamic, and absolutely charming. I listened to this one a while back and don't remember much except a totally relateable main character, a cursed forest -- also lots of gayness and a flying ship. Beauty and grace.

The Orbiting Human Circus - Strange. Very Pan's Labyrinth in the realm of, "reality?" I love the music and the old-timey feel. Still picking my way through the Naughty Till New Year's collection, but I'm a sucker for the stories they bring to the table.

The Magnus Archives - I cried a bunch. Made art. It's beautiful. The only smart man in this podcast is Joshua Gillespie. Amen to my man with all the braincells who said, "Put the key in a bowl of water and freeze it." I, of course, picked all of the stupid people as my favorites and all of them are dead. Except one.

Marsfall - Just started this one. Chaos. Amazing imagery. Also ANDI - I'd die for that sweet boy. And for some reason it just makes me think of Starkid's Starship? Bc like, it's detrimental AND campy. Excellent.

[liaroflesbos]

okay there are so many mysteries and unanswered questions in king falls am and i’m honestly not sure what the answer is to almost all of them, but there’s one thing i fucking know: Mr. X is Roland Northwood, the founder of the Science Institute.

Maybe later i’ll write some meta about what this could mean, but i just needed the one mystery i have down out in the world

[northisnotup]

I’m late!!

But I am still gonna play! Thank you @kelliealtogether for tagging me in the ‘five favourite fics that I've written (for writer appreciation day)’ 

This was the kindest thing you could have tagged me in, because as much as I love my fics when I post them, I tend to have a distorted view of them later on, thinking that my writing must have been so much worse, that I’m sure I fucked up the pacing, etc. But having now gone back and re-read a lot of these, I like them just as much - so much that choosing just 5 is gonna be hard! 

1. Pan Cookies

Oldest first - and also because it’s the only Dragon Age fic I have and tbh I adore it. Short and sweet, Dorian and Sera deserve to bond over shitty parents - the end!

Dragon Age Inquisition, Gen.

This is the story of how Sera and Dorian became crazy, drunken, selfie-olympics bffs. Enjoy. 

2. Kisseltoe

This was a holiday exchange fic that I still think is really stinkin’ cute. Did it have to be this long, or complicated? No! But I thrive on turning simple plots into drawn out character studies.

Overwatch, Cole Cassidy/Hanzo Shimada

Trapped under the mistletoe, Cole has now kissed every person at this party but the one person he actually wants to.

3. Rita’s Blessing

First rule of thieving: Know what your mark wants.

The Penumbra Podcast, Juno Steel/Peter Nureyev

First rule of thieving: Do your own research.

First rule of thieving: Know what you, yourself, want.

What Peter Nureyev wants is to wake up next to Juno Steel every day for the rest of his life. He wants to travel the galaxy at his side, day after day, until death at last parts them. He wants so deeply and with such fervor it weighs on his heart like nothing else, save the ring, which stays always in one of his many pockets, feeling like a star attempting to collapse in on itself.

And that is the problem.

FOR INSTANCE. This was supposed to be a short and sweet exchange fic for a friend. It wasn’t supposed to take as long as it did (the better part of a year) but it did! And tbh - I love it a lot. I’m glad it took that long. I’m glad I met them. I’m glad I wrote this. I genuinely think it’s one of the best things I’ve ever written. 

4. We often confuse what we wish for, with what is

“You just have to hope that betraying one another is not in their self-interests?” Juno misquotes back to him, dry.

The Penumbra Podcast, Juno Steel/Peter Nureyev

“This is not the first partner, team, group or crew I have allied with,” Nureyev finally says, clipped and crisp. Weary and wary and just him in place of where Ransom would already be soliciting Buddy’s forgiveness. “And I’m sure you are all familiar with the...self serving nature of those in our line of work.”

He nods. “Quite. And once the job is complete, it’s not uncommon to look into the face of an ally and see an enemy instead."

Second FOR INSTANCE. This was a fic I never intended to write. As many of my fics start, this came from the want of using one particular line and having to figure out WHERE that line fit. Juno saying ‘oh you’re gonna want to think so carefully about what you say next,’ was living in my brain rent free and I had to find a home for it and so came forth this Murderbot-Leverage-esque story of Peter Nureyev, master thief. 

...crap now I have to choose between Captive Prince and The Raven Cycle. Wait. No I don’t. Fuck it. I’m going rogue!

5. Attend Me

This is just fun, silly, modern day fluff. I like the world I made behind it, but mostly I just wanted to see how they fit together.

Captive Prince, Damen/Laurent

Housebound following an accident, Damen prepares an important dinner.

6. Here with You

The Raven Cycle/The Dreamer Trilogy, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish

When Adam received the invitation to Declan Lynch's wedding, he'd known that seeing Ronan again was going to be difficult.

This is one of those fics that has a huge, sprawling backstory that I have no willpower or time to fully write. However, I think this small snippit gives just enough of a look into what was and what could be and I really like it for that.

Alright! That’s enough self indulgence from me, so I’m gonna pass this off to @sanerontheinside @themarchrabbit @parakeatswrites @audikatia @rabbitdarling @the-prince-of-tides and @blue-mood-blue happy ficcing!!

[blue-mood-blue]

This time, the shot goes through his heart.

It feels... catastrophic. Like the end of everything, tearing through him in one breathless moment that promises he will never be back in one piece. It’s the slamming of a book, the screeching of a bow against strings, and it should happen too quickly to hurt but there’s still plenty of time to hurt.

Time slows down as Juno absorbs the full portrait of his last moments of life. There’s a burning in his chest and a ringing in his ears that almost muffles the strangled sound coming from where he last remembers seeing Nureyev. Juno feels flushed and cold in flashes, like his body doesn’t know what to do in the aftermath of the impact, and the shock fights to shield his mind while his eyes look for anything - anyone - familiar. He’s falling slowly, but it’s not such a long way down this time, just to the ground, and the thought that this isn’t how it’s supposed to end is ricocheting through his mind. Someone said something profound about the best laid plans and what to expect from them, but Juno is fading too quickly to remember. It doesn’t matter.

Everything surrenders to silence.

The pain is far away and getting farther. Everything is getting farther. Juno is getting farther, sinking into something, clinging to the last thought left to him: someone’s waiting on him, somewhere. He has to get up. He can’t afford to get stuck in his bed today with that heavy weight pinning him in place - he has to go find... someone.

Are you sure? It’s not really a question and not really words; it’s an idea in his head about a decision he might make, if he’s sure he wants to wake up. It would be easier to go back to sleep, he tells himself, maybe, without words.

I have to get up. They’re waiting.

So be it.

Juno is suddenly, hideously awake. His heart throbs like someone squeezes it, and again, and again - agonizing rhythm, a fasimile of a heartbeat that stopped when Juno wasn’t paying attention. He gasps for breath against lungs that won’t expand to accommodate him, drowning on nothing, mouth gaping. There’s a pressure in his chest, and it’s building, expanding...

He isn’t dying anymore. There’s no quiet dark waiting for him at the end of this. He’s dragged, gaping and struggling, back to life.

Three hours after being shot through the heart, Juno Steel gets to his feet.

~~~

He counts the steps of the guard, the seconds until his opportunity, the twirl of the knife they don’t know he has. Everything has narrowed to the count. The count keeps him still, in the moment, focused - the count, repeated steady as a dancer’s steps, is the only thing with the power to drown out that echoing sound of gunfire.

No. No. Don’t think about that now. It will be over soon.

Nureyev counts down the moments until he makes his move. It would be too much credit to call it a plan - more accurate by far to call it one last, desperate bid to sow a little chaos before he can just stop thinking.

Someone drops something on the metal floor nearby, and the sudden noise almost makes him drop the knife. He loses the count. The images crowd back in: Juno appearing like the answer to a prayer, furious but still looking for him, so close to reaching him... a guard behind Juno, blaster at his back... the noise... the blood.

Nureyev squeezes the handle of his knife, and he doesn’t stop until he feels the pinprick of pain on his palm where his grip is just a little uneven. Only a little while longer, and he’ll stop seeing it. He’d thought he wanted to know everything about Juno, but he never wanted to know what Juno’s face looked like when -

File it away.

(How is he meant to file this away - that sound, the sight of that blood - it shattered him. How can he file Juno away like he’s a distraction -)

Nureyev counts. It feels like all he’s capable of, or he’ll fall to pieces. Or maybe this is what he looks like, in pieces: one last clockwork part on the floor, ticking on for no one, for nothing.

He counts.

It doesn’t work.

He remembers the way Juno looked at him when the gun touched his back, the way he tried to interpret what Juno’s expression was meant to say. He remembers thinking that Juno couldn’t be here alone; even if the rest of the Carte Blanche decided he wasn’t worth the effort, they wouldn’t abandon Juno. They must be right behind him. Jet would barrel in, or Vespa would take out the snipers on the upper walkway. Buddy would demonstrate her own expert aim. Rita would cut the lights. Somehow, Juno’s family would save him, because Juno couldn’t be here alone.

So when they asked Nureyev if he knew Juno, and Juno looked at him with an expression that Nureyev couldn’t parse, he only wanted to give them more time.

We’ve never met, with a sneer perfected from a lifetime of playacting roles.

And then -

The knife is spinning frantically in Nureyev’s hand. It feels more like he’s trying to keep a hold on it, calm it and keep it falling back to him, than that he has any control over its movement. Soon. Soon he’ll kill as many people in the room as he can manage with a single knife, and they’ll kill him, and he won’t have to think about Juno dead on the ground anymore.

Nureyev thinks, I miss you. And at the sound of a blaster, he begins.

The damage he can do with one knife is considerable, and either he’s more adept at dodging blaster fire than he gave himself credit for, or the person firing has terrible aim. It’s a small blessing, and he’s not grateful for it. He’s ready. He would kill them all for Juno, but more than that he’s ready to be done and he hopes Juno can forgive him for that. His hands are bloody, he’s lost in a dangerous rhythm, and he thinks it’s nearly over when a hand reaches out and spins him around too quickly for him to ready his knife fast enough and -

And everything stops.

“Juno?” Nureyev doesn’t know who says it, but it couldn’t have been him - it couldn’t have been Nureyev, who feels like the air has been punched out of him. Nureyev is as still as a statue, unbreathing and unmoving with his knife in front of him and something impossible at the end of it, and maybe this is a blessing he can be grateful for. One more look.

But the hand that reaches up and lowers his knife is warm and familiar, and that voice is unmistakeable. “I don’t... I’m okay. I’m okay, Nureyev, but we have to go now.”

“How... are you...” How are you standing. How are you here. How could Nureyev possibly deserve another chance.

“I don’t know.” But his face says he might know something.

What Nureyev hates most of all is that he wants to believe it. He wants it so badly that he paws at Juno’s shirt before he’s found the words for a denial, looks for proof past bloodstained fabric before he demands it from Juno. He finds smooth skin. He finds smooth skin in a star-shaped pattern of scar tissue that interrupts the scars around it, the sign of a devastating wound that might have happened months ago.

It’s been hours.

Juno was dead.

Nureyev saw it happen. Nureyev saw the life leave his eyes.

“I lost you.” His voice shakes.

“Not yet.” The feeling of a calloused thumb wiping away a tear Nureyev didn’t know was there is the most real anything’s felt since seeing the blood. “You didn’t lose me yet.”

He wants to say more - there’s so much he thought of to say, after - but Juno doesn’t give him the time. He takes him by the hand and leads him through corridors, along a route that seems familiar to him. Sometimes he stops, breathing heavy and leaning against the wall, clutching his chest where that smooth scar is. Nureyev tries not to think about the possibility of losing Juno again. Nureyev counts their footsteps instead, counts the florescent lights they run under on their way to escape, counts the times he must lose his composure because he feels Juno’s hand squeeze around his.

When they reach the Ruby 7, Juno falls to his knees and Nureyev falls with him. A woman Nureyev doesn’t recognize stares at the bloodied shirt, the lack of wound... and then hauls Juno into the backseat. She doesn’t protest when Nureyev crawls in after him, just arranges Juno’s head on Nureyev’s lap while Juno gasps and writhes.

“Stay with me, love,” Nureyev whispers. He gives up holding Juno’s hand to hold his wrist instead. He counts the heartbeats. “Stay here with me.”

“Not going anywhere,” Juno grunts out, and it’s a testiment to his strength of will that he finds it in himself to smile up at Nureyev. “This isn’t what dying looks like.”

Nureyev leans down far enough to rest his forehead against Juno’s. “I know.”

[hoodoo12]

Elegy (1/6)

What follows is a story of Miss Argentina and Beetlejuice and how their own personal issues keep them locked in their own private hells. Contains smut and angst. It was done as a rp between @clairjohnson and myself. NSFW. Beetlejuice/Miss Argentina. Beej is a combination of movie and musical; Miss Argentina has contains hcs (such as her name and circumstances). Also contains minor mentions of OC Dante’s Inferno employees.  (Tagging people who have asked in the past. If you’d like to be tagged, hmu. If you’d like to be untagged, hmu.   @turtlepated @thewolfisapartofmysoul @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @janitor-boy @beejiesbitch @angelicspaceprince) Enjoy!

He’d married, been murdered, vanquished the evil that was Juno – he wasn’t looking forward to seeing her again anytime soon – said some weird heartfelt goodbyes to people he just terrorized, and was carried off by his clones in the smallest, most subdued mosh pit style ever, for an exit that was worthy of some kind of award, just for the theatrics of it. 

The second he was through the swirling mists of the doorway that separated the living from the Netherworld, he turned on his own clones and attacked them remorselessly, using claws and teeth to tear them apart, growling like he’d lost his mind and spitting like he was rabid. 

None of the clones attempted to fight back or escape. They were part of him, and he was so fucking angry – it made him angrier that they just took their destruction passively, his destruction, a destruction of self that made his hands drip with gore, his mouth taste like clotted blood, and his clothing, the tuxedo conjured specifically for something positive in his fucking waste of a life, a deeper color. 

He hated this fucking suit. 

He was too exhausted by the end of his rampage to flick it away, however. Stepping over the piles of meat that had been clones, he wiped his hands down his front and winced as they brushed over the new ventilation that goddamn teenager graced him with. He kicked the door to the waiting room hard enough that it bounced off the interior wall of purgatory, startling the assholes sitting around waiting for their stupid numbers to be called.

---

It had been another slow day in the waiting room. Not that Miss Argentina had any way to count “days” – time had little meaning in death – but her job was as uneventful now as it had been several hundred new arrivals ago. Staring down at her clipboard Maria crossed out the name of the last soul she’d sent back to meet their case worker. Juno was surprisingly absent at the moment, but the receptionist wasn’t too concerned. Her boss was a work-alcoholic and honestly, what else did Juno have to do? She’d be back soon. 

In a practiced motion, one she’d done a million times, Maria stood and slid open the dividing screen to the waiting room. 

“Number 5,678 Mr. Hen – “ 

The rest of the name caught in her throat when the door to the left of her was blown open, rattling on hinges that threatened to give. A split second of panic washed over her, an emotion really only needed for the living, before she saw who it was.

Betelgeuse. 

“Mr. Hendrix,” she finished, moving her gaze from the fuming poltergeist to the sorry looking dead man standing up from his seat. “Your caseworker is waiting for you – please step through those doors.” 

Maria placed her clipboard back on the desk then leaned out the window a little further, giving the older, bloodied man a deeper once over. “Back so soon, Mr. Betelgeuse? Should I pull you a number?”

"Fuck this place and fuck the numbers!" he spit, literally spit, making the ghost sitting nearest in his line of fire wipe his face as he hoisted himself up – some kind of heart attack took him, no doubt, from the lack of obvious trauma and the effort he took to get out of the molded plastic chair – and hurried as fast as he could out of range. 

He could take that chair and beat down every wall in this place. He could tear apart every single soul in this forsaken pit. He could bypass the eons of fucking waiting and just march right down the hall to the Lost Souls' Room –

– scary thing was, that option held some real fucking appeal at the moment. 

Beetlejuice glared at each and every dead person cowering in place. Fucking losers. Just like the fucking Maitlands, but worse, because they followed the goddamn directions in the fucking Handbook and were now stuck here. 

But what did that say about him? the voice in the crate in the back of his mind whispered. You tried, and you still ended up right.here.with.them. 

Beetlejuice grabbed the side of his head, mindless of the residual tackiness on his hand, and gave his hair a yank. Sometimes that dislodged the voice enough to make it shut up. 

His gaze fell on the beauty queen behind the partition. He couldn't tell if she was politely waiting for his tantrum to subside, or if she was being indifferently patient, having seen it all before.

Maria wondered, absently, where all the blood had come from. She noticed the gaping hole in his chest and assumed it might all be his – but it was always hard to tell with Betelgeuse. His brand of “bio-exorcising” wasn’t the cleanest. However, based on his outfit, she doubted his day job was what sent him back here. The fool had tried to get married again. 

Fixing him with a cool, pleasant smile, Maria yanked a number from the ticket dispenser and held it up. “I’ll just pull one for you, then. You know the rules – no number, no getting to see Juno.” 

The beauty queen leaned further out of the window and rested her chin in the palm of her hand – her clipboard and list forgotten for the moment. Red tuxedo – a classic for him. How many times had she seen him in it? She could remember at least four, and she guessed he’d worn it twice as many times before she’d crossed over. Betelgeuse never told her how old he was, but after working with him for over three decades, it was clear he had a few hundred years under his belt. 

When was he going to stop pulling this stunt? It never worked. Always ended up with him down in the waiting room – back here with her. Maria bristled, both angry and jealous that he got to leave this hell and go gallivanting top side as he pleased. Her smile tightened and she narrowed her eyes at him. 

“You never invite me to your weddings,” Maria said casually, lifting the hand from her chin to examine the ruby manicure. “Any good plans for your honeymoon?” 

She flicked her gaze up to catch his reaction.

The bitterness and pure rage inside him managed to ratchet up another notch with the receptionist's detached apathy to his situation as she offered the ticket out to him.

Anyone else, and he'd have taken that hand off at the wrist; he could feel his teeth lengthen in anticipation of it. As it were, he snatched the paper away with enough force to tear it. He crumpled it in his fist and shoved it into a pocket without looking at it, casting his glance around the room again at all the lesser assholes who were pointedly trying not to look at him and become the focus of his ire. 

Maria's words, her barbed little query spoken in her light accent, just poured salt into the gaping hole in his chest. 

"Fuck you," he roared. His voice cracked.

Maria was used to seeing Betelgeuse angry. She was also used to seeing him happy – manically so. The man had a way of taking emotions to the extreme. She was not, however, used to hearing the crack in his voice. The next biting remark died on her tongue and she peered up from her nails, her brow furrowing. 

“Oh, don’t look so upset.” She tutted, but there was less sarcasm behind it. “You have all the time in the world to try again, don’t you? It’s not like you’re stuck here (like she was). Not for long, anyway.” 

Had this time been different from his other attempts? The pain in his expression suggested so. If he kept this up she may just bring him around back to avoid disturbing the waiting ghosts. Maria didn’t like bending the rules, but for the good of her job she’d bend them. That’s what she told herself at least. For the job.

try again 

not like you're stuck here 

Her words meant to comfort stung, jamming themselves like smaller spears into his chest. She was partially right. It wasn't like he was stuck here, so long as he could convince some dumb sucker to fulfill the terms of the contract. Finding the right dumb sucker was what took the time and energy. 

That led to the whole "try again" debacle. What was the point? He'd never succeed; despite the seemingly impressive power he had in the upper world, it was useless. He was useless, like everything was smoke and mirrors and the one being fooled was him. 

He realized he had his fists clenched so hard he was shaking. The ghosts surrounding him in the mismatched furniture, patiently waiting their turn, still did their damnedest to pretend they heard and saw nothing. 

"No one is like me!" he'd shrieked in the Maitlands' faces. 

The stupid deads sitting here proved it. He had half a mind to grab the nearest one and rip him apart like he'd treated his clones, just to continue to give his rage an outlet, but on top of everything else he didn't want to deal with the consequences of that. Maria was still watching him, as if she expected him to do something of the sort, like she was steeling herself to have to intervene and de-escalate him, even though he knew it wasn't anywhere near part of her job.

The shaking of his fists drew her gaze down – would he really be so brash as to tear through the souls waiting? Not that he could actually kill anyone, but it would make them have to get a new place in line . . . and the paperwork involved would be a headache. 

Maria lifted her Miss Argentina sash over her head and draped it on the back of her chair. Quietly, but quickly, she moved around her desk and out the side door that led to the waiting room. Like approaching a wild animal you didn’t want to startle, Maria crept forward. Delicately, she placed her fingers on the side of his arm to get his attention, keeping her back straight and her expression calm. 

“How about you come wait in the back, Mr. Betelgeuse.” 

Her voice was smooth. She had started adding in the “Mr.” when he’d gone rogue and stopped working for Juno. The days of familiarity, of her calling him “Beej”, were long gone. Maria still kept a certain level of fondness for the poltergeist, though she’d never admit it aloud.

The roots of his hair were probably the color of this fucking suit. 

When Maria physically approached and laid a manicured hand on his arm, he almost spun on her. When the pressure on his arm increased, aided by her nails digging in so hard he could feel them through the layers of fabric, he forced himself to relent. 

"Fine," he agreed bitterly.

She’d felt him tense at her touch, and Maria briefly considered she’d made a grave mistake approaching him, until his muscles relaxed – slightly – under her fingers. Thank goodness. 

Keeping her hand on his arm the receptionist guided him to the office door. She peered out to catch the relief on the newly dead faces before shutting it behind her. 

“Take a seat.” She gestured to the chair next to her desk and sat back down on her own. She wanted to stay disinterested, wanted to keep things professional, but she couldn’t.

“So.” Maria pulled some papers together and tapped them on her desk until they were even. “Is most of that blood yours? I haven’t seen you looking so . . . out of sorts in quite some time.”

 The beauty queen looked at him from the corner of her eye, pretending to keep most of her attention on the work in front of her.

He sat where indicated, in the hard straight back chair beside her desk. If he wanted, he could look up and see the filing cabinets, the paths in the rug worn through to the subfloor underneath, the endless stacks of paper, and the hallway where the caseworker's offices were. 

He didn't want to. He could walk through the place blindfolded. Nothing changed in the Netherworld; it was all slog and dismay. And they thought he was crazy for wanting back out?! 

A cigarette appeared in his hand. Sticking it between his lips he glanced up at her question and statement. 

"Yeah. The blood's mine. First from that goddamn teenager and second – " He broke off there and used lighting the cigarette as an excuse not to finish and admit he'd torn apart his own clones in a fit of rage. " – never mind. Nothing matters. It's the same shit for eternity."

Maria watched, with pointed interest, as he brought the cigarette up to his mouth. Well, at least the blood was his. Less mess for Juno to clean up later. 

“Thanks.” She drawled sardonically, bringing her own cigarette into existence. “I’d love one.” 

As she took a drag, Maria let his remark sit in silence for a few moments, unsure of how to respond. Most of the dead seemed to be having an on-going crisis – and if Beej had been feeling the same, he’d never let on. 

“You’ve always been one for the dramatics. But never nihilism.” She paused, “ – also, did you just say teenager? You know what – I don’t want to know.” 

She threw her hand up at that, waving the question off. He was a scumbag, to be sure, but the thought of him being that scummy was not an idea she wanted to entertain.

He'd have felt bad about not offering her a smoke if he was in a different state of mind. As it were, it didn't even register until she pointed it out. Even then he couldn't quite bring himself to care. It was easy, however, to fill in the blanks she left out. 

"It was a fuckin' green card thing," he growled. "Most teens – especially gothy ones who think their existence is the worst of anyone, ever – are dumb as shit. Easy to manipulate. Except this one was too damn clever for her own good. She used – " 

It was on the tip of his tongue to admit his naked, desperate desire to be accepted was used effectively against him, but that made sour bile rise in the back of his throat and he had to swallow it down again. 

" – ugly art to impale me," he corrected after only a brief hesitation. He took a deep drag, and was dismayed to see that some smoke drifted out the hole in his chest. That kid must've punctured a lung. He sighed as he pulled at his shirt to try and cover it. 

From the corner of his eye he watched her watch him. He didn't want her pity. He didn't know what he wanted, but he knew he didn't want her pity.

Maria felt herself relax at his growled response – pleased to hear he was still a normal scumbag of the con-man variety. She couldn’t hide the twitch of her lips into a smile when he admitted how he kicked the bucket this time around. She’d seen a lot of dumb ways to die, but ugly art was a first. Chuckling through a drag, she eyed the smoke coming out of his chest, causing her lips to curl even further upward. 

As good as it was to have him talking, the anger radiating off him was still obvious. She could practically feel it on her skin. Whenever he got out of hand Juno was usually around to deal with him – but not this time. She was still surprisingly absent. Fortunately, Maria had worked here long enough to know what her boss’s trump card was. 

“Juno’s been away from the office today.” she started, putting out her cigarette in the glass tray on her desk. “And you look like you’re in the need of a distraction after . . . your little accident.” 

The receptionist spun her chair to face him, one slender bare leg crossed over the other, and raised a brow at the bloodied ghost. 

“How does a drink or two at Dante’s sound? On Juno’s tab, of course.” 

She smiled, scarlet lips parting to show off her straight white smile. In many ways the two were opposites. Beej was unapologetically himself, moss and all, while Miss Argentina went to great lengths to appear perfect. Even though she had let some of that anxiety go in death, bad habits were hard to break. 

“I’ll join you – if you don’t mind. I could use some time out of the office.”

In an effort to appear disinterested in the state of both his clothing and the new hole he was going to have to figure out how to close, Beetlejuice kept his eyes on the paperwork she'd straightened. A kid's profile, from the looks of it. One perk about working as Juno's assistant way back when was helping the kids when they came through –

He glanced up sharply when Maria mentioned Dante's. Actually suggesting it, and accompanying him to it. He would've thought that the beauty queen would pretend that place never existed, although he knew she must have been both scouted and offered a job there. 

"On Juno's tab? A drink or five sounds great." 

Some time that old hag was going to show up again, slathered in Sandworm spit and gastric juices, and he'd much rather not be found here if possible. He stood up abruptly, making the wooden chair squeal against the floor. 

"Fine. I'll let you take me out."

“Only drinks, Mr. Betelgeuse. I’m not paying for any other services.” 

Miss Argentina hadn’t had a chance to be out in quite some time. With an eternity stretching out in front of you, there was little rush to do much of anything other than your assigned job. Peering down at her burgundy gown, she also realized she hadn’t changed her outfit in years – wearing the same dress to two different parties used to be a mortifying thought when she was alive. 

How things change. The beauty queen stood, and with a few moments of concentration, changed into a red cocktail dress. Her French curled hair now in tight waves around her shoulders. It felt nice. A little like being alive, even. Even if it was just to go out and watch this man get drunk off his ass. But she understood his desire to live again – didn’t all ghosts wish they could be top side? He was certainly the most tenacious about getting there. 

“All right, ready when you are,” she said while smoothing down her new outfit. She turned from the older man and started towards the office exit, throwing a ‘are you coming?’ glance over her shoulder at him.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her hands smoothing down the fabric of her choice of dress. With his cigarette still caught between two fingers, he ran his thumb over his lower lip, thinking about the differences between the dead and the breathers changing clothing – the breathers had to take it off and put it back on, versus simply willing a new outfit into existence. 

Of course the dead could be titillatingly mundane, if they chose. It was too bad this was the never-closed office, and there was a waiting room full of ghosts on the other side of the glass partition –  

At her invitation and with a sigh, Beetlejuice stepped off the road that daydream was headed. He'd lost the chance with her a long time ago. 

He flicked his still lit cigarette into the ether and decided if she was going to be dolled up, it wouldn't be right for him to accompany her in what he was wearing. Between one step towards the door and the next, his blood-soaked tux became his favorite striped suit. He left the hole in his torso under his shirt. 

"Lead the way, muñeca." tbc . . .

[mollymauk-teafleak]

just as much as all those years ago

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment over on Ao3!

This is for my ever wonderful girlfriend @spiky-lesbian who is just the Best and will always be the absolute Best and I love her very much. Returning to my favourite comfort AU and of course it’s angst I write.

Trigger warnings: descriptions of an injury, specifically a burn

--------

Memories were funny things for Juno Steel.

They came when he didn’t call them and hadn’t asked for them. When he needed them, he couldn’t find them, only the ragged edged gaps where they’d once been. And they were never whole either. They came as sounds, one random lyric from a song his brother used to warm up to or the sound of his mother’s footsteps in the hall or the way the coffee maker in the HCPD had always sputtered close to the end of its cycle. They came as smells, Buddy’s hairspray or the way the hallways had reeked in his old high school, the milky smell of when his babies had been brand new or Rita’s goddamn salmon things. They were fractured and jumbled and awkward to hold.

And they were so hard to tell from reality. One moment Juno was up to his elbows in soapy water, taking advantage of the boys actually going to bed at a reasonable time to get the dinner dishes done. He was whistling a song that had been on the radio as he’d driven back from the office, tapping the hell of his bare foot against the tiles in time with the beat that existed only in his head. He was tired, he had a few new aches to catalogue and he was perfectly happy.

And the next moment his nose was full of burning ozone, scorched fabric, heat and blood.

Juno froze, hands stilling and letting the plate he’d been soaping drop back into the water. Suddenly he was pulled into a handful of times and places at once. He was at the practise range at the academy, he was trying not to be sick the first time a perp had shot at him, he was pounding on his brother’s bedroom door and begging him to answer, he was lying on the floor of the Carte Blanche and seeing Sasha shake, he was a cop, he was a kid, he was a pirate, he was a twin without a brother. All because of a smell in the air.

And he might have shook himself, pushed it all away and told himself not to be an idiot if he hadn’t heard the voice and realised it wasn’t a memory.

“Mama? I...I’m sorry…”

It wasn’t a memory. Juno whirled, eye wide, heart no closer to restarting in his chest. His oldest daughter stood just behind him, holding her arm tightly with a hand that trembled, with skin that was ashen and a face wet with tears. His old coat was black from elbow to shoulder, one stripe of it completely gone and giving a glimpse of raw, red skin. A laser burn from a distance, it had just glanced off her but it was enough.

She looked so scared.

“Bianca?” he breathed, not really wanting to believe this was actually happening. His daughter was off on a job, of course she could never tell them much about it but she was meant to be off being young and reckless and having fun and swinging on starlight, just like her daddy did.

“I...I thought I got away but I missed one of the guards,” Bianca’s voice was tight, adrenaline clearly the only thing holding back the pain, “Mama…”

Juno swallowed hard, putting a firm, hard foot on his panic and shoving down hard. His baby girl needed him and when it was over he could go and find a quiet corner to scream and cry and rage about it. But for now he needed to get a goddamn grip.

“Bathroom,” he moved forward, sliding an arm to take her weight, just in time as her knees buckled.

Suddenly her free hand was bunched in his shirt tight enough to pinch his skin, his arms holding her as easily as if she was two instead of twenty two. As if she was as small and delicate as she had been then, when he’d first met her and realised just how much he’d be willing to give to keep her safe…

No. Not now.

He went to call for Nureyev, he was doing yoga in their bedroom, but Bianca’s hand tightened and she gave a strained, pained whine through her teeth.

“No,” she begged, breathing coming hard and shallow, the pain of her wound coming in through the cracks as she realised she was safe and didn’t need to run on sheer adrenaline, “Please don’t, not until...not until it’s covered up, I don’t want him to see…”

Juno went to protest but stopped himself, they didn’t have time and he couldn’t say she was wrong. Nureyev didn’t need to see this part, his husband’s field medicine skills weren’t as practised and when he saw the state their daughter was in, it wouldn’t even have mattered. He would freeze and he would break. Juno didn’t blame him in the slightest, he’d nearly gone himself, but he couldn’t hold both of them together.

So he kept quiet and carried his daughter to the poky bathroom of their apartment, moving quickly and quietly as he could past the twin’s bedroom.

“You need to keep talking for me, kiddo,” he said through gritted teeth, as soon as the door was shut behind them, “Tell me how you got in without any of us hearing you. Give me all the details.”

Bee Bee managed a weak chuckle as he sat her down against the edge of the bath, “I’m not giving you all my secrets, mama…”

Juno could dredge a smile for her, if she was going to make the effort, throwing it over his shoulder as he wrenched open the medicine cabinet and pulled out one of the many emergency first aid kits stowed around the apartment.

“Then give me all the moons of Jupiter in size order, biggest to smallest. I know your daddy made you memorise them.”

Bee Bee swallowed hard, shifting as she started to slump, “Um...Ganymede. Callisto…”

“Good, good girl,” Juno was more focused on pulling out the scissors and cutting away the ruins of the coat sleeve so he could start cleaning and dressing it, but as long as he could hear her talking he knew she was conscious.

“Io…oh mama, no, your coat…” Bianca tried to lean away from the blades.

“Bee Bee, I don’t know if you noticed but I care about you a little more than I care about some ratty old coat,” Juno sighed, ignoring her weak protests.

He couldn’t help but wince as he saw her arm, fully exposed. The bolt had only grazed her but clearly it had been set to kill, it had scorched a clean edged, diagonal path along the top of her arm. If she hadn’t been running away, if the person had fired a second before…

Juno shook himself and focused, it was clean and wouldn’t need more than a gentle dousing with cold water which he quickly set to. Don’t think about what could have happened, focus on what’s in front of you.

It broke his heart when she hissed in pain, the second where she clearly wanted to pull away from him, however much he could rationalise it. But he’d been doing some version of this for a long time, from the first time Bee had caught her tiny fingers in the door on the Carte Blanche.

“Hey,” he gently reached over and turned her face to him, “Just look at me, okay? You’re doing so well.”

His brave Bianca took a shaky breath and nodded, ‘Himalia is next. In the size order.”

Juno smiled with a soft, tired pride, motioning for her to go on as he applied a thin layer of salve and started to bind it with the smart tech bandages that wrapped tightly around her arm with no effort from him. They’d hold it fast and safe, healing the torn and blistering skin underneath until barely a trace remained.

But Bianca wouldn’t forget this. This would be another one of her memories, the ones that would come up when least welcome and stop her in her tracks when she thought she was safe.

Juno contented himself with doing what he could for her now. He helped her up, though her legs were still shaky, helping her take shuffling steps to her bedroom, the one they still kept exactly as she’d left it the last time she visited. Neither he nor his husband could ever bring themselves to move anything around, happy to admit to themselves that they were just waiting until their daughter came home again. So the old stuffed animals were still lining the bottom of the bed, the books were still piled on the nightstand, there were still soft blankets ready for her to sink down onto.

“Right,” Juno brushed a hand over her curls, “Now water, painkillers and lots of rest. Got it, kiddo?”

“Yes mama,” she sighed, leaning into his touch, “Um...I think I want to see daddy now.”

He saw the guilt flicker through her dark eyes and he softened it with a kiss to her forehead. He understood the instinct to protect people you cared about, feeling like you couldn’t let them see you cry or fall or hurt because you’d see just how much they cared about you and it could be so scary. Knowing so much of someone else’s happiness rested with you.

He left her to get settled, needing to take a few deep breaths as soon as the door closed. Just a little longer.

Nureyev was just stepping out of their room, his long hair pushed back from his face with a band that had probably once been Bianca’s. He looked calm, content, and his whole face lit up when he saw his wife walking towards him. Having to watch all that unravel, that would hurt Juno as much as any of it.

He tried to speak clearly, concisely, only repeating again and again that she was fine, that there would be no lasting damage or even a mark. But he wasn’t sure any of it actually got through after he finally said the words ‘Bianca’s been shot’. Because that was when he pushed past him and started running down the hall. Cursing under his breath, Juno took off but couldn’t hope to catch his husband on those legs, only getting there when the bedroom door was already open.

He was braced for tears, he was braced for the anger that sometimes came when Nureyev was feeling too much to hold within himself and had to lash out to try and grasp some control. He was braced to have to pull his husband out of there.

What he found was his husband and his daughter embracing as tightly as her wound would allow.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” Bianca was sniffling, har face pressed to his shoulder, where it had always fit so perfectly ever since she was small, “I know you said to check, you said and I thought I did but…”

Nureyev shook his head, his own voice thick but steady, “No, no, it’s okay. You did nothing wrong, as long as you’re okay.”

“Promise?” Bianca mumbled, still sounding a little like a child wondering what her punishment would be.

“Oh my treasure,” Nureyev drew back to hold her face in his hands, “I promise. All I care about is that you’re whole and well and...and next time, you will see it. You’ll get better and better every time, just like I did. I just couldn’t be more thankful it was no worse but...next time will be better.”

Bianca’s face flooded with obvious relief, she’d clearly been worried her daddy’s first response would have been to ground her. Juno had to admit, he’d expected it too.

Nureyev only touched her bandages lightly, checking everything was in place, “But...if you wanted to stay here for just a few days just while you healed? We could make room for you?”

Bianca gave a tired smile, rolling her eyes, “Only if you could make the room, of course.”

Juno leaned against the doorframe, giving them a few more moments together before joining them, giving Bianca some time before having to endure both of her parents fussing over her. As he watched Nureyev draw Bee Bee back in to hug her tightly and let her rest against him, he felt other times overlapping it, other times he’d seen that light in Nureyev’s eyes, the smile he saved only for their babies, the way they clung to him and looked to him for safety. He felt the years they’d spent together as parents, the memories sending warmth running through his chest, soothing the anxiety still gnawing there, giving him a few more hours before he’d need to release it. Hopefully Nureyev would be in his arms by then.

Memories were funny things for Juno Steel. But some were everything.

[dilsdelights]

sugar and plum (T, 1249 words) (this is a link to the ao3 if you prefer that)

Juno Steel had hair on his head. It was dark and thick and kinky and when he stretched it out it went all the way down past his chin. Sometimes he wore it with clicky clacky beads on the ends and got in trouble with his teachers when he took every chance he got to shake his head no, even when it was the wrong answer. Sometimes he wore it all the way out, all the way to the edges of space, like a big cloud, catching the wind, and he got in trouble with Ma for hiding stuff in it. Sometimes it was green, and it writhed its way along his scalp like snakes, or vines, or other green squiggly things. Sometimes it was gold, like a crown, or a halo, or the sun in the sky.

Benten had hair like his, too, even if it didn't look that way. He liked to get it twisted up close to his head, but he always got shapes and patterns and things twisted into it, real fancy stuff. Their mother used to do their hair every week, one at a time, washing it and twisting and asking how they wanted it. Then she got too busy, and stopped asking. Then she stopped washing. Then she stopped twisting.

The hairdresser used to pull too tight. He always had to mess with Benten's hair so he wouldn't have a headache later. He got real good at ignoring his own.

His grip was always awful, and his hands were always shaking, and he always had to section it at least twice, but Benten can't cornrow to save his goddamn life, and he needed his hair done right for dance. If Ma had her way, they'd have chopped it all off by now– "Less of a headache," she'd said. She didn't make them, though. She'd threatened them, sure, grabbed the clippers and pulled Juno by his scalp, kicking and screaming, all the way to the bathroom sink, but she just… stopped. Let him go, told him to take care of it himself, or she would. Benten said she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Looked like she saw a monster. She did, Juno thought. But that's never stopped her before.

He tried to keep his hands steady enough to do the winding patterns he likes, or just straight lines, or really to do anything right so Ma wouldn't change her mind again, but it wasn't easy. And Benzaiten Steel definitely didn't make it any easier. He was tender-headed, he couldn't sit still, he always, always forgot he was holding the goddamn grease– he was a pain in the ass. But no matter how bad it looked, no matter how much it didn't look like what he asked for, no matter how uneven it was, he always said he loved it. What's more, he looked like he meant it. He'd do anything to keep a smile on his brother's face. Even if it meant spending less time on his hair. Even if it meant the same old boring braids for a month, or more. Whatever it took.

His hair was straight and thin, but still dark. It was always dry, and always frizzy, and it broke off a lot more, and he couldn't figure out how to fix any of that, but it was technically more manageable now– if he was careful with it. He didn't really know how to style it on his own when it was like this, and it sorta made him feel like a kid, but he didn't mind too much. Diamond liked it this way– said she liked being able to run a hand through his hair, liked being able to style it for him, liked the way it looked. And Juno– Juno liked Diamond happy. He felt guilty that he wasn't more grateful, though. She was doing something nice, right? She wanted to do his hair for him, to take something off his plate. He just had to make his hair easier for her. That was all. That was fair.

He'd cut it all off. He'd had no other choice; It was deep fried and frayed and there was nothing else he could do to save it. In all honesty, right then, when he was waking up, shaking and sweating bullets in the middle of the goddamn night only to roll out of bed and work off the debts he made getting himself that sick in the first place, even if he hadn't nuked his scalp so bad it looked like he spent a sunny day out in the Martian Desert, he'd have had to chop it all of anyway, 'cause he could hardly feed himself, let alone keep himself presentable with a whole head of hair. He hated the way he looked, he hated the way he felt and he hated the way he got where he was. But at the very least, he could maybe– just maybe– get his own head back.

It took him a long time to grow his hair that long again. To be honest, at first it was all Rita. Even when he said he didn't care, that it wasn't a big deal, that she should stop leaving those homemade leave-in conditioners she makes all over the goddamn office– she stuck around and she made a fuss, and secretly he was grateful. The first time she did his hair, they were watching Bad Cops 3 (it'd been that kinda week) and Rita had all her stuff with her, 'cause she did her hair while they were watching, and Juno was so caught up in the movie that he didn't notice what she was doing until she was already halfway through doing it. Maybe he did, and he was just too tired to stop her. Either way, she started helping with his hair, at least when he couldn't muster the energy to do it on his own. And when he could, they did it together. Wash day was a ritual for them, full of streams and shampoo and shouting at each other. It was nice. It was needed

Juno didn't trust him at first. Sure, Nureyev never touched his hair, not until he made it clear he wanted it at least. Sure, he never had a bad word to say about it. Sure, he always watched with rapt attention when Juno did his hair, always seemed to care, always seemed to notice, even if his hair was straight and shiny in ways his own couldn't be– he didn't trust him. Juno couldn't shake the feeling he was just itching to make a request. And as it turned out, he was. For once, it was something he could get behind. You don’t have to, Nureyev added, quickly. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.

So once a month, on those rare lazy days on the Carte Blanche, Juno Steel sat in front of Peter Nureyev, and waited. With his hands that learnt to treasure all the most valuable things in the galaxy, he still had yet to find anything that was worth as much reverence and care as his lady's head of hair, dark and thick and kinky, just reaching his chin when he stretched it out. He gripped a section of hair, with grease on the back of his hand and a tail comb behind his ear and said, "Tell me if I'm pulling too tight, love."

Juno smiled. "I will."

[gerrystamour]

deep into the mountain sound

Written by: GerryStAmour | Request fill for: @blue-mood-blue​

Anonymous said: Jupeter dancing? Dancing, perhaps? Fancy dancing or in-the-kitchen dancing or that kind of slowdancing that ends up being more of a shufflehug? Can I interest you in Juno and Peter dancing?

So I bullied Blue until she confessed which request was her's because I wanted to gift it to her properly so. [confetti]

-

“What do you mean I can’t dance?”

Peter sounded legitimately offended, and Juno rolled his eye. 

“That’s not what I said, Ransom,” he said flatly, finishing off his sandwich and putting the plate in the sink. “I said I could teach you some actual steps.”

“I know how to dance!” Peter pouted, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.

“Yeah, I know you know how to dance, but I was gonna—you know what? Never mind,” Juno said with a huff, his cheeks hot as he turned away to leave the kitchen. “It was a stupid idea.”

“Love, wait, wait,” Peter said softly, grabbing Juno’s wrist and pulling him back around to face him. “What is this about?”

“Nothing,” Juno grumbled, and when Peter didn’t let go, he hurriedly said, “Nothing! Okay? I just wanted to spend time with you that wasn’t our couple’s therapy talks or a training exercise or a heist, okay?”

Peter blinked down at him, and his fingers went slack enough that Juno would have been able to pull away if he wanted to. He didn’t want to, so he just added, “A-and I was thinking maybe I could teach you some steps before Buddy and Vespa eventually get married.”

“Oh,” Peter said softly and Juno rolled his eye again.

“Yeah, oh, but it’s fine. I hurt your feelings, or whatever, so I’m just gonna go—”

“You didn’t hurt my feelings, love,” Peter said soothingly, stooping to brush a kiss over Juno’s brow. “I apologise, I was thoughtless with my refusals. I would love for you to teach me.”

“Don’t wanna anymore,” Juno complained, sulking when Peter wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pressed their bodies flush together. 

“Please, my love?” Peter pushed, shuffling slowly to the music playing out of the tiny radio that was sitting on the counter.

Juno rolled his eye and sighed. “Fine,” he said with a sniff and pulled back. “Okay, well first off, you’re holding me all wrong…”

And like that, Juno began walking Peter through different dance steps, even through a few that they likely wouldn’t do outside of some elaborate cover for a heist, until they were laughing and breathless.

It had been late when they started, and so it had to be at least three in the morning ship-time when they slowed down. The music had mellowed to something slow and gentle, and Juno really began to feel what time it was. Juno sighed and rested his ear against Peter’s chest to listen to his steady heartbeat, sighing happily when the thief tightened his arms around him.

“Thank you, love,” Peter murmured gently as they shuffled in a small circle around the kitchen. “This was nice.”

“Yeah,” Juno replied with a soft chuckle.

“You’re a very good dancer,” Peter added and Juno’s smile turned wistful.

“Had a good teacher,” he replied.

“You’ve said,” Peter hummed a bit, and Juno jolted a bit. That dance at Zolotovna’s ball seemed so long ago, it almost felt like a completely different life. If Juno was honest, he considered it to be before the Carte Blanche chapter of his life.

That chapter, in his mind, started the moment when he hesitated in the door of the hotel room. When Juno looked back at Peter, watched him sleeping—finding out Peter hadn’t actually been asleep had kept Juno up for days with guilt—and chose to keep walking out was the start of… a lot. Then, when Peter had allowed him into his room after stealing the Globe, had listened to his apology and then, wordlessly, reached out to hold his hand… It felt like a conclusion. It felt like he could breathe again, that everything significant had been figured out and was okay.

Being reminded that Juno had already blown Peter off once about where he’d learned to dance made him realize that he hadn’t actually said much about Benten at all. Many of his late-night talks with Peter had to do with them, as Nureyev and Juno, and where traumas intersected with their current feelings and hold-ups. The good things Juno remembered about Benten never really came up.

Benten would have hated that, and not in the expected Sibling Petulance sort of way. He would have been pissed right off to find out that after eight months of almost nightly talks, Peter only knew about his death and his tangential involvement in the mess created by Jack Takano. For the first time, Juno hated that Benten’s memory had been reduced to that more than he hated the idea of talking about him and the bitter sadness that came with missing him.

“My brother was a dancer,” Juno said quietly, and if it wasn’t for the slightest twitch in Peter’s arms around him, he would have thought he said it too quietly. “He did dance lessons and stuff after school, and even saved up for his own studio.”

Peter only hummed, and Juno smiled. 

Eight months ago, or two years ago when Juno met him, he would have taken that hum to be dismissive or something. It would have started a fight, with Juno getting his back up and snapping, and Peter giving up entirely and letting it fester between them. By now, Juno had learned that it was merely Peter making noise in a place he thought he was expected to say something, but had no words to do so.

It was one of those things Juno had learned that made it infinitely clear that things wouldn’t have worked out between them when Peter first offered him the stars.

“He’d always been a dancer, even when we were little, before he actually learned,” Juno continued, laughing a bit. “He helped out around his one studio, like cleaning and whatever, and he could join any classes he wanted.” 

“Did you go with him?” Peter asked, and Juno snorted as he pulled back to smile up at him.

“No,” Juno said. “I only ended up learning because he needed someone to practice the partner stuff with.”

Peter laughed, and Juno felt his stomach swoop at the sound. It was rare for Peter to laugh so openly, especially outside the privacy of one of their quarters. Juno smiled fondly up at him and they held each other’s gazes for several moments. 

“I—” Peter started before closing his mouth and exhaling, visibly struggling with the words he wanted to say. Then he said, “I wish that I could have met your brother.”

Juno considered the slick way Peter talked to everyone else, the way he could disappear and reappear without a sound, that annoying thing he did with his teeth when he was thinking through a problem, and that awful instrument. Then he considered how Peter preened and spent longer on his appearance than even Benten ever used to and snorted.

“He would’ve hated you, babe,” Juno laughed, and laughed harder at the stunned expression on Peter’s face. “Don’t take it personally; he never liked any of my partners. Especially my boyfriends.”

“Wow,” Peter said flatly, before smiling and leaning close to Juno’s face. “The point stands, however.”

Juno grinned and lifted up onto his toes a bit to steal a kiss with a sigh. When he dropped back onto his heels, Peter was smirking a bit. “What?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“So, I’m your boyfriend, then?” Peter asked and Juno choked, his face hot as he looked away.

“I mean—we don’t have to call it anything like that, I was just saying—it’s not that big a deal, okay?” Juno stammered, cringing a bit. “I mean, it’s not a big deal if you don’t want it to be. I’m—”

“Juno. Dear,” Peter interrupted in that gently exasperated tone that Juno wished he could be annoyed at. Peter stopped their slow shuffle and held Juno in his arms, cupping his cheek to bring his gaze back up to meet his. With a smile, Peter asked, “Why don’t you ask me what I want?”

“I—” Juno started, and it sounded nearly accusatory, defensive already for no good reason. Cutting himself off, he took a deep breath and muttered, “Because it seems dumb to ask this far along…”

“Well, it’s not dumb, and I would be absolutely amongst the stars if you considered me your boyfriend,” Peter said with a delighted laugh, leaning down to steal a kiss.

“Are you two still being gross in here?” Vespa barked from the doorway, startling a yelp from Juno as the two of them jumped apart. “It’s four in the goddamn morning.”

“Yeah! Well!” Juno shouted back, defensive without any real reason. The kitchen was a communal space, they lived aboard the Carte Blanche and had just as much right to use it, and they were fully clothed and behaving themselves. “What are you doing up?!”

Vespa walked over to the counter with a sour face to start making her breakfast. “This is when I start my day, moron. Unlike some layabouts, I have a full-time job on this ship,” she snapped, and it was Peter’s hand on his lower-back that stopped Juno from rising to the jab.

“Perhaps we should go to bed, love, hm?” Peter suggested and Vespa gagged.

“Please get the hell outta here before I barf,” she grumbled.

Peter tangled their fingers together, which never failed to have butterflies swarming in Juno’s stomach, and began to lead him out of the kitchen. Juno happily followed his boyfriend, and he knew he was grinning like a dope at that—his boyfriend.

“Oh, and Steel!”

Juno stopped to look back at Vespa, and she was squinting at him from across the room. “What?” he asked when she didn’t say anything right away.

“You better go straight to bed,” she growled, and Juno’s face went almost painfully hot as Peter cleared his throat uncomfortably. “None of that ‘poetry’ crap this early in the morning, or I’m turning off the life support in your room, you hear me?”

“You w—”

“Loud and clear, Doctor!” Peter confirmed, talking over a snappy comment that would have definitely caused an argument, which would have landed all three of them in hot water with Buddy. Then, before anything else could be said between the two hotheads, Peter began to drag Juno down the hall.

It was only a few minutes later when they stood outside Juno’s quarters while the former detective shuffled his feet nervously.

“Thank you,” Peter said suddenly, and he was smiling when Juno looked up at him. “For teaching me how to dance, that is.”

“Yeah, no problem, Ransom,” Juno replied with a sheepish shrug, and then haltingly asked, “Do you wanna sleep here? In my room? With me?”

He felt stupid about being so nervous asking—it wasn’t like they hadn’t been sleeping in each other’s rooms for at least the past three months, and fooling around for two of those three. For some reason, however, asking Peter to stay over just to sleep—no talking until they were exhausted and raw, or doing exactly what Vespa threatened them not to do four in the morning—seemed different. Significant. It changed the expectations and Juno wasn’t sure what that meant.

But then Peter smiled and nodded, and all of that anxiety slipped away. 

“Lead the way, love,” he said warmly, and allowed Juno to pull him through the door.

[solarianvoidthearoace]

Excerpt#3 of JuPeter Vampire!AU

CN/TW: friendly insults/mocking, discussion of past brawl, misunderstanding of said friendly insults/threats, brief implication of Juno being a trophy wife, friendly challenging

“So you are the lady that occupied the best thief in the entire region for over two months now”, she rested her elbows atop the counter, leaning in to scrutinize Juno. After a while she nodded in apparent approval,

“Alright, come right around Pete, the family’s waiting in the back room.” Straightening back up to her full height, she made her way to said door behind the bar counter. Curious and a bit intimidated, Juno followed by Nureyev’s hand. The back room was surprisingly better lit than the main room of the tavern, a small round table dead center, with three people waiting for them.

“Thief! Long time no see, what brought your mug back in here this time?”, a woman with green hair greeted. It was the fond kind of depreciation that carried in her raspy voice.

“As you can see, I brought lovely company I felt the need to introduce to you. Though I apparently was wrong about all of us being criminal socialites, as he doesn’t recall having heard of the Captain”, Nureyev sat down first, in a room where everyone except for him and Juno seemed to be armed purely by habit. Okay, Juno didn’t know wether Nureyev wasn’t armed, it was a habit he shared, after all, but he at least left his revolver in the mansion.

“Told you not to call me Captain, Pete, I never was your captain and haven’t carried that title in years”, the bar owner sat down next, without leaving a chair empty between her and Nureyev.

“I suppose introductions will be in order then, since Ransom’s companion does not seem to have been told about us beforehand”, the remaining person, a giant of a man, joined them at the table, leaving one chair to the Captain’s left and another one between him and Nureyev.

Juno looked cautiously around the table, his eyes locking on that green-haired woman for a bit, before he took his seat next to Nureyev.

“Doctor, would you kindly join us? I remember you being the one to establish the rule that everyone has to sit if one person sits down first. Wasn’t it about fairness in case a fight breaks loose?”, he waved at the remaining chair.

The doctor scoffed,

“And who’s fault is it we needed that damn rule, eh, Ransom? You’re lucky we work well together and my wife likes you”, she slumped into the seat, crossing her arms.

“So, introductions. I think I should disclose something first”, the Captain smirked a bit,

“I know who you brought along, Pete. One Juno Steel, vampire hunter and detective. I had Jet look into him back when he wasn’t yet agreeing with himself whether to ever leave Hyperion. So, Juno, darling, you seem to be the only one at a disadvantage of knowledge here”, the Captain leaned back.

Nureyev rolled his eyes, sighed and smoothed out his waistcoat before turning to Juno,

“Apparently the honors are mine to introduce what I already told you is this town’s ragtag gangle of criminal legends. This red-haired lady here is Captain Buddy Aurinko”, the Captain’s glare at the title didn’t go unnoticed,

“And next to her is her prickly but highly competent wife, Doctor Vespa Ilkay. And last but not least, Mister Jet Siquliak. As to what our areas of expertise are -“ Juno’s raised hand interrupted him.

“The Captain Aurinko you have been talking about like an old friend for months is Buddy Aurinko? The Buddy Aurinko?! And Vespa Ilkay, as in, the Vespa, infamous assassin and other half of legendary criminal duo Buddy and Vespa. You are on first-name-base with the legendary Vespa and Buddy and you didn’t feel the need to tell me?!” The room fell silent at that.

It was Buddy who spoke first,

“So you have heard of us, darling, that’s good to know.” Juno rubbed at his temple,

“Of course I have heard of you! Sure, I worked as a monster hunter, not exactly a career where pirates and thieves concerned me, but obviously I have heard of you. I mean, who hasn’t? Your desertion from the naval fleet was before I even picked up my first gun but, wow, yea, definitely a criminal legend!”, he turned to Vespa next,

“And you’re basically legendary for revolutionizing field medicine, pretty much every monster hunter in business fell back onto your methods to make it out at one point. And yea, I have heard about some of the kills you managed, holy hell, some of that still sounds impossible to me.” When he finished, Juno noticed the others’ expectant look on him and blinked.

“Ah, so I take it you haven’t heard of Jet, darling”, Buddy took over, leaning onto the table and looking at Juno, who shook his head.

“Jet here used to be someone”, she seemed to be searching for a word,

“Dangerous. There are several novels based around what he was up to in his youth but to us the past is past and all you need to know is that he’s a very capable thief and burglar.”

“So, ageless thief”, Vespa spoke up,

“Why did you bring your lady here? If he’s with you it can’t be that he’s desperate to get a job.” Nureyev grinned at that, a hint of danger in the way he showed his teeth,

“If what my grandfather Peter Nureyev accumulated in wealth can sustain me easily enough, why shouldn’t my lady love profit from that as well?” Juno had to suppress a shudder at how easily Nureyev lied about his true name. Also it didn’t sit right with him that Nureyev put up the facade of a rich kid born into wealth. Juno knew better, after all.

Because the memories he had seen of Nureyev were before he even reached adulthood and therefor probably one and a half decades before he was turned. It hadn’t been pretty, Nureyev had grown up as poor as can be, barely scraping by before being taken in by -

“Juno?”, Nureyev gave him a quizzical look.

“I’m sorry, I got hung up on a thought. What did I miss?”

“Pete just mentioned you would like to get back into shooting”, Buddy gave him yet another scrutinizing look,

“I heard you were brilliant with a revolver and I’m sure we might just be able to get you back on track towards former glory. I would be your training partner, coaching you through getting confident with a gun again.” At that she brushed back her hair, uncovering half her face and the eyepatch that had lain hidden behind the red curls. Juno didn’t miss a beat,

“That’s such a great offer, thank you.” Vespa snorted,

“If you happen to really become half-decent again, we might be able to get you even more of a way to kill time. Getting you out of that ratty old mansion and back out into the world. Might even earn enough to gain independence from that cocky, posh rich kid.” Peter simply rolled his eyes at that, probably used to insults regarding his supposedly inherited wealth in context of his career choice.

Juno on the other hand couldn’t help but growl,

“I’m staying with him because I want to. Because of him, actually. I would probably be three towns over by now if we hadn’t run into each other in this very tavern. Unexpected reunion? Sure. But you can stick what you’re implying there right up your -“, Peter clearing his throat interrupted him.

“Juno, dear, thank you very much for defending both our honor but rest assured, Doctor Ilkay was just bantering”, he gave Vespa a side-eye and his tone changed,

“Probably even trying to look into your intentions with me. A protective sentiment, as unnecessary as it may be.”

“But -!”, this time Vespa’s snort and cackling broke him off before he could get on with it.

“Loosen your tighty whities, Steel. You know why you couldn’t place it if Ransom even mentioned me by the name of Doctor Ilkay? Is because it’s recent”, she shrugged, leaning forward in her chair and onto the table,

“I would’ve to be real stupid to get up in arms against the man who financed me finishing my medical degree. Also from what I heard his grand-daddy Peter Nureyev was from a similar shithole to the one that spat me out, tried changing the system back there, became a folk hero and ended up here, somehow.”

Vespa shook her head, as if trying to make sense of that, before she gave a one-armed shrug and gesture by way of what have you,

“And yea, I called Ransom a cocky arse, because he is, but somehow it’s almost as if he remembers his old man’s roots. Posh rich kid, sure, but somehow with those ideals and morals the old Nureyev had. Not that I ever met the man, though Buddy and I sure are old enough that we should’ve ran into him at least once.” From Juno’s point of view there was a whole lot to unpack in just those last sentences. He felt like he needed to ask Nureyev how the hell that even worked out if Buddy was the one supplying him with literally bottled blood.

But for now, Juno somehow felt really welcome between these people he had only heard of before today. And that reminded him,

“I came to town with my research expert and best friend, Rita -“, Jet cut him off this time.

“Yes, Miss Rita has been introduced to us. We offered her to stay at the rooms in the back of this building, living along with us. Captain Buddy already gave her something to work on which is why she is not with us to greet you.” Surprised as he was, Juno made a noise of acknowledgment.

“Darling, if the Registry does get back to her, you’ll be the next person to know of it. As you might have noticed, word travels fast in small towns and even faster in this one with an established criminal network.” At Buddy’s words, Nureyev smirked and rested his chin on his palm,

“The wondrous ways of the Cerberus Province, isn’t it lovely to be a criminal socialite?” His teeth and his glasses glinted sharply in the light of the room, Vespa snorted, Buddy sighed and Juno felt that maybe this was some sort of family to Nureyev. A family that he had been anxious about for Juno to meet them.

A family, as it turned out, that was all too happy about it’s newest two members. Juno and Buddy made a habit and a statement of meeting twice a week for their firearm training. Rita and Jet became rather inseparable, at least Juno couldn’t remember the last time he had seen one without the other around the Lighthouse. Even Vespa warmed up to the occupational monster hunter, in her rough way of showing it.

“Peter is treating you well, isn’t he, darling?”, Buddy casually started between rounds of shooting. Juno raised a brow, for someone who he had barely met two months ago, she was rather motherly towards him in particular.

“He’s taking good care of me, yea”, Juno couldn’t help his smile if he had wanted to,

“To think he had offered me this life a year ago already, it’s a dizzying thought. But I also think I’m fine with how things went.” Buddy gave him a once-over, looking for something apparently. Whether or not she found it, or even what it was, he couldn’t tell when she spoke again.

“You have made yourself quite the powerful friend, darling. I hope you know as much besides your obvious appreciation for the rest of all that he is”, she leaned back on her stool, relaxing against the table behind her.

“The way I see it, it’s powerful friends. Plural. I never would have thought to even get to meet you and Vespa and now see where I’m standing”, Juno shrugged,

“I’m happy and appreciative to have met all of you. Rita was the only family I have known for so long and now I get to have -”, he had to take a breath, wiping at his eye and resting those fingers against his temple,

“I finally have a family again.” From the warm smile Buddy directed at him, she knew that very sentiment, having carved out her own corner of the world, planted her feet and declared it the Buddy Aurinko Crime Family.

“Ransom should be on his way back by now, what do you say we wrap this up for today?”, she stood, walking past him to the target area of what they had gradually made into a decent shooting range.

“Of course after you hit this”, she held up a playing card for him to see, before taking one of her hairpins and fixing it to the target they had been using. Juno saw her counting the steps on her way back, while he slowed his breath and readied his revolver.

“A two-and-a-half by three-and-a-half inch playing card. To be hit from a 32 feet distance”, she held up the rest of the deck,

“I’m not gonna be picky, darling, I just want you to hit it at all. Afterwards you can go, run off to that dear lover of yours returning home”, if her voice was more teasing than usual, so be it.

“Come on, don’t be shy. Two days ago you managed to hit the target at 25 meters distance dead center. A lady who can celebrate is a lady who can get a shot in on a playing card”, with that Buddy went back to the table, taking her seat. Juno huffed, a snarky reply on the tip of his tongue. It wasn’t as if she had invited him on a drink for that bull’s eye or anything, was it now?

[bootleg-nureyev-steel-institute]

Relationships: Mag & Peter Nureyev, Buddy Aurinko & Peter Nureyev, Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel, vague Buddy Aurinko/Vespa Ilkay

Characters: Peter Nureyev, Mag (Penumbra Podcast), Buddy Aurinko, Juno Steel, Vespa Ilkay (she's there for a tiny bit)

Additional Tags: Post-Episode: s03e21-22 & 25 Juno Steel and What Lies Beyond, Nightmares, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Listen I love Nureyev very much, and I am firmly on team "He did nothing wrong", but writing inspo strikes when it strikes

Summary: He can't physically be walking down the hallway with Mag again. Can he? No. No he can't be. Mag was dead, after all, and decided to make a brief reappearance in his dreams. That's all it was.

-------------

In which Nureyev dreams of his parental figures and others he left behind.

Fic under the cut:

"You've finally done it now, Pete."

Peter startled. He had just found a hidden corner in an alleyway in a city just like most cities in the galaxy. After days of getting as far away from the Carte Blanche and Dark Matters as he could, he finally let himself stop, breathe, and try his hardest to not think of Juno, who he has abandoned. Only soft whispers and confessions remained, and those were tainted with all of Nureyev's disappearance and all his flaws. Turns out it was a good idea to find a secluded place, because he has to be dreaming. He can't physically be walking down the hallway with Mag again. Can he? No. No he can't be. Mag was dead, after all, and was making a brief reappearance in his dreams. That's all it was.

While Nureyev was thinking over his situation, his former partner in crime stands still in front of a door. He looked towards Peter, calm as ever, and asked him to open it.

Peter did. And he regretted it right away.

The dark red light seemed to stick to every surface it touched, reminding Peter of the way blood slowly moves down a wall when splattered. The metal cylinder in the middle stretched up, high enough that not even Peter’s sharp sighted gaze could see to the top. The Reactor floated in the middle, and while the first time Peter saw it gently bobbing and full of promises, the slow up and down movement seemed menacing this time. Taunting. Waiting.

Peter was very distracted, he realized, as Mag had already made it to the center. He reached up a hand towards the Reactor, the red light of the room and the soft glow of the Reactor lighting his face, illuminating his ruminative expression. Mag stepped back.

"Do you remember this? How full of dreams and potential you used to be. You wanted to be known everywhere. To bring hope. To do good." Mag's face stretched into a cruel smile, and for a second… Peter thought he saw Buddy. "It's a shame, really. That you couldn't handle the price. You always were soft, especially when thinking of family." Mag turned around fully, and he wasn't Mag anymore. He looked- she was Buddy. Her long red hair covered half of her face as always, and Peter couldn't tell where her hair ended and the harsh red light began. Her nails seemed sharper than usual, and her smile crueler than she would let it look. Before, her smiles held a bit of hesitation, uncertain of whether or not Peter could be trusted. Now she knew her answer.

"How is family going for you, Pete?"

Peter quickly scrambled backwards, the shock of seeing both Mag and Buddy causing him to momentarily forget that he could simply disappear as he usually does. The glares from both of his parental figures, people he had betrayed despite all they have done for him, paralysed him. He wanted to run. He really did. But all he could do was press himself closer to the wall and hope the ground would swallow him whole. Or that the guards would run in. Anything, anything but this.

"We've trusted you, but look what you've done, Pete." And as both their voices got louder together and his ears filled with a sharp ringing noise, their images flickered, swapping out with each other like someone changing the channel on a hologram too quickly. Mag was covered in blood, stab wounds that Peter put there, a timeless mark of the harm he has done towards a man who loved him, who raised him. Before Peter could take in more of his blood soaked appearance, Buddy stood before him. Tall, proud, and disappointed. She offered him everything. A home, a family, a life beyond the cycle of bland hotel rooms and faceless socialites. She was wearing her wedding dress, and Peter could almost see Vespa standing at her side, finally with the love of her life, saying "I told you so."

"They call you an Angel, unaware that you simply hide your horns and your halo is carved from deception." They stepped forward as one. One face, one body. One voice.

"You're pathetic."

With that, Peter sank to the floor. He really was, wasn’t he? And in the red glow of everything in the room, Peter could almost see their physical blood on his hands. He could feel the cold of the knife and hear Dark Matters board the ship and taste a metallic tang where his teeth cut through his cheek, and his usual mantra of ‘Lesson one of thieving, don’t get attached. There are consequences when you leave them behind. Lesson one of thieving, don’t hesitate. An indecisive thief is a dead thief. Lesson one of thieving-’ filled his head and his mind and he wished it would ‘stop, please stop, I don’t want to hear it anymore’ and as all this swirled around him like a never ending storm, the figure before him came to a stop. Buddy- Mag- they crouched down in front of him and cupped his face oh so gently. Peter leaned into the soft touch, painfully aware of how undeserving he was of kindness.

“Lesson one of thieving, Ransom,” and the figure before him started flickering faster. Jet, Buddy, Vespa, Rita, Mag, Richard, James, Vespa, Rita, Buddy, Jet, Mag, Buddy, Mag.

The flickering stopped, and suddenly Nureyev was looking straight into Juno’s face. Wonderful, beautiful, amazing Juno. Until he suddenly had a wintry smile on his face, and all the warmth that gathered in Peter’s chest grew cold.

“Know when you’re not wanted.”

[podcastlimbo]

My honest honest opinion on second citadel season 3

Uhhhh... short answer? I didn’t like it much.

Okay wait before I go on to my long answer I need to say that this is all just my opinion and it’s all subjective. If you liked sc season 3 that’s awesome! I get why you do and I’m glad you enjoyed it!

But I really wasn’t a fan of where they went with it (even from episode 1), and I’m gonna go on a long rambly and repetitive rant about it.

I’m not gonna talk about the way the season ended and the setup for s4 because I haven’t fully formed my opinion about that - to form my opinion means to relisten to the season and i don’t really feel like doing that.

Anyways, these are my unfiltered 2am thoughts about the Rest Of It - maybe I’ll neaten it up later to make it more palatable but for now it’s wordy n messy and you can just. Not read it bc it’ll probably make you mad, or feel free to pick it apart and tell me I’m wrong, or unfollow me (and at least one person has already done so lmao) but like that won’t change the fact that I just wasn’t feeling s3 so uh. That said.

Long answer? I love the second citadel... at least the first two seasons

I love the world building, how the setting is such a unique, deliberate step away from eurocentric fantasy, how refreshing all that is! The Second Citadel (the place) is rich with culture and history from the brief glimpses we get of it (mostly in knight of the crown). Not to mention the monster society, with its own rules (or lack thereof) and environments and personalities.

I love the storytelling, how different mediums are woven into the way each episode is formatted. Rilla has her tape recorder, Damien his prayers, Caroline her letters, and each medium is so well suited to each character, and it truly lets us get a glimpse of what’s going on in their minds, and I find it utterly fascinating how a protagonist of one story could just as easily become an antagonist (or at least, an annoyance) in another

And the characters! Each one so compelling, with their own goals and motivations, their own intriguing backstories and potential.

Most importantly, the way these characters play off of each other is what makes second citadel amazing. Getting to see people with similar experiences but different world views clash (Caroline and Mira), people with fundamentally different beliefs reconcile and meet in the middle (rilla and arum), just, Kabert created so many interesting characters, and watching them bounce off one another is a joy.

And that’s what made season 2 so great for me. The exploration of each character, getting to see their good sides and bad, through either a medium tailored for them, or through interactions with others, as they explored a fascinating world.

The end of season 2 left me so satisfied, but still with so many questions and excitement about what was to come. I wanted to see Talfryn come into his own and step out of his brothers shadow. I wanted to see Damien, Arum and Rilla navigating their new relationship. I wanted to know more of the fate of Rilla’s parents, Damien’s past, the consequences Arum would surely face after defying the monster court. I wanted Marc to finally be recognized by his fellow knights, to watch as Caroline lead the journeymen knights, while learning to trust in others as she was beginning to do. I wanted Angelo continuing to unlearn the implicit biases that had been instilled in him as a result of his upbringing, or more details on Caroline and Quanyii’s relationship. I was also curious!! How would human and monster relations change after the events of the finale? And would we learn more of the past, when humans and monsters lived together in peace?

I was buzzing with excitement for season 3, and then.. it came, it aired, and then it went.

And I felt... meh?

Don’t get me wrong. There were moments that I liked. Some of what I hoped to see did happen (see the above paragraph lmao), getting a glimpse of the western wastes with its own culture a joy. The dynamics between Olala and some of the characters were really fun! And the direction the story took at the end was one I didn’t expect, but left me open to more.

That said,,, everything else about the season just. Didnt gel with me.

Everything I loved about second citadel pretty much wasn’t there??? Aside from Caroline, Angelo and Quanyii, all the characters they spent so much time introducing to us and fleshing out over 2 seasons were just relegated to the side??

I think my main problem with season 3 was that it felt like a completely different show. Characters introduced as part of an ensemble became side characters in (what was supposed to be) their own stories. Character arcs that got set up were dropped, and mysteries/backstories teased were forgotten. Heck, the monster court and senate wasn’t even brought up! The aftermath of the fear bugs attack ont the citadel went unexplored! It’s like nothing in the past season even happened!

And I’m sorry I gotta say this, but the problem is Olala.

I mean. Okay I don’t wanna be super mean- she’s perfectly fine as a character. We root for her, we cry when she cries, and we cheer when she wins the day.

But since all the episodes were centered around her, we didn’t get to see anyone else’s inner worlds. And like okay, yes, they did it for this season of Juno Steel too, where Juno, the previous POV a character for 2 seasons, became a part of an ensemble, and was a side character for many episodes. But this choice worked for Juno and not Second Citadel, because it was a natural progression for his story! We spent 2 seasons exploring Juno’s character, his backstory, his motivations, we saw him come to terms with his family history, grow and change as a person, and by the time he joined the Carte Blanche, we’d gotten to a point with Junos story where we’re okay to step away for a while, and see events through the lens of others.

But that just?? Doesn’t work in second citadel? Because unlike Juno, the characters introduced in s1-2 are virtually unexplored! There’s still so much about their stories we don’t know, and so many ways for them to progress.

But we didn’t get any of that! Stuff established in s1-2 barely got payoff in this season. Characters stagnated, and when previously it was amazing to watch them interact with each other? Having each episode throw different combinations of characters together and seeing how they clashed and came together? Yeah we didn’t get that, it was all the same characters bouncing off of Olala, which is fine at first, but honestly? After the first couple episodes, it got stale.

And remember how before, we would get to see the characters tell their story through a medium suited for them? Well I noticed that the format of this season was a lot moreee audio drama-y (basically a TV show but with no visuals) and while there’s nothing wrong with that, one of SC’s strengths was in using the medium in unique ways, presenting the episodes in unique formats depending on the POV character. And with the exception of a few moments, the season really lacked that!

I know there were episodes in s1-2, like caves of discord and the Janus beast which didnt follow that format, but I think it’s a fan consensus that the episodes that do (moonlit hermit, KOTC lots, lady of the lake) are favourites, because they fully embraced the advantages and limitations those framing devices offered, and were truly perfect for character exploration.

It’s like. Idk. Imagine wolf 359 s3 where the si5 were introduced, and there was like 1-2 episodes of them interacting with the rest of our cast, but then after that the rest of the season just completely focuses on Eiffel and the new characters, and everyone else just disappears n twiddles their thumbs and doesn’t even do anything during the finale. That’s what happened this season, and that’s the kinda weird vibe I’m talking about.

Since I’m already rambling, I might as well just say some more stuff. I was disappointed with the music this season. I can tell Ryan Vibert was trying to figure a way to make SC sound different from Juno, and he was getting there in s1-2! The pieces that stand out now are the soft, acoustic guitar pieces, like Rillas song, or the lone melody line of the guitar in the SC theme. I thought he was getting it with s3e1, when Marc fought the dinosaur while traditional Japanese instruments were playing!! But then for the rest of the season, it was just samey echoey ambient electric guitar, like how it is for Juno. There could’ve been so much potential to give this world its own musical identity, but in the end, that attempt was dropped (at least that’s how it come off to me), just like so many other elements introduced in s1-2!

I’ve gotten this far in my rant, and I haven’t even talked about the story. And the story is. Hmmmmm

Like. It’s completely serviceable? Kabert are good at what they do so the story is a okay I guess? But to be completely honest, the characters and story were so tied together in previous seasons, so much so that in this season, even though the plot was just fine, it stayed just that. Fine. it always felt like there was something missing because the characters were the story, and to have just. So many holes in that department meant that the story itself was fundamentally empty.

Anyways uh. All of this is to say that this all boils down to character. I had my nits to pick with other elements but the fact that Rilla, Arum, Damien, Marc and Talfryn got completely sidelined (Tal most of all) when so much of the previous seasons were spent setting them up- in favour of a completely new storyline featuring new characters and settings when there was still so! Much! Left! Unfinished! From unfulfilled arcs to dynamics left untapped, and creative potential lost, the essence of the show was watered down and it left me with the intense feeling of

:/

Idk. Season 3 felt like a completely different show. I liked s1, I loved a2, but s3 just. isnt second citadel for me. I’ll probably still listen to the next season out of loyalty, but I don’t think I’ll ever feel as passionately about the shows future as I do it’s precious seasons, especially if they continue this way.

Sorry.

[alexandenigtscreations]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Additional Tags: Season 3 Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, cw blood, Man of Glass episode, Whump, self doubt, new relationships Summary:

What if Juno didn't have time to heal properly from the soul incident before he and Ransom went on their first mission in the Aurinko crime family?

[Chapter 1 Link Here]

It was that same breath that woke Nureyev some odd hours later.  Sharp puffs of over warm air tuning into a series of strangled wheezes.  He felt pressure over his chest, from where Juno was hugging him tight, eye scrunched closed and trembling.  

Heart in throat, Nureyev commanded the lights on, and sucked in his breath.  He didn’t have to check to know that Juno’s injuries had gotten worse.  

“Juno?” wriggling free enough to get a hand on the other’s shoulder, “Juno, love, you have to wake up for me.”  He gave him a gentil shake. “Juno!” His clammy skin had taken an unhealthy ashen quality and the fever displayed prominently on his cheeks.  Another shake elicited a pained whimper. Again, his arm was clamped around his middle as if trying to keep the pain at bay.  

Help, Nureyev needed to call for help.  He scanned about looking for his coms and spotted them at the other end of the room.  He disentangled himself from the injured man and the blankets, stumbling over to the device and squinting down at the screen.  It was hard to read without his glasses, but it wasn’t like he had many names programmed in. He only needed one number, just one!

There!  Vespa Ilkay’s information.  He called once, no response, twice-  Juno started to cough, wet and harsh.  He was struggling to get upright but seemed unable to support himself.  Confound it all, he mashed the button a third time and went to him.

“No, no, no Love, please don’t get up.”  He did his best to brace him while he coughed, trying to take the pressure off.  He used the moment to jam his glasses on his nose, double checking he was making the right call.

The fifth and sixth calles yielded no results.  A dark stain blotted through the grey material, seeping out and down more and more of Juno’s side.  There was too much blood.

He tried Buddy- still nothing-  He balled up an undershirt and pressed it to the wound, begging the flow to stem.  Juno cried out, scrabbling at his arms, his chest, trying to push him away.

“It’s just me Detective, it’s just me-” he took a moment to stroke back his hair to calm him.  Juno cursed under his breath, his voice absolutely wrecked.  

He could go and get Vespa, but leaving Juno would be an...issue.  The man had a history of not staying put. Juno had tried vacating the hospital Nureyev had taken him to to get his eye treated.  Heavily sedated and battered though he was, he had made a valiant effort.  

Glancing at the list again, Rita’s name came into focus.  He could call her, she knew Juno well- but had almost no connection to Buddy or Vespa, which left Jet.

He tried Vespa again, nothing.  Then Jet and there! He got him on the first try.

“Jet!”  

“Ransom-?” his voice was heavy with sleep, “It’s late- can’t this wait until-”

“This can not wait, Jet.  Juno’s hurt- he needs help.” he explained urgently, hoping that this man he hardly knew would provide aid.  

“Then you should call Vespa-”

“Yes, yes, I’ve already tried Vespa and Buddy, but they are not picking up!  Please Jet, there is so much blood. It won’t stop-” he could feel the sticky warmth under the hand applying pressure, the arm that Juno still had a grip on, though it was looser than before, weaker- he refused to consider the implications.  

Oh Juno- no. His teeth bit down on his lower lip as he tried to focus.  

There was the sound of movement on the other end, rustling of fabric and rattling of items Nureyev had no patience to place.  Contact having been made, all of his attention was now back on his lady. He tried to sooth him the way that he had done in the chamber- when the pain in Juno’s skull had grown so severe he’d be forced to hover between the waking world and whatever hellish stream his mind decided to depict.  

“I did not know he was hurt on the mission.” said Jet through the coms, Nueyev nearly jumped out of his skin, he forgot Siqualiak was on the other line.

“It seemed he reopened some old injuries.” Nureyev explained, “He didn’t share how he had acquired them, but he racked up quite the collection-” his hand drifted to Juno’s forehead, wiping away the cold sweat and carefully smoothing his hair.  Juno cracked open an unfocused eye, before screwing it shut again.  

Jet hummed, there was a sound of a buzzer and Buddy’s muffled voice.

“Please tell them to hurry.”

Jet repeated the message, adding “Vespa and Buddy are on their way.  Can Juno stand?”

“No.” said Nureyev.  “I’d try to get him there myself, but I don’t know how extensive his injuries are-”  There had been so many wounds- his mind came up with dozens of scenarios where Juno could have acquired such damage- His detective had a pension for getting in over his head.  

Then again, so did he.  

For a moment, it felt like this was an extension of his crushing debt, like interest accrued because he was too much a fool to not of avoided it in the first place-

There was a pang of loss thinking about that yawning gap of time they were apart.  Perhaps, if he’d been less of a coward and kept Juno close, refused to let him leave that night, he wouldn’t have been hurting like he was now-  That he would have been spared these injuries- That he could have protected him.  

And yet- he had grown so much since they’d last been together.  He wondered if it would have happened at all if they’d been together at the time-  There was a small, petty, part of him was jealous this transformation had happened without him.  

“And Jet- he’s in my quarters.” that may require some explaining, but he could deal with that latter.

Jet grunted “That is good to know.”

“Nu-Nureyev-” shuddered Juno, and Nureyev tuned the coms out almost completely.  

“What is it?”

“I- Imma not- feelin’ so hot-” he slurred, chest working overtime to supply enough breath, fingers tangled in the material over his stomach.  

Nureyev chuckled “Not feeling so hot?  My Detective, what cued you in?” Juno’s lips ticked up “Help is on the way.”

Not long after, the small party came streaming in.  Vespa’s hostile expression dropped into a softer sneer at the sight.  

“And what the hell happened to you Steel?”

Juno laughed, a strange delirious thing that set Nureyev further on edge if that were possible “You’re gonna have ta’ be m-more specific-”

“If you’re well enough to play games Steel then you’re-”

“Vespa, darling, save your banter for a time when he can appreciate it.  I fear he’s operating on conditioned response alone.”

Vespa shook her head once, then twice before slipping closer; kneeling down to take his pulse and get a few scans from a handheld instrument.  There was something in the way that the scowl melted off her face that made Nureyev’s blood run cold.

“What’s-” his voice broke, he cleared it and tried again “What’s wrong?”

“His vitals are all screwy for starters.  Siqualiak, help me get him into the stretcher.  Ransom, keep pressure on that wound, I’ll take a look when we get to the medical ward.”

They all assumed their positions, Nureyev lightly chastising Juno for fighting the lift, though he was alarmed at how ashen he’d gotten after the move.

He chewed on the inside of his lip as they brought him to the medical ward, the stench of antiseptic preceding the room before the doors swished open.  

“Gonna need some room!” Vespa snapped clearing a path around the hover gerny.  Buddy and Jet made room, but not Nureyev. He still had his hand clamped over the wound, the other running soothing streaks through Juno’s curls.  “That includes you thief.”

“And leave a lady in distress?  How could I possibly-”

“You know what? Just- can it! Keep applying pressure while I get set up.”

Nureyev sighed and nodded.  Realizing she probably wasn’t looking he added an “Understood.” He could at least do this much.  

Juno’s glassy eye landed on his face.  “W-what’s going on-Nnn-” he squeezed his eye shut and started over “Ransom-”

“Just you’re morning check-up Detective.”  he tried for his usual airy tone. “You’re lucky our good doctor could see you so early.”

Vespa made a noise of disgust from the wash station, before moving on to placing her tools on a tray.

“ohhh, god-” Juno groaned.  “It’s-too early for this-” his breath hitched, and he grasped at Nureyev’s wrist again, but it was heartbreakingly feeble.  “H-hurts-”

“Too early?” Vespa scoffed “Moreon it was almost too late!” then to Nureyev, “Keep the pressure on.”

Nureyev nodded, desperately trying to file away the phrase ‘too late’ before it could do damage.  Juno needed him now, he hadn’t the time to indulge foolish hypothetical fears. Instead, he focused on stroking his thumb over the lady’s cheek bone, hoping to sap some of the tension from his features.  

In a smooth, practiced motion, Vespa sliced through Juno’s shirt and layers of bandages. The goar soaked layers shrinking away from her shears till she was down to the skin.  She handed Nureyev a large piece of gauze with instructions to place it over the wound after she cleared the material away.  

He tried to ignore the way Juno curled around his fist when he reapplied his weight.  Tried to ignore the stuttering gasps by covering them with sweet nothings and gentle assurances.

It was Vespa cursing that dragged Nureyev back to Juno’s condition.  Laying exposed under the harsh lights of the medical bay, he could see the fresh blottings of purple and black discoloration Juno’s skin.  Clear evidence of internal bleeding.

His lady had been bleeding out on the inside and Nureyev had almost let him.  

“God dammit!  I’m your doctor, you got a problem, see me ASAP!” Vespa exploded shooting Nureyev a look he was sure could be classified as a dangerous radical.  

“That-that wasn’t there last night-” he swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“Last night?  He’s been bleeding out since last night and you didn’t think to call me?”

Nureyev bit back his retort.  There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t make the situation worse.  The fact of the matter was Vespa was right, and he said as much.

She seemed to deflate a little, her shout dropping more to a gruff growl as she said “Next time, come to me, got it?”

Next time- Perish the thought.

“Understood.”  

Shortly after that, Vespa cast him out.  Leaving him trembling and weak on the wrong side of a door that held Juno Steel.  

He pressed his back against the wall, trying to regain control of his breath.  In through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the nose-  but the words ‘Too late’ continued to bounce around his skull, refusing to be confined.

Juno had done it again.  Risk his life, at the very least his health, for the possibility of doing some good.  This time it was a step towards the cure mother prime. A noble venture to be sure but- for some reason, the fact it was a noble pursuit hurt so much more.

Nureyev had admired the moral outrage that played on his face at Zolitovna’s soiree, invoking the familiar electric spark of their first meeting.  But now- it scared him. It had the possibility of being Juno’s making or his undoing. We are not legends -

One thing Nureyev had retained from their little chat was that Juno seemed to have regretted leaving almost as much as Nureyev had-  If Nureyev had gotten his second chance with Juno, he wanted to, had to take it. In truth, he’d been doomed the moment Juno had been accepted onto the team.  

Too late-

He refused to accept that.  The universe couldn’t be that cruel.  

“How is he Pete?”

Nureyev nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Captain!”

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No I just-” he cleared his throat, desperately trying and failing to pull on the facade of Peter Ransom “Apologies Captain.  I was surprised. Juno-” his voice broke and he tried again “Juno is in surgery.”    

“Surgery.  I didn’t know he was hurt.”

Relevant information surfaced through the muddy waters of his brain “Old injuries were aggravated.  Seems the detective got into some trouble before joining the crew.” guilt leaded his chest, restricting his lungs “I should have brought him straight to Vespa.  I should have known-” he made to run his hands through his hair and paused at the sight of red.  

Blood, Juno’s blood on his hands- again.  Why did this always seem to happen? Sure, Juno’s scars were part of his charm but, he shouldn't’ have to bear so many-  “Oh my, what a mess.”

“Pete-” he startled again which only made Buddy’s voice go all the softer “Why don’t you sit down.” she graciously offered the chair next to her.  Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that the chairs had not been there earlier, which meant she must have brought them from the kitchen.  

Nureyev complied, because of course he did.  One simply did not say no to Buddy Auranko. He padded over on unsteady legs and perched at the edge of the seat.

Buddy gave him an appraising look “I take it Juno is more than a reference to you.”  

“Pardon?”

“Juno.  You two seem to have grown closer in the few hours since the heist.  Quite different from your earlier antics.”

“Oh, I-” He cast around for an answer, something that would satisfy Buddy.  The evening's events still had him reeling. “It’s- complicated. Suffice to say, we left on questionable terms.  It’s what we were discussing last night-”

“I see.”

They lapsed into an uneasy silence.  Buddy didn’t push and he was grateful for that.  He felt as though she could filay him open and lay all his secrets bare if she desired too.  It was unsettling, to say the least. He would have to watch himself around her.  

It was hard to not think about why it was taking Vespa so long to patch up Juno.  By all accounts, Vespa was skilled in medicine. Her specialty was reserved for the field, but that should make her all the more brutally efficient.  Nureyev’s hands were still trembling- traitorous things. He clenched his fists so that the nails dug into his palms and the lichtenberg scars stood out against his wrists.  

Buddy gave his shoulder a squeeze.  “My word Pete, you’re freezing. Why don’t you go get cleaned up and we’ll see what we can do to get you warm.”

Fear shot through him at the thought of leaving, he didn’t have a chance to file it away.  What if something happened to Juno when he was gone? What if he needed something? What if Juno woke up, alone or- What if it had been too late and Juno left all over again?  A protest sprang from his lips before he could stop it.  

Buddy’s face was painfully understanding, despite his outburst.  “I’ll stay right here until you return.”

Again, one simply did not say no to Buddy Auranko-  So he made his leave, bare feet numb against the metal floor.  Then he remembered his coms and the name he didn’t call.  

“Captain,” he said “Rita, has anyone informed her about-” his hands fluttered through the air “the situation?”

“Jet has already taken care of that darling.”

He nodded, that was- good.  

Buddy had been right to ask him to wash up, he was covered in blood and Juno with his delicate sensibilities, would not take kindly to the sight.  Once alone, he tried to close off his mind and focus on the task at hand. Bussing his thoughts with as many details as he could absorb. After showering and trading sleepwear for more formal attire he was marginally more presentable, more able to wield the mask of Peter Ransom.  

Buddy was still there, her coms playing mood music as she thumbed through its contents.  She greeted him with a nod when he returned.

The rest of the time passed in a blur.  At some point, a mug of coffee was pressed into his hands, a blanket draped over his shoulders.  He’d flashed someone a smile of thanks, but couldn’t remember who-

When at long last Vespa emerged from the medbay, she greeted them with a “The moron’s awake, kind a.” She shot Nureyev a look “If you have to, you can see him.  But he’s pretty messed up, so don’t be surprised if he passes out again.”

Nureyev took the words like a stun shot to the chest.  

Juno was awake.

He offered Vespa some sort of pleasantry before rushing into the room.

Sure enough, Juno was awake and looking about bleary eyed with deep lines of exhaustion carved into his face.  But he was awake and alive and in front of Nureyev. By the stars, he missed that face.  

It was the most wonderful thing that he could have hoped for.  

“Hello Juno.” Nureyev smiled taking his place next to the detective.  “I think it’s time you and I have a little chat.”

[haunted-by-catholic-guilt]

Hold Your Heart, Be Still

Juno Steel was a lot of things.

He was a good detective, he was funny, at least in his opinion, and he had a talent for getting himself out of trouble.

He was also, however, an idiot.

But he was also Rita’s idiot, so when Mista Steel came in and looked like death warmed over, she knew just what to do.

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Hello!! This is my first fic for The Penumbra Podcast!!! I noticed a lack of sickfics for it, so I thought I better change that!

TW FOR VOMITING

TW FOR THE FOLLOWING ALL IMPLIED CHILD ABUSE, DOMESTIC ABUSE, DRUG USE

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Juno Steel was a lot of things.

He was a good detective, he was funny, at least in his opinion, and he had a talent for getting himself out of trouble.

He was also, however, an idiot.

But he was also Rita’s idiot, so when Mista Steel came in and looked like death warmed over, she knew just what to do.

He was a stubborn lady, and Rita knew this, so she had to be smart about this.

So, she started off the morning by bringing him a tea and a piece of toast, being a quiet as she could when she spoke, because if his expression was anything to go off of, he probably had a headache.

He snapped at her, of course, but that was to be expected, he was never an easy sick person, or an easy person in general, especially when hurt, or sad, or sick and it just broke Rita’s heart, no one should need to be alone when they’re not doing good!

She had to fight the urge to just hug him and wrap him up in a ton of blankets and force him to watch streams with her, but she knew that she needed to be tactical about this.

After she brought him food, and promptly got yelled at because ‘I am an adult, Rita, you don’t need to try and take care of me, I am fine’ before breaking off into a coughing fit that made her own lungs hurt, she left him alone in his office, work quietly at the desk, against her own nature.

She had gotten distracted reading an article on the computer when she heard gagging coming from Bosses office, and got out of her chair to move onto phase two of making Mr. Steel take care of himself.

She grabbed a water bottle and blanket and made her way to the Bosses office, lightly knocking on the door but only as a courtesy, not really waiting for a reply.

He looked like shit.

Mista Steels jacket was off, thrown to the side and his hair was covered in sweat, and his dark skin was ashen and a dark blush was noticeable on his face, and he was curled around a trash can on the floor.

He looked miserable and it made Rita’s heartbreak.

“Aww boss, you really aren’t doin good today.”

He groaned in reply but she swore he nodded just a little.

“Alright Mistah Steel, don’t you worry, Rita will take care of you!”

She kept her voice quiet and made her way to his side, and pressed a hand to his cheek.

“Ohhh Mista Steel that doesn’t feel too good.”

He nodded and leaned into her hand a little, a confirmation that he was really not doing well.

Rita knew that Mista Steel didn’t know how to accept affection most times, and that besides his brother there wasn’t any in that family.

Boss had told her when he was drunk once about how whenever he was sick as a child, Ben would sit with him and tell stories and would bring him soup and water, while trying to protect him from their mom.

He had also told her about his time with Diamond, and how the few times he got sick, whether from drugs, alcohol, or just plain sick, how they screamed at him for hours about how he was a waste and would slap him senseless if he ever needed to go to the doctor.

And so, Mista Steel tended to shut down when he was sick, and Rita didn’t even blame him.

She pressed the water bottle to his lips and he took a small sips before it was too much and he jerked away, throwing himself over the trash can again, heaving nothing into it.

“Aww, boss.”

She quickly took the blanket and wrapped it around his shaking frame before rubbing his back until he finally slumped down and she pulled him into her, resting his head on her thighs.

“Alright Mista Steel, let’s get you out of here and into a bed.”

He didn’t show any sign that he processed what she said, so she pushed him up so she could stand and help him up, but as soon as she did, he let out a noise that sounded like a whine and curled into himself, and it almost sounded like he was crying.

“Oh Mista Steel it’s alright, I’m still here, just wanted to stand up and get you into a real bed, alright boss?”

He looked up at her and his eyes were clouded and clueless.

She carefully helped him up, and they slowly made their way to her car, very slowly with many breaks just so Boss could catch his breath and not pass out.

When she finally got Mista Steel to her car, he looked even worse for wear and immediately curled into a ball on the seat.

“Alright Mista, let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

He didn’t reply, but he did shift a little when she tapped his shoulder, so she got up and went to get him out of the car.

“Come on boss.”

He didn’t move, didn’t even show any acknowledgment that he heard her.

“Come on Mista Steel, you’re startin to worry me and you know I’ve seen too many streams that start like this and end in a zombie apocalypse.”

He stirred a little when she placed a hand on his cheek, and if even possible he was warmer than before.

“Oooh boss, you aren’t doing too well are you.”

He finally opened his eyes, dark and glassy with fever, and he looked up at her, but mostly staring through her it seemed.

“Alright, Boss, can you get out of the car for me?”

He closed his eyes again, but did move out of the car, and Rita wrapped her arm around his waist and did her best to stabilize him.

After a significant struggle, she did get him into her apartment, knowing he wouldn’t have stuff at his own, and got him into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie she had once stolen from him just in case, and got him all curled up into bed.

She pattered around for a bit, getting a cold cloth, some medicine for him to take, and a thermometer to take his temperature, which she knew was too high for her liking.

“Mista Steel? Can you sit up for a second?”

The lady groaned but after some convincing moved so she could take his temperature and force foul-tasting medicine down throat followed by many apologies and a coughing fit.

“Okay boss, you just rest now and Rita will be right here.”

She wasn’t really sure when he fell asleep, but she did recognize when he started to thrash around and call out for Ben.

“Oooh, Mista Steel.”

Her heart ached, and it didn’t take her long to climb up on his bed next to him and start to pet the lady’s hair, hushing him and trying to wake him up, offering any comfort she could.

It took far too long for him to calm down, to wake up at all, and he cycled through crying out for ben, begging for someone to stop, to cowering almost in fear and it broke Rita’s heart.

“You’re alright boss, it’s just Rita, just me.”

She didn’t even realize the hands clutching onto her sweater like a lifeline until he calmed down and started to relax, it made her smile softy, it was a reassurance to her that the lady trusted her.

She crawled out of the bed after a bit, and curled up back in the chair next to the bed, settling the cold cloth back on his forehead, and set to quietly watching a stream she had downloaded on her com.

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Juno didn’t know where he was and he didn’t enjoy that.

It was warm, soft, and smelt like sweat, mostly and someone was snoring next to him.

He pried open his eyes, relieved to not be blinded by bright lights, but greeted by mostly darkness, only a dim light from a night light.

He was in a bed.

He turned his head slightly, which apparently was a mistake, because he was hit by an overwhelming wave of nausea and vertigo.

He made a noise and swallowed, he didn’t want to be sick, he didn’t like being sick, and whoever was next to him shifted.

“Mista Steel?”

It was Rita.

He swallowed thickly again, and his secretary made a quiet noise before quickly grabbing a bucket she had thought to bring to the bed, and helped her boss up.

“Alright boss, you’re okay.”

He dry heaved into the bucket while she rubbed his back, whispering soft reassurances that he was okay and safe.

He’d never admit it, but he needed it.

When he was done being sick, he slumped back down, and Rita set the bucket down, and sat on the bed next to him.

“What happened?”

He asked, still not sure exactly what happened, he’d been sober for years and the last time this happened was when-

“You came into work sick, got worse, so I took ya here! Needta keep my boss alive!”

She sounded cheerful in a way he couldn’t understand, happy about taking care of him or that he was alive?

Either way, he couldn’t understand.

He was suddenly hit with memories of when he was ill with Diamond, how they yelled for hours of how he was taking up their time, how they once slammed his already aching head into the wall-

How not even half an hour later they were apologizing and kissing his forehead and making him soup.

“Steel- Mista Steel- are ya in there?”

Shit.

Rita was still talking.

“Sorry… just kinda zoned out.”

She put her small hand against his forehead, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t… comforting.

“Alright boss, you should get some more rest, we ain’t workin for the next few days.”

She shuffled into the bed next to him, and made herself comfortable.

“Do ya mind if I put on a stream? I got a really cool one I think you’ll like about a detective and super awesome sidekick who-“

He nodded slowly as he let himself slip against her shoulder, letting himself slip back into sleep.