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papermoonloveslucy · 1 year

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623 ~ Part 2

623 East 68th Street: The Most Iconic Address on Television!

623: THE BUILDING

The Mertzes apartment building was completely fictional. Although based on traditional New York brownstones, the address 623 East 68th Street would have been located in the East River!

All the scenes had to be filmed on one of two soundstages in Hollywood, California. The Ricardo apartment took up the bulk of the studio, with a larger space for the Tropicana. Everything else had to be staged within the Tropicana set (far right).

In the long-unaired "I Love Lucy” pilot (1951), the Ricardos don’t live at 623 East 68th Street, but in a seventh floor apartment in the Theatre District. When the writers invented the characters of Fred and Ethel Mertz for the series, Lucy and Ricky’s address was changed. Being a ‘house-bound’ sitcom, location was integral to the show’s success. Location, Location, Location!

623 may be based on the Wilcox Apartments in Jamestown, NY. Lucy and her family moved there after being forced to sell their family home in nearby Celoron.

~ THE STREET ~

The front of the building was seen in five episodes: “Getting Ready” (1954). Is that Central Park in the background?

“Lucy Learns to Drive” (1955) ...

“California Here We Come” (1955) ...

“The Homecoming” (1955) ...

and “The Ricardos Are Interviewed” (1955).

View of East 68th Street in “Lucy and Superman” (1957) from...

~ THE LEDGE ~

Lucy went out on the ledge to spy on Ricky and the Mertzes in “Lucy Cries Wolf” (1954). She ventured out there again in “Lucy and Superman” (1957). In “Wolf” the ledge only extended to the wall, but in “Superman” it extends around the corner and under the vacant apartment window, an architectural anomaly only possibly on television!

~ THE BASEMENT / FURNACE ROOM ~

When “Lucy Writes a Novel” (1954) her shredded roman a clef is set to be burned with the trash.

The basement / furnace room is also the location of “The Freezer” (1952). Trying to hide her newly-bought beef from Ricky, she stashes it in the furnace. When Fred lights gets a chill, it’s a barbecue feast for everyone at 623!

The furnace (aka ‘the snooper’s friend) was used as an intercom in “The Gossip” (1952) and “The Anniversary Present” (1952).

~ THE BACK PORCH / FIRE ESCAPE ~

The back doors / porches of 623 are first seen in “Pioneer Women” (1952). The script called for Ricky to ride the horse through the door of the Ricardos' apartment. But when the horse saw the audience during filming, it got spooked so badly that the scene had to be changed so Ricky could ride the horse to the apartment building's back porch.

Then again in “Never Do Business with Friends” (1953). Such porches were common in California apartment buildings, but less so in New York City.

The Mertz’s back entrance in “The Quiz Show” (1951).

“Too Many Crooks” (1953) gives us a glimpse of the fire escape outside the Ricardo bedroom.

~ THE ROOF ~

“Vacation from Marriage” (1952), Lucy and Ethel get themselves locked on the roof!

“Ricky and Fred are TV Fans” (1952) shows us a slightly different view of the roof during the same season. This will be the last time we see ‘Lucy on the Roof’! Sounds crazy, no?

ETHEL: “Listen, I happen to own this building!” COP: “Yeah, and I’m J. Edgar Hoover.”

~ CLOSET SPACE ~

A major selling point for any apartment is closet space! In “I Love Lucy”, however, closets weren’t just for coats. In “The Kleptomaniac” (1952), Lucy and Ethel store treasures for their club tag sale in the Ricardo closet.

In “Sentimental Anniversary” (1954), Lucy and Ricky’s plan for a romantic anniversary dinner at home is interupted by the Mertzes - so they hide in the closet.

The Ricardo apartment has his 'n’ her closets on both sides of the bed. In “The Fur Coat” (1951), Lucy keeps her iconic polka dot dress in hers.

In “Drafted” (1951), Lucy and Ethel invite folks to the boy’s going away party, while at the same time, Ricky and Fred invite folks to celebrate Lucy and Ethel’s blessed event. The hall closet gets crowded when they both stow arriving guests in there!

In “The New Neighbors” (1952), Lucy hides out in the O’Brien’s closet - disguising herself as an armchair!

When “The Ricardos Change Apartments” (1953), Lucy stores all Little Ricky’s things in the closet to prove to Ricky they need more space.

When the Ricardos return from Hollywood in “The Homecoming” (1955), Mrs. Trumbull has saved all the newspapers for Ricky because they don’t get The New York Times in California.

When “Lucy’s Mother-in-Law” (1954) visits, Lucy has cleaned up by hastily throwign everything in the closet - which fails to stay shut.

More Closet Comedy:

In “Little Ricky Gets a Dog” (1957) ~ Lucy hides Fred the dog in a sombrero, the stashes it in the closet when new tenant Mr. Stewart drops by.

In “Ricky’s European Booking” (1955) ~ Lucy hides the newly printed Ladies Overseas Aid raffle tickets in the closet so Ricky doesn’t see them.

In “Sales Resistance” (1953) ~ Lucy hides her new Handy Dandy Vacuum Cleaner in the closet. Unfortunately, she fails to unplug it. When Ricky flips the light switch, the machine starts up!

In “The Saxophone” (1952) ~ Ricky turns the tables on Lucy (who was trying to make Ricky jealous) by stashing three men in the closet.

~ THE HALLWAYS ~

In “Oil Wells” (1954) a bickering Lucy and Ethel call a truce in the hallway where a framed print of L'école de Dance (School of Ballet) adorns the wall.

In “Sentimental Anniversary” (1954) the hallway is decorated with Woman in White Dress.

In the hallway outside the “New Neighbors” (1952) apartment, is a framed lithograph of “Off to Market” painted by Diego Rivera in 1937.

~ THE STAIRWELLS ~

“Lucy Cries Wolf” (1954)

Lucy is the prisoner of East 68th Street!

~ THE NEIGHBORHOOD ~

In “Sales Resistance” (1953), Lucy loses one of her shoes trying to sell the vacuum cleaner. It got stuck in the door of 310 East 69th Street. Above, the address as it looks today!

In “Ricky Has Labor Pains” (1953), Fred throws Ricky a Daddy Shower at the East 68th Street Athletic and Recreation Society.

When “The Ricardos Are Interviewed” (1955), Ricky’s new agent Johnny Clark starts hinting that the Ricardos should think about moving out of 623 into a swankier address.

FRED: “They don’t build ‘em like this anymore!” CLARK: “They haven’t built them like this in more than a hundred years.”

Lucy and Ricky seriously consider it, but end up staying put - at least until they move to Connecticut. But...

#I Love Lucy #623 East 68th Street #New York City #TV #Lucille Ball #Desi Arnaz #William Frawley #Vivian Vance

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azuras-antics · 4 years

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I can’t be the only one that thought of this

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alexandenigtscreations · 3 years

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Chapters: 6/7 Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Poisoning, blaster shot,... Summary:

Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev make a good team. But when a bank job goes horribly wrong, the injured pair are forced to lay low and hope the Carte Blanche can make it back to them in time.

Note: Bold Italic Writing signifies Nureyev speaking Brhamese

Chapter 6:

The dim light of the safe house shined supernaturally bright after the darkness outside. The planetoid revolved slowly, so it would be another day or so before they found themselves back in the sun’s rays.

Hopefully they would be gone by that time.

Nureyev blinked against the brightness, realizing he cracked a lens during the excursion. At the moment he was too tired to care. The Carte Blanch held a spare set or two dozen for just such an occasion.

No, the only thing he had room to think about was Juno.

Juno, his goddess, was still sleeping on the couch. Still in the same recovery position that Nureyev had left him in.

"It's been a- a while - Juno-" he said to the still form. Juno didn’t stir. Nureyev hadn’t expected him to.

All the same, the Thief stumbled over to the Detective and plopped down on the makeshift coffee table. If he was being honest with himself, and he rarely was, there was something comforting about being this close to his partner again.

Juno's chest rose and fell with a frantic rhythm and his eye danced under the lid. Nureyev frowned. Whatever dream he seemed to be having, it didn’t look to be a good one.

Nureyev contemplated the wisdom of waking Juno. If this was their room on the Carte Blanche, he’d have done it already, chasing away the nightmares that plagued him. He paused, halfway to the pulse point at the lady’s throat.

The pepper bomb residue still tingled on his skin, it probably wouldn't hurt Juno, goodness knows he was a tough lady- but all the same it would be best to wash up beforehand.

Rita had agreed to message him if she noticed guards near the safe house. Judging by the live feed she’d sent, the security was still in a frenzy over Nureyev’s earlier theatrics. That was something, at least.

He sighed, wilting over his knees. He should call Vespa. He should report to the Captain. He should be securing the safe house. He should be doing anything other than watching the little dots on the comms screen buzz about his last known location.

It was some time before Nureyev felt ready to stand again.

The smoke had worked its way into everything. His hair, skin, clothes, makeup, everything. This was promising to be a production.

Carefully he shrugged off his coat and set to work in the sink. A quick glance at the mirror told him what he already knew. Gone were the knife sharp cat eyes and the carefully contoured cheeks. Now the coverage was patchy at best and gore splattered at worst. Nureyev scoured down the grime on his hands and aggressively attacked the makeup streaks. The water wasn’t working fast enough, each plunge setting him to ache afresh. Under him, his leg was trembling, threatening to give out at any moment.

There was nothing for it, he’d just have to shower the stuff off. It wasn’t like he ever dried off from the earlier river dip anyways. With an impatient puff of air, he sat himself on the toilet and stripped off boots, socks, corset and shirt. All of these items have been protected from the worst of the fumes by the long coat. Not so his trousers.

At first the icy water activated the chemical residue afresh. He scrubbed his skin raw with a bar of upscale hotel soap. Well, the hotel it came from may have been upscale, but the soap itself was as mediocre as any other hotel soap. He glared at it as though it was it’s fault he was in this mess. Fresh scrapes and bruises blossomed across his chest and arms.

The water ran off in muddy brown and rusted red, gradually fading sudsy clear as blood stains and dirt alike were rinsed away.

Shaking with effort, Nureyev slid down onto the shower stool. In his impatience, he’d forgotten about the bandage.

First rule of thieving, Nureyev chastised himself, if you want to stay alive, keep a level head.

Numb fingers struggled with the bandage fastenings. It was harder to remove the wrappings than it had been to apply them. He expanded the tear in the leg seam to gain better access, exposing the burn beneath. The sight churned his stomach, which was something. He’d never considered himself squeamish. There was something unsettling about seeing your own flesh distorted in such a fashion….

The angry red of the burn was expected, unpleasant, but expected. But wasn’t prepared for the purple tinged veins webbing out from the injury or how tight the skin was stretched about it.

File it away- just file it away.

As soon as he was out of the shower and re-clothed; Nureyev decided to take Vespa’s advice and down a glass of water. It repeated on him just as quick and he was left bowed over the sink, coughing and sputtering while his stomach roiled. His knuckles turned to white over the porcelain as he waited for the nausea to die down.

Face bare and hair free of product, he could plainly see the high flush on his cheeks and bruised circles under his eyes. “Oh what are you looking at?” he rasped at his haggard reflection. He should have known better, did know better. He’d had enough experience to know when he could and couldn’t keep something down.

That horrid chill bit deeper into his bones, conspiring with the fire of the injury to make him thoroughly miserable.

This wasn’t right, he knew. This wasn’t supposed to be how a blaster shot felt- fresh or no. Goodness knows he’s had enough of them. And the purpling veins were down right... unpleasant.

Nureyev sighed, bringing out two glasses of water and a clean cloth ripped in two.

“Juno, love.” Nureyev coaxed, all but collapsing on the tiny coffee table. He could do this while he slept, but much rather the lady be awake to take his fluids. “Love-” he coaxed, running his fingers through his curls like he'd wanted to ever since his return. He was rewarded with a gentle moan and Juno pressing into his hand.

“Love- You have to drink for me-”

“Don’ feel good.” his voice was so weak, Nureyev tried not to think about what that could mean.

“I know-” he said, dipping the cloth in the water and bringing it to Juno’s lips, “J-Just take the water from that.”

Juno pulled away from the cold, hand wrapping around Nureyev’s wrist. “Naugh’ a child-”

Nureyev chuckled fondly “Drink, or Vespa will have both our heads.”

“Vespa?”

“I d-dare say she isn't too…. pleased at the moment.”

“Wha else ‘s new?” Juno commented, but took the cloth from Nureyev. He was tentative at first but really started to pull on it, dipping messily back in the cup for more.

“Slow, if you d-don’t want it repeating on you.” Juno hummed in affirmation. That would have to do.

Nureyev took a hit off his own cloth and turned his attention to the injury. Though the surrounding skin had dried by now, the burn itself was swollen and oozing a clear fluid. This close and the discoloration to the veins was easy to see. He didn’t need Vespa to tell him that it had been contaminated. Didn’t need her to explain that the speed at which the inflammation was spreading was concerning. Didn’t need her to tell him there was nothing that could be done about it till he returned to the ship.

File it away.

“Hh-hell, ‘Reyev-” He jumped, twisting to see Juno staring. His eye was wide, glassy and his parlor was more ashen than before.

“Lay back love.” Nureyev soothed, gently pushing Juno back. The Detective collapsed under his gentle touch with a little strangled sound. “D-don’t look.” He hadn’t meant for him to see. The thought of moving to another room, of having to stand another minute, made him sick. Still, he should have tried harder to spare Juno.

“It’s- bad-” as distorted as his words were, Nureyev could tell it was a statement, not a question.

“Nothing that c-can’t be managed.” he shivered. He almost believed it. “Have some more water- i-if you can.”

Nureyev tried to work quickly, using what little remained of the smuggler’s first aid kit to clean the wound and apply burn ointment. The task was made difficult by clumsy cold hands. The exercise may prove pointless, but at least nothing else was likely to add to the contamination.

He should make a report to Buddy, maybe even get some answers as to what was going on with the Carte Blanche.

Nureyev pursed his lips looking at the comms. His mind was fuzzy at the edges, from fatigue and stress. A call with someone who could see through so much of his cover on a good day, was daunting.

And yet….

“Captain Auranko.” his usual smooth voice was rough and unwieldy. "I believe it is t-time for a r-report."

"Pete, darling you sound dreadful." Nureyev couldn't tell if she was disappointed or concerned. Perhaps both.

"Yes well, a l-lot has... transported."

"Transpired?"

"Quite." He coughed. "We have e-encountered several….troubles. The b-box is fine but they are a-aware we are still within the c-city."

"Yes, I've heard something of your predicament Pete. I assure you we are doing everything we can to collect you."

"When , Captain." He coughed harder, "we are r-running out of the…" he couldn't remember the right word " time- "

There was a pause, voices in the back, urgent and cutting. He'd lose her- he’d lose her before he’d a chance to get answers, to get help.

"P-please, Captain-"

She sighed, "I'll be frank with you Pete. Listen closely because we don't have time for questions."

The thief cleared his throat "Of course-"

"Planetoid Xnon is owned by Galactic Stars First Bank. The entire place is on lockdown after our stunt." There was a strange sound like crunching metal and Buddy gave a sharp intake of breath. Shouting something to the Carte Blanche team.

"They know t-the Carte Blanche is there." Nureyev commented. He didn't have to be a detective to put that together.

"Quite."

"Ah." The complicated note of emotion welled up within, there wouldn't be a rescue, they wouldn't be able to get close. The bank would get them in the end and there would be nothing he could do about it. Nureyev felt the knot in his throat before he had a chance to file it away. "S-so we are to be… left b-behind." Made to follow their pirates deal.

"And leave two injured crew to fend for themselves against an overgrown bully? I think not, dear. Jet and Rita have been coordinating their efforts, we will beat them yet."

"Captain-"

"There is no need to be such a negative man Pete. We will get back to you. These bank executives made the mistake of coveting two things that are mine, my crew and my information. I'm not in the mood for sharing."

Nureyev let out a strangled sort of laugh that was far from his usual chuckle.

"I will transfer you to Vespa, keep us in the loop darling."

"No need f-for the transfer. T-tell her things are much the s-same on our end. We will await the next contact."

"Very well, I'll defer to your judgement then Pete. Buddy out."

Nureyev sagged at the call end. He'd the distinct feeling like Buddy was withholding something from them. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad that ng, so he filed that away for future consideration.

"They kknow 'bout tha ship?" Juno inquired in the lull.

"It would seem s-so." Nureyev said. He had no intention of lying to Juno, even in a state like this.

"J-Jet and Rita are on it though."

"Rita-" Juno gave a snort, "almos' feel bad- for-” he gasped “'em- ah-" His face twisted and he curled tighter on himself.

“L-love, you should- reset.” he said, scooting himself over so that he was within reach of Juno.

“You’re ss-switchin’ words- Reyev-” he was looking up at him with that glassy eye.

“What?”

“Switching- words-” Juno tried again. “You’ve been- doin’ it a lot-”

Then it clicked.

“I-" he floundered, " Oh my. I hadn’t realized-” and he hadn’t. But now that he was actually thinking about it, he’d been doing it for a while. His hand drifted up to his traitorous lips. That was definitely a hit to his professional pride. It had been a long time since he'd slipped like this; would that only get more common as he got older? Or....

File it away-

"You're- tired- too-" Juno added, reaching out to put his hand on Nureyev's knee. It seemed to be meant as a squeeze, but his fingers couldn't quite manage. He'd likely be unable to work a blaster in this state.

He was defenseless.

Just file it all away-

"It's- alright." Nureyev shrugged delicately.

"No- it's s'not."

Nureyev hummed, wrapping his fingers about Juno's wrist, feeling the pulse point fast and light. In truth, he would be alright as long as Juno's heart kept beating.

After Juno drifted off once more, Nureyev took to securing the safe house again. Moving around more than was wise judging by the dizzy spells.

One eye was on the guard locator Rita sent, another kept on his love.

Two hours passed, Vespa called, Juno was examined again. His heart rate was inching up but otherwise, he was much the same. She didn't know when they'd return. Nureyev's eyelids itched to close. He could not rest yet.

He refused.

To keep awake, he attempted a few mobility exercises. A near collapse on the second set led him to abandon the attempt. The movements weren’t hard, per say, but they were deceptively taxing. One that left him shaking and gasping on the ground. Forgetting that was a stupid, foolish mistake. Nureyev was slipping.

The buzzing of an incoming call forced him back to reality. He’d been dangerously close to nodding off again, lulled into stillness by the mirriorid aches and pains that plagued him. It was Vespa, goodness, had it really been two hours?

Her tone held none of it’s usual bite. If Nureyev didn’t know better, he’d call it concern. Juno was much the same, fast asleep, curled on his side, face pinched in pain. Nureyev longed to kiss it away. As if he was of any use to the Detective now.

________________________

He patrolled the safehouse again, pausing in front of the crates. They easily outnumbered the pair. The more Nureyev considered them, the more ominous he found their hidden insides to be. What if they had listening devices inside? Cameras? Drones? It could also be completely innocuous-

It was reminding him of the old earth thought experiment. There was a cat in a box, and you didn’t know if the cat was alive or dead until you opened that box. Until you did, both possibilities remained true at once. He thought that old earthlings must have been very cruel or cowardly to trap such a creature in the first place and not check on it’s welfare. In his current state, he related very much to the cat.

Were the contents of the crate dangerous? Or harmless? There was only one way to find out.

Nureyev pulled up a smaller box for a seat and set a plasma cutter to the side. Slicing through the synth wood till it hung loose from the hinge left against the floor. He glanced over at Juno and pulled.

Tiny vials cascaded from the packing fungus. Nureyev jumped, jarring his leg and hissing. It was a far cry from what he’d been expecting. Cautiously, he reached in and scooped up a tiny glass bottle bearing the legend ‘ Saffron Pharmaceuticals, Venucian SARS-97 Vaccine ’

He grabbed another squinting at the label ‘ Saffron Pharmaceuticals, Venucian SARS-97 Vaccine ’

A brief investigation revealed the entire crate contained the long expired vaccines. Nureyev stood, dizzied by the sudden motion and moved to the next crate. This too contained medical devices, two ventilators and their accompanied equipment. Another crate contained bandages and antiseptic. Another filled with tiny computerized vital monitors. Still another was cramped with some sort of scanning tech. Crate after crate contained specialized medical supplies.

Nureyev’s chest constricted, wherever these had intended to go, they were meant to save people on the Outer Rim. Not be left to rot in a forgotten smuggler den.

Out of morbid curiosity, he snagged a few of the vials for future consideration. Then sent a picture of the medical equipment to Vespa with a caption “Would these items still be of use?”

There would have been many people on Brahma alone that would have benefited from such equipment. It was near impossible to get on the war torn Outer Rim. Frustration bubbled out from some locked file. In his fatigued state, it was near impossible to hold it back.

Just then, the Detective stirred. The file snapped shut and Nureyev hobbled back to his love.

Something seemed to have changed, even through the brain fog, it was plain to see.

“J-Juno?” Nureyev asked.

Juno let out a low pained groan, fingers twisting into his stomach. “ ‘Reyev- ” he gasped, his chest stuttering. “ Nu-reyev- ” he was struggling as if trying to force himself upright.

“What’s ha-happening love-”

“Hu- hur’s -” he keened. Nureyev’s blood ran cold, his hands fluttering over the lady. Unsure whether he should push him back down or help him up.

“Hurts? Juno- w-what hurts?”

Juno swayed on his elbow, eye screwed shut.

“ Love ?”

He looked as though he was going to be sick. Nureyev pushed a bin under him just in time for him to wretch. His whole body shook from the force of it, he was left gasping from the strain before it hit him again. A curdled mass of red splattered against the bottom of the bin.

Blood

Juno was bleeding on the inside.

Nureyev didn’t wait for him to finish, he called Vespa barely able to keep the panic down.

“I’m kind of busy thief, if this is about the equi-”

“Juno’s Bleeding !” Nureyev choked out.

“Whut?”

“Please Vespa- Juno- Juno is-” he groped for the right phrase, “How do you say- internal bleeding-'' the Brahmese slipped out of his mouth before he could think to stop it. Juno heaved again, dissolving into dry heaves. Nureyev wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. “Sick on blood.” he managed at long last.

“Wait, you're telling me he’s vomiting blood?”

“Yes.”

She swore.

“How d-do I stop it?”

“Ransom-” she sounded tired. Almost defeated. He couldn't understand. There had to be something he could do, anything that he could do.

“Please- I-” he was hyperventilating now, getting dizzy from it. Juno was shaking in his spare arm, just keeping himself from toppling over. He couldn't lose him, not like this. “Please-” his voice broke.

“Whoa, hey! First Ransom, I’m going to need you to breathe for me! Sheish!” He tried, grounding himself with the heat radiating from Juno. “Okay look, I can’t promise anything right now, but gonna need you to turn on the video feed, I need to see what’s going on.” He did.

As before he followed her instructions. Juno seemed to collapse in on himself, curling around his core.

“Here’s the story Ransom.” Nureyev perked up, trying with all his might to focus on Vespa’s voice. “He’s in bad shape.” he snorted, he knew that. “But judging by the color and texture of the blood, it's a slow bleed. We have the time to get to you.”

“S-so, I am to w-sit in idle the entire time?”

“Your Job, Thief, is the same as before!” she snapped, sounding more like her usual self. “His heart and brain need blood circulation to elevate his feet.” Nureyev got a box to prop Juno’s feet on and carefully turned him onto his back. Juno whined at the motion and Vespa swore loudly “Not on his back Thief! Damn it! Want him to choke if he ralfs again?! Keep him on his side, the recovery position.” Nureyev could kick himself as he hurried to comply, Juno made another piteous sound that tugged at his heart. “No, it’s not comfortable, but it will improve his chances of survival.”

It was harder than it should have been to move Juno, he was panting by the end, the world swirling “What n-now?”

“If he can keep it down, get water into him. Mostly just keep him alive until we get there.”

“When will that be- ” he was frustrated, tired. He wanted answers. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to massage out the headache that had taken residence in his temples.

“I don’t know what you are playing at Ransom, but I don’t speak Brahmese!”

“Wha- I-” he swallowed, he’d done it again. Maybe if he just ignored it- “W-when are you coming?”

“Look, we’ll keep you apprised. And goddamnit, do something about that chill. I can’t deal with you keeling over on us. Talk to you next check in.” and she hung up.

He just had to wait it out.

He could do that. A shiver passed down his spine, clothes scraping over hypersensitive skin.

He could wait.

________________

It was getting- hard- to concentrate. Nureyev couldn't patrol the safe house anymore, could scarcely move. So instead, he was saving what was left of his strength for what was to come. Whatever that may be.

The fatigue was crushing and still he kept his eyes open. He would not leave Juno, not if there was anything he could do about it.

He squeezed the handle of the blade, the sharp edges of the bare handle digging into his palm. Over and over he squeezed until it hurt, and backed off, lulling himself into a half hypnotic state. So long as he could squeeze, he could feel the pain, so long as he felt the pain, he could stay awake.

It was different from the consuming burn in his leg, the unruly, hungry sort of agony that was far beyond his control. Far beyond anything he could file away.

The squeezing distracted from it, in a small way. Any relief was welcome.

Nureyev bowed over his knees, eyes trained on the comms screen and the blurry dots migrating over the surface of the map. Squeezing the handle. Paying no attention to the moisture working it’s way down his wrist.

It had been- hours- since they last heard from the Carte Blanche. Hours since he heard a peep out of Juno- The only way the thief could be sure Juno was alive was the heat rolling off his skin.

They’ve been abandoned.

He was sure.

Buddy Auranko had promised that the Carte Blanche would be more than a team, that it would be a family. He snorted derisively. He should have taken Juno and run right then and there. Family’s only ever brought suffering.

The burn gave a particularly nasty throb, Nureyev jumped, hissing against the onslaught, clutching high over the wound. How long would they last like this?

The comms started to beep. Nureyev glanced down and saw activity on the screen. The details were lost to him, but what was known was that the guards of Galactic Stars First Bank were on the move.

He wasn’t sure what that could mean, but it couldn’t be good.

There was a rattling at the door. Nureyev’s heart plummeted. Now? Of all times. Why couldn't they just leave them alone?

Someone, or something pounded on the door, a large someone judging by the racket it made, setting Nureyev’s head to pound. There were voices from the other end. Nureyev’s mind stretched them into something sinister and ominous. He straightened his leaden limbs. Preparing himself.

If they expected him to go out without a fight, then they were sorely mistaken.

The door was flung open and Nureyev used the last of his strength to launch himself at the intruders. The blade sung through the air, making contact judging by the grunt. A large blurry person shouted, staggering away from the knife.

They weren’t fighting back.

That was strange. Not only weren’t they fighting back, but they seemed to be calling out to him- As though they- recognized him.

It did nothing to soothe his fears.

Nureyev collided painfully with the door jam wheeling around and-

“‘ansom! Ransom! We are not a threat! Ransom!”

He staggered, a familiar figure in a tan overcoat swam before his eyes.

Nureyev- knew that coat.

“J-Jet?” he asked, bewildered. How was it possible that they were there? They’d left them? Hadn’t they? Blackness encroached on what was left of his vision.

“Yes. We have come to collect you.”

“Oh- Thank the stars- ” and Nureyev knew no more.

#the penumbra podcast #Fanfic #tpp #junoverse #jupeter #tw blood #tw vomiting #tw negitive self talk #juno steel #Peter Nureyev #whump #hurt comfort #AlexandeNight #my writing #etc

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jsuporandson · 3 years

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The Miracle on the Hudson Reaches its Final Destination

Joseph Supor III, President of J. Supor & Son Trucking & Rigging Co., Inc. has had the distinct honor of being a part of this successful recovery mission:

"This has truly been a miracle from start to finish. I have had the opportunity to meet some of the most wonderful people along the way and I am ecstatic that my company was afforded the privilege to transport "The Miracle on the Hudson" to the Carolinas Aviation Museum in Charlotte, North Carolina.

"I would like to say that the true hero is Captain "Sully" Sullenberger. It was his expertise and commitment to duty that landed this A-320 Airbus into the Hudson River within five minutes. It was the co-pilot, flight attendants and the passengers of Flight #1549 that were also heroes. The heroism didn't stop there, the first responders beginning with Waterway Ferries who acted so quickly and professionally to rescue all passengers in the water. The New York Police and Fire Departments were also critical to the rescue mission. We assisted only after all the passengers were brought to safety. I would like to thank all of my employees for working diligently through the chilling evening until the aircraft was removed from the water and raised up to the surface as well as throughout the process of storing and preparing the plane again for its final journey home. I would also like to commend Weeks Marine who partnered with us by providing the barge and crane in the water.

"I would also like to thank all the States DOT's and Engineers, each Police Department, State Trooper, County Official and all the town Mayors that went above and beyond to help us navigate through our permitted route. If not for the combined effort of all, this move could not have been accomplished. The outpouring of support throughout the country has been overwhelming and I'm reminded again why I'm so proud to be an American.

"Furthermore, I want to apologize to all the people that were inconvenienced on the road during the time of our transportation. My sincere gratification is to Mayor John Button and the residents of Moorestown, New Jersey. I thank you all for your patience during the unexpected delay caused by a highly difficult turn and allowing for the removal of obstacles that impeded us from continuing our journey.

"It was everyone working together as a team that made this a real part of history. You could just see the hope, compassion, and relief in the eyes of everyone present. We knew it was a miracle in the works and it proved to be truly that."

Joseph Supor III - President

#miracleonthehudson #heavyhauling #trucking #jsupor

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insfiringyou · 5 years

Text

BTS - Coffee Date (Suga x Jeong-sun)

This is part of our headcanon universe and ongoing storyline (post military enlistment) and takes place a week after Yoongi fixes Jeong-sun’s boiler in ‘A Change of Plans’.

(The ex girlfriend mentioned by Yoongi in this is Kim, who is the focus of our earliest Yoongi headcanon fic ‘Suga’s first gf cheats on him’.) Warnings for brief mentions of drugs.

Find out more about the ongoing plot and original characters in our headcanon universe here)

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook

& Our full masterlist can be found here

Content below cut

Jeong-sun inhaled the sweet scent of sugar-sprinkled pastries and roasted coffee beans in the chilly winter air of the narrow street. She hugged her arms across her navy sweater, hooking her handbag into the crook of her armpit as she peered through the glass door of the coffee house on the corner, into the cosy space beyond. Yoongi was waiting patiently for her by the refrigerated unit which housed the chilled drinks, dressed casually in a slender pair of black jeans and a cream ribbed sweater. She noticed his hair had grown some more despite having last seen him only the week before and she had to fight the rising nerves she felt as she grasped the door handle.

Over the past week, the giddy feelings of sickness she had experienced since he visited her apartment slowly began to disperse as her memory of their final moments together in her bedroom, faded. The fierce, longing way he had looked at her as she presented herself in the doorway, wearing the new dress she had bought with him in mind, was starting to feel like something which had happened to someone else; more surreal as the days passed. With a deep breath, she opened the door and was relieved when he glanced at her with nothing more than casual pleasure at her having finally shown up. The bell above the door tinkled softly, indicating her arrival, and he stepped forward to greet her by the counter.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” She mumbled, joining him in the line of customers waiting to be served. “The traffic near the river was awful.”

He shook his head, letting her know it was okay. A low murmur of background chatter floated from the dozen or so tables dotted around the space; the coffee house was surprisingly busy for 2pm on a weekday and it took them a few minutes to be seen. Yoongi ordered a black filter coffee before turning to Jeong-sun.

“What are you having?”

She hesitated, remembering her offer to pay for them both.

“A large latte?”

He nodded before repeating the order to the barista and she switched places with him as he peered into the glass unit beneath the marble counter, pointing out a pastry to a second server.

“Do you want to try the Colombian blend for an extra 1,000 won?” The barista asked Jeong-sun as he poured Yoongi’s drink, steaming and bitter, from the plastic jug at the back of the counter.

“Sure.” She smirked a little. “Why not?”

“Can I take both your names?” He asked.

It took her a moment to realise why he was asking, by which time Yoongi had returned to her side, clutching a brown paper bag with the top corner folded over neatly. He answered the question on both their behalves and leaned forward to pay for the coffees before she could protest. Drinks in hand, they stepped away from the till. She peered over at his paper cup, eyebrow raised.

“They got your name wrong.”

“That barista always does.” He shrugged. “I’ve never corrected him.”

“Do you come here often?” She asked curiously, blowing softly onto her latte from the little gap in the plastic lid.

“I figured coffee was healthier than whisky.” He quipped from her side as he peered around the crowded space, looking for a pair of seats.

“Not really.” She allowed herself a quick glance at his features, raising her voice a little to be heard over the cries of a baby in the background. “It can increase your cholesterol.”

He pulled a face. “I have that to look forward to then.” He murmured sarcastically and their eyes met as they grinned in unison. “Where shall we sit?” He asked, quickly looking away.

Jeong-sun followed his gaze and glanced around the room. Several push chairs blocked the aisles between them and the few spare round tables and, in one corner, a small boy chased another around a trash can.

“Shall we take it out?” She said quietly, a slightly bashful grin playing on her lips. She had to deal with unruly children, usually on a sick day from school, enough times in her job at the pharmacy to desire some peace and quiet on her day off. The bemused look on Yoongi’s face told her he felt the same.

“Good idea.” He turned towards the exit, leading the way from the snug and warm coffee house to the brisk air outside. The streets and buildings in this part of town were old and grey, making a twee contrast to the glass and concrete which adorned the majority of the city. The rectangle clearing in front of the cafe was almost deserted and they mutually headed towards a stone monument in the centre, sitting on the steps which surrounded it. Yoongi waited for her to mount the top step before taking his place on the shorter platform in front of her. Taking a silent sip of coffee in unison and clutching the warm paper cups gratefully, they watched as their breaths turned to steam in the cool air. Basking in the warmth between her hands, Jeong-sun turned around to read the bronze plaque on the plinth behind her.

“Who's Yi Sun-sin?” She asked.

“Naval commander. Old.” He shrugged easily, unwrapping the icing-coated pastry from the paper bag in his hand.

“Oh.” She watched as he tore off a crumby corner from the bun and tossed it indifferently into the square.

There was a pause before Yoongi spoke up once more. “Are you cold?”

She shook her head. “It’s fine.” The stone was a little chilly beneath her backside but her sweater kept the worst of the breeze at bay. His concern brought another question to mind as he broke off another segment of pastry absently and aimed it at the pair of pigeons who had started to gather on the path in front of him.

“Is your boiler holding up?” He asked with curiosity

She nodded, watching as he tore off another crumbly edge. “You did a good job. I should really pay you.” She thought of the coffee and how she had hoped he would let her pay for them. While she admitted her bank account was tragically low on cash, the work on the boiler had taken several hours and, had he not been so eager to help, she would have had to have found the money for another plumber anyway.

“It’s fine.” Yoongi murmured, meaning it as he said it and throwing more icing on the concrete. She fell silent, belatedly realising that he would not accept any money no matter how much she tried to convince him. A small gathering of pigeons flocked to the food. “How’s the coffee?” He asked, turning away from the birds that had started to bicker over the lukewarm pieces of pastry. He nodded towards the drink she had placed beside her on the stone seat.

She followed his eye line and took a token sip. “I can really taste the Colombian blend.” She quipped, making him laugh warmly.

“Money well spent?” He raised an eyebrow as he glanced at her. She nodded in reply, feeling her heartrate increase as he briefly met her gaze. He turned back towards the deserted square and began to pick once more at his frosted bun, making her sense that, like her, he was feeling uncharacteristically fidgety. A larger crowd of birds, drawn to the iced delicacy, had started to crowd at his feet as he pulled apart the last of the crumbs and threw them to the ground.

Jeong-sun laughed softly. “Weren’t you hungry?”

He shrugged. “It looked nice at the time.”

The sudden sound of synthesised music coming from her handbag took them both by surprise and he turned to watch as she unzipped the leather fastening and reached in to find her phone.

“It’s just my alarm...” She reassured, a little embarrassed as she fumbled around the jumble of items in her bag. Yoongi wondered, not for the first time, how she managed to fit so much into such a small space and how it was possible she seemed to lose so many things once they were inside. He vaguely recognised the tune as being the opening of a song she liked called Blue Monday, but he could not remember the lyrics. The volume got louder as she successfully pulled the black device from the inside pocket, inadvertently disturbing a few lighter items which were sent sprawling onto the pavement, spurred on by a sudden gust of wind.

Yoongi rushed to his feet to retrieve them as she fiddled with her phone, swiping the screen to turn off the alarm. A tube of Mac lipstick landed by his feet and a couple of glossy fliers had flown towards the curb near the coffee shop. Yoongi chased and collected them, glancing at the covers as he strolled back to the monument. He held them out and her small smile when she took them made his stomach flutter pleasantly.

“Thanks.” She banished the fliers and lipstick back into the dark confines of her bag.

“Are you thinking of retraining?” Yoongi asked with interest as he took a seat beside her on the third step. The leaflets had boasted a number of nursing programmes at local universities, the covers illustrated with photographs of women in uniform taking the temperature or blood pressure of elderly patients.

“I just picked it up at a seminar work sent me to.”

Yoongi frowned at her reply, immediately sensing that she was deliberately trying to sound disinterested. He wondered why but didn’t press on, instead changing the topic. “What was it on?”

“The seminar? Colonoscopy bags.”

He couldn’t gather whether she was joking or not, so assumed she wasn’t. “Do you get a lot of those?”

She shrugged. “It’s part of the job.” She confirmed before surprising him by addressing the previous issue. “Another degree would be really expensive, and they send you on a lot of placements.” The thought was clearly still on her mind and Yoongi suddenly realised why she had been reluctant to admit her interest. A moment later, she vocalised his suspicions. “I don’t think I could cover it working part-time.” She admitted with a small, inadvertent slump of her shoulders.

Yoongi sensed immediately that this was something she had debated and researched on her own in their time apart and that her conclusion was both accurate and incredibly unfair. He turned to face her, twisting his body so his covered knees brushed hers absently.

“You could always sell drugs on the side.” He joked, lightening the mood.

She grinned in reply, letting out a soft laugh which filled him with relief. “I don’t know the street price of Aspirin.”

He raised his shoulders nonchalantly. “You could cut it with talc to increase the yield.”

“You seem to know a lot about it.” She smirked.

He shrugged again coolly. “I used to date a weed dealer.” He admitted.

She smiled. “Really? I didn’t know that.” The conversation had taken a slightly unexpected turn but neither seemed to mind. They had surprisingly never explicitly discussed their exes during their time together which, at the time, had felt right. Now, however, she found herself curious and slightly amused to realise that after all this time there were still things she did not know about him. She suspected the feeling was probably mutual for him.

“She kept a plant under the stairs in the record store she worked out.” He explained casually.

“And how did it go?”

“She forgot to water it.”

Jeong-sun snapped her neck back in laughter, the bright sound filling the otherwise silent square. “Not much of a dealer.” She smirked as Yoongi grinned in reply. She thought for a moment. “My first boyfriend collected Lego.”

Yoongi looked at her. “How old was he?”

“Twenty-two.” She chuckled softly. “He made the Death Star.”

“A noble hobby.” He simpered with a gummy grin.

“I stepped on a piece while getting out the shower.” She paused. “I think it caused our breakup.”

A natural silence fell over them as they watched a mother and child leave the coffee house from across the road. She pushed a stroller along the uneven concrete until they turned the corner towards the nearby park. Jeong-sun’s last comment had stirred an unpleasant memory in Yoongi’s mind which he quickly discarded as he got slowly to his feet. Unbeknownst to him, she was also lost in memory and the sound of his voice snapped her out of her pensive daze.

“Do you have anywhere to be?” He asked.

“No...” She blinked a few times as she looked up at him.

“Shall we walk?” He offered.

“Yeah.” She quickly got to her feet and winced a little at the numb sensation in her arse and thighs as she stood. Yoongi flashed an understanding smile and they stepped off the monument together. A quick glance at her pearl-faced watch confirmed they had been seated there, side by side, for over half an hour and they walked across the square in comfortable silence, unwittingly following the path they had seen the woman and baby taking five minutes before.

“It’s really fresh for a change.” Jeong-sun commented, noticing that she didn’t feel wheezy and tight in the chest like she usually did whenever she spent significant time outdoors without a face mask. Instead, the air was cool but pleasant. A low mist partially obscured the narrow streets, adding to the strange silence of the afternoon. Despite only being meters from the crowded coffee house, the atmosphere felt still and dreamy, as though they were the only two people in the world and had all the time in the world to talk.

“I can smell the salt from the sea.” Yoongi commented as the passageway brought them out at a row of black, metal railings which surrounded a small park. As he said it, Jeong-sun realised he was right, that she could sense an aquatic tang to the air, mixed with the heady scent of florals from the nearby rose garden. She vaguely wondered whether the local council imported flowers which bloomed in the winter.

The scent of the sea reminded him. “Jungkook bought a second apartment in Incheon.” He said.

“Oh?” The oversized sleeve of her jumper brushed against his as they walked closely through the mist.

“His girlfriend moved there to be closer to her parents.” He explained, passing through the entrance of the garden. He spotted a few people seated on park benches in the distance and the woman with the push chair on the gravel path up ahead, but otherwise the open space was quiet and reflective.

“Do you ever think of moving back to Daegu?” Jeong-sun asked, realising as she said it that she didn’t know much about the city he grew up in. While he had visited Daegu sporadically during their time together, he had never revealed much about his feelings towards the place.

“I went back for a bit when I first came out to stay with my brother.”

She recognised it wasn’t really an answer and pressed on. “How did it feel?”

He was silent for a moment. “Different.” He paused, thinking. “It was nice to visit.”

His tone told her everything she needed to know. “Just not your home anymore?” She asked quietly.

There was another pause and, in it, Jeong-sun’s heart began to speed before he had even replied. “I have more memories here.” He murmured.

“Me too.” Her reply came out as little more than a breathy whisper as she felt his little finger skim hers, accidently at first, before moving back in a little more bravely and brushing the skin on the backs of her fingers softly. Her breath hitched in her throat as they walked, both looking straight ahead.

“How are your parents?” He asked, slipping back into the kind of conversation which felt comfortable and familiar. She sensed, despite his politeness, that he was genuinely curious.

“Still divorced.” She quipped, trying to keep her voice steady as she hooked her baby finger around his.

“Is your mom still travelling?” His voice was equally calm on the surface but, Jeong-sun fancied, she could sense his tension beneath, trying his best to hide his nerves. Her stomach and chest trembled at the thought as she nodded in reply to his question.

“She met someone on the internet.” Yoongi looked at her as she explained, wrapping his finger tightly around hers in reply, making her heart flutter. “I thought she was being scammed, but he’s a really nice guy.”

“Where is he from?”

“Australia. He doesn’t speak a word of Korean.” She smirked despite the thudding in her ears.

She saw him pull a face from the corner of her eye. “How does that work?”

“She studied English at university.” She couldn’t help but smile, knowing that Yoongi knew how incompetent she was at attempting other languages. He had once remarked, good-naturedly, that she was even more useless than he was. “They invited me to visit them in Perth next year.” She shrugged.

“That’ll be nice.” She felt his fingertips brush the inside of her hand tentatively.

“And your dad?” He asked.

She was unaware of when she had last taken a breath for air and wondered how it was possible she was still conscious; if she had been breathing all this time without realising. Her fingers curled against his in response, trailing along his slightly calloused palm and caressing the skin there familiarly. She felt him still against her, before his thumb found her knuckles.

“I think he enjoys being a bachelor.”

“Does he still have his catfish?” The question took her by surprise, breaking some of the tension as she remembered telling him about her father’s strange and slightly eccentric hobby. The fact he recalled this detail after so much time seemed to momentarily melt away the years they had spent apart and, before she realised it, she had slipped her fingers loosely through his.

“Still displayed on his mantelpiece.” She confirmed with a grin. “He’s a part of the family.”

Yoongi smiled in reply, tucking his chin into the neck of his sweater against the cold air as he closed his hand around hers. The loud sound of ringing a second later made him jump as it echoed through the eerily silent park from the depths of her bag. She jolted in surprise beside him as the leather vibrated from the crook of her spare arm and she let go of his hand to undo the metal zipper. The tune was different to the New Order track which had played earlier, and her chest sank as she realised someone was calling.

“Sorry.” She murmured a little timidly, stepping away from Yoongi to answer the device. “Hello?”

Yoongi watched her as she edged her way over to one of the flower beds, clutching the phone to her ear.

“They went where?” She asked in a baffled and slightly aloof voice. “How many do you have left?” She paused and Yoongi heard the fast blabber of the woman talking on the other end of the phone. “Okay...I’ll pick some up.” She hung up and dropped her cell into her handbag, slowly walking back to Yoongi.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, noting for the first time that afternoon how tired she looked. She had attempted to cover the dark circles under her eyes with foundation but the moisture in the air had smudged her makeup, making her look five years older than she was.

She sighed, clearly fed-up. “Hae-won dropped her pain killers down the sink while she was cleaning her dentures.” She explained. The situation and her dead-pan delivery of the news would have, under other circumstances, made him grin, but instead, he felt his chest ache as she turned away from him and began to make a head start back the way they came. “I’ll have to go and fetch her some more.” She sounded exhausted as she trudged through the park and he followed her quickly, catching up as she exited under the iron archway.

“Did you take the bus?” He asked.

“I parked around the corner on double yellows...” She gestured towards a nearby street, as equally narrow as the one they had come down. “I hope I don’t get a ticket.” She added before turning to face him, stopping in her tracks. “I’m sorry about this.” She apologised as she looked at him, her expression hard to read. “Do you need a lift anywhere?”

He thought he sensed a drop of longing in her voice and he shook his head regretfully. “I came in my car too.” He explained. He had paid for a two hour ticket which, he realised, was about to expire. He followed Jeong-sun around the corner and observed that several cars were parked along the curb of the little street. He didn’t recognise her car but her exclamation a moment later confirmed that she had found it.

“Bastards!” She cried out as she walked over to a small navy Ford, closely parked between two other cars. She looked around the street with dismay, realising she would struggle to back it out of the small space. “They weren’t parked when I got here.” She pulled her key from her handbag and Yoongi watched in silence as she got into the driver’s side and started the ignition. It took a few turns of the key for the engine to whirl to life and he took a step closer as she leaned out of the door to grab the inside handle.

“See you later.” She looked up at him.

“Later...” He murmured in reply as she smiled weakly and closed the door. He stood back and heard the low grunt as the car changed gears and she reversed a few inches into the narrow space behind. He intuitively gestured for her to edge back a couple more inches, catching her expression in the wing mirror as she followed his instructions. He held out his palm, signalling for her to stop before holding up his thumb. The vehicle stayed still as she wound down the driver’s window and gave a little wave, before putting the car into drive and edging out of the space. He waved in reply as she drove off, turning back the way he came, his palm still tingling slightly from her touch.

***

Thanks for reading. Find each member’s headcanon fics in order here:

RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook

& our full masterlist can be found here for many more fics, scenarios and fan art

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