#better yet he's going to be spat out right next to the conspiracy kid in a world 1 year after the fall of the soviet union

[jude-harley]

unbelievable they're actually talking about class society

[descendantofthesparrow]

Multipart Commission work - Harry Hook x reader - A Prince Behind the Pirate - part 12 - letters and conspiracies

@musicarose​

=

“more and more people are rallying for the children of the isle to join us in Auradon” the council was meeting secretly, talking about the recent events of the people of Auradon calling for the children of the isle to be removed and relocated to Auradon“all thanks to your granddaughter Leah”

The ex-queen crossed her arms, glaring at her fellow council members. “it is not my fault that my granddaughters….soulmate” she spat “is a filthy isle pirate boy, trust me, I have plans to get him out of her head, the first being an arranged marriage between Ariels son and (y/n)”

“now how are you going to do that?” Luis scoffed, twirling his white mustache between his fingers “while it's not common knowledge that the pirate and your granddaughter are soulmates if it gets out the whole kingdom would riot for her, you know the consequences of forcefully pulling two souls apart”

Leah waved the old king off, he was a sucker for love and allowed his son to marry a peasant dish maid, he would be no use in the planning of all this. “yes yes whatever, I cannot have a filthy pirate soil my family line, (y/n) needs a prince, one with land and claim to his throne. Jordan will be just fine, with the claim to Atlantica”

The council nodded along with her standing as the “meeting” was dismissed, Luis frowned to himself, he just couldn't condone this behavior…he needed to tell someone.

=

You sighed, leaning back in your desk chair, blowing your hair out of your eyes. Another stressful day of dealing with Isle affairs, from the food barges to the assholes on the council denying yet ANOTHER transfer request of another 4 VKs.

It had been a long battle but after your stories, along with the cour four and Ben backing you up and their own stories, the people of Auradon were rallying for the removal of the vks from the Isle.

Cinderella herself was voting for the removal of the vks, along with her step-sister Anastasia. Which lead to more people to come on your side, if someone who was raised by a villain was rallying for the vks how bad could they be?

If only your grandmother wasn’t such a bitch and convincing the other council members to keep denying the VK transfer plan. You rolled your neck and got back to business, finishing up another document on the medical barge that was being sent to the isle soon.

A few minutes later a knock sounded at your door, and you turned to look at it for a moment before going back to your work “it's open!”

Audrey stepped through a moment later, a bowl of fruit in her hands “snack break!” you sighed and looked at her, smiling.

“but-“ she tossed a grape at you, pouting.

“no buts, now eat the snackies” you laughed and held your hand out for the bowl, she gave it and a fork to you, spinning around and landing on your bed “sooooo, hows work?”

“pretty good” you shrugged, a mouthful of watermelon “just finishing on a medical document before working on the next barge for fabric”

Audrey hummed and nodded to herself, picking up the tossed leather jacket on your bed, thumbing over the stitched silver hook. “any progress on Harry?”

“no” you groaned, letting your head fall “the council STILL won't approve the plan” Audrey pursed her lips, sucking on her teeth.

“….im really glad I've grown away from grammie, I used to think she knew everything but….shes just-“

“close-minded and thinks about what's best for her and HER line instead of what's best for us and what WE want?” Audrey pointed at you and nodded.

“exactly, shes so demanding and-and god, I wish mom and dad had more of an opportunity to raise us, I never realized that I hardly had a relationship with mom until I actually tried to hang out with her instead of grammie”

You shook your head, it had been hard for Audrey and mom to get their “proper” relationship going, even months later their relationship was slightly strained.

Thankfully for you, you had….not trusted your grandmother since you were a kid and she had grimaced and called a same-sex couple walking down the street “rule-breaking f*gs”…yeah you decided she wasn’t a good role model and mentally disowned her.

When you had told Audrey about it, right around the times she separated herself from Grammie, she had a look of horror on her face, being apart of the LGBTQ community herself, she took it to heart.

To sum it up,  you and Audrey had basically disowned your grandmother and decided you deserved better than a homophobic, controlling bitch of a grandmother.

She still tried to control the two of you but 1) since you met Harry and decided that hey, your soulmates a pirate, let's just go crazy and 2) Audrey was done with her bullcrap.

Your dad had almost died from laughing as you both hid from your grandma one day while she visited. But managed to hide it from her as she asked about you, while your grandpa found you and snuck you some food

Your grandfather was always your favorite out of the two grandparents,  he never pressured you, never forced his beliefs on you, and just let you be yourselves….and also took you to get junk food.

Big difference from your grandmother, but anyway- back to the main plot.

You swallowed the last bit of fruit and placed it on your desk, going back to working on the medical document.

“shoot I gotta get going, Jane wanted to go get brunch at Tiana's place, see you later!” Audrey jumped up from the bed, ran over to give you a quick kiss on the cheek before she bolted from your room to find jane. “have fun” you muttered distracted, typing out your last paragraph, and hitting the save button, opening up the fabric document next.

Time for another three hours at your desk, just the life of the isle ambassador.

=

Harry grunted as he set a large barrel full of fish on the ships main deck, groaning as he stood and stretched out his aching muscles. He shook his head, feeling beads of sweat dripping from his scalp and down his forehead. “gods” he muttered “the one day I do work and its gotta be so hot” he slicked back his sweat-soaked hair and turned around, heading back to the barge to collect more food for the crew.

As he walked down the gangplank, his oh so precious little sister CJ came trotting towards him, a white envelope in her hand, waving it about in the air “oh Harry~ a letter from your girlfirend~” she called, skipping over to him and holding out the letter.

Harry tried to grab it but CJ twisted and pulled away the letter, sticking her tongue out playfully “you have to be quick-hey!” Harry picked CJ up and plucked the letter from her hand, dropping her back on her feet, snickering as she hit his shoulder.

“and yeh hav’ ta be quicker than tha’” Harry mocked, ripping open the envelope and taking out the letter, grunting as CJ jumped onto him and climbed to look over his shoulder “yeh rotten little monkey” he muttered, opening the letter and grinning slightly as (y/n)s neat handwriting appeared

-hi Harry~ just wanted to write a quick letter to you. The next barges are medical and fabric and should be at the isle within the week, I need Uma to write up any needs on the blank paper I put along with this letter and give it back to the courier that will be retrieving the returns in three days.

I miss you every day and even though we see each other in our dreams, I still wish I could see you.

-until next time, love- (y/n)

Harry sighed, smiling softly at the letter, thumbing over (y/n)s signature. “gag” CJ stuck her tongue out and walked away “im gonna go hang out with someone who isn’t being a love guppy” Harry rolled his eyes and closed the letter, shoving it in his pocket and taking the envelope and blank paper to Uma

=

You sighed, finally finishing the last document and sending it to the manager of isle affairs. You spun around in your chair and stood, walking to your bed and flopping down onto the mattress.

“uhhhg” you groaned, grabbing your jacket and pulling it over your head, ready to sleep for 10 hours after your grueling day of filling out paperwork.

Your phone sounded off, and you groaned loudly and sat up, your jacket falling to your lap, leaning over you grabbed your phone from the charger, clicking on the message bubble.

…

….

….

“WHAT!???!”

-end of part 12-

we are all disappointed at the wedding “short” so heres a x reader for your trouble

permtaglist

@queer-cosette​

@sephiralorange​

@lunanight2012​

@random-thoughts-003​

@amorathegamingkitsune​

@rintheemolion​

@daughter-of-the-stars11​

taglist that i forgot to do when originally posted to here!

@thecaptainsgingersnap​

@thebookwormfairy​

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Dazed and Confused (Part 2)

Summary: Dean Winchester grew up wanting to be a cop. When he gets kicked out of the police academy on a fluke though, he turns to a life of crime. After breaking up with Dean and seeing him committing a crime in the act, the reader becomes an officer herself and eventually a detective. Four years after that day, the reader is sent undercover to figure out what Dean is up to. Only she has no idea how far Dean is willing to go to keep her from finding out the truth…

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 3,500ish

Warnings: language, scary situations, violence, murder, etc.

A/N: This series has been on Ao3 only for awhile now and I am finally reposting here as well. It’s not new but it may be new to you. Please enjoy!...

______

It didn’t take long in a town as small as Elk Ridge, Washington to figure out where Dean was staying. There were parts of the place that were laid out as you expected. Suburbia was near the one school. The main street housed almost all of the businesses. The lumber mill where probably most people worked was nestled near the east outskirts of town. There wasn’t a whole lot else there. If you wanted some peace and quiet, it was probably a quaint little place to stay.

Some homes were spread out far and wide though. The feds had set you up in place that made your college dorm room seem like a mansion, located on the west side of town. You had a few neighbors but they were nearly a mile down the road. It had plenty of privacy which was great for investigating but you weren’t a huge fan of the isolation personally.

Dean was to the north, in some old hunting cabin that he was slowly fixing up. At least that’s what Kat, the town gossip, told you. She’d always say hello to Dean when she saw him around and he was cordial back but he kept to himself for the most part. He worked at the mill and frequented the one garage that would special order car parts for him. For the most part though, you had no leads.

“Well,” you said, sitting in your car shortly after lunch, the sound of an Impala driving back towards the mill giving you an idea. “I don’t think you’ll mind if I do a little poking around, Dean.”

You drove to his place in less than ten minutes, seeing nothing in terms of security around the property. You parked your car a ways down the road and doubled back through the tree line and to the home. You went to the backdoor first and found it unlocked, opening straight into a laundry room that smelled of sweaty clothes.

“You really better not be some psychopath, Dean,” you mumbled, walking into his kitchen, finding it sparse but Dean had always liked to keep his spaces clean. You opened a cupboard, finding it crammed full, a smile on your face. “That’s more like it.”

“I told you to stay away,” said Dean, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. You turned your head over your shoulder, Dean right behind you, arms crossed. You stood up, spinning around and finding his hand in your jacket, shoving you through the backdoor.

“Dean, I-”

“I told you to leave me alone,” he said, clenching his one hand, twisting his body back like…

You dodged most of the punch but Dean had some weight behind it, knocking you to the ground regardless as he grazed your cheek. You stared up at him, moving to hit him in the groin when he dodged, getting his feet under your legs and flipping you onto your stomach. His hand caught your jacket collar and started dragging you on the ground, pulling your hood over your face.

“Be quiet,” he grunted, moving one hand away for you in time to see him open a shed door and push you inside.

“Dean!” you shouted, throwing your shoulder against the door the second it shut, the metal not budging. You were barely there more than a minute before you heard the Impala in the background tearing out of there.

Lawrence, Kansas

Two Days Later

“You’re off the case in case no one’s told you yet,” said John in the conference room at the station, sliding a cup of coffee over to you.

“I fucked up. I get it,” you said, staring at your statement for the hundredth time that morning. “I should resign.”

“You should take a leave of absence,” said John, taking the file away. “And go find Dean on your own.”

“Excuse me?” you said, John’s face hard set. “What-”

“He knew you were there. He had to. You checked in before you went to Dean’s place and somehow he randomly went home in the middle of his shift? I think he got tipped off. I don’t think we were ever supposed to catch Dean, kid. Just help give him a bigger rap sheet,” said John, leaning back in his seat. “Assaulted a detective. That’s not something people ignore. It gives him credibility for something bigger.”

“Yeah, and I’m the zodiac killer,” you said, John rolling his eyes. “Why would the feds-”

“Because we’re small town cops and they think we’re dumbasses,” said John. “Maybe we were but think about it. He saw you first on the street you said. An anonymous call came in saying where you were in that shed. He could have hurt you, killed you, but I think he’s the one that made sure you were found.”

“It’s too early in the day for a conspiracy theory, John,” you said, running your hands over your face, reaching for your coffee.

“Did Dean seem like the guy in his file?” asked John.

“Sorry, I didn’t think about it too much after he punched me in the face ,” you growled.

“He could have killed you Y/N,” said John.

“You know what? I’m calling in sick today,” you said, standing up and storming out.

“Y/N,” he said, grabbing your arm in the hall.

“I am done with the Winchester family. Leave me the hell alone.”

“Hey, open up,” Sam said for the tenth time that night, banging on your apartment door relentlessly. You growled as you got up from the couch and flung it open. “Good. You’re home.”

“Go away Sam,” you said, trying to shut the door, Sam simply pushing it back open. You groaned and walked back inside, Sam shutting the door behind him, dropping a bag on your table.

“I got you some of those Italian dessert things you like,” said Sam, leaning over the back of your couch, rubbing your shoulders. “I heard Dad gave you shit at the station today.”

“Dean didn’t kill me so he must be a good guy,” you said, glancing up at Sam, your swollen and bruised cheek on full display. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“You sarcasm is duly noted,” said Sam, moving around and taking a seat next to you. “You got scared again, didn’t you, with dad saying that stuff.”

“Fuck, Sam, is that why you’re here? You think I need a babysitter?” you spat back at him, Sam keeping his face soft.

“Not every Winchester is trying to be an asshole to you this week,” said Sam, rubbing his hand up and down your back. “I’m sorry Dean scared you. I’m sorry my dad doesn’t understand that. He wants to believe that Dean is good so badly, he didn’t realize he was willing to let you get hurt along the way.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m taking his advice and taking a leave of absence while I figure out what to do with my life because I sure as shit suck at this job,” you said, grabbing a pillow but Sam ripping it away.

“Don’t hide. And don’t quit either. You like helping people, Y/N,” said Sam.

“I’m scared again, Sam. I can’t be scared and do my job. It doesn’t work that way. All thanks to your stupid jackass of a brother,” you said.

“Get pissed then. Shove it to Dean,” said Sam, your head cocking. “You heard me right. Catch him. He’s wanted now for an actual crime, right? Bring him in.”

“He’s your brother Sam,” you said.

“My brother who hurt us both badly, who did that to your face. You’re like my sister, Y/N. He doesn’t get to push us around and make us feel like crap anymore. We aren’t a pair of little kids,” said Sam.

“Alright,” you said with a sigh, Sam ruffling your hair. “You want to order a pizza and have one of our Dean bitch fests?”

“You read my mind.”

It wasn’t until Sam was passed out on your couch and you were crawling into bed hours later that no matter which way this thing turned out, you knew you had to find Dean. You grabbed your phone, typing out an email to John, requesting your leave of absence while you got your head on straight.

A text popped up as you put the phone down, your eyes glued to it.

Meet me at the place I told you I loved you. 15 minutes.

You swallowed hard, knowing it could be from anyone, could be meant for anyone.

The place you said it back.

“Fuck, Dean,” you said, running your hand through your hair, climbing out of bed. You tossed on jeans and a tee, pulling your jacket and sneakers on, staring at your bedside drawer. “Dammit.”

You opened it up, pulling out your gun and shoving it in the back of your pants, grabbing your phone and walking into your living room quietly. Sam was snoring heavily as you thought about waking him up. The thought quickly disappeared as you went past, slipping out of the apartment and out of the building.

It was cool, the streets quiet at nearly 3 in the morning. You were on edge the whole way down the few blocks to the park, walking as fast as possible towards the only playground in Lawrence. You didn’t spot him which was troubling. There was barely any cover there apart from the enclosed tower by the slide. He was either up there or you were early enough that you could use it for yourself.

A quiet whistle punched a gasp from you, your gun in your hands in the next second. You took a wide sweep, approaching over the bridge you remember falling off of and scraping up your knee as you laughed, climbing up the steps you’d sat on for hours talking with him…

You paused and took a deep breath, raising your gun up as you spun up the last step, staring into the dark tower top.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” said Dean, flicking a lighter on, a small light filling the space, showing his hard face, body sat in the corner all in black. “I’m not-”

“Turn around. Hands on your head. Cross your ankles,” you said, Dean staring blankly at you. “Now.”

“Am I being arrested?” he asked with a chuckle, setting the lighter down, crossing his arms.

“Yes. You have the right to remain-”

“I’ve been silent for four years. I’m getting tired of it to be honest,” he said, glancing at the empty spot across from him. “I figured this would be a safe place to meet up...considering you’re on leave now and everything, I don’t have to worry about keeping you up too late for work.”

“How do you-”

“We need to talk,” said Dean, nodding again. “If you want to cuff me to do that-”

“Turn around, hands behind your back,” you said, Dean glaring up but nodding his head. He did as told, his body more muscular than you remembered. You slid a pair of thick zip ties around his wrists, Dean turning back around as you backed up, sliding down into the spot nearby.

“You don’t need to keep pointing that gun at me,” said Dean. “I am cuffed.”

“Considering what happened last time I was with you, I’ll keep the gun out,” you said, Dean’s eyes flickering to your healing cheek, scrunching up his nose.

“Sorry for that,” said Dean. “I can’t be too careful nowadays.”

“Poor you,” you said, Dean straightening his shoulders. “Start talking.”

“How’s Sammy doing? He’s in his third year of law school, right?” asked Dean, your eyes blinking fast. “He’s okay?”

“Why do you give a shit about him?” you asked. “After what you said. It took him two years to tell me what you-”

“He’s my little brother. Of course I give a shit about him. You too. I never stopped,” said Dean, staring at your cheek. “You really don’t know how awful I feel about hitting you.”

“You got two minutes before I drag you down to the station,” you said, Dean leaning his head back against the plastic wall, wearing a sad smile.

“You became a cop. Junior Detective. Top of your class. Perfect scores on your exams. Your arrest record is flawless and you bring in bagels on Fridays from the shop on fourth with the little-”

“Are you a fucking stalker or what, Dean?” you asked, Dean shaking his head.

“It’s how I knew you sent that email to dad,” said Dean, glancing down. “I...I didn’t get kicked out of the academy, Y/N. I...transferred if you want to think of it like that.”

“Transferred to what,” you growled, Dean scrunching up his face.

“Agent Winchester. FBI. Special Undercover Unit. It’s not really common knowledge it exists. We don’t go through the normal training academy. You work undercover so they keep you separate from almost everything. It’s why the FBI, the people I work for, sent you after me,” said Dean. “Well, they needed to build up my credibility but that’s not the point.”

“You’re saying you’re a federal agent,” you said, Dean nodding. “I’m Mary fucking Poppins while we’re at it.”

“How do you think I know shit I shouldn’t Y/N? I can hack into your computer, accounts. Your credit score is 740 by the way,” said Dean, cocking his head.

“You work for the government,” you said.

“I’ve been working one job for four years now, Y/N. I’ve done bad things but I’ve never hurt anyone. But I got a bit of a promotion recently and...somebody on my team is dirty. They’re working with the guy we’re trying to catch and I’m about to throw years of my life away to catch the dirtball. I need help. From someone I can trust,” said Dean.

“They teach officers to know when people are lying you know,” you said, Dean laughing.

“Then you know I’m telling you the truth,” said Dean. “I had to cut myself off from my life and hurting you and Sammy was the one sure fire way to stop you two from coming after me. I’m not asking for forgiveness, Y/N. I just need to bring down this guy and then I’ll leave you alone for the rest of your life.”

“Sam gets fucking nightmares over the shit you said to him about your mom, Dean. You fucked him up. Both of us up,” you said. “Everyone you ever cared about over what? A job?”

“I agreed to do this on one condition and only one fucking condition so you can back the fuck off,” spat back Dean, trying his best to relax. “The guy I’m trying to stop, the guy I’ve been trying to stop for four years? He’s the one that killed our mother. I know I have done a lot of things but she deserves that the guy who killed her goes down. That is why I am doing this.”

“How can I believe any of this, Dean? How?” you asked. “What proof do you have?”

“If you don’t believe me, feel free to shoot me right here and now. Say whatever story you want, no one will care. Hell, dump my body if you want. I threw away everything to try and do the right thing for her, to stop this guy from doing it to someone else. If you think I’m nuts or making it up, go ahead and pull the trigger. I can’t do this on my own. Not when I can’t trust my team. I don’t deserve your help. But I’m begging for it, Y/N,” said Dean. “Just help me catch the son of a bitch.”

“Was it you at the bank four years ago?” you asked, Dean nodding his head. “Why’d you say you’d kill me?”

“I thought you’d understand,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “It wasn’t a threat, Y/N. I knew once I saw you looking at me you’d figure out it was me. I was...don’t you remember that movie? We watched it a million times. The bank heist one. The undercover cop says it to his girlfriend at the bank...it was code that he’d make sure nothing happened to her, she’d be okay.”

“You expected me to remember a stupid movie scene during one of the most frightening moments of my life?” you barked, Dean shrugging. “I didn’t get that message, Dean.”

“I know. I know,” he said. “I couldn’t say, ‘hi honey, long time no see. I’m working this super secret undercover job and I gotta do some bad stuff for a little while but I love you and I’m not going to hurt you and I’m not the bad guy. Bye!’ It’s not how this works.”

“What were you doing in Washington,” you said.

“Testing a theory. I was trying to figure out who on my team is responsible. Nobody showed any tells though so nothing came of it,” he said. “I didn’t know they’d put you on it. Hoped but couldn’t know for sure. You just went through your secondary undercover training so I played the odds on that one.”

You lowered your gun, letting it rest by your side, tucking your knees into your chest.

“It wasn’t your fault either,” he said, your chin resting on your knees, eyes darting over to meet his. “Telling you and Sam those things...that was one of the worst days of my life.”

“Why did we meet here Dean,” you said quietly, Dean smiling.

“This was stop number four on the best date ever. I told you I loved you for the first time over by those swings. You said it back when you remembered how to speak,” he said, staring at his lap. “Figured this place is lucky for me. Less odds of you shooting me on sight.”

“There are so many things I should do right now,” you said, grabbing your gun in one hand, his arm in the other.

“Y/N,” said Dean, a crack in his voice as you pulled him down the stairs and onto the wood chip covered ground below. “Please don’t turn me in. I have to…”

You snipped his zip ties, grabbed them and walked over to a nearby trash can, tossing them inside. Dean was staring slack jawed at you, stuck in place while you wandered over to the swings, taking a seat on one.

“Y/N,” said Dean, standing in front of you while you kicked at the ground.

“You know, Sam and I have this sort of vent session about you sometimes. We basically bitch about everything we hate about you,” you said, Dean gulping. “Every single time, just like the one we had tonight, we always end up talking about good memories and how we hope we’re both so wrong and that you’re still good and something crazy is going on. Now that’s it happening, I can’t believe it’s real.”

“Y/N, I’m-” said Dean, letting out a oomph before he hit the ground, your gaze moving from the ground upwards, Sam panting over Dean’s unconscious body.

“Sam what-”

“He’s a dumbass,” said Sam, bending down, tossing Dean over his shoulder. “We got to move to a secure location.”

“Sam! What is going on?” you asked, Sam nodding for you to follow. “Sam!”

“Dean’s a good guy, Y/N. Loyal to a fault. To a fault, Y/N . He’s getting setup,” said Sam, walking away from the playground, you hot on his tail.

“Sam,” you said, tugging on his arm.

“Dean’s got his facts wrong. He never should have dragged you into this,” said Sam. “But you’re in it now so you better come with us.”

“He had nowhere to turn he said. He-”

“The guy at the FBI Dean is investigating? It’s the guy who killed our mom. He works for them. He’s on the team Dean works on. He’s setting Dean up to take the fall for everything he’s ever done,” said Sam.

“How do you even know that?” you asked, a million more questions flooding your mind.

“Y/N. You weren’t the only one that went into law enforcement when Dean went off the rails,” said Sam, your head cocking, Sam breaking into a soft smile for a brief moment. “Agent Winchester. FBI. Internal Investigations.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

[welcometothepenumbra]

JUNO STEEL AND THE DRAGON’S DEN (PART TWO)

SOUND: RAIN. TRAIN ARRIVES, CREAKS TO A STOP. DOOR CLANKS OPEN.

CONDUCTOR: Ah, good evening, Traveler. And welcome… to The Penumbra. Take your seat, please, take your seat.

MUSIC: STARTS.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS SHUT.

The junction lies just ahead, Traveler. If you’ll allow me just a moment.

SOUND: TRAIN WHISTLE.

(CHUCKLES) Well, next stop? Hyperion City.

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING.

A dragon that doesn’t spit fire; lions with mechanical skeletons; a security chief who makes her own staff decidedly insecure. At Polaris Park, nothing is as it seems – which makes things difficult when your job is to find out what’s true. If Detective Steel wants to survive, he’ll have to do just that: look past the holograms and the robotics and the lies to prove a killer is close by.

SOUND: TRAIN BRAKES. DOOR CLANKS OPEN, RAIN.

Our next stop: Juno Steel and the Dragon’s Den.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

MUSIC: STARTS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Ask any kid on Mars who the greatest hero of all time is and they’ll give you the same answer without blinking: Andromeda the Chainmail Warrior, the hero without a home, the lady on all the best lunchboxes. Every kid goes through a phase where they like Andromeda… and some even go through a phase where they want to be Andromeda.

One of those little saps grew up to be Juno Steel, private eye. Back when I was a kid, I used to put a colander on my head and wrestle my brother for hours while he roared like a dragon and spat all over my face. I always felt invincible back then, like nobody’d ever take me down, like I could do no wrong.

So you can tell I wasn’t a very smart kid, either.

SWIFT: This is the way out of the mountain. Watch your footing – this is supposed to be a drop, but, for us, it’s just going to be a nasty slope.

RITA: I guess this ride’s f-full’a nasty things, huh?

SWIFT: What was that, doll?

RITA: Nothin’!

JUNO (NARRATOR): Rita and I were at the home of the homeless hero right now: Polaris Park, a Northstar joint way out in the Martian desert. My employer, Ramses O’Flaherty, got most of his campaign funds from this place, and word on the street was someone was going to hit him right in the investors.

SWIFT: Careful you don’t trip, there. Try to hold onto something if you can – and that’s an offer, sweetheart.

JUNO (NARRATOR): That’s the ‘someone.’ Yasmin Swift, security chief of Polaris Park… the same park it seemed like she was trying to take down by sabotaging its star attraction. Sasha always told me I should get more interested in politics. Turns out all it took was some corporate warfare and a triple-homicide.

MUSIC: ENDS.

NARRATOR: Andromeda raced down the peak, feeling Draco’s hot breath on her neck!

RITA: I– I don’t know if I can ‘race,’ really! Feels like I can barely walk without breakin’ my little ankles…

SWIFT: You need to take a breather? I can scout ahead and—

JUNO: Nope, she’s good, thanks!

(QUIETLY) Come on, Rita, we can’t let her get too far ahead of us.

RITA: I’m tryin’, Mista Steel! But my heart’s goin’ ka-bum-bum-bum, and not in the fun way, more in the my-doctor’s-gonna-be-upset way, and our relationship is already rocky and—

SWIFT: It’s really no problem, Juno, I don’t mind.

JUNO: Just… stay within eyeshot, okay? I don’t want Rita to get lost again.

SWIFT: Alright, alright. I’ll be waiting down here.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

RITA: Oh, boss, I’m so scared, hold me!

JUNO: Oof!

RITA: I just… it’s too scary! How can we keep walkin’ through this ride with her when she just roasted three people?

JUNO: Don’t really have a choice, Rita. We haven’t found any evidence yet. If the roasting didn’t happen in the dragon’s lair, we need her to show us where it did. So we’ve got to get her off guard – get her to talk about something she wasn’t planning on. Hopefully if we stay on her long enough, she’ll make some kind of mistake.

RITA: But… what if we make the mistake first?

JUNO: Oh, then she’ll definitely kill us.

RITA: Oh! Is that all?

NARRATOR (IN BACKGROUND): Andromeda raced down the peak, feeling Draco’s hot breath on her neck!

JUNO: Look. You said you wanted to come along, and I don’t know how to operate the terminals that control this stupid funhouse, so I need you to keep it together. Okay, Rita?

RITA: I know, and I do wanna help, it’s just… sometimes I look at her face and it’s just so pretty I forget she’s the bad guy.

JUNO: Bad people come in all kinds of packages.

RITA: Yeah, but it just seems like a waste when the package is so beauuuuuuutiful…

SOUND: SLAP.

Snap out of it, Rita!

JUNO: Hey, uh… you don’t have to hit yourself so hard—

RITA: ‘Course I do! You’re relyin’ on me, boss! Polaris Park’s relyin’ on me! That means every little kid on Mars– no! Every little kid in the galaxy is relyin’ on Rita! And I ain’t gonna let ‘em down. Now come on, time’s a-wastin’!

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO: …Huh.

SWIFT: Feeling better? We’re almost there.

NARRATOR: Andromeda raced down the peak, feeling Draco’s hot breath on her neck!

SWIFT: And that’s the last time you’ll have to hear that line, at least. Here’s the door.

SOUND: HEAVY DOOR SLIDES OPEN.

NARRATOR: The lions– lions– lions– village! Andromeda cheered as the– returned to the village! Liiiooooons—

SOUND: STATIC, ELECTRONIC GLITCHES.

RITA: Whoaaa. This room looks like it got kinda sick, boss!

SWIFT: Audio’s glitching out like crazy… can’t be good.

JUNO: Audio’s not the only thing that’s messed up – take a look at that cart. Banged-up and stuck in the side of one of these lions… looks like this thing flipped straight off the tracks.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

SWIFT: This must have been from when the engineers were running empty carts before their test ride. (WHISTLES) Well, we should probably keep moving. Ride’s almost over, and there aren’t too many other places it could’ve killed them. And if we don’t find anything, I guess that dragon spits real fire after all.

RITA: But… it doesn’t. We just saw that it didn’t spit fire.

SWIFT: Did you? I don’t remember that. I remember a whole lot of fire, in fact. Don’t you?

RITA: B– but…

JUNO: Right, fire. That’s what dragons do, isn’t it?

SWIFT: Hey, uh… what are you up to over there, Juno?

SOUND: CLANKING.

JUNO: What P.I.s do: poke around. There’s all kinds of debris in this cart. Fur and plastic and… huh. Whaddaya know.

RITA: Is that a license?

JUNO: Torn ID tag. Looks like it belongs to Marina Ricci, Polaris Park Engineer. And there’s blood on it.

SWIFT: That’s… weird.

Ricci, huh? She left a month ago. Fired after I caught her stealing from the supply rooms. No clue why her tag would be all the way up here… huh.

JUNO: A month ago? That’s interesting – blood looks fresher than that. Like, sometime-today-fresh. What were the names of the engineers that the ride killed again?

SWIFT: I don’t know. I have a hard enough time managing my team without worrying about Vega’s, too. …You don’t think Ricci could’ve been behind this, do you?

JUNO (NARRATOR): While Swift was busy cooking up a piping hot conspiracy theory, I did her job for her.

SWIFT (IN BACKGROUND): She seemed pretty ticked off when I fired her, and… she did have a history of aggressive behavior—

THEIA: Topographical analysis complete.

SWIFT (IN BACKGROUND): —plus, she’d definitely know the Dragon’s Peak well enough to break it in all the right places.

JUNO (NARRATOR): And just like that, I had the answers.

SWIFT: Uh, Juno? You in there?

JUNO: If Marina Ricci is in here, it looks like she went that way.

RITA: But… there’s nothin’ over there, boss. The tracks go this way.

SWIFT: You need a doctor, Juno? You’re talking nonsense and your eye is, uh… a whole mess of colors.

JUNO: Cybernetic eye, Swift. All the worst investigators have ‘em. It’s what gives us the leg up we need to stay in this business. Without it I wouldn’t be able to tell you that there are four pretty clear sets of footprints in the grass walking from the cart to that patch of sky right over there.

RITA: But… they just disappear into the sky? Where do they go?

JUNO: It’s not the sky, Rita. Remember what our resident expert Yasmin Swift said: everything in here’s holograms or robotics or practical effects. Which means if it looks like the sky, there’s one thing we know about it: it isn’t the sky.

SWIFT: (SNORTS) Oh, come on. I saw someone on the tracks up by the peak. That must have been Ricci! Are we really going to let her keep running while you walk in circles because your eye’s glitching out?

JUNO: I don’t think it’s a glitch, Swift.

SOUND: TWO METAL TAPS.

Bingo.

SOUND: DOOR CREAKS OPEN.

A door hidden in the holograms… says ‘Maintenance’ on the inside. This must be a service hallway of some kind. You know about this, Swift?

SWIFT: Like I said, I haven’t been through here in years.

JUNO (NARRATOR): It was the first time I hadn’t seen even a hint of a smile on Swift’s face. Northstar trains ‘em good, but I had nearly thirty-nine years of experience pissing people off, so really, my win was inevitable.

But more importantly: I didn’t need a top-of-the-line cyber-eye to tell me she didn’t want us in there… and that meant I wanted to go in there as soon as possible.

RITA: I don’t know, Mista Steel, it’s pretty dark and cramped in there…

JUNO: Still, seems worth checking out, doesn’t it? Bloody ID badge, four sets of footprints… oh, hey, that’s enough for all three victims and the saboteur, isn’t it, Swift? Think we should check it out?

SWIFT: Hmph.

JUNO (NARRATOR): And that’s when I knew I’d rolled the dice one too many times. Because then the old Northstar smile came back, genuine as ever… and I saw a plan flickering in Yasmin Swift’s eyes.

SWIFT: Yeah. We should check it out. It’s narrow, though; we’ll have to walk single-file. I’ll go first, Juno’ll take up the rear. We can protect this pretty little number easier that way.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I couldn’t let her win, I thought. And that thought’s exactly why she won.

RITA: Boss?

JUNO: How about I go first? I’ve got the gun, and we don’t know who’s in there.

SWIFT: That’s a great idea, Juno! Go on in. Then you, doll.

JUNO (NARRATOR): So we were stuck.

I knew she was suspicious of us by this point, but she didn’t know for sure that we’d caught her. Until she was positive, she still had a thin hope of getting out of here looking innocent… and even if that hope was getting thinner by the second, it still gave her enough of a reason to keep up that friendly park cop act.

I wanted that act to stay on stage as long as possible. Security Chief Yasmin Swift at least had to pretend to want us alive. Triple-murderer Yasmin Swift? Not so much.

So we walked down the hall: me, then Rita, then Swift.

SOUND: ECHOEY BANGS & CLANKS. METAL CREAKING.

RITA: I don’t like those noises, Mista Steel… I swear, if I hear one more boom or bang or pop I’m gonna boom-bang-pop right outta my skiiiiiin!

SOUND: ROARS.

OH NO OH PLEEEEEEASE NO!

JUNO: Rita, it’s just the stupid ride. We can hear it through the walls.

NARRATOR: (MUFFLED) “You have done it!” roared Chief Leo. “My, this crown truly befits the Chief of the Kings of the Jungle! Now, Andromeda, I shall show you your portal home!”

RITA: Boss, that wasn’t what I—

SOUND: BLADE UNSHEATHING.

(GASPS)

JUNO: Damn it, are you gonna yell every time this ride sneezes?

NARRATOR: (MUFFLED) But even as Leo brought her to the portal, Andromeda felt guilt bubbling in her stomach.

RITA: That ain’t it, boss! It’s a kn-n-n—

SOUND: LOW ELECTRIC HUM.

(GASPS)

SWIFT: No need to jump, sweetheart. That was just me getting my stun knife ready. Thought I saw something in the shadows – I wanted to be… prepared.

RITA: (WHISPERING) Mista… Steel…!

JUNO: (GROWLS)

SWIFT: Door’s just ahead. Mind letting us in, Juno? The sooner we get out of here, the better – I don’t like not having a clear line of sight.

JUNO (NARRATOR): If I wanted to catch Swift red-handed, it’d have to be soon… and I’d have to use one of the Theia’s functions that I’d never touched before.

So I touched it.

THEIA: Rec Mode activated.

JUNO: (QUIETLY) Yes!

THEIA: Fifteen minutes. Remaining.

JUNO: (QUIETLY) No!

SWIFT: What was that, Juno?

JUNO: Uh… nothing. The door’s just… jammed.

SOUND: DOORKNOB RATTLING.

THEIA: Error. Cannot deactivate Rec Mode. Please wait for time. Out.

JUNO: (MUTTERING) I’ll give you a time out, you lousy eyeball!

SWIFT: Have you tried the doorknob?

JUNO: Ohhhhh.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

Look at that! It was pretty stupid of me, I guess.

SWIFT: Day’s still young. Plenty of time to act stupider. Not that I’d recommend it. Now move. Please.

JUNO: I’m goin’!

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Through the door was what looked like a central control room: a big, imposing terminal stood on one side, gathering dust, and there were two carts lined up on a track that snaked out the room through a tunnel in one side. Backups or maintenance carts, I guessed.

A control room in a ride that controls itself; a maintenance room the maintainers never checked. Not a bad place to lay a trap you didn’t want anyone to see.

JUNO: You sure you never heard about this before, Swift? Seems like a pretty major part of Andromeda and the Dragon’s Peak.

SWIFT: A major part of its maintenance, from the look of it. But, I’m not maintenance.

JUNO: Seems like a pretty big security risk to have all of your surveillance footage centralized for anyone to access.

SWIFT: This doesn’t have to get ugly, you know.

RITA: Wh-what?

SWIFT: I mean I’m a patient woman, but I’m not gonna stand for insults. I said I didn’t know about this room, that means I didn’t know about this room. I don’t want this to get ugly. But if you want a fight, Juno—

RITA: Oww!

SWIFT: —there’s a way this shakes out that looks bad for everyone.

JUNO: Alright, alright. Point taken. So… how do we make this look better?

SWIFT: That’s… a good question.

You made an interesting point. This system is pretty insecure, isn’t it? Think it’s so insecure you could crack it?

RITA: Oh, no, no no no, not him. Mista Steel can barely enter his PIN number, which is 33332, so forget about a two-hundred-digit password—

SWIFT: Just a flimsy password? That’s no good. Hey, if that’s all that’s keeping this ride from turning into a murder weapon, it really is dangerous. So, why don’t you head over to the terminal, and enter the password like Rita tells you. And if it works, I’m gonna have some stern words with Vega later.

RITA: I-I could just enter it myself, Yasmin—

SWIFT: Nope, I think you’re gonna stay right here with me. Go ahead, Juno. Enter the password. Or else this might get ugly.

JUNO (NARRATOR): So I walked up to the terminal and Rita started reciting the password.

RITA: Three, five, A, X, omega, twelve—

SOUND: SLOW BEEPS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): For five minutes.

RITA: —W, backwards-W, C-with-a-little-tail-thingy, five, six, seven, eight, umlaut-with-no-u, zero, and that’s it.

JUNO: Finally.

SOUND: ERROR BEEP.

What the hell? You sure zero was the end of it, Rita?

RITA: What? Zero wasn’t the end. I said ‘that’s it,’ didn’t I? You were supposed to type ‘that’s it.’

JUNO: You’re kidding me.

Alright. From the top. One more time.

JUNO (NARRATOR): So we burned another five minutes. And all the while, Swift stayed silent, smiling, and Theia ticked down.

THEIA: Rec Mode has. Five minutes. Remaining.

JUNO: (MUTTERING) I know, I know…

SOUND: BEEPS.

RITA: …seven, eight, umlaut-with-no-u, zero, and T… H… A… T—

JUNO: Yep, yep, got it, thanks.

SOUND: SUCCESS BEEP.

(SIGHS) Finally.

SWIFT: You’re in. Good. So let’s try to think like the saboteurs… what would they meddle with first?

I’m guessing… the controls to the different power lines are at the bottom left-corner of the screen. Seems like it’d be good for everyone if you checked those out, Juno.

JUNO (NARRATOR): And then I knew why she wanted me to use the damn terminal. Because if she did it, her back would have to be to us for the time it took her to enter the password… whereas if Rita did it, she might actually be able to cause some damage. Me, on the other hand – looking at those flashing buttons and switches and numbers and lights made me feel like my cyber-eye was gonna spin right out of its socket.

But I had to act. And if I was gonna convict Swift for this, well…

THEIA: Rec Mode has. Three minutes. Remaining.

JUNO (NARRATOR): …I had to act now.

Luckily, I still had something up my sleeve. Because Juno Steel doesn’t know a hell of a lot about computers, but he did pass all of his computer classes, which means there’s one thing he does know how to do: bluff.

SWIFT: Well?

JUNO: Yeah, don’t know how to break it to you, Swift, but I’m not seeing any “power” options. Just a lot of stuff about backup security footage… d’you know anything about this?

SWIFT: Backup what?

JUNO: Yeah, it says it was all recovered from drive wipes within the past twenty-four hours. Weird, huh? Should I play one?

SWIFT: Don’t touch that screen.

JUNO: But this is what we’re looking for, isn’t it? Let’s see what happened to that weird upturned cart earlier today.

SWIFT: Hands off the screen or your very pretty secretary gets it!

SOUND: BLADE UNSHEATHING, LOW HUM.

RITA: (SCREAMS)

SOUND: GUN COCKING.

JUNO: Drop the knife, Swift. The game’s up.

SWIFT: I told you it didn’t have to go this way, Juno. I don’t want to do this.

JUNO: Then don’t.

SWIFT: You’re not really in a position to be making demands. You messed up. It didn’t have to go this way. Now, slide that gun over to me, and then delete the footage like a good little lady.

JUNO: But—

SWIFT: Now!

RITA: Ow, ow, ow!

JUNO: Fine.

SOUND: CLUNK. SLIDE.

There. Happy?

SWIFT: It’s been a bad day, but at least it’s almost over. Now, delete the footage.

JUNO: What’s it show that you’re so scared of, Swift? The part where you waited for the engingeers who rode through earlier and flipped their cart? Or the part where you led them down the hallway at knifepoint?

SWIFT: Sure, I dragged the engineers in here. And sure, somewhere between here and the end of the track I… I mean, they got roasted. But knowing that isn’t gonna do you any good anymore, Juno, because you’re gonna wipe that evidence, and then you’ll have nothing. At. All.

JUNO (NARRATOR): And right on cue, my time ran out.

SOUND: BEEP.

THEIA: Rec Mode. Complete. The last fifteen minutes of video recording have been sent to. Ramses O’Flaherty. For analysis.

JUNO: Sure, Swift. Nothing. You want me to hit delete, here?

SWIFT: I do.

JUNO: There. Done.

SWIFT: …No it isn’t.

JUNO: What?

SWIFT: The terminal didn’t beep when you deleted it.

JUNO: Uh… “beep.”

SWIFT: I can see your mouth moving.

JUNO: No you can’t.

RITA: Ow! Boss!! Stop goofin’ around!!

JUNO: Alright, alright, I admit it. There were never any backups. I was bluffing, alright? I’ll go to your stupid power menu.

SOUND: BEEP.

There.

SWIFT: It’s about time. Now, play nice for three steps and we can be done with this nightmare, alright?

JUNO: Whatever you say.

SWIFT: Good. Activate Emergency Cart B.

JUNO (NARRATOR): There were five power lines on the screen. One: ‘Lighting and Audio’; two: ‘Carts and Robotics’; three through five: ‘Emergency Carts A, B, and C’. Only ‘Lighting and Audio’ was on. I tapped ‘Emergency Cart B.’

SOUND: BEEP.

And the first of the two carts in line started rolling away.

SOUND: WHEELS CLACKING ON TRACKS.

SWIFT: Good. Now, step two: catch.

JUNO: Huh?

SWIFT: (GRUNTS)

SOUND: QUICK FOOTSTEPS.

RITA: Whooaaa!

JUNO: Rita!

Oof!

SWIFT: And as for step three…

Hup!

SOUND: THUMP.

You stay here, and I catch my ride!

JUNO: Damn it, Swift! Get back here!

I gotta go after her, Rita.

RITA: Boss, I ain’t gonna let you run off again.

JUNO: No, you’re not. You’re gonna help me run off again, from here. I need you to.

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

Hup!

SOUND: THUMP.

RITA: Mista Steel! Get outta that cart!

JUNO: No can do. Think you can find a way to make this cart go faster than that one?

RITA: I… I mean, sure, it’d be as easy as activating Emergency Cart C – that’s your cart – and then, well I couldn’t do it all at once but if I got through the security protocol, I should be able to write a quick little virus that’ll sap power slowly from Cart B, and put it into your cart, so you keep goin’ faster, and it keeps goin’ slower, and—

JUNO: Sure, cool, whatever. Just do it.

RITA: But Mista—

JUNO: Now!

RITA: Oh, alright!

SOUND: KEYBOARD CLICKING. BEEP. WHEELS CLACKING.

Have fun on the ride without me, boss.

JUNO: I won’t. Watch me on the cameras, will ya?

RITA: Mista Steel, I am not just gonna watch you have fun.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Way off in the tunnel I could see Swift’s cart, and beyond her the green plains of Lion Village all over again. In the distance I heard the ride’s next room:

NARRATOR: (MUFFLED) But just as Andromeda was about to enter the portal back home, she heard the beating of terrible wings. “Draco!” the lions screamed. “The dragon is attacking!”

JUNO (NARRATOR): And then I had a really unpleasant thought. Swift knew Rita could operate the terminal, so she must have expected I’d come after her, and she must have had a plan. And then there were the engineers, who she’d dragged to this track before she roasted them – which explained where the missing Emergency Cart A went.

Then my own eye caught it an instant before Theia did: up there ahead, two little sparks, snapping on the walls of the tunnel.

I hit the deck just in time.

SOUND: FLAMES WHOOSHING.

Jets of fire screamed over me. I managed to duck the main blast, but sparks spilled over the side of the cart and caught on my coat. I flapped it out as best I could, and then the sunlight poured in. It was a relief to be out in Andromeda and the Dragon’s Peak again, where the fire was just hot air and nothing was what it appeared to be. Not even Security Chief Yasmin Swift, whose cart I was getting closer to every second, and who had my gun aimed at my head.

SOUND: BLASTER SHOT.

JUNO: Whoa!

SOUND: THUD.

SWIFT: (CALLING) Come out of there, Juno! You are not gonna make it to the end of this ride!

JUNO: (SHOUTING) Good. Isn’t there a big drop at the end? I hate drops.

SOUND: BLASTER SHOT.

SWIFT: (CALLING) Cart’s not thick enough to deflect laser fire! All I have to do is keep shooting holes in it, and one of them has to hit you!

SOUND: BLASTER FIRE.

NARRATOR: “You warned me, Andromeda, but I did not listen,” said Chief Leo. “Go on! Go through your portal home! The dragon will rage, and the lions will pay for my greed.”

JUNO: (SHOUTING) No, but seriously, how long do we have until the drop? I-I hate that sick feeling in your stomach when—

SOUND: BLASTER SHOT.

Well, guess you’re bored of that joke, huh?

NARRATOR: Andromeda looked at her portal. Home was within reach. Polaris at last. But a hero heeds the call.

SWIFT: (CALLING) Damn it! Sit still!

JUNO (NARRATOR): Swift’s cart banged into the doors to the next room and she lost her footing for a second—

SOUND: BANGS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): —just long enough for me to see what was comin’ next. A raging storm – leaves and lions tumbling in the wind. Carts ahead of us stretching up, and up, and up, and a robotic dragon looming overhead. Swift’s cart was slowing down, and mine was speeding up. In just a few seconds, it would be within reach.

SOUND: WIND BLOWING.

NARRATOR: And so Andromeda stepped out into the storm, and she shouted:

ANDROMEDA: I stole your treasure, Draco! Now fight me!

NARRATOR: And the dragon’s winds whisked her into the air.

SWIFT: Alright, Juno: stand up, and give up! …How the hell did you get so close?

JUNO: Your cart’s slowing down, Yasmin! Hup!

SOUND: THUD.

Ow!

SWIFT: Real graceful.

JUNO: Yeah, not my best, I’m a little distracted. Did I mention I don’t like big drops?

SOUND: BLADE UNSHEATHING.

Whoa!

SOUND: LOW ELECTRIC HUM.

SWIFT: This could still end easily. Stand still, and I’ll make sure you don’t have to feel anything.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Luckily I’d learned a thing or two from watching someone better than Swift work his way around a knife. She cut a good gash into my shoulder—

SOUND: SLASH.

JUNO: Agghh!!

JUNO (NARRATOR): —but it was nothing twenty stitches and a month of physical therapy couldn’t fix. Besides, she only took fifty percent of my shoulders, and in the brawl, I managed to get one hundred percent of her weapons.

JUNO: Hah!

SOUND: METALLIC CLATTER.

SWIFT: Damn it! My knife! I’ll get you—

JUNO: Hah!

SOUND: THUNK.

SWIFT: Damn it! Your gun!

JUNO: I basically only got the one move but it’s working out okay so far. Wanna punch it out?

SWIFT: Love to.

SOUND: GRUNTS, PUNCHES.

NARRATOR: Andromeda and the dragon wrestled through the storm, trading blow for blow!

JUNO: Wow, I have had enough Andromeda for today!

SWIFT: God, Juno, she’s the galaxy’s favorite hero! What is wrong with you?!

JUNO: Let’s not get into that. Speaking of heroes: what the hell?

SWIFT: What the hell what?

JUNO: You, the murders, the whole everything. Like, what?! You work putting smiles on kids’ faces at The Place That Fun Calls Home TM for a decade, and then one day you decide, “Actually, screw this, let’s burn it and a few engineers to the ground?”

SWIFT: You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!

NARRATOR (IN BACKGROUND): Andromeda and the dragon wrestled through the storm, trading blow for blow!

Hahh! JUNO: Yeah, you’re right. I probably don’t.

(GRUNTS) But I’m willing to listen.

SWIFT: You don’t know a goddamn thing. This all could’ve worked out, but you don’t know a god! Damn! Thing!

SOUND: GRUNTS, PUNCHES.

NARRATOR: Andromeda and the dragon wrestled through the storm, trading blow for blow!

SWIFT: It’s about priorities! It’s about doing what you have to do, no matter how much you’ll hate doing it! I’d do anything for her!

JUNO: Her… you mean your kid?

SWIFT: Don’t talk about her. (GRUNTS)

JUNO: Agh!

MUSIC: STARTS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Swift rang my church bell hard enough to make the angels nervous and I fell back against the corner of the cart. She was about to follow it up with a hit to send me really flying, too, until she noticed what Rita had been up to.

SOUND: CLANG. BRAKES SCREECH.

SWIFT: Why did the cart stop? What did you do?

JUNO (NARRATOR): Rita’s plan to sap the power from her cart to mine worked… a little too well.

We were frozen in place, now, at the crest of the ride’s biggest drop. The cart in front was stalled, no power at all, and the cart in back didn’t have the thrust to push both of them over the hill. A big, frozen robo-dragon hung over us, teeth still as stalactites and twice as sharp.

And below us lay Polaris Park, stretching out for mile after technicolor mile.

NARRATOR: And just before Andromeda killed the beast, she looked out… and saw through the distant portal. Polaris. The home she’d given up. Again.

SWIFT: Hah!

SOUND: PUNCH.

JUNO: Oof!

SWIFT: I’ve got you cornered, Steel. I don’t like to do this, you know. I’m not a killer at heart. Not really.

JUNO: (CHOKING) Funny way of showing it.

SWIFT: I didn’t like killing them, either. And I really, really don’t like killing this park. It’s worth more than all of you put together.

But you could never understand. I have to do this. A mother will do anything for her kid. You could never understand that.

JUNO: (CHOKING) Then why the hell are you doing it? Your kid doesn’t want this!

SWIFT: I don’t owe you anything! (GRUNTS)

JUNO: (CHOKING)

JUNO (NARRATOR): Above us, the metal dragon creaked to life. And there was no fire, not here, not this time, either. But…

Look, I didn’t mean to do it, alright? Because even if she was a killer, there aren’t enough people like Yasmin Swift. Everyone says they’d do anything for their kid, but the ones who mean it…

I don’t know. Maybe that’s just me.

SOUND: DISTANT WHEELS ON TRACKS.

SWIFT: The hell is that noise?

JUNO (NARRATOR): She looked away from me for just a second. And– I didn’t mean to do it. But… I guess, sometimes, no matter what the mouth says, the body wants to keep living.

So, without thinking… right before the cart Rita sent after us crashed into ours, I kicked Swift just enough to get her off-balance.

SOUND: THUMP. CLANK.

SWIFT (FADING OUT): Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!

JUNO: Swift!

Swiiiiiiiift!!

NARRATOR: And just before Andromeda killed the beast, she looked out… and saw through the distant portal. Polaris. The home she’d given up. Again.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

JUNO (NARRATOR): When I got off the ride I found Rita there waiting for me.

RITA: Mista Steel! I’m so glad you’re alright!

SOUND: SOFT THUD.

JUNO: Ah!

RITA: I was so worried! I saw you on the video cameras and that mean beautiful Yasmin lady had her fingers around your neck, and I thought oh gosh! But then I thought what if I activate the line with the robots and the carts on it, and then one of them saved you, just like I planned, boss!

JUNO: I knew you’d do it, Rita. That’s why I asked you to stay behind, remember?

RITA: And it makes me sad ‘cause she did go splat, but… you were in danger, Mista Steel, and I had to save you. You can count on me, boss. You can always count on me.

SOUND: MECHANICAL, RHYTHMIC NOISES.

VEGA: Ahem.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I looked up, and there was Lorenzo Vega, on two rusty legs. He still wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t look angry anymore. Now he just looked sad.

VEGA: Detective Steel. Meet me in my office. And Miss… Whoever-you-are, I don’t know how to repay you, but, this is a free park pass for you, if you want it, but if you’re tired of Polaris Park now I could under—

RITA: A free pass?! That’s mine, thank you! See you later, Mista Steel! Have fun at work—

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

(FADING OUT) —I’m gonna go eat my weight in popcorn and your weight in cotton candy and Frannie’s weight in glazed Saturn pops and the whole P.I. Registry’s weight in tiny pizzas!

VEGA: One of my engineers will show you to my office, Detective Steel. Don’t get lost.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Vega’s office was in the park’s back lot – behind the bright faces of the stores, in the dusty alleys where robo-puppets lay with their clockwork guts out and underpaid interns stood around with a cigarette in one hand and their cartoon costume’s head in the other.

The office itself was even more of a mess. Unfinished schematics on the wall, a three-foot-tall stack of work orders on the ground next to a chair, a pile of old Northstar merchandise on his desk – t-shirts and plastic mugs and action figures.

I poked through the toys for a minute, and before I knew it, one of them was in my hand.

SOUND: TOY SQUEAKS.

VOICE (FROM TOY SPEAKER): Here comes Turbo – the man of the future!

(AT THE SAME TIME) JUNO: Turbo’s here with turbo speed. TOY: Turbo’s here with turbo speed!

JUNO (NARRATOR): The voice nearly made me drop the damn thing. I used to have one of these. Hell, I used to have eight.

SOUND: TOY SQUEAK.

TOY: Stop right there, evil! The good guys always win!

JUNO: (QUIETLY) The good guys always… win.

JUNO (NARRATOR): My hands were shaking. I could remember it so clearly.

SOUND: TOY SQUEAK.

TOY: It’s time for justice! Stop right there, evil! The good guys always win!

SOUND: STRETCHING, RIP.

JUNO: (PANTING)

SOUND: DOOR OPENS. MECHANICAL, RHYTHMIC NOISES.

VEGA: Detective Steel. I see you’ve been having fun with my collectibles.

JUNO: Not really how I—

I mean… sorry.

VEGA: That toy was just a first-edition printing. Older than Andromeda. Older than you, most likely. As irreplaceable as Yasmin Swift.

JUNO: Don’t give me that. She was sabotaging your stupid—

VEGA: Or… as irreplaceable as Sarah Steel. That’s where I remember your name from, isn’t it? She was your mother.

JUNO: Listen, doc, I just want to wrap up this Yasmin Swift thing for Ramses and go on my miserable way.

VEGA: Sarah Steel… it’s been a long, long time.

I think I may even remember you. And that says something – I don’t bother to remember most people. She brought you into the office a few times, gave you your run of the Turbo merchandise. You and… oh, what was his name. Benjamin?

JUNO: Not Benjamin.

VEGA: Ben-something, anyway. You were charming children. …What happened?

JUNO: You’re the one with two metal legs, doc. I don’t think I gotta tell you that life plays a little rough sometimes.

VEGA: I was born without legs, actually. Life does ‘play rough’ – but so does birth. It’s not right, but that’s reality. Sarah seemed like life had given her challenges, too. I don’t think it was her fault, necessarily. Her being– I mean, Northstar letting her go like that.

JUNO: Didn’t ask.

VEGA: I was on the board that made the decision, and I don’t think we did anything wrong. I’ve never done anything I thought was wrong, but… we were just a little company back then. Everything we’d made was on the line! We only had the money to keep one of our writers and then your mother, trying to steal someone else’s work.

JUNO: What are you gunning for here, Vega? You want me to forgive you or somethin’?

VEGA: I just know things went poorly for her after that. Health-wise.

JUNO: Health.

VEGA: And I– expect that made things difficult for you. I’ve been thinking about that for thirty-four years, now. She doesn’t leave your mind easily, a person like Sarah Steel. Unique. Singular. A shame. She made some great things.

JUNO: So what? You want me to forgive you for firing her, or… something? Doc, I barely know the story. I don’t remember you. I was four.

VEGA: It was a difficult situation. She had some very real, well, needs. You might call them ‘moods’. And—

JUNO: Just… whatever. You want me to say I forgive you? Fine, “I forgive you.” But I really don’t care. And look: whether she had needs or moods or whatever you want to dance around and call it, the fact is she dealt with them for years, and then one day she stopped trying. Sarah Steel gave up. It was her fault, and it’s a good goddamn thing she’s dead because her mistake made a lot of misery for a lot of people. There. You happy?

VEGA: I would be a little more precise with my language, I think.

JUNO: Listen! If you don’t give me the junk you promised me on Swift right now—

VEGA: Yes, fine. We’ll drop it.

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEP.

There’s a clause in our staff contracts that states we legally own any personal communications made within Polaris Park. So I made a copy of all messages and comms calls she’s made at work for the past five years.

JUNO: That’s… terrifying.

VEGA: That’s industry standard. We have to make sure our secrets stay mum– uh, pop. There’s an untraceable line she spent a lot of time yesterday talking to; bartering over a job, a payment, a place to pick up the, ehm, incendiary-device, all that kind of thing. Originally they wanted Yasmin to kill a cart full of park guests, but… she wouldn’t have it. She always was stubborn.

JUNO: Just cut to the chase. Anything interesting in there?

VEGA: You might want to read the last message she received from that number. Here.

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEP.

JUNO: (SIGHS) “The first payment for your daughter’s procedure has been wired to Halo Medical. The remainder of your payment will be conducted in person once you’ve completed the job. Look for a woman with one ear outside the First Museum of Colonized History in… Hyperion City.”

It can’t be… the Piranha?

VEGA: If Ramses has an enemy, it follows that they’d be connected to his campaign in that roachhole. Why he wants to run it I’ll never understand.

JUNO: So whoever’s trying to get to Ramses, I’ll find a lead on them there.

It say what procedure her kid needed?

VEGA: I don’t see how that’s any of our business. And at any rate, any messages that got into specifics were sent outside of work hours, so…

JUNO: None of our business. Right.

Well, thanks for the lead, doc. I’ll put in a good word with Ramses.

VEGA: Do you like it in Hyperion City, Juno?

JUNO: Why do you care?

VEGA: Because…

Do you know the premise to the Andromeda stories? Generally, I mean.

JUNO: This important?

VEGA: I hope not. But… (CLEARS THROAT) Andromeda is the protector of Polaris, a beautiful kingdom of crystal and ice, until the day the evil wizard Orion casts a curse on her. She’ll wander the world forever, but no matter how she searches, she’ll never find her way home.

JUNO: This’d better be going somewhere.

VEGA: So Andromeda makes the best of it. She tries. Every day she follows the North Star, which lights the way to Polaris, and on her way she saves people, and stops Orion from hurting others. But she never breaks the curse.

JUNO: Pretty brutal for a kid’s show.

VEGA: Brutal? Maybe. I’ve always found it… beautiful. Sad, of course, but… Andromeda chooses not to accept any of the places she saves. She insists on going to this home, this place she can never go back to. And insists. And insists.

It’s ironic that the Andromeda pitch meeting is where your mother lost her… way.

MUSIC: STARTS.

Because in retrospect, Andromeda reminds me of Sarah. Lost, searching, never home…

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

Hold on, stop a moment. I’m trying to help you.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

JUNO: Think I’ve made it pretty clear how much I want this kind of help.

VEGA: You remind me of her, Juno. Truly incredible ability, a truly singular talent… with something powerful storming within you. Be careful. I’ve seen how that goes before.

JUNO: Later, doc. Really excited to never see you again.

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Curses come in all shapes and sizes in this galaxy. Some curses come from evil wizards, and some come from a sickness you never asked for, and some come from a woman that nobody wants to let you shake, no matter how many years stand between you and her.

I was glad to get out of Polaris Park. I didn’t like to think about Northstar. I didn’t like to think about anything that reminded me of… her.

“Learn from the past or you’re doomed to repeat it,” they say. And maybe they’re right. But, if you take that too far, people shouting you down about the past every day, people telling you you’re going to be just like her, people saying the clock’s ticking and any day now you’re going to give up just like she did – that is a curse that fulfills itself.

I’m not going to be like her. I’m not.

(SNORTS) Famous last words, I guess.

MUSIC: ENDS.

***

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING, MUSIC.

CONDUCTOR: If you’ve enjoyed this tale, please consider donating to The Penumbra on Patreon. Our artists work tirelessly to bring you these stories, and if you have the means, we hope you will support our efforts. Every dollar helps. You can find that page at patreon.com/thepenumbrapodcast. If you support us on Patreon at the $10 level or higher, you’ll receive access to commentary tracks like this one, from actors Kate Jones, Joshua Ilon, and Bob Mussett:

SOUND: TRAIN STOPS, DOOR SLIDES OPEN, RAIN.

JOSHUA: …Y’know, we see Juno suffering, we hear the inside of his head, so we know what’s going on there. But to also see how his internal suffering also makes the people around him have a tough time, it’s… I mean he’s out there, with no regard for his life, and, Rita needs to remind him, there are– you might not care what happens to you, but other people care a lot about what’s happening to you.

KATE: I like that you’re alive, so if you could keep doing that.

JOSHUA: Right. Yeah, which is an important thing for Juno to hear, I think…

SOUND: DOOR SLIDES SHUT.

CONDUCTOR: You can also support The Penumbra by liking us on Facebook, following us on Twitter @thepenumbrapod, following us on Tumblr @thepenumbrapodcast, telling your friends about us, telling your friends to tell their friends about us, and especially by rating and reviewing our podcast on iTunes. Every rating, comment, and kind word spreads our stories further and inspires us to keep creating more and better tales to come.

We would like to give special thanks to all who support us on Patreon, but especially to Lynné Herman, Charlie Spiegel, Francie Liana, Minchowski, Gray, Jaimie Gunter, and the Princess and the Scrivener for their incredibly generous contributions per episode. Thank you.

This tale, Juno Steel and the Dragon’s Den, was told by the following people: Joshua Ilon as Juno Steel, Kate Jones as Rita, Sarah Gazdowicz as Yasmin Swift, Bob Mussett as Lorenzo Vega, and M. Sutherland as the narrator.

On staff at The Penumbra: Kevin Vibert is our lead writer and recording engineer. Sophie Kaner is our director and sound designer. Grahame Turner is our script editor. Noah Simes is our production manager. Alice Chung is our designer and financial manager. Original music by Ryan Vibert. Promotional art by Mikaela Buckley.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert.

I’m afraid this is the end of the line for today, dear Traveler. We hope you will ride with The Penumbra again soon.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

[llantano]

Turning Leaves, 3. Resignation Part Two

By Jaemlyn

As they stepped back out of the small office, the throngs of reporters were not as comforting to her as she would have preferred. Bo led her down an all-too-familiar corridor toward the jail. His silence was intentional. He was trying to make her uncomfortable. If this was her punishment – her only punishment – so be it. She could take it. In fact, she preferred it.

She was steady as a rock when she stepped up to the cold, steel vertical bars between herself and Mayor Lowell.

Bo seemed sincere as he looked Dorian in the eyes. "You okay then?"

Now it was she who was amused. "I can handle this."

Bo stepped away. "I'll let you two kids talk this out then." He nodded to a guard who didn't seem to be going anywhere and patted another, gesturing for them to follow. The bars closed behind them and she was left staring at the man whom just yesterday she had placed all her confidence in. She had given up on her goal to become chief of staff at the hospital to support him. Fat lot of good that did.

Lowell looked back at her with an unreadable expression. "Dorian."

"We need to talk," she frowned with disapproval.

"Listen, I tried to convince those guys not to go after Starr and her baby."

She was disgusted. "Why should I believe that?"

"It was never my intention to drag your family into this."

"Cole is the father of my grand-niece. You put a hit out on him. That was very intentional. Not only did you want Cole dead, but also my beloved nieces could have been killed. I gave you my loyalty, my vote, and put my own reputation on the line for you, and that's how you repaid me."

"Why are you here, Dorian? To give me a guilt trip?"

"Oh, you bet I am." Her smirk was dark. "And to remind you that I'm still your campaign manager. There are a whole lot of media outlets waiting for a statement, considering that you refuse to resign from your position…." She paused as if just realizing and wondered: "…Why haven't you resigned?"

"Innocent until proven guilty."

She smirked again and shook her head with disdain in her voice. "Oh, don't give me that. I have it on good authority that even your own lawyers have advised you to resign, and yet you refuse. You seem to think that clinging to your position will somehow just … make it all go away. Do you honestly think you can win an election from prison?"

"I'm not going to prison, Dorian, and I am going to win the election."

"Oh, uh … I think you are gravely mistaken. I mean … unless…."

He was curious. "What?"

"I suppose it is plausible that you have friends in high places… very high places. I suppose that it is probable that you sincerely believe you are going to win, and I suspect that is because these friends of yours are able to … shall we say … sway the votes in the direction that is most beneficial?"

"Just what are you accusing me of here, Dorian?"

"Hm. Conspiracy to commit murder, kidnapping, drugs … electoral fraud would be the least of your worries, wouldn't it?"

"What, you plan to go to the media with that? I'll fire you and sue you for defamation."

Her smile was all knowing, as if she held a secret. "No. First of all, you've done a good enough job of slandering yourself. Secondly, when I do speak to the press, it will be to inform them that I have resigned my position as your campaign manager, and not only that, you have resigned your position as mayor."

"I thought we had already established that I was not going to do that."

Dorian ignored his statement as she slid a neat, creased piece of paper from her pocket. "I took the liberty – as the one in charge of your campaign – of drawing up this letter of resignation for you. It is very 'to the point.' In it you absolve your campaign workers of any guilt, stating that they had no knowledge of your criminal involvement. You are very sorry for the pain you caused the families of Cole Thornhart, the Evanses and, of course, your own campaign manager. You also explain that while you did not physically take part in the shootings and injuries that resulted from the attempt on Cole's life and the kidnapping of Starr and Hope Manning, you were indirectly responsible for them. You agree to cooperate with the Llanview Police Department in their investigation. Lastly, you are deeply regretful of the negative effect your behavior has had on your own family, and for their sake, you are withdrawing from the election and resigning from office."

"Are you insane, Dorian?" he spat. "That's not a resignation letter. It's an admission of guilt. I would never sign that, and my lawyers would tell me not to sign it."

"But you are going to sign it," she insisted.

"Or what?"

She smiled for a quiet moment before resting her hands around the metal bars and relaxing on the outside of his cell. "Let's talk about Lee Ramsey."

"What's Lee Ramsey got to do with any of this?"

She couldn't help but chuckle. "How stupid do you think I am, Mayor? … Or should I just call you 'Stan' now?"

"That whole scenario with Lee Ramsey was ages ago."

"You're right," she consented. "But at the same time, it never really ended, did it?"

"What are you talking about?"

She pressed her index finger to her chin as if thinking. "Maybe I should have brought up the name Powell Lord instead? I mean … you know, since he's fresh in our minds. Didn't you just blame John McBain for his rampage right before your arrest? Are you that delusional?"

"I know you don't share my disdain for John McBain, Dorian, but up until now you've been right there with me in the public eye."

"That's neither here nor there," she clarified for the mayor. "You see, the trash who kidnapped my nieces was what helped me put it all together."

"You're going to have to be more specific, Dorian. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well, it is a little hard to explain," she gestured with her hands as she spoke. "There's this whole big web of criminals and corruption that are all tied together, but …I'll try to simplify it for you."

He stared at her, unfazed.

She blinked at him as if she owned his soul. "Let's try a different name, shall we? Carlo Hesser. Carlo Hesser was last seen in South America, but before that, his last known residence was in Eastern Europe. If I'm not mistaken, your criminal cohorts more than likely hailed from that area of the world too, didn't they? Which brings us back to Lee Ramsey. It all makes a neat, tidy little circle of connections, and lies, and crimes."

"You can't prove anything. This is all speculation."

"I don't need to prove anything. You see there's a loose thread in this web and you're the fly that's stuck in it, aren't you?" She flashed an almost wicked smirk again as she leaned closer and lowered her voice to just above a whisper. "There was always something that struck me as odd about that whole Powell Lord, KID killing spree – about the victims in that case and their connections to Marty Saybrooke."

"Old news, Dorian."

"Not really. I recall this all very clearly because it happened at my house, you remember? … Talia Sahid was wearing a KID ring that had been locked in an evidence room prior to her stabbing. The ring was part of this whole big scheme to frame John McBain for her murder. It was under your instruction that McBain was arrested."

"All the evidence pointed to him."

"Yes," Dorian half-smirked, and half-frowned in gleeful disdain. "You saw to that, didn't you? And poor Talia was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Are you saying that I killed Officer Sahid? Because even Bo Buchanan can tell you that I was at the police station when she was murdered."

"Oh, isn't that convenient?" Dorian chided. "What better alibi than, 'I was with the police commissioner at the time of the murder?' Just like you were at a political debate when my nieces were kidnapped, hm? Of course you had no way of knowing that Bo would send Officer Sahid and her partner to find John McBain that night. All you knew was that John McBain lived at my house, and, from what I heard later, you knew about other evidence before the reports were even turned in to Bo so that he could make an arrest. You were the one framing John McBain."

"Like I said, I was at the police station…."

"Save it. You had moles on the police force then just like you did this time. That's how you got your hands on the KID ring that they found on Talia's finger."

"I never saw or touched any ring until I went to your house later that night to make sure the police did their jobs and arrested the man that the evidence pointed to."

Dorian rolled her eyes and growled, "Spare me." She lowered her voice again. "But you messed up that night, didn't you?" She raised an eyebrow. "Poor Talia. Of all the police officers it could have been, why did it have to be Talia? But I bet you've asked yourself that question a thousand times, haven't you? Maybe next time you decide to frame someone for murder, you'll be more specific about who … exactly … the real murderer should and should not kill."

"Dorian, what you are saying is preposterous. That case is long since closed anyway."

"Doesn't matter," she informed him. "In fact it doesn't even matter if I have proof. What does matter … at least it should matter to you … is what Carlo Hesser has to say about it when I tell him the whole sordid story. You think he'll still want you to be mayor? Or perhaps the better question is, do you think he'll still want you to be alive? So I guess you need to decide whether you want to resign and go to prison, or buy your way out of here and end up … well … who knows?"

"Are you threatening my life, Doctor Lord?"

"One good turn deserves another, don't you think?"

"You wouldn't know how to find Carlo Hesser if you tried."

"Oh, I think you grossly underestimate me, Stan. You said it yourself. I'm the queen of Llanview, and I've got connections you can't even pretend to have." She held the pre-written letter toward Lowell again.

He reached for the paper, but hesitated. "You don't understand what you're doing, Dorian. Victoria Lord cannot become the next mayor of Llanview. I know more about keeping this town safe and in check than any layperson could ever understand. There are greater forces at work here."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that too much," Dorian told him. "Viki won't be running unopposed."

Mayor Lowell took his time as he received the paper from Dorian's hand. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

"It's really none of your concern anymore, is it?" she taunted, withdrawing a Lowell campaign ink pen from within her top and handing it to him. "I'd say keep the pen but they don't let you keep sharp objects in here."

He grabbed the pen from her with an impatient frown and signed his name at the bottom of his resignation letter, handing it back to her. "Silence is a virtue."

"Lucky for you I'm a virtuous woman," she smirked as she slid an envelope from her pocket and secured the letter inside it. "Guard!" A police officer stepped forward to let Dorian out. "Have a nice life."

"Watch your back," he answered.

She paused. "Is that a threat?"

"No. Just a word of advice from the former mayor to the future mayor."

She nodded. "We'll see." She paused as she turned to leave, speaking to the guard. "You might want to take that ink pen away from him."

[garden-of-succulents]

Tonight in “shipping in a washtub with Lis”: OC femslash!

Andy/Maida (in a Kent/Andy universe, having a lot to do with metamours of Kent and Kent-as-metamour)

I wrote 2,000 words of this tonight what the fuck

In the extended Campsites universe (but not Ain’t Licked Yet, which is a different timeline where Andy went off and did something else) Kent broke up with Maida and Luis to be with Andy when she moved back to Las Vegas because having Andy living with him full-time and involved in his hockey life was rewarding enough to make up for the suck of breaking up with Maida and Luis (who were sad, but kind of also, “If we have to lose you, at least it’s to someone who’s making you happy”)

One of Andy’s original provisos when she moved back and started dating Kent was “you can’t date or sleep with any other women” because the thought of Kent being romantic with another woman sends Andy right into an awful “any man would leave you the instant he got a chance with a better woman” thought spiral thanks to growing up a toxic patriarchy where specifically, male hockey players treated women like disposable luxury items.  

Like, a lot of their early relationship when actually dating was Andy going back to therapy and working through a loooot of issues, because just standing next to Kent when everyone’s attention turned to him was enough to swamp her in feelings of, “I am worthless and irrelevant and should just stop spoiling everyone’s time with my presence.”  The kind of stuff she thought she’d licked YEARS ago.  For her, every team night he went out on, every road trip, every interaction with a female fan, was a cause to try to breathe through feelings of crushing inadequacy and try to remember that she wasn’t sixteen anymore and her boyfriend actually did love her. Their first six months were the roughest. She didn’t get jealous in the sense of trying to control Kent’s behaviour--things that would prompt that in another woman would just make Andy go, “Ah, I see, sanity has returned to the universe, he doesn’t love me anymore, I’ll go crawl into a hole now.”  And Kent would come back and go, hey, you’re quiet?? what’s up?? and she’s like, “I’m being totally stupid and irrational and I’m fairly certain you don’t want me to disappear forever but could you hug me and tell me you like me being around?”

It’s one of those localized areas of damage where him sleeping with other hockey players was fine--kind of fit her mental framework of, “Other hockey players will always have special emotional claims a significant other who doesn’t play in that league just has to accept”--but Luis, as part of a pretty packaged deal with Maida, and not a hockey player, made her kind of uncomfortable. So while he kept seeing Luis and Maida as friends, especially at first Andy felt really anxious and uncomfortable when he was off at a concert with them or hanging out at their place.

It got easier when she started to get to know Luis and Maida on her own.  She tried going to a local church to try to meet people from outside the hockey world in Vegas, and Luis was playing guitar in the band and came up to her after the service when she was holding a cup of coffee and smiling awkwardly at a crowd of strangers. She was glad enough to see him that it made up for the awkwardness of being exes or metamours or something. He says hi every time she goes, and sometimes introduces her to people. He’s friendly and familiar.

Maida joined Andy’s roller derby team. She’s surprisingly fast and has good stamina for someone who always hated gym class with the passion of a thousand burning suns.  She was pretty weirded out by the things Andy took for granted--team cheers and chants, groaning over conditioning but doing it anyway, caring very deeply about who won--but she had an unusual aptitude for violence and rough play that made her a real asset to the team. (Someone who can stay calm and keep tending to the predator that just ripped a gash in her arm is good at playing through pain!)

At first Andy helped Maida a lot as a junior teammate not used to sports--she helped Maida put bandages on hard-to-reach places, recommended better athletic socks to prevent blisters under her skates, shouted encouragement when Maida looked like she wanted to give up on a drill.  

It was awkward, the first few times Kent came to roller derby things after Maida joined the team, because both women looked at each other with wary, “I don’t want to make you upset or jealous” looks, and treated Kent gingerly, as though they were afraid of being too friendly or affectionate with him in front of each other.  It got a little better when he came in during one of their informal practices one day on crutches, with a bag from a donut shop clenched in his teeth, and Maida said, “Oh god, what did he--?” and Andy, watching Kent maneuver through the gym doors determinedly solo, grimacing thanks at the person who tried to take the bag away from him, said, “God, don’t--he isn’t--” meaning he’s being Kent, he hates those crutches so fucking much, people’s reactions have been making him miserable, and Maida called out, “Hey deadweight! They kick you off the team yet?”

Kent spat the bag out into the crook of his arm just to stick his tongue out at her, and handed out Krispy Kreme while merrily arguing with her about whether or not she got one, unselfconsciously kissing Andy as she thanked him for looking after her team. And it was easier, after that; Maida’s uninvited intimacy with part of Andy’s life was an asset, not a source of hostility.  As the team stretched and Andy groused about her boyfriend’s fucking playoffs, a jammer asked, “Wasn’t it playoffs last month?”  “Oh yeah,” Maida said, leaning over her knee, “and knowing the Aces? It’ll be playoffs next month too. It’s fucking miserable.”

Maida saw a little of it, one time the derby team had a Christmas party at the Las Vegas Ice Complex, an hour on a rented rink and swapping their roller skates for blades on ice, seeing women like Eleanor and Andy take to it with fondness and nostalgia. There were husbands and and girlfriends and kids, and there was an Aces event at the T-Mobile in mild conflict with it so they didn’t get to see Kent on the ice, but he waved through the glass at them as he stood with the men’s auxiliary on the concourse.  The hour ended and the skaters trooped off the ice, changed back into their shoes; someone else offered to take Maida’s skates back to the rental shop for her, while Andy put guards on hers and slung them over her shoulder.

When they came out, Kent was fifty feet down the concourse, mobbed by young women.  There were only five or them, maybe, but they were spread out around him, intent and avid, and he was signing autographs and smiling and looking somehow desperate in the back of his eyes.  Maida looked at Andy, confused.  “What’s going on?”

Andy blinked for a second, and said, “...Puck bunnies,” loath to admit the obvious but driven by the force of Maida’s questioning gaze.  “That’s... what happens when he goes out in public.”

"I’ve never seen it happen before,” Maida said, but even as she did it clicked into place for her: Kent smiling broadly when they walked to their car at the end of a concert and saying, “No hockey fans,” with a contented sigh. His incognito mode, walking through crowds with his head down and shoulders slumped, masking his height and deflecting attention. The amazing way he had of eeling sideways through places, finding inconspicuous doors and unused elevators. He came to her and Luis when he wanted to escape; this was what he wanted to escape from.

"We’re never allowed to be rude to them,” Andy said, in tones of false pleasantness and gritted teeth, and set off down the concourse.  Maida watched her.  She got Kent’s attention first, sliding around the group to the wall he had his back against, and insinuated herself into the group with smiling pleasure, receiving Kent’s introductions to the women and precis of their conversation, nodding and slowly working her way closer until she linked her arm with his. The impressive part was that it didn’t look like a rescue; they stayed there for another minute or two, talking, eliciting stories from the women and laughing at what they said, and Andy took one woman’s phone to get a picture of her standing next to Kent; then they said cheerful goodbyes and strolled away, and Kent’s relaxed smile only showed strain around the edges when he met Maida’s eyes and made a small “that was awkward” expression.

Maida got it then, just what was so valuable to him about Andrea Scarlatti; why having a partnered public face was worth giving up relationships that were secret paradises to him. And her understanding of Andy got a lot less intellectual; she suddenly knew with absolute certainty that she couldn’t do what Andy did.  She would let him love anyone in the world if he wanted to, but it made her sick to imagine constantly, repetitively, endlessly performing her role as His Girlfriend to leverage social situations and keep him safe.

Being around Andy got easier, as they moved around each other in the locker room, like a small silent conspiracy to share the space, or when they made eye contact during team discussions that shared complicated, private knowledge. Andy French-braided Maida’s hair before bouts, sometimes, and Maida helped her put KT tape on her shoulder; they sat together at team parties, eating marble cheese slices off paper plates and sharing opinions on the salsa. Andy understood about languages, had taken Hmong in high school and Spanish at college, had enough understanding and curiosity for Maida to pour stories of her own languages into her ears. In return she found Maida a steady resource during the ageing Sydney’s descent into feline diabetes, discussing blood draws and feeding regimens with a knowledgeable listener.

They double-dated with their boyfriends kind of by accident once, Kent and Andy going to a concert they’d vaguely heard Luis and Maida would be at once; it was a loose, “I see you’re also here” encounter, but Kent and Luis got talking about music and something involving Luis’s nephew and football, and Maida and Andy sought out a table and shared a plate of wings, and in a loose, unarranged fashion they ended up spending most of the evening together.

Andy sat there with this smaller woman beside her, her wavy hair and the generous plumpness of her arms gesturing as she talked and the smallness of the tip of her nose and her lip gloss, and her stomach turned upside down, and she thought: Fuck.

She took Kent’s hand a couple days later, when she was definitely sure it wasn’t food poisoning, as he rooted through the fridge all ridiculous and barefoot in only the jeans he’d thrown on after a shower, and as he pulled out a protein drink she said in a tiny voice, “I think I’m in love with Maida?”

He stopped and blinked at her, and she squeezed his hand, man that she loved and would promise to marry. He visibly processed the information that yes, she meant that Maida, Andromeda, and nodded a little and squeezed back.

“Do you think I should do anything about it?” Andy asked, just as small as before.

He hauled her off to sit on a couch, lean against him and tell him everything.  He stayed out of the subsequent conversations.

Andy drove out for the first weekend of her own at the trailer in Henderson in March, watching clouds scudding over the mountains in a ceiling that descended until she passed the twisty tree and felt like she was going somewhere safe, small and contained, and well taken care of.  When Maida met her in the yard the sky was overcast with iron grey, and it looked like it might rain later.

Andy kissed her, because it was new and exciting and Maida was there and she could.  Then they let go, held hands, twined fingers.

“We’ll get your bag in a minute,” Maida said, and Andy shut the car door. “I want to show you my garden.”

[old-long-john]

WIP meme

Do This: List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or as little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on. This can be writing, art, vids, giftsets, whatever.

I got tagged to do this quite a while ago by @jmeelee and @vowel-in-thug (I think) and I’ve been meaning to do it but kept forgetting. Yet again I’m wondering whether talking about wips will actually push me to start writing again or not, but it’s worth a go.

I’ll tag @jadedbirch @nettlekettle @reluming and @lurkerdelima if any of you feel like it.

I really only have one thing that’s half written that I think of as a wip that I definitely intend to finish at some point, and it’s the post-series/post-TI silverflint thing. I can’t remember if I’ve posted any bits of it before, but I’m just gonna post a chunk of the beginning for (hopefully) tantalising funsies. It needs reworking in light of the actual series ending, but still.

Fucking small towns. Fucking inclement weather. Fucking craven captains afraid of a little wind and rain, bolting for safe harbour at the drop of a hat. It was a fucking divine conspiracy to trap him in this place that stank of fish and horse shit and seaweed, and where the most scintillating conversation available was about the fucking harvest - bountiful crop of turnips this year, apparently, though the cabbages had struggled - and where every fucking person felt the need to openly fucking ogle his missing fucking leg. Not that Silver was becoming bitchy or irritable in his old age, but Jesus, what he wouldn’t give for a brief snatch of intelligent conversation. Two days he’d been confined to this inn, since the storm had driven the ship he had been passenger aboard into the harbour. The worst of the weather had passed, but the streets were still inches deep in a thick slurry of mud and shit, and he didn’t much fancy his chances of remaining upright if he tried to navigate his way through them for a turn about the town. He had tried asking the innkeeper if he had any books he might borrow, but the man had looked at him as though he might be a dangerous lunatic. He supposed, on reflection, his unkempt appearance didn’t exactly lend itself to the image of a literate man who would want to read books, rather than simply tear the pages out of them to line his sodden shoe. And so he remained distractionless in his confinement.   

He was sat at the bar nursing a pint of ale after his lunch, an uninspiring stew that was best not too closely examined, letting the noise of the other patrons’ conversations wash over him. He had colonised this particular stool soon after arrival at the inn and made it his own, tucked against the wall so that his crutch sat hidden in shadows and his loose trouser leg was out of sight. He had long ago perfected the art of pretending not to notice when people’s gazes inevitably wandered down to the space where his left foot ought to be, but the more tired or riled or bored he was the more difficult it became to ignore, and fucking hell was he bored right now. He felt that itching buzz beneath his skin that begged him to get up, to move, to do anything, but getting into an altercation with the next bumpkin to make the mistake of glancing down was a pisspoor solution to his frustration. He’d feel better for it, certainly, younger and stronger and as though he had some kind of power over his own damn life, but it wasn’t worth being run out of town for that. And so he buried his face in his mug of too-weak ale, continued to work a groove into the bartop with his thumbnail, and eavesdropped on the table of men behind him.

“Well you know why that is don’t you, Ted? That Captain Barlow’s been telling the kids stories again. Had my Daisy petrified of the storm the other night he did, convinced that some sea monster was going snatch her from her bed.”

“What’s he been saying now?”

“Just the usual tall tales. Supposedly, years ago Davy Jones himself drove him into a living tempest that almost swallowed him whole. Said that the sea reached out with waves a hundred foot high that thrashed his ship and ate half his crew alive, and when the storm spat him out the other side he spent months adrift, becalmed and starving, cursed by the Devil. He’s promised to tell them next time how he caught sharks bigger than oxen to feed his famished crew, armed only with his bare hands, a dull blade, and the will to live. Absolute rubbish, but the kids believe every word out of his mouth.”

There was a strange buzzing in Silver’s ears and his mouth felt suddenly very dry. Frozen in place, mug raised to his lips, he swallowed against the bile rising in the back of his throat. It had been a very long time since he had heard that name or those stories. A lifetime, it felt like. When it had all finally gone to shit, when he had seen that there was no future ahead of them that carried with it anything resembling victory or life, he had been the one to cut the cord and run. As fast as his leg would carry him. Drowning men weren’t rational; given half a chance they would drag you under with them, without even realising they were doing it, and so after he had wept and raged and wept some more, he had made the decision for both of them. After everything he had lost, and everything he had almost lost, he just couldn’t stand to give any more to that fucking island or the ravenous cause. They had taken enough from him. He only wished there was a way to stop it from taking him too, but he knew in his gut that Flint had been consumed by that place long before he had ever met him. He was already a ghost. And yet-

“Perhaps you should go and talk to the Captain then. Tell him to lay off.”

“Ha! Not likely. He might just be some old sea dog but he gives me the creeps. There’s something about his eyes. It’s sinister, you know? He’s good to the kids, but I don’t like dealing with him myself.”

“Must be embarrassing to be more lily-livered than your own nine year old daughter, Frank.”

“Excuse me, friends,” Silver said, finally turning on his stool to face the table behind him where two of the men were laughing while one spluttered with indignation. “Pardon my intrusion, but I couldn’t help overhearing. You mentioned a Captain Barlow? He sounds rather like someone I used to know. You wouldn’t happen to know where I might find him?”

The man called Frank looked him up and down, disdain clear in his gaze, eyes settling too long on the frayed seam of his left trouser leg, and Silver had to quash the bristle of truculence that passed through him. He forced the bland and inoffensive smile to remain fixed on his face while he waited for a reply, listening intently over the thrumming pulse of his blood behind his eardrums. Finally, the man spoke.

“I don’t rightly know where he lives, but a few days a week you’ll find him selling his catch by the harbour,” he said. “Might be there today. He’s a prickly old fellow though. Doesn’t take kindly to questions, I’ll warn you.”

Silver smiled again, though he made no effort to extend the warmth to his eyes. “Many thanks,” he said, and he downed the rest of his ale in one long gulp, picked up his crutch, and left the bar for his room.