#gonna have to increase the price the next time i open these so get em while you can

[benevolentcannibal]

Finished Kofi Commissions

[eryiss]

Chapter Four - Equilibrium

Summary: The Justine's were always a criminal family. The Dreyar's were forced into it due to prohibition. After gaining power and influence in the criminal world, the families were forced into a fragile truce. This was until the recently disowned Freed Justine arrived at Laxus Dreyar's door, demanding a job in exchange for information that could bring his family down. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as part of the Mashima’s Heroes Big Bang, hosted by @ft-ez-bb. I have been paired up with the wonderful @fairiesherefairiesthere​. Remember to give them lots of love.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter Four – Equilibrium

~Six Months Later~

When they had agreed on how to deal with the Justine's, Laxus had made a rule for himself. He wouldn't allow himself to be consumed by his fear about what Freed was going through. He wouldn't let every waking minuet be hell as he tortured himself by wondering what awful things might be happening to Freed. No matter what it took, Laxus promised himself that he would get on as normal, keep himself busy and forcing his thoughts to the side whenever they got dark.

But there was an exception to that rule. That came whenever he found himself sitting in the Eisenwald hotel, a front for lots of illegal activity where discretion was expected. Because the only reason for him being at the hotel was when Freed had requested to see him, which always brought a rush of anxiety.

"Come on," Laxus mumbled to himself, hunched over at the hotel room's desk. "Just fucking get here."

A night prior an advertisement for the Eisenwald hotel had arrived at Laxus' door, as was Freed's way of requesting a meeting from Laxus without detection. The advertised room price had been $10 per night, which was how Freed told Laxus that their meeting would take place at ten pm. When Laxus had shown the advertisement to the person at the front desk, he'd been given a key and told which room to wait in.

The first time they'd met like this had been a stark reminder of just how good at being a criminal Freed could be, because he'd managed to organise everything without being detected by his father and family. It was equal parts impressive, humbling, and terrifying.

As Freed entered his thoughts again, nervousness flooded through Laxus. He never knew what Freed would look like when he walked through the door. The first time they'd met, Freed had been healthy and seemed as he always did. But the next time he'd been bloody, bruised and simmering with anger after some of his father's men had attacked him in protest of his reintroduction to the family; he'd only wanted to meet to see Laxus in person again. Laxus didn't know what to expect when Freed arrived, and it racked his nerves.

He just wished he would get there.

Eventually, the door to the room opened, and Laxus reached for the gun attached to his waist on instinct. He stood up, ready to act if any of the Justine Family members had discovered their meetings and wished to take a shot at him. It was possible, and Laxus couldn't be too careful so he kept his finger rested against the trigger.

But it was Freed, and Laxus' heart fluttered at the sight of him.

He seemed like himself. There were no injuries other than the cut on his lip from last time, which both men knew would never fully heal. But he was well dressed, clean and healthy looking, and Laxus couldn't ask for more.

Without speaking, both men walked to one another. Freed kicked the door closed behind him, wrapping his arms around Laxus in a strong hug that Laxus clung onto tightly. To have Freed in his arms again, safe and alive and seemingly without injury was something Laxus hadn't experiences nearly enough, and he would take every opportunity he could to make the most of it.

They remained silent for a short while, relishing one another's presence and the stability that they promised each other. It was these moments where Laxus wished he had fought harder against letting Freed leave and return to his father. Because as much Laxus missed Freed when he wasn't there, he wasn't the one in danger like Freed was; he didn't have to see the worst that the Justine Family had to offer; and he wasn't the one who was looking over his shoulder every day for the last half a year. The strength of Freed's hug showed Laxus just how much he was missed in return, and Laxus hated that Freed ever needed to miss him that much. Freed should never have to miss him because he should always be there for him.

"Are you okay?" Laxus murmured into Freed's neck, voice slightly gravelly.

"Yes, I just needed to see you," Freed spoke quietly, and Laxus felt the vibrations against his collarbones. "You're okay as well, aren't you?"

"I missed you," Laxus confessed, gently running his hand up and down Freed's back just so he could feel the man in his arms. "Was worried about you, but you probably already know that. But I've been fine. You sure you're okay."

"I'm as good as I can be, given the situation," Freed nodded slightly as he spoke, and Laxus knew that was the best he could ask for.

They pulled out of each other's arms, though Laxus immediately cupped Freed's cheeks and kissed him. Freed readily reciprocated, leaning against Laxus and moving his lips with practiced movements. The thrill of kissing Freed still remained, but it now mingled with the incredible sensation of comfort and safety and relief. Despite his absence in his life, Freed had become synonymous with home for Laxus, and Laxus loved kissing him and holding him whenever he could.

He would have loved it if they could just stay like this for the night. To be in each other's arms, share a meal in the privacy of the room, to fall asleep side by side. But he knew that they needed to talk – they always did in these meetings – and the small folder Freed had tossed onto the bed was a reminder of that.

"So," He whispered after pulling apart. "What do you need to talk about?"

"Well, the last two months have been productive," Freed said, walking away from Laxus and towards the folder on the bed. His tone seemed more downtrodden now he was speaking about his family again. "I thought it might be best if you looked after it from now on. Not only does it give you a bigger picture of what we've got against him, it also means there's less evidence of what I've been doing in my rooms, should someone start looking into me."

"You think that people are getting suspicious?" Laxus asked, looking at Freed slightly panicked. "If you're in danger we stop it. I ain't gonna let you go back if you think they're onto you."

"Nobody suspects anything, I just want to keep it that way," Freed said placatingly, and Laxus tried to believe him. When Freed avoided his gaze slightly, Laxus frowned and tipped his chin to force eye contact. "I was thinking that maybe it's getting near the point where I wouldn't have to return."

Laxus' stomach lurched.

"You think we've got enough?" He asked, voice cracking slightly. "If we took it to the police then we might get 'em locked up? And you could come back to me?"

"Perhaps," Freed said, sitting on the bed and taking Laxus with him. He cupped Laxus' hands softly and looked at him seriously. "I don't know if we're ready, I honestly don't. I don't remember everything that I've given you in the past, so I might be overly optimistic about our chances, but I think at the very worst we're nearly there. That's why I wanted to meet you, rather than just having someone deliver it to your door like I did in the past, because I wanted your opinion on whether or not it's time I return."

"Course I'll help," Laxus replied almost automatically.

"I need you to be objective about it, though," Freed demanded softly. "It would be very easy for us both to say that I should come back today, but we need to be realistic. Can you promise me that?"

"I will," Laxus nodded. "Well, I can try my best. But I do want you back with me."

"I want to come back too," Freed agreed quietly.

They rested their heads against each other, closing their eyes and breathing softly. Laxus stroked his fingers across Freed's hand as they sat side by side, knowing that he had do what Freed had said despite every instinct telling him to not let Freed out of his sight. The very fact that they could discuss Freed coming home was better than what Laxus had expected, and Laxus put all his hope into the fact that Freed would be where he belonged sooner rather than later.

Eventually they got to work, looking through the information that Freed had gathered against his family. Even being as objective as he could, Laxus was shocked by just how much evidence Freed had collected.

At the start of Freed's time with his family, he'd only been able to get scraps of information and evidence. Small fragments, the occasional letter, and the odd thing that implicated his father. But as he regained the trust he had once held, and he was allowed more access to the crimes committed, his gathered evidence had gotten more undeniable and had greatly increased in quantity.

This haul of evidence was his largest yet, and Laxus almost couldn't believe how detailed it was. Every important and influential member of the family had full accounts on them, almost enough to have them all put in jail simply based off of that. But Freed also had contracts stating the family's wrongdoings in general, as well as a list of people who might be able to testify his family's guilt. There were also pictures of crimes taking place, letters between Freed's father and known criminals, and even a damn gun with one of Freed's brother's fingerprints on it.

"This is a lot, Freed," Laxus said, placing down the last file on the bed. "This is so much. How did you even manage this?"

"I often used to sneak around my father. Both socially and professionally, my father and I had differences in opinion, so I learned how to avoid him," Freed shrugged. "That, and the fact that they're repulsive people. Ever damn one of them, I can't believe I used to be like that honestly. I've been impatient to leave them, I suppose that helped."

"I'm glad," Laxus shrugged. "Pretty sure you know my stance on getting you out."

"Do you think this is enough?" Freed asked, looking over the spread of information covering the bed. "It does seem substantial. Perhaps I'd convinced myself that we'd never have enough, but looking at it again… maybe it's time."

"Freed, if we give this to the police they'll throw a fucking party," Laxus said seriously. "This is enough. It's more than enough. It's fucking air tight."

"Yes," Freed nodded, then smiled. A tentative smile that lit up his face. "It is, isn't it."

Before Laxus could speak, Freed was on him, kissing him with an energy that he hadn't shown since he'd left to work with his father. Laxus took a moment to catch up with the action, kissing Freed back with the same level of enthusiasm and gusto. As Freed pushed against him, Laxus wrapped his arms around his waist to pull him close. A weight seemed to lift from Laxus' gut, one that he had long since come to terms with.

As they pulled away for breath, Laxus smiled with a look that could only be described as elated. He stroked Freed's face with his thumbs, the delightful feeling of his anxiety leaving flooding throughout him. Because Freed was going to be coming back, he would no longer be forced to deal with murderers and evil men every day.

"Are you coming back tonight?" Laxus asked, and Freed shook his head slightly. Laxus' smile fell. "Why not?"

"We need to be careful about this, Laxus," Freed spoke gently, almost remorsefully. "The police might take time to act, and if I suddenly disappeared they'd get suspicious. That might lead them to you, and I won't allow that."

"So when are you gonna leave?"

"Whenever I can be sure of both your safety and mine," Freed sighed a little, though smiled at Laxus as his expression fell further. "The moment they start arresting people, I will be at your side. And I don't intend to leave it."

It was meant to placate Laxus, but a thought struck him, and panic rose through him again. It was a different kind of fear from what he'd felt when Freed was with his family, but one equally bad. Freed seemed to notice the sudden spike in his anxiety and began holding Laxus' hands firmly, keeping him grounded rather than letting his worries overtake him.

"What if they arrest you?" Laxus suggested. "You've been working with them, they might think you're a part of it. Fuck, if you go to jail you'll be stuck with them-"

"I've thought about that too, Laxus," Freed said calmly, and Laxus looked up from his lap. "I knew it was a risk when I suggested we do this, actually, and I've done something about it," Freed shifted slightly, reaching into his suit-jacket's pocket and pulling out a piece of paper. He handed it to Laxus, smiling a little as Laxus unfolded it. "I didn't tell you about it until now because I knew you wouldn't approve."

Laxus frowned, and looked down at the paper. It was a letter, written in Freed's handwriting, with his obvious signature at the bottom. As Laxus read through the short paragraphs, his hands on the paper clenched tightly. The letter was Freed taking credit for the evidence.

"You said it'd be anonymous," Laxus snapped.

"I did, but it was never going to work that way," Freed admitted quietly, and Laxus glared at him. Had he planned this from the start? Laxus went to speak, but Freed stopped him. "Without me, this is just a pile of paper. They'd say it was falsified or unreliable. Without someone like me to credit it, nothing would happen, and he'd get away with everything."

"What if he finds out?" Laxus growled. "He kicked you out for fucking men. If he finds out you tried to ruin him, he'll fucking torture and kill you."

"I know what he's capable of," Freed snapped back. "But I am not going to let him get away with his shit anymore. He's an abhorrent person and I will make damn sure he rots behind bars, and if risking myself is the way to do that then I will. I will do anything to make sure the remainder of his life is hell, and I am deadly serious about that."

"Freed, he's a murderer! If he even thinks…" A horrible thought occurred to Laxus. "You ain't thinking about testify against him, are you?"

"I have to," Freed retorted.

"You fucking don't!" Laxus yelled. "This is enough. We've got enough!"

"I don't care!" Freed snarled. "That man - that fucking cruel bastard who calls himself a father - made my life fucking hell. He did everything he could to turn me into him, and should I show a hint of individuality I was beaten. Everything about me was wrong to him; so much so that he disowned me for something a better man wouldn't have care about. And even then, he couldn't simply leave me. He had to attack my friends, the people who would show me more care than he could dream of. He hurt the people I love; simply for the fact they offered me a life he denied me! He is a cruel, vindictive, jealous man, and the moment he tried to hurt you I knew I would go to hell and back should it bring him down!"

Freed was panting now, and Laxus wrapped an arm tightly around his shoulders. He was shivering with anger, and Laxus pressed his lips to the side of Freed's head.

"I will see that man lose everything. His freedom, his safety, his money and his empire. I will make sure he loses every damn part of the life he cares for. I will watch as the colour drains from his face, as the fear blooms in his eyes, as the realisation sets in and his future becomes clear," Freed stopped, panting again. He continued in a whisper. "I will relish every moment of pain I cause him, and I will not do it behind the veil of anonymity. I am owed that."

"Hey," Laxus whispered softly, holding Freed close. "Focus on me. Come on, eyes on me."

Laxus cupped Freed's face, resting their foreheads together and remaining quiet as Freed's breathing slowly became more calmed. Freed was shuddering slightly as the rush of anger subsided, and Laxus wished he could do something to lower the anguish that he was feeling. He could only be there for Freed, and he would do so.

"I understand you're worried about me, and that you don't want me to get hurt," Freed whispered. "But I need to do this."

"I know you do," Laxus conceded.

"And you won't object to it?"

"I won't," Laxus agreed. "But you gotta promise me that you'll come to me if you need me. If he starts acting weird, or you even think for a second that he might have picked up on what's happening, you leave and come to me. No objections, no telling yourself you're being paranoid. If there's even a tiny hint he might know, you come home and stay with me."

"I will," Freed promised, and Laxus believed him.

"When d'you need to go back?" He asked after a moment, stroking Freed's cheeks absently.

"I don't have any assignments tomorrow, so as long as I show my face at the house sometime in the day he won't be suspicious," Freed shrugged after a moment of thought. "So I could sleep here if you'd like. It's not the most hygienic-"

"Stay," Laxus demanded. "Please."

"Of course," Freed nodded slightly. There was a look of hesitance in his eyes, and Laxus frowned. "Could you… can we not… would it be okay if you just held me tonight? Do you mind?"

"Course I don't mind," Laxus assured him.

He carefully removed the papers from the bed, placing them back in the files that they'd been in when Freed first arrived. By the time the dossier of evidence was back to what it had been before, Freed had begun to undress, and Laxus quickly did the same. Sans clothing, they climbed into the crisp, cold sheets of the bed, wrapping their arms around each other. Laxus smiled, slightly sadly, as Freed buried his face in the crook of Laxus' neck, as if looking for protection. It was a show of vulnerability that Laxus expected didn't come easy to Freed.

"You never have to ask me to hold you, y'know," Laxus assured him, voice a whisper. "You told me you'd always love me, you know I feel the same, right? You know that I love you?"

"I do," Freed whispered, pressing his lips against Laxus' collarbone in a kiss.

"I'd marry you, if I could," Laxus confessed, and Freed looked up towards him. "I've thought about it a lot. If there wasn't this bullshit about two men being together, I'd do whatever I could to be your husband."

"You wouldn't have to do much. If you asked me, I'd take you to city hall and get it done now, were it possible," Freed said, smiling a little. "Though, what is a marriage but two people making a promise to love one another for an eternity. I already feel like that to you; I've committed myself to you, Laxus. Wholly and fully."

The words made Laxus swallow, and he almost felt a tear prick in his eye.

He went to speak again, to stumble out a reciprocation that would be nowhere near as eloquent nor romantic as Freed's words had been, but his lover acted before he could. He leant up, and gave a lingering soft kiss to Laxus, that made him feel so damned loved he could barely understand it.

"Just hold me," Freed told him in a whisper. "That's all the response I'll need."

And Laxus let out a quivering breath, pulling Freed closer to him. The small smile on Freed's face told Laxus that he understood just how much Laxus did care for him, and the fact Freed had pre-empted Laxus' struggles with words told him that Freed was truly perfect for him. A few tears did prick at him this time, and as he slowly stroked the other man's hair he knew that no night would be as good as one shared with Freed.

He didn't know how much time had passed, nor if Freed was asleep or not, by the time he looked down to his lover. He gently stroked his cheek, and in a whisper almost inaudible, he spoke again.

"I've committed to you too, Freed," His voice quivered a little. "Every damn part of me."

~Three Months Later~

The New York Telegraph

BREAKING: Justine Crime Syndicate Verdict Given, Family Patriarch Sentenced to Life Imprisonment

By: Jellal Fernandes

The legal court battle between the State of New York and accused Justine Family Crime Syndicate has finally come to an end after two months of intense and aggressive campaigning. Yesterday at four thirty-three pm, the jury of twelve came to a unanimous verdict of guilty against the members of the Justine Family and their associates.

After months' worth of evidence, character witnesses, testimonies and controversies, the infamous court case has come to an end. A spokesperson from the New York County Courthouse today confirmed that charges against Augustus Justine, among others, have been deemed credible, and appropriate sentencing has been doled out, thus brining and end to the criminal trial of the decade, which has captured the interest of the nation.

Speaking with lead prosecutor, Warrod Sequen, it is the Telegraph's understanding that the charges of mass-murder, grand larceny, criminal damage, arson, bribery and embezzlement (among others) against Augustus Justine have been found guilty. Sequen states that Justine will face multiple life sentences, all of which will be given without bail nor early release due to the seriousness of his crimes. It is suspected that in the days following, when other high-ranking members of the Justine Syndicate are given their own verdicts, similar sentencing will be given. Sequen claims that "today is a victory for justice and for New York," and that "the streets will be significantly safer from now on."

Often credited as the bedrock of the prosecution's case was Augustus' own son, Freed Justine. Records state that evidence collected by the younger Justine gave police the justification and standing to arrest the Justine Family's most influential members, and without him it would be likely that no action against them would have been made.

Also pivotal was Justine's character and witness testimony, where he spoke at length about the "monstrous, inhuman" nature of his father. Those in the courtroom state that Augustus Justine was visibly angry, often interrupted his son's testimony in rage filled tirades, wherein he threatened violence and revenge against his son, and was eventually removed from the courtroom so proceedings could continue. It is also stated that Freed Justine didn't seem affected nor shaken by his father's threats.

Although the younger Justine has made no public statement, he is quoted in his cross examination as saying, "my reasoning for going against my father is a combination of moral obligation and personal hatred for the man."

The court case itself was not without its drama. Most infamously, the hotel where the jury were living during the proceedings was broken into during the night, and it is believed that had hotel staff not immediately called the police, the intruders would have broken into the juror's rooms with the intent to threaten them into giving an innocent verdict. The perpetrators of this crime have been linked back to the Justine Family, and their trials have been scheduled for later this year. It is expected that they will face charges for breaking and entering, intention of grievous bodily harm, and attempting to pervert the course of justice.

Police proficiency has also been called into question, with many people asking why a criminal organisation as large as the Justine Family's was allowed to continue without prior police intervention. The invasion of the juror's hotel has given further cadence to these criticisms, and Chief of Police Byro Cracey is expected to resign due to mounting pressure.

The unprecedented nature of the trial makes it difficult to predict the greater effect on society that will now occur. However, in the words of the trial's judge Jura Neekis "A vial monster has been put to trial today, and we expect that many similar men will follow. We pray that the justice given today will offer a modicum of comfort to those who were affected by Augustus' actions. The city of New York is constantly shifting and changing, sometimes for good and sometimes for bad. I have no doubt that today is a good day for us all."

.

PUBLIC INTEREST: With Rising Cries of Anger, Are Prohibitions Days Numbers?

By: Jason Thompson

Throughout its entire existence, controversy has surrounded the law of prohibition. With fiery passion coming from people for and against the laws against alcohol, it has always been a hotbed of discussion and discourse. Many claim the ratification of prohibition was a win for morality, while others believe it's an invasion of civil liberties and an attack on business.

Recently, the arguments against the law have become louder and more passionate. Not only are decriers saying that the law is unjust, but they also claim it is pointless. In a city like New York, it can't be denied that alcohol is being made and sold. We have all heard the stories of speakeasies and moonshine production. Those speaking against prohibition state that alcohol is more available than ever, and that you just need to know how to find it.

Having spent the last two years looking into this, I have to concur. Alcohol is everywhere, just hidden out of sight. Should you ask the right people, you'll can be pointed to hundreds of bars doing a roaring trade, simply being less obvious about it.

Furthermore, rather than making America a more moral and evangelical country, it acts to blur the lines between right and wrong. The people who wish to drink have not stopped, and therefore have taken steps closer to crime. Those who previously would have done trade legally and without consideration for crime are now deeply intrenched in the illegal underworld. Innocent people are now consorting with criminals, all to get a product that five years ago would be readily available.

Prohibition hasn't worked to make America a better place. It is similar to putting lipstick on a pig; however the pig seems to be allergic to the lipstick and is slowly rotting away into a gangrenous slop.

Anti-prohibition groups have started to from, and despite what our government is telling us, they are not made solely out of drunkards and wrongdoers. Many of them exist in the elite, including lawyers and doctors, the people you look up to and we are taught to aspire to be.

With these opinion groups growing larger and louder, how much longer can the rule of prohibition last? In my opinion, the writing is on the wall, and very soon we might be raising a toast without fear of arrest. But until then, we can only wait.

~Thirteen Years Later~

Fairy Tail had worked well as a speakeasy, but it only flourished in lawfulness.

When prohibition had been introduced, Laxus had been forced to relocate into an unused music store, which had been refurbished into a bar. And while it had doubtlessly worked well, and had been successful, it had never been as good as the real Fairy Tail; the one his grandfather had run proudly and with success. That was why Laxus never sold the building, even though it would have lined his pockets with gold, because he hoped that eventually he'd return, and he could run his business like his family always had.

It was an incredible building. Large, located near the city centre, with ostentatious decorations and architecture. The inside had a selection of vast tables, multiple levels, and a stage where live entertainment often occurred. It had always been crowded, and at one point it'd been a tourist spot because of how interlaced with the culture of the city it had been.

And now it was back. Prohibition was no more, and Fairy Tail was back where it was meant to be.

Laxus stood at the top floor balcony, hairs greying slightly and wrinkles begging to settle in. He now had to wear a pair of spectacled that, despite Freed saying they gave him a mature handsomeness, Laxus thought made him look old before his time. His bones ached ever so slightly, but he would be damned if he let body deteriorate even slightly, so his strong form remained. As did his loud sense of style, as shown by the fur-lined coat that he wore like a cape, draped over his shoulders.

He watched the stage from where he stood, where his lover was playing for the enraptured crowd. Freed too was aging, and although the hair dye was hiding the most of it, the frown lines were forming and Laxus took delight in pointing it out. But he was still beautiful. Still the most handsome man Laxus had known.

And he could still play a tune beautifully, and Laxus always loved listening to him.

Once the music subsided, and the crowd of drinkers applauded, Freed walked to the back of the stage. After a few moments he had walked up the staircase to the top level of the bar, standing beside Laxus. The blonde automatically wrapped an arm around Freed's shoulders, pulling him close and enjoying the feeling of the man by his side

"Good show," Laxus complimented, leaning over and pressing his lips against Freed's head.

Many patrons of Fairy Tail knew of their relationship, and they also knew that they shouldn't have any problems if they want to come back. That meant that, while they would never be overly public with their affections for one another, they never felt the need to hide it entirely.

"Thank you," Freed smiled. They remained quiet for a moment, before Freed spoke again with nonchalance. "My father was killed yesterday."

Laxus froze, then looked down to his lover with wide eyes. "Shit."

"Yes," Freed agreed.

"You okay?"

"I think so," Freed said after a moment's thought. "Rather him than me. It's not like I particularly cared for the man."

"How did you find out?"

"The prison sent me a letter explaining what happened," Freed said, leaning on the banister and looking over Fairy Tail's patrons. "Apparently he was in constant arguments with another inmate, they both saw themselves as heads of the prison I think. Apparently tempers flared, someone managed to sneak in a weapon, and my father was found with his neck cut in his cell. Apparently the public release will be next week."

"You gonna go to the funeral?" Laxus asked, resting his head against Freed's.

"I don't think so. Most of the people there will see me as a traitor who caused his death," Freed chuckled. "Besides, he was dead to me many years ago. I'll hardly grieve, so why would I need to heal from it."

Laxus thoughts for a moment, looking down at Freed's emotionless face. "You sure you're okay?"

"I am," Freed nodded. "It's not as if I lost anyone important to me. I've still got you, and your grandfather and everyone here. That's all the family I've ever had, and I expect it's all I'll ever need."

"If you're sure," Laxus agreed. "I'll get you a drink."

"Thank you," Freed smiled at his lover, pressing his lips against Laxus' softly.

Laxus walked to the private bar that was only accessible to the staff. He picked out two glasses, filled them with their favoured drinks and returned to Freed. He handed the man his port, while taking a sip of his own whiskey as he leant against the man again, looking over the tavern's main hall.

In that moment, they were two kings, looking over their empire with pride. Neither man could think of anything better.

[girlofmanyfandoms]

A/n: Next chapter is out! This one has a lot of setting up of the future plot points, it’ll be fun if y’all can pinpoint it. If the next chapter takes too long, I’ll post more of “The Plot out of context,” if it’s wanted!

Key:

Tater - @a-lonely-tatertot

Lynn - @lesbilynnette

Gray - @silver-snow

Lilah - @tribblemakingalicorn

Cadence - me

Ivy - @imaramennoodle

Molly - @molly-sencen

Farris - @everyonehasthoughts

Speens - @an-absolute-travesty

Holes - @holesinmyfalseconfidence

Connor - @linhammon-roll-bromance101

Panda - @worldwidepandamonium

Meg - @ultralazycreatorfan

Word count: 2,740

Warnings: Nothing makes sense.

“Lynn, can you have the next shipment of the Gatorade sent to my address in Peru?”

“Farris, what did you do now?”

“Nothing!” They grinned nervously.

“I swear if you moved to Peru just so you could buy an alpaca, I will-”

“It’s not that, I swear! Well, not just that. Boss called and said I have to be at the excavation site by tomorrow, that it might be a big break.” Farris scoffed. “As if. Last time, the only thing I found with my metal detector was someone’s Betty Boop keychain.”

“Yeah, I can ship them there,” Lynn sighed, exhausted from a night of getting a deal with the investor and setting prices for the products. “And that’s crazy.”

“I know right?” Farris answered. “Betty Boop? When was this person born, the 1950s?”

“That’s not- yeah, you’re right, Farris.” Lynn changed her sentence halfway through. “Any word back from Panda?”

“Yeah, Panda got back to me. Said that her sign is a Scorpio.”

“What?”

“Exactly, who would’ve thought Panda was-”

“Farris, you were supposed to ask about the chain restaurant idea!” Lynn massaged her forehead. “Why did we agree to be partners?”

“Because I threatened to blackmail you,” they responded, taking a bite out of an apple. “And I did ask about that. The zodiac sign was probably the question I wrote on my arm so I wouldn’t forget.”

“And?”

“She said the chain restaurant idea is a good thing to look into, as soon as we can make a good menu, hire some staff, good prices, nice locations, accessibility, y’know, all that jazz.”

“Because that’s so simple.” Lynn sighed, shuffling through the paperwork that had accumulated within the past week. “Alright, tell you what, I’ll get an artist to make an ad, maybe a social networker, I’ll set up a blog and we get the word out. As soon as you get back from the gig, you call me, alright?”

“Yup,” they agreed. “Oh, and Connor just texted saying he needs your help. I told him to wait ‘til I got back so I could teach him how to properly rollerblade, but the kid’s a madlad.”

“Anything broken?”

“His sanity.”

“Farris.”

“And a lot of furniture.”

“Guess I’ll have to find out for myself, huh?”

“You sure will.”

“Alright, I’m checking in with the supplier. Talk later?”

“Cheerio, mate,” Farris grinned, saluting her before ending the call.

Lynn opened her laptop and emailed her supplier, who had requested to remain anonymous. This was fine though, identities shouldn’t be known when dealing with the black market and pyramid schemes. Lynn was fine with using her real name because of her position as co-founder of Forbidden Incorporated. If she was going to go deviant, she’ll be damned if she didn’t do it with style.

_________

Cadence’s phone buzzed, as an email from a client had just arrived.

“Forks do not work with ice cream,” Tater yelled for the umpteenth time.

Holes clutched their head in a mixture of disappointment and annoyance. “Why would you use a spoon? It’s not soup, you can’t just spoon it out!”

“Then pop it in the microwave for a few seconds, for fu-”

“Crank it down 12 notches,” Molly suggested.

“-for Pete’s sake,” Tater acknowledged Molly. “And didn’t you just eat an entire bag of flamin’ hot Cheetos in one sitting?”

“They were good! And I’m fine,” Molly insisted. “Sure, we’re out of milk, and I have strep throat, but I just took a shower and I don’t think I’m gonna pass out just yet.”

Tater and Holes pulled out a Lysol can, masks, gloves, and a plexiglass barricade within seconds, clearly getting flashbacks from 2020. Cadence wasn’t paying attention, as usual, and kept writing her response to the email.

“Relax,” Molly laughed, clearly not finding it strange that they had those on hand at least a decade later. “I got my antibiotics, it’s not contagious anymore. And hey, good news: I made a questionable decision, and that’s also not contagious.”

They threw the equipment behind them, seemingly into the abyss, and relaxed a bit.

“Ok, now to address the real problem,” Holes started. “Who is Pete and why are we doing everything for his sake?”

“Oh my gods, it’s an expression, Holes,” Tater sighed.

“No, no, Holes, is onto something,” Molly said, grabbing the detective hat Lynn had designed for her and putting it on. “And I intend to find out.”

“Cadence, please make it two against two,” Tater pleaded.

Cadence glanced up from her phone. “What’s happening?”

“Oh my- you know what, I should’ve expected that, considering the Paint Water incident.”

“Ok, the Paint Water Incident was ONE TIME!”

“The what?” Holes looked interested.

“We don’t talk about it,” Cadence chimed in. “Think of it as the Great Gulon Incident of our group.”

“Great,” Holes sighed. “Another mystery. You’re all high.”

“I was fully aware of what I was doing in that incident.”

“Even better,” Holes commented dryly. “Nevermind, I don’t need to know.”

“Besides, there are great puzzles to be solved,” Molly continued enthusiastically. “Onward! We must scavenge for our first clue of Pete’s identity.”

Tater closed her eyes, telling her conscience to shove it for a moment. “Where do we start, Detective?”

Holes raised their eyebrows.

“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” Tater shrugged.

Molly looked at Holes in expectation. “Alright, fine,” Holes caved. “But I’m taking Cadence with us, I’m not going crazy alone.”

“That ship has sailed for both of us,” Cadence commented, not looking up from her phone.

“Yeah, haha, very funny. Let’s check out the corner opposite of the one they’re searching.” Holes paused, waiting for them to be out of earshot. “We don’t have to do anything, just pretend to search, I’ll be watching to make sure they don’t get killed.”

Cadence looked down at the email from her client. A shipping of 500 bottles, and 3,000 containers of newer products. And to Peru? Why had they changed the shipping address? She sighed. It was going to be a long day.

________

Connor’s house was on fire. Connor’s house was on fire. Why was Connor’s house on fire, you ask? Well, if you need to ask, you clearly haven’t met him. Lynn gazed at the sight in front of her tiredly, not knowing how she hadn’t expected this to happen.

Speens was calmly watering the bushes surrounding the house, not giving a second thought about putting out the fire with the water they had.

Lilah appeared beside Lynn, startling her. “Oh, good, you came. Gray has been trying to help Connor stand up for the past 30 minutes, but he’s way too drunk and he keeps refusing to ditch the rollerblades. Oh yeah, and his house is on fire.”

“About that, how’d it happen?”

“He was rollerblading on the stair railings when he fell onto their lamp, which tilted over and fell onto the seance that he was holding earlier in the day so the candles fell onto the hardwood floor, and then he spilled vodka everywhere, and then the flames turned blue, so here we are,” Lilah recounted all in one breath. “It’s kinda beautiful to be honest.”

“Beautiful isn't the word I would use to describe it,” Speens called. “It’s interfering with the plants. Well, except for Suzy, she’s a stubborn one. She wouldn’t burn, and believe me, I tried to make her.”

“I believe you,” Lynn said, quite understandingly. She had seen Speens around on the Deep Web, but had respected their secret. They all had secrets, after all.

Lynn walked inside where the hose was already uncoiled and ready to be used. Connor, however, was clinging to Gray’s leg. “NO, DON’T USE A HOSE, THE HOUSE DOESN’T LIKE SHOWERS.”

“Connor, the house is an inanimate object, it does not care,” Gray told him, trying to get control of the fire in the kitchen.

Connor gasped. “How DARE you talk to Cynthia like that?! She deserves better!” He crawled over to a wall that was, inevitably, about to burn down, and he stroked it. “You’re gonna be okay, sweetie. Don’t listen to the mean person, they’re just a hater.”

Gray shook their head and sighed. “Hey, Lynn. Can you increase the water pressure?”

Lynn did so, much to Connor’s dismay. To make up for it, Lynn handed Connor a piece of a floorboard that had undoubtedly been broken into pieces when they fell off of the stairs. He hugged the floorboard close to his face, crying happy tears, not thinking about the possibility of splinters. Lynn was confused, but had a feeling she would need him as an ally soon, and this was the best way to start.

Lynn babysat Connor as Gray put out the fire. When they had finished, none of the house had fallen down. It was weaker, and very charred, but somehow it hadn’t fallen.

Gray reached behind them and pulled out a ladder and a blueprint covering the new design of Connor’s structurally damaged home. Everyone had become acquainted with such things being summoned when needed. “Alright, I got the materials in the car, but we need to fix this house, er, Cynthia, up.”

“Renovating a house, huh,” Lynn muttered. “Better than spending all day dealing with paperwork. But if I’m going to help you and Connor, I’m going to need both of your help. So, how about an offer?”

Gray narrowed their eyes. “What would that offer entail?”

“Well, for you, Gray, I’d need help renovating a certain building. We’re talking about new elevators, knocking down walls, putting up new ones, new furniture, everything businessy. As for you, Connor,” Lynn paused, waiting for him to look at her. “I need a spy. You don’t have to be sober, but you have to keep them talking alright?”

“I’m feelin’ woozy,” Connor giggled.

“Can you overhear what people say and report back to me when you hear something important despite the wooziness?”

“Yup, and I can be a skater dude, too,” he grinned goofily. “We can all live our dReAmS.”

“Well, I’m in,” Gray said, helping Connor lay down. “I’ll certainly need a team for that building of yours, but I’m in. I can’t repair a house on my own anyway.”

Lynn nodded. A team, huh? For that she needed customers, crazy, loyal, and determined enough to support her products. She had a few people in mind who might be able to deliver.

______

“Meg, you got the snacks?” Ivy called over her shoulder, setting up the gaming consoles. They had finally stopped procrastinating and organized a group hangout between Speens, Ivy, and Meg, making it a game night. Ivy brought the video games, Speens brought the hands-on games, and Meg was in charge of snacks.

“Yup,” she smiled, wheeling in a wagon of junk food. “Anything you could want, it’s here. What games you got?”

“Rocket League, Mario Kart, only the best of the best. How about you, Speens?”

“Uno, Jenga, Connect Four, Scrabble, Twister, Monopoly, you name it, I got it. Where do you want to start? Virtual or hands on?”

“Virtual, I guess,” Meg decided. “Haven’t played in a while, ever since a pigeon yeeted my controller out of a window.”

Ivy tilted her head, asking for an explanation.

“T’was like a message from an angry god,” Meg said wistfully, resting her head in her hands. “A god who preached ‘live, laugh, yeehaw, and stop playing The Last of Us 2 because it’s a trash game.’”

“Are you on drugs?” Ivy looked sincere.

“I mean, I wrote ‘gay’ and ‘yeehaw’ all over my dad’s truck, and later that night I had a dream about falling in love with the sister of this prince that I had to stop from destroying everything at exactly 12 AM, but I don’t think that’s what you’re looking for.”

“No, that answered my question,” Ivy said, setting up the board out while the sunset shined brightly onto their faces in the cool evening light.

Meg chose the monster truck token. “Refresh my memory, how do you play again?”

“It’s literally just capitalism for kids, and I am above you mere mortals,” Speens helped, choosing the rubber duck token, and taking a Snickers and KitKat from Meg’s snack wagon. What happened next was ungodly. Speens opened the KitKat bar and ate it. Without. Separating. The Bars.

Ivy reeled back in horror, and Meg hid behind her, terrified of the scene going on before their eyes.

“What?” Speens finished the chocolate and wiped their hands with a tissue. “Are we going to play this game or not?”

“Oh no,” Ivy said, pulling her hair slightly. “You don’t get to gloss over that. The Forbidden Spicy Gatorade is for all of us to share and enjoy once we get our hands on it, but you never, never, disrespect the KitKat bar.”

Speens scoffed. “You’re really going to dwell on that?”

“Going to dwell- I can’t even-“ Ivy took a deep breath to steady herself.  “I will not allow this in my house. So you know what? Let’s raise the stakes. We need this Monopoly game to be a game-changer.”

Speens narrowed their eyes. “What are you saying? You’re betting something?”

“Yup. If I win, you have to wear a hoodie that says “I love Holes” and you have to help me with a plan of mine. If you win, I’ll help you get revenge on someone.”

“And if I win,” Meg continued. “Y’all owe me a lifetime’s supply of fro-yo and you both have to agree to each other’s bet deals.”

“Deal from my end,” Ivy pitched in, selecting the top hat token. The other two agreed, and the game commenced.

By 3 o’clock in the morning, Ivy had been in jail 17 times, and Speens had one hotel left. With a few lucky turns, Speens was bankrupt.

Ivy smirked, having a good feeling about this. “I call upon the power of the almighty Top Hat!”

“Oh, don’t look so smug, Ives,” Speens scowled, opening their suitcase of vodka and pouring their version of two shots. “You can still lose to Meg, and she bet a lot.”

“True, but in reality, would you rather lose to Meg or me?” Ivy flashed a grin. “The hoodie’s in my room, by the way. Don’t worry- it’s washed!”

Sighing, Speens went to retrieve the hoodie. A deal’s a deal, after all. When they returned, they looked ready to kill someone. They wore a baggy bright pink hoodie with “I Love Holes!” spelled in purple glitter. “You better win this, Meg.”

Meg stuffed a hand in her bag of snacks and nodded. Ivy’s turn was next, and it brought Meg down to $100. Speens muttered something under her breath and waved her hand in an elaborate motion. Seconds later, a loud crash was heard, followed by the breaking of glass and the sound of spraying water.

Ivy frowned. “What was that?”

“Go check,” Speens suggested.

Ivy looked out of the kitchen window to see… no window. The top of a fire hydrant had come bursting off of its mounted position and had crashed through her window. “No!” She frantically ran to the street to assess the damage from outside.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Speens stirred their beverage casually. “She’s not looking, you can win this.”

“Even if it means you always have to pay for my fro-yo?”

Speens shrugged. “Beats having her win. Besides, I’ll eat just as much fro-yo as you do if I’m paying for it.”

Meg went through the cards quickly, ignored whatever magic just went on. With a lifetime supply of such an other-worldly snack, who wouldn’t? Meg found her card just in time, as Ivy came back in, looking surprisingly calm.

“I boarded up the window, insurance will cover it,” she explained. “Your turn, Meg.”

Meg pulled the card she had placed on top of the pile and made her move. She had done it. Ivy was bankrupt. Not only that, but she was going insane. She flipped the board, sending everything tumbling into the depths of her house.

“How did you- you had no chance-”

“Breath, princess,” Speens joked. “I know what’ll take your mind off of this: some good old fashioned revenge on an old rival of mine. Whaddaya say, pal?”

“This day could not get any worse,” Ivy whined.

Except it could. And it did.

The electricity cut out and Ivy let out an ear-piercing screech.

__________

A/n: Not my favorite chapter, but I have some freaking PLANS for the next ones. Stay tuned! And if I made any errors, let me know because I can’t sit still for more than 5 minutes, so I only corrected a few things.

[krinsbez]

Work Stories

So, I’ve theoretically accumulated quite a few stories in the past month, what with the two weeks of working extra hours and having no days off owing to one co-worker having surgery and others leaving or turning into flakes because most of the Counter Crew are high school students and it’s summer, while also being HELLA busy. While I have a cold. As a result, I’m not sure I could recite them, as the last month has kinda turned into a bit of a blur, honestly.

(Wish I’d had the energy to share ‘em while they were still fresh in m’mind, but oh well. No use crying over spilt milk)

I can, however, share some stories from yesterday morning.

-Well, actually, it starts the day before yesterday, when someone calls asking to place a catering delivery for about 20 people about an hour after the kitchen opens the next day (that is to say yesterday). I spend twenty minutes helping him decide what he wants, going over basically every 9x13 tray we offer multiple times. At one point I have to hand the phone over to my boss to explain somethings because the dude keeps insisting that he wants the food in a form we don’t do. Ultimately, he settles on six 9x13s of stuff that’s relatively easy to do (and yes, I ask multiple times if he’s sure that enough, noting that a 9x13 constitutes roughly four servings). The guy gives a crappy delivery tip, but whatevs, it’s small order, I’m not gonna fight with him over it, especially as it was late and I was working a double-shift, and I’ve already spent 20 minutes on this.

-The next morning, I walk in (note: I come in about an hour and a half before the store opens, which is fifteen minutes before the kitchen opens). It seems two online orders have been placed for the moment we open (our systems are...not the best, to say the least). This is, of course, impossible to accommodate, so I call both customers and explain that it’ll have to be 30 to 45 minutes later. One explains that they placed the order because the moment we open is the latest time they can pick-up their food before they have to be at work. I offer to refund her, she asks if she can instead have the time changed to when she finishes work. I say it can, but there’s a high chance it’ll come out early and be cold by the time she picks it up, she says that’s fine.

-The next person tries to argue with me, stating that that’s too late, they have to be back at work half an hour after the latest time I stated, I say we’ll do our best to have it ready by the earlier time, they say fine.

-Note that we also have a trainee in, who I’m supervising (side note: the current crop of new hires KICK. ASS. We now have employees who’ve been here for three days who know what they’re doing better than the guys who’ve been here for a year). And also are opening after a hella busy day the night before that cleaned out certain items. And the boss is coming in a bit late. So things are, as you might imagine, a bit hectic. Plus, of course, getting that catering order squared.

-So, here I am, trying to modify the two tickets that came in before we left with the new times, show the new kid around, do my morning set-up tasks all at once, and get that catering order going...when the guy who placed it calls. Despite him having decided that those six 9x13s were sufficient last night, he’s decided he wants more stuff. I say I need to call my boss. The customer insists that no, no, it’s just one or two things, it’ll be fine. Since I don’t want to bother my boss, want to get this over with, and have a spine like a wet noodle, I let him bully me in to ordering more food.

-Once again, I have to go over our whole catering menu with him. He says he wants to add an item we don’t sell 9x13s of, and also only have a limited quantity of. He says that’s fine, he doesn’t need a 9x13, just four orders. Which, as I had pointed out to him repeatedly last night, is what goes into a 9x13. And also, we haven’t got. Note that I have to explain this to him THREE. TIMES.

-By the time he’s done, he’s added SEVENTEEN items to the order (granted, that included seven individual servings of soup, and six individual orders of dessert). He declines to increase the tip when he pays.

-My boss arrives. He is, to say the least, unhappy about my taking this order, and spends ten minutes (rightfully) calling me out on it, plus gently ribbing me about it all morning. He tells me to call the customer back, and tell him the now much-larger order might need to be up to an hour late. I tell the customer. He declares that we have a whole hour to prepare his order, what’s the problem? He makes noises about canceling the add-on. My boss looks over the order, realizes we maybe can do it in the original timeframe, albeit with difficulty, tells me to tell the customer this. The customer is pleased, and concedes that tripling an order an hour before it’s supposed to go out is maybe a bit unreasonable.

-OK, so we’re hard at work. We’re gonna make it, we’ve got most of the big order out, we just got to do the last couple items, and then pack them up. We’d have been done with it, in fact, except that by now we’re open and customers are coming in to order, and have to be helped. A customer comes in, and slowly makes a rather large order. I tell him it will take quite a while, he’s eminently reasonable about it.

-I’m about to finish packing the catering order, we’ve started working on the big order, the second lady who I called about her initial order time being impossible rolls up with her husband, half an hour after she said was the latest she could come (and forty minutes after it was ready; they turn out to be older folks, which I suspect is one of the reasons for what follows.

-Now, I’ve discussed out lunch special before, not going to recap it again, but suffice to say they come with a particular side, and for a small price that side can be replaced with a different side. So naturally, the first thing the lady says is that she knows it wasn’t on the initial order, but can she make such a replacement? I sigh, and say sure. But, when I call up her order...not a lunch special. Full-size everything.

-She says, oh, sorry. Thought I ordered a lunch special, never mind. They check the bag. Her husband demands to know where the sides are. I explain that said side comes with the lunch special, which they didn’t get. But we’re supposed to get a side he insists. SHE explains that it only comes with a lunch special. He insists that they did, in fact, order a lunch special. I show them that they did not. He finally, reluctantly, concedes. I ask them to pay. He insists that he already did. I tell him that he did not, and show him this. He spends ten minutes arguing with me, ten minutes I do not have to spend, because of all the other stuff to do. I’m about to lose my temper...and one of my coworkers, who would prefer I be helping with other things steps in and takes over arguing. (please note, she’s being reasonable and trying to get him to be reasonable, but he’s not having it). I finally get him to pay by promising talking with our technical people, and promising to refund them if it turns out he paid double. As they walk out my co-worker says to me that man it was hard not to yell at the guy.

[zoequeenz]

Plain Sight (Part 2)

A/N: Hello! Here is the July post! Hope you enjoy. Just some things to consider and let me know. 1) Should I make these a Y/N insert? I love Percy and I have many ideas for her but character fanfics work better on Wattpad and Quotev (I post this story there as well). I know I like the Tumblr fics I read to be reader insert. 2) I never specify anything about Percy’s looks because I want people to insert how they look for her and have learned from Tik Tok that there are subtle things I put in my story that may keep others from imagining they are Percy. So I will go back and edit those parts and from now on will try my very best to not write anything that may set a certain race or anything else to Percy. I want her to be open to any reader’s looks. I always wanted that and have realized that I haven’t with the small details I put in. I apologize, I want everyone to read this and think they are Percy. Thank you for reading, Zoe.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

MASTERLIST PREVIOUS CHAPTER

3rd Person POV

Marcia Gordon prepares her dinner like any normal day. Unbeknownst to her, her back door is being opened by a hooded figure. They creep in quietly as Marcia continues on with her job. She is then tackled to the ground. She never saw it coming.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Persephone Chase’s POV

Gideon, Derek, and I were headed to the crime scene with Detective Martin. Gideon and were seated in the back looking through our file while Derek was sitting in the passenger seat.

“This profiling really works?” Martin asks, breaking the silence.

“It’s a tool.” Derek vaguely answers.

“You can tell all about a guy from looking at this scene?” Martin questions further.

“Not all.” I add.

“The scene’s only part of it. We also use victimology, precedent. We can usually get a fairly clear picture of the guy.” Derek elaborates.

“Our guys went over it pretty well.” Martin says.

Derek laughs “I’m sure they did.”

“Local officers aren’t trained to look for the things we look for.” Gideon pipes up.

“What’s that?” Martin questions.

“Hate, insecurity, fear, anger.” Gideon informs.

“That’s all at the scene?” Martin asks, surprised.

“It’s all in his behavior.” Derek adds.

“Know anything about our guy yet?” Martin asks.

“Yeah. He isn’t gonna stop until he’s caught.” Gideon answers.

Martin looks at Derek stunned. Has he never had a case like this before? These guys are everywhere. Maybe that is my BAU brain talking, I never stop seeing this stuff. He may never see it again for the next few years. He’s lucky, I’d give anything to stop seeing all this evil stuff. After what seemed like a long ride, we arrive at the scene. We walk up together and Gideon notices the two police cars driving by.

“You increased patrols in these neighborhoods when the pattern was identified?” he asks Martin.

“After the fourth victim. Bosses cancelled days off, vacations.” Martin answers.

“Neighborhood full of cruisers and he still struck two more times.” Derek adds as Gideon’s phone begins to ring.

“He blends.” Gideon says answering his phone.

We stop walking to see what is going on. Apparently, another attempt had been made but luckily the victim’s husband came home right in time and saved her. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Thank goodness she was okay. As soon as Gideon told us Martin was ready to leave.

“Hey. Hey. Hey. Where are you going?” Derek asks him.

“Over there.” Martin states.

“Well, the units are already heading that way. We can get more accomplished here.” Gideon tells him.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Martin asks.

“No. If there’s an arrest, what we find here will help you prosecute.” Derek explains.

“This scene won’t be pristine forever.” Gideon adds.

“They’re right, it’s better if you stay here and help us find anything that can get this guy.” I say trying to get Martin to understand.

“Guys, knock yourselves out.” Martin says handing the keys to Gideon.

“Hey, wait a minute.” Derek stops him.

“The Unsub went through the back, right?”

“The family room. It’s the window full of print dust.” Martin elaborated.

“Gideon, Persephone, I’m going around the house.” Derek tells us.

I nod in response while Gideon pulls down the tape and cuts open the sticker on the door. I follow Gideon and right as you walk in you are met with a picture of the family. My heart hurts. These poor people just lost their mother, his wife. Gideon goes up the stairs but I join Derek in the family room. He figures that the Unsub needs to be a little athletic to get into the window. Next we head to the kitchen. Derek just continues to voice his thoughts, I look around to see if there is anything the police missed.

“He took the appliances, which are upstairs. Why?” Derek says out loud.

“Maybe he is jealous of them. He can’t afford them and seeing someone who could, made him mad.” I say.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

3rd Person POV

Hotch and Elle just arrived at the newest victims house. It was bustling with people. Some taking photos, others marking evidence, and another big group questioning the victim’s husband. Hotch comments on she was lucky, Elle was quick to follow up with she may not feel so lucky now. The lead detective asks for confirmation on the Unsub’s description then tells his team to get it out to the field asap. It was rare to have an interacial serial sex crime, but not impossible. Elle and Hotch were beginning to doubt the description of the Unsub. Elle notices Marcia’s shaking hand. She’s nervous, no woman who has almost been raped wants to be in a room surrounded by men. Elle approaches Marcia and asks to speak with her alone.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Persephone Chase’s POV

I continue to trail Derek as he makes his way to the dining room. The china cabinets are wide open. All higher priced things I am assuming.

“I didn’t take it, I broke it.” Derek says out loud again.

“This Unsub has a real anger for luxury items. The appliances, the china, and the silver. He could have come from a high class family but was casted out or was somehow connected to one and was shamed after a break in the relationship. He continues to go for higher class women, maybe a mother figure or a mother of a girlfriend.” I say to myself bouncing off Derek’s words.

“Why wouldn’t she hear me?” Derek asks.

He’s right. This man is breaking numerous things and the victims doesn’t hear a single one.

“Because I did it after.” Derek realizes.

We make our way to the bedroom, Gideon was there. His eyes were glued to the TV.

“She had a workout video on. Step aerobics.” he says.

“Step aerobics? With the platforms?” Derek asks.

“Step up, step down, step up, step down?”

“Where’s the platform?” Gideon asks.

“Did he take it with him?” I ask.

Gideon shakes his head walking to the bed and looking under it. “He spent a lot of time here.” he says.

“What, so he vacuumed?” Derek questions.

“I mean, there’s no marks from the platforms.”

“A lot of time.” Gideon repeats again to get the point across.

“The broken things.” Derek starts.

“She must have been already dead or incapacitated when he did that. Cappuccino maker from the kitchen, dishes, vases, broken jewelry.”

“Could show he has a hatred for the higher class. Maybe that is why he targets these specific women.” I say.

Gideon smiles “Symbols. “Your riches, gold, garments, jewels bright. Your house and land must on new owners light.”

“Her riches.” Derek says.

“Right. You ever feel like there’s something obvious right in front of you, you just can’t see it?” Gideon asks.

“Yeah. Usually right before a woman dumps me.” Derek answers. I bite back a smile, such a Derek answer.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

3rd Person POV

Elle and Marcia sit outside, away from the others and the pressure of telling everything she can. Marcia tells Elle she doesn’t know much, Elle reassures her she doesn’t have to. They are out here for silence so Marcia can collect her thoughts. Elle then gives her space, but before she can leave Marcia spoke up. She didn’t know he was in the house. She then begins to explain what happened. The struggle they went through, the fight she put up. Her husband came right in time, saved her. Marcia couldn’t confirm his race, all she could remember was his eyes. They stared back at her, through a ski mask. Elle tells Marcia she did good as she breaks down in tears.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Persephone Chase’s POV

After we finished at the house, we made our way back to the police station. As soon as we entered Spency was on our trail with some information. “The versus.” he starts.

“Found something?” Gideon asks.

“Uh, not an answer, a question. I found the full text. He’s pretty much following it to a T, at least the Death side of the conversation.” Spencer explains.

“But?” Gideon asks.

“Why didn’t he leave them at the first three murders? I mean, this ballad is ten versus long just on the death side, he’s got plenty to work with. But if it’s not part of his signature, if it isn’t something that he has to do for an emotional reason, then, I mean, why start?” Spencer asks.

We all look around at each other. Spencer is right, why? Maybe attention.

“JJ, find out when the press ran the first story on this Unsub.” Gideon says.

“When?” she asks.

“After which victim.” he clarifies.

“Yeah, you got it.” she says.

“What’re you thinking?” Derek asks Gideon. “He wasn’t getting enough attention.” Gideon states.

“Police departments sometimes don’t even realize they’re looking at a pattern.” Spencer says.

“Yeah, until somebody tells ‘em.” Derek adds.

“The first story ran the morning after the fourth victim was found.” JJ tells us.

“The increased patrols didn’t begin until after the fourth victim, either.” Derek reads from his file.

“Yeah, the police didn’t realize what was happening, he writes his verse.” Gideon says.

“And everyone knows that he was there.” Spencer finishes.

Hotch and Elle then enter.

“The offender in this new attempt is a black male.” Hotch announces. “Black male? Cross racial doesn’t happen.” Derek says.

“What about Herbert Mullin?” Spencer asks.

“He killed fourteen different people of completely varying ages, races, and creeds.”

“But there was no sexual component to his crimes.” Elle adds.

“And he wore a ski mask. This attacker wore a ski mask.”

“So this is a random attack similar to our Unsub.” I say.

“Tell ‘em we’re ready.” Gideon says.

“For our profile?” Derek asks.

“We’re gonna make Tommy contact us.” Gideon says looking at the various photos of the victims. Then I noticed that all of the victims’ eyes were open. No way this new Unsub was Tommy, Tommy wanted his victims to see him. He wouldn’t wear a ski mask.

NEXT CHAPTER

TAGLIST 

@thesailbells​

[nightreaderenigma]

War of Hearts by NightReaderEnigma @nightreaderenigma

Chapter 18 - Lows vs Highs

The sellsword cleared his throat.  “As you both know – I was sent after Lord Jaime.  Turns out when you Lannister boys act the dumbass, I ‘ave to get you out of the tight spot and thanks to Ser Humourless over there, this was no exception.  And I picked up before, that you two ‘ave filled each other in on the rest, so I will jump to the part you ‘aven’t heard.”  His pervading cockiness seemed to increase drastically.

“I made it into King’s Landing, and I got to the tunnels.  And ‘ere I was thinking this just might have become easy money for me when there was a rowboat sitting right there for the taking.  Getting out to sea was gonna be the hardest part and that was solved for me.  Then there was the pirate - already dead with your fancy toff’s sword stickin’ outta him, so I knew I was on the right track.  I pulled it out for safekeeping, figured you’d want the Valyrian back – for a price - and if not, I scored myself a nice ancestral blade….”

Widow’s Wail.  The mention of Oathkeeper’s counterpart made her pulse quicken.

“…But then the whole place shook, and the archways sealed over.  I couldn’t get in and I guessed that any high-born idiots who may have been coming that way, couldn’t get out either.  It took me fucking ages to dig through, clearing a path through the rubble.  I nearly quit at least three times and then decided I was gonna renegotiate to be paid by the brick.”  Bronn chortled, a harsh grating noise which she didn’t appreciate.

“Without the theatrics Ser Bronn.”  Brienne folded her arms across her chest.  “If you could stick to the facts.  This is the death of my husband we are discussing.”  She tried to instil in him some respect, a hint of empathy for the suffering of all involved.

But still his irksome smirk endures.

“Anyhow….”  He dragged out the word as if she was tedious and bothersome.

Gripe all you want; I care not one bit what you think of me.  I would sooner seek my horse’s good opinion than the likes of yours.  

“….I dug through.  Didn’t have to search far either.  Here they were, half buried, blonde heads and a gold hand sticking out.”

“I did that.”  Tyrion revealed.

“Well ain’t that something’-” The sarcasm came fluently, his tolerance waning.  Bronn’s capacity for patience smaller than a thimble.  “- But I dug ‘em out completely and hauled ‘em both to the dinghy.  Not an easy task, I might add.  Fucking unbearable in fact….”

Transient puzzlement flitted through her mind as the sellsword grumbled.  Questioning what aspect made the task especially vexing.  She opened her mouth to speak but was sidetracked by his next statement.

“…I rowed it out into the Bay and that’s when you came good on your word.”

“I gave you no cause to mistrust.”  The Lady Knight sat straighter in indignation.  “I am true to my oaths.”  

“Yeah, yeah alright.”  He rotated in his seat to fill Tyrion in.  “She had that Tarth ship waiting off the coast.  They picked us up, so I didn’t have to row across the Narrow Sea.”

“I am glad.  It was fortuitous that my plan married up with Lord Tyrion’s.  Both of us coming to the conclusion that the only logical escape was by ocean to Essos.  If only every other aspect had run as smoothly.”  Brienne swallowed, the lump in her throat a near permanent fixture.  A solidified representation of the grief she carried, the threat of devastation surging again within her like the tide.

Passing days did not diminish its inundation, it simply found its rhythm.  Like the ebb and flow in all of nature.  At low tide she operated as best she could, forcing the ocean of anguish backwards.  Keeping a wary eye on its constant presence in the background, dry cheeks and sands a temporary status.  But high tide was always just a throbbing heartbeat away, a twinge on the right nerve.  Then the sea swept in with crushing breakers, leaving her just seconds to flee before she was engulfed.  

She could tell it was nearing that time.  “Did my men see their bodies properly treated?  Where is my husband’s final resting place?  Was it a burial at sea?  Or perhaps it was cold enough to make it to land?”

Answer with haste so I can take my letter and fall back.  I will not wilt in front of you.  

“Neither.”  Bronn’s eyebrow arched.  “It’s hard to dispose of someone who isn’t dead.  Folks like you generally frown on that sort of thing.”

Keep Reading

***Chapter 19 Just Posted!***

[pokesception]

Pokemon Home is a Team Rocket scheme to steal your pokemon and lease them back to you.

Up front I want to be clear, this is not to hate on Pokemon Sword and Shield in and of themselves. As stand alone pokemon games they look good, great even, and if you're looking forward to them with eager anticipation, that's great too. But for me, the feeling is more dread and dismay, and the reason why is Pokemon Home.

There are lots of ways to love and things to love about the Pokemon games. From solo adventures to trading with friends to competitive battles online, there's something for almost anyone, but from the very beginning one of the core appeals of pokemon has been collecting. It's right there in the theme song: "Gotta catch 'em all." While some pokemon fans just play each game in turn, many lovingly cultivate a menagerie of pocket monsters from game to game catching and naming and training them all.

From that completionist's perspective, a key feature of Pokemon as a franchise, the thing that elevates it above all the other monster collecting games that have followed in its wake, is that you never need to leave that collection behind. For years you've been able to take your pokemon with you, watching your collection grow from game to game and generation to generation. You could feel free to spend hours naming and training and growing attached to each little packet of bits and bytes, confident they'd still be with you years and games down the line.

That continues with generation 8, but there's been a fundamental change. For the first time since generation 3, you can't bring all your pokemon into the new games. Instead they're supposed to live in "Pokemon Home," a cloud based paid subscription service, from which only a curated selection of pokemon will be available in any individual main series game going forward.

Pokemon Home is a trap. Once you transfer your pokemon to Pokemon Home, on a fundamental level they simply aren't yours anymore. That's that’s the Pokemon Company's collection now, and they’ll get to decide which you get to play with, when and how you access them, and most importantly how much you'll have to pay them for the privilege.

If they only want to charge you only a small nominal price for the first year? That's great. But maybe next year they decide they want a few more bucks a month. Or a few dozen. What are you gonna do? They already have your pokemon. If you want access to them, you'll have to pony up. Worse still, if you miss too many payments you’ll be risking a one way trip to the pokeglue factory for all the pokepals you've gathered over the last decade or so.

"Stop being an alarmist," you might be thinking. "Pokemon Home is just an updated version of Pokemon Bank, and Pokemon Bank never had exploitative pricing." And you’d be right.  Heck, I myself loved Pokemon Bank and have happily taken advantage of the convenience it offered, considering it well worth the price.  But this is where Sword & Shield (and, according to dev interviews, all main line Pokemon games going forward) not supporting all past Pokemon makes all the difference.

In the 3DS era, the new Pokemon games always supported all pokemon up to that point. If the Pokemon Company ever did hike the price of Pokemon Bank to something unreasonable, you could always just transfer your pokemon to the latest games & stop using the bank entirely. With Pokemon home, you can't do that. Once your collection is transferred to Pokemon Home, at least some portion of it will always be stuck in the cloud. You will never be able to take it all back. You'll have to keep paying those fees in perpetuity, however high they become, or say goodbye forever to at least some portion of your pokemon.

And while the price for Pokemon Home isn’t yet confirmed, you can already see the groundwork being laid for a significantly higher fee than Pokemon Bank. After all, it doesn’t just transfer pokemon between games, it also lets you trade pokemon online via GTS and Wonder Trade. With that increased functionality, of course we should expect an increased price.  It’s only fair, right? Never you mind that GTS and Wonder Trade used to be just part of the game in previous generations, no additional charges needed. And whatever the fee turns out to be, it will be on top of having to pay for Nintendo's internet service to even access Pokemon Home from your Switch to begin with.

Just because Gamefreak *could* exploit the heck out of this new system doesn’t mean they definitely will, but if there's one thing we all should have learned in recent years, it's that corporations, even the ones that make the things we love, are not our friends. You give them an inch and 9 times out of 10 they will take the proverbial mile. Their shareholders will insist on it.  Nowhere is this more true than in the realm of AAA video games, where the industry has stumbled from pre-order bonuses to micro transactions to loot boxes, gorging at each table in turn like a ravenous snorlax.

In the past, the Pokemon franchise always seemed to be above stooping to such indignities.  After all, between cartoons and films and merchandise, they never needed to, and turning the games into exploitative cash grabs ran a risk of tainting the brand.  Why take that risk over a few petty portable games when the big bucks were in children’s card games anyway?  Then Pokemon Go proved that the pokemon fandom was more than willing to put up with a little “nickle and dime”ing if meant more pokemon in our lives.  With Pokemon Home I fear we’re about to pay the price for that Giratinian bargain. 

Maybe I’m wrong.  Maybe Pokemon Home isn't just a cynical corporate ploy to turn Pokemon from a series of fun games into a (shudder) "live service".  But even if Pokemon Home wasn’t deliberately designed to take your pokemon hostage, that’s still in effect what it’s doing by letting you transfer some pokemon in but not back out.  And even if Pokemon Co. never charges more for Home than they did for Bank, that still doesn't mean your pokemon are safe there. Budgets are tight and there are more and more bills and subscriptions eating away at our wallets with each passing day. Who's to say that even an extra $5 a year might be too much for pokemon at some point? If that point ever comes for you, that’s still just too bad for whatever pokemon you have on Home that can't be transferred to whatever games are currently supported.

Again, this is not to bag on Pokemon Sword and Shield. So far they look like fine stand alone Pokemon games. The wild area is a bold step forward, raid battles sound fun, I love all the new pokemon we've seen so far.  And after the recent Godzilla movie I'm super hyped for some kaiju sized dynamax pokemon battles. I mean, that's been a dream since the giant tentacruel in the first season opening of the anime! The development team for Pokemon Sword and Shield are clearly talented and committed people who care deeply about the pokemon franchise and its fans, and have worked very hard to bring us the very best games they could - or at least the best games that their corporate bosses would allow them to make.

No, the problem here isn't Pokemon Sword and Shield, it's Pokemon Home - the control it gives the Pokemon Company over our collections, the daggers it hangs over the heads of our pokemon, the syphons in sticks into our wallets.

So if you're still looking forward to Sword and Shield, by all means, buy them! Play them! Enjoy them!  But DO NOT BUY Pokemon Home. Do not transfer your collection to it. Not until Gamefreak changes their tune and recommits to supporting all pokemon in these and all future main line pokemon games, so that Pokemon Home can never be used to take your pokemon hostage.

Until then, Pokemon Home simply isn't a safe home for your pokemon.

And for Arceus's sake, those who have been making a stink about this, keep it up. Don't actually harass the developers, don't threaten anyone, don't attack fellow fans who don't see the problem.  But keep the pressure up on Gamefreak and Nintendo and the Pokemon Company and, heck, maybe thrown some shade in Warner Bros. direction. As we've seen with online friend play in Mario Maker 2, sometimes the squeaky wheel really does get the grease.

It’s likely too late to fix this before relase, but Gamefreak can patch the needed functionality in at any point after launch.  We don't have forever, though, there is a ticking clock. Pokemon Bank still probably has a couple years of life left before it's put out to pasture, along with online support for the 3DS era Pokemon games in general. There’s plenty of time before that for Gamefreak to change their minds, but if this problem isn’t fixed by then Pokemon fans will be faced with a painful choice - either hand our pokemon collections over to the Pokemon Company as hostages, or else leave them to fossilize in our gen 7 games, never to join us on future pokemon adventures again.

[meowloudly15]

Stranded: Epilogue

First | Previous

Gwen sat on the ledge of a skyscraper back home in Connecticut City, posting a five-star Welp review for her phone provider. They had provided quality interdimensional cell service.

She closed her browser and was about to switch off her phone when she accidentally selected her photos app. Intrigued, she scrolled through them.

The first one was super blurry, but she had kept it because Noir didn’t have his mask on in it. Ham had pulled it off, and Noir was considerably less than pleased.

The second one was the selfie on the bus home from Alchemax. Gwen’s gaze lingered on the photo, precious because it had captured rare footage of her being happy. Such moments were few and far between these days, but she wondered if they would increase. After all, she did have hope now. And she knew that she wasn’t alone.

Gwen smiled softly and switched off her phone, sliding it into her pocket. She pulled on her mask and hood and pushed herself off of the roof, falling into the emptiness below as though she were descending into a pool, knowing that something would catch her.

That safety net was her.

A webline blossomed from each of her gloves and adhered to the side of the building across the street. Gwen yanked downwards on the lines, redirecting her momentum.

It was time for her to fly.

But first, she needed to make a long-overdue pit stop.

Gwen landed in the cemetery a few minutes later. She approached the headstone of a certain Peter J. Parker. Nobody was around to see her, so she pulled off her mask and sat down on a mixture of dry grass and dead leaves.

“Hey, Peter,” she finally said. “It’s… it’s been a while.

“I should have come earlier. I, uh, I should have been at your funeral. But… but, you know, there are lots of things I should have done. And it’s no use dwelling on them now. The past has already passed.”

That last sentence was a good one. Gwen paused to jot it down in her notebook.

“Anyway… I’m here now. I’m here, and I just got back from an adventure. I… I hope you’ve been having fun, wherever you are. I hope you’re having a less interesting time than I’ve been having.”

Gwen sighed, pressing her hand to her forehead.

“I, uh, I went to another dimension a couple days ago. It feels like longer. It was longer. I think. Time is weird. Time travel, that is. So is dimensional travel. But you probably knew that already. I’m sure you’d love to hear more about the sciencey stuff, but I don’t really get it. You’d be able to explain it to me, I know that much.

“Well… I met you in that dimension. Not the real you. I mean, he was real, that’s for sure. He was Peter, but he was a different Peter. Older. Blonder. He had spider-powers, like I do. And he married Em Jay, who was a lot less of a jerk in that universe.

“You… he died again. And I didn’t stop it. Even though I could have.”

Gwen exhaled deeply.

“Then I met you again. This Peter, Peter B., was from a third dimension. He was older. A lot older. No glasses. Spider-powers, too. Consider yourself lucky you didn’t have to live that long.

“There were other Peters, too, but they were a lot less like you.

“Then there’s Miles. He ended up getting spider-powers. And he took over from the Peter in that dimension, the one I went to, after he died. Miles was really sweet. He was kind and nice and went out of his way to make people happy. He’s a lot like you, at least in terms of personality.

“Seeing all of them… it made me remember you, even though I didn’t want to. It made me remember what I did. And… I’m not trying to put blame on you or antagonise you or anything, but… I wasn’t in the right, but neither were you. We both made mistakes, and we both paid a price. You paid a bigger price than I did, obviously.

“But I’ve died, too, in some ways. Really, from learning about the other dimensions, I should be dead and you should be alive. And that makes me feel super guilty. I feel like I’ve stolen something from you, the life that you should have had.

“I… I don’t really know what it is I did that made you so, uh, vitriolic. I could try and guess, but then we’d be here all day. I know you have all the time in the world, but I don’t.

“Whatever it was that I did… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for ticking you off. I’m sorry for not caring about you. I’m sorry for making you envy me. I’m sorry for being a bad person.”

Gwen blinked. Tears brimmed in her eyes.

Why did she bother bottling up her emotions, anyway? What good had that ever done? She was going to lose people. People were going to die, to move on, to leave. She would do the same one day. It was the way of the world. But did that make friendship, or love, any less worth it?

She hung her head. A valve hidden deep in her heart swung open.

“I made a silent promise not long after you… after I killed you. And I’m repeating it here and now, so that you can hear me. You can quote me on this. I mean, you probably won’t, but... you know what I mean.

“I said I’d never stand back and watch another innocent die because of me. Or because of anybody. I’ll never take a seat and watch somebody’s suffering. Not again. Never again.”

Gwen sniffled, her voice cracking.

“You always made me a better person, Pete. And now… now I’m gonna be better. Forever. For you. I’ll never forget you again. I promise.”

Gwen stood up and dried her eyes, pulling back on her mask. Her father’s “missing” police scanner was abuzz with chatter. She listened to it.

“...suspicious blue-and-red man with a skull on his chest walking down Birch Avenue. Appears to have some sort of glowing watch.”

Gwen turned back to Peter’s tombstone. “I’ll visit you again. I’ve got so many more stories to tell you. I’m sure you’d love them. But right now… I’ve got a job to do.

“See you around.”

She shot a webline into the air and swung away.

THE END

First | Previous

WARNING: LONG AUTHOR'S NOTES INCOMING

I started writing this story on my phone during a long car ride on the 28th of December. It grew from a small what-if concept into... this. This is the most ambitious fanwork I've yet published. I say "yet published" for reasons I'll discuss later.

A huge shoutout to @gammathetaalpha, who was kind enough to betaread this story for me in its almost entirety. If there are problems in Days 1 or 9, I'm to blame. Please check out her other fics; she writes lots of MCU stuff! And thanks to my other friends off of whom I've bounced the occasional idea!

Of course, thank you all for reading this story, whether you've been here since the beginning, left halfway through, or joined near the end! It's been a heck of a ride completing this thing, but your continued support has helped make it worth the while!

Now, I'm sure you're all wondering, "What's meow up to next?" Of course, you probably aren't. But I'll tell you anyway! I'm working on a webcomic, due to be released in December! Keep up with my Tumblr blog (the username's the same) for more info! Also, I fell headfirst into the Homestuck fandom a month ago, and I started writing a fic. The first chapter will be posted tomorrow, on the 25th! For those of you who are only here for the Marvel, I'm sad to say I don't have anything much ready for you right now. I have a one-shot regarding Endgame and a couple of Spiderverse fic ideas that are both halted. But stay tuned, just in case I do anything else!

Oh, yeah, and I'm thinking about posting dramatic fic readings on YouTube! This is definitely one fic that I would love to record myself reading! So stay tuned, yet again!

Thanks again for reading! I hope it was as much worth your while as it was mine!

[welcometothepenumbra]

JUNO STEEL AND THE STOLEN CITY (PART ONE)

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 month is a very long time to stake out, but Detective Steel is nothing if not dedicated to his job. And so he sits on a rooftop, day after day, watching the Museum of Colonized History, waiting to see the gangster who is supposed to pay for a killing here, and absolutely nothing has happened.

Until today. Suddenly, the month of quiet has given way, and threats old and new are jumping out of every shadow. But when the metaphorical and literal Martian rain are both 90% acid, Detective Steel had better find cover, and quickly.

SOUND: TRAIN BRAKES. DOOR CLANKS OPEN, RAIN.

Our next stop: Juno Steel and the Stolen City.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

MUSIC: STARTS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): If you get up early enough and you catch it in just the right light, Hyperion City can be sorta beautiful. The billboards backlit by the early morning light, the dew-spackled trashcans, the sunrise shadows cast by highscrapers and floating mansions… it’s really somethin’. And every time I see it I wish I was dead.

My name’s Juno Steel. I’m a private eye, and I usually don’t see any side of the city that comes earlier than noon, but, lately I’ve been changing things up. Seeing a lot of sunrises. Drinking a lot of coffee. Saying no to old habits like sleep and… no, pretty much just sleep.

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

RAMSES O’FLAHERTY (FROM COMMS): Juno. Status report.

JUNO: Oh, hey Ramses, it’s… been a big three hours since four AM, got some real exciting stuff to catch you up on.

RAMSES: Glad to hear it. You’ve only been staking out for, what? A month? (CHUCKLES)

JUNO (NARRATOR): I’d been following a lead for weeks on someone who was trying to sabotage Ramses O’Flaherty. And it all pointed here: the Museum of Colonized History, so far on the outskirts of Hyperion City that the building’s roof had to be rounded just to fit on the inside of the Dome. Even here, the buildings were jammed tight enough together you didn’t have room to breathe ��� and it was at this museum, under the cover of all that sprawl, where I’d supposedly catch a one-eared woman doing some shady business. Which you’d think would be pretty exciting. It sounds exciting, doesn’t it? But what it actually translates to is sitting on a rooftop from early morning to late night, watching a museum all day, every day, until you get so bored you wonder how hard you’d have to pull to take your toes off.

MUSIC: ENDS.

RAMSES: Are you listening? Do I need to get you a cybernetic ear to go along with that eye? I asked if you’d seen any sign of Yasmin Swift’s employer yet.

JUNO: Nope. But my foot fell asleep and I’m bored out of my goddamn mind. That’s the status report. Now entertain me before I take the ‘stir’ out of ‘stir crazy.’

RAMSES: Entertain you? Well, I suppose I’m already the city’s clown. Why not be Juno Steel’s, too?

JUNO: Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.

RAMSES: Not that bad. Would you like me to read this headline to you? Molly Chung, Uptown Bulletin: “Opinion: Ramses O’Flaherty’s Campaign Is As Old And Stale As He Is.”

JUNO: That’s just one—

RAMSES: Hyperion Chronicle: “Study: Pilot Pereyra’s Increased Funding to HCPD Doubles Prison Population, Halves Crime Rate.” That study is just so incredibly inaccurate, by the way. The Beacon: “Treasurer Insists O’Flaherty’s Budget Won’t Balance, Quote, ‘No Matter What Math Says.’” Elysium Times—

JUNO: Okay, okay, so it’s pretty bad. (SIGHS) Explains how Pilot won so many damn elections, anyway. Takes a lot of skill to smear your opponent without getting your hands dirty.

RAMSES: Oh, their strategy is a lot more impressive than that. Everyone knows Pilot’s a crook – but they’ve changed the conversation so that’s a plus. If we’re going to live in a city full of cutthroats, the reasoning goes, we should at least have a cutthroat on our side, too. That’s been their platform for years: the world doesn’t play fair, so why should we?

JUNO: Well, at least nobody’s tried to kill you lately.

RAMSES: Always be grateful for the little things, yes. I wouldn’t rest on those laurels just yet, though – whoever this is, if they’re after my campaign and not just me, their biggest strike will come at the eleventh hour. They still have four days before the election.

JUNO: Guess that means I don’t get to leave this goddamn roof, then. Which is fine, but I guess I just didn’t know doing good would look so much like doing nothing.

RAMSES: Juno…

Nevermind. Your physicals say your knife wound is healing. Are you, ehm… making progress in your physical therapy? They must have given you stretches, or something like that?

JUNO: Yeah, well… doesn’t mean I do ‘em.

RAMSES: You should. It’s not like you have anything better to do up there. You could at least make use of the care I pay for. I have to protect my investment.

JUNO: Yeah, I read about that. The cyber-eye is hooked up to my nervous system, so if my brain function stops, it stops. That’s a lot of creds down the drain.

RAMSES: I didn’t mean the Theia.

We’ve been working together for some time now, Juno. I truly hope that– by which I mean, I hope you don’t think that I merely think of you as… uh, well…

JUNO: Wait, Ramses – hold that thought.

RAMSES: Oh, thank God.

JUNO: I see someone.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

Down in the alley by the museum… the woman with one ear! The Piranha.

JUNO (NARRATOR): She’d gotten away from me once, and I wasn’t gonna forget that. The Piranha, who’d nearly killed Maia King. The Piranha, who was all sharp teeth and a need to bite. If she was behind this, I thought, that would explain the methods used to go after Ramses so far. Roasting roller-coasters and killer criminal consultants seemed like the right kind of over-the-top from the mind that brought you the cat-bomb.

It took everything I had in me not to go down and get her right then. But sometimes you need bait. And sometimes that means leaving a piranha on the line in hopes you’ll catch a whale.

RAMSES: Well? What’s she doing?

JUNO: Just waiting around, it looks like, but… why?

SOUND: CAR DRIVES UP.

Hang on, a car just pulled up. Someone’s leaning out, it’s…

Uh… uh, Ramses?

RAMSES: Juno.

JUNO: You’re not gonna believe this.

RAMSES: You and your buildups. This had better be worth it.

JUNO: It’s Mayor Pereyra.

SOUND: DISTANT CAR DOOR CLOSES, FOOTSTEPS.

Mayor Pilot Pereyra is doing back-alley business with a killer, and I caught them red-handed.

RAMSES: Well. That was worth it.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Pilot Pereyra, Mayor of Hyperion City for four years running, was famous for their stiletto heels. They had a new pair in a new hideous color every week, and Pilot made killings off of ‘em. Both in the literal sense – just ask Sal Barone, found floating in Mars’s orbit with two of Pilot’s heels jammed into his throat – and in the financial sense – like how for a year after, every crime boss in Hyperion paid Pilot hand over fist for a pair like the one that killed Barone. Because Pilot Pereyra didn’t just organize crime: as mayor, they defined it. And if this was the whale the Piranha was gonna bring in… hell, maybe her getting away had been a good thing after all.

RAMSES: You’ve undergone the modifications to the Theia’s Rec Mode, haven’t you?

JUNO: ‘Course I have. I skipped physical therapy last week to do it. Theia, Rec Mode.

THEIA: Rec mode. Activated. Two hours of video storage. Remaining.

JUNO: That’s more like it!

THEIA: Error: Wireless uplink not found. Cannot transmit footage—

JUNO: What kind of low-rent eye did you get me, O’Flaherty?

THEIA: —Please connect to a physical uplink.

RAMSES: One day you’ll think of the Theia like your first car, Juno: all these quirks will just be part of its character. You’ll connect to a physical uplink later.

JUNO: And where the hell does that go?

THEIA: Caution: you don’t want to know.

JUNO: Fine, fine! Just zoom in, already.

THEIA: Zooming in.

SOUND: MECHANICAL WHIR.

JUNO: Damn it, they’re not even looking at each other. It’s like a junior high dance down there. If I could just hear what they’re saying…

THEIA: Suggestion: would you like me to activate. Lip reading protocol?

JUNO: Uhhh… s-sure… if you got a minute.

THEIA: Lip reading protocol. Activated.

SOUND: FUTURISTIC TECH-Y NOISES.

Compiling approximations of voices based on throat movement, infrared analysis, and audio recordings on public record.

SOUND: DING.

Application complete. You’re welcome.

SOUND: BEEP.

PILOT PEREYRA: Interested is definitely one word for it. It’s not every day that an employee tries to become a business partner. So. How much is it going to cost for that information to become my personal property?

PIRANHA: Oh, info’s been free for years, Mayor Pereyra. Information proliferates, see? Doubles, triples, and that don’t cost a dime. So the price ain’t on the info: that’s a gift. The price is on me applying that info for you, and that, well, that’s gonna cost a little more than you got on hand, I’m thinking.

PEREYRA: You’d be surprised how much I can get how quickly.

PIRANHA: (CHUCKLES) This is worth more. Used right, this little legend could be worth more than the whole damn city. And it could fit just right into your next big move. I just want to get in on the ground floor, see? Nothing wrong with that.

PEREYRA: (LAUGHING) Oh, buddy, I think you’re a little confused about what’s going on here.

JUNO: Whoa. Ramses, Mayor Pereyra just pulled a gun on her I– I think. It’s just a bulge in their coat, but… how long has that been there?

Uh-oh.

PEREYRA: What is it now?

JUNO: Theia, zoom in.

SOUND: MECHANICAL WHIR.

Big guy, brown jacket, standing under a lamppost. I think he might be watching me.

RAMSES: Of course. It makes sense that Pilot would have someone covering them.

JUNO: Well, they’ll have to wait. I still don’t have what I need.

RAMSES: Juno…

JUNO: Theia, lip reading again.

SOUND: BEEP.

PEREYRA: The payment’s a gift. Either you’re stepping away from this, or I’m pushing you off. Up to you, really.

PIRANHA: Oh, scary Mayor Pereyra, please don’t. (LAUGHS) I know you like to make inconvenient people disappear. That’s why I’ve made myself as convenient as possible. A luxury you can’t live without, see? Like air conditioning. Or those grocery carts that push themselves. (LAUGHS)

PEREYRA: Just remember who works for who, okay? I’ve got the entire HCPD in my pocket, and that means, I know how often little administrative mistakes happen. Real stupid things, like, uh, putting someone in solitary and losing their papers. Shuffling someone into the life-sentence pile when you meant to put them in the parking-ticket pile. Little stuff.

PIRANHA: I get it. Play nice or get off the court. Easy enough.

So what’s the plan? When do we do the job?

PEREYRA: Preparations are all set. You’ll be in there. Midnight.

JUNO: Midnight tonight?! …Ramses, they’re going to hit the Museum of Colonized history tonight!

…Ramses?

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

THEIA: Caution: your comms has been. Disconnected.

JUNO: What?!

THEIA: Transmission interference detected.

JUNO: You’ve gotta be—

…kidding me.

JUNO (NARRATOR): There was another person on the roof with me. They were over by the fire escape I’d used to climb up here hours ago. For a second all I could do was wonder how the hell they’d gotten up from the street so fast… until I realized it wasn’t the same person I saw down there. Brown coat, sure, but where the other was broad-shouldered and looked like somebody I might want to buy me a drink or two, this one was thinner, flightier, and more nervous. They were making a big point of not looking at me, scraping something off one shoe with the other, checking their watch, looking at the dome flickering overhead, trying to look… casual? I think? There was a bulge in their coat that might’ve been a comms jammer. Or a gun. Or a whole lot of other unpleasant things.

THEIA: Target is fifty feet away. Recommended course of action: blaster fire.

JUNO: You got real chatty after that update.

THEIA: Target. Approaching.

JUNO: I’m not gonna shoot ‘em, alright? Just keep translating what Pereyra’s saying. They’re getting to the good part and then I can get out of here.

SOUND: BEEP.

PEREYRA: All security in there’s got a panic button for instant lockdown, but, so long as you don’t get seen, there’s nothing wrong with a late-night visit to the museum.

So you’ve got the codex, huh? How many square miles does that thing cover?

PIRANHA: The whole city. (CHUCKLES) That’s a lot of information, Pilot. If we get it.

PEREYRA: When we get it. You have to visualize. You have to believe.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I couldn’t help it – hearing those footsteps, feeling my heart race: I glanced over my shoulder.

THEIA: Target is fifteen feet away.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The distance was bad – but it wasn’t the distance that made my blood run cold. It was what I saw on their chest as they pulled their lapel back.

THEIA: Firearm detected.

JUNO (NARRATOR): No, wasn’t that either. It was the thing right underneath the gun: a badge, with the letters HCPD shining on it.

And that was bad. Because to the dirty cops in the HCPD – so, most of ‘em – Pilot Pereyra was their ringleader. If I threatened Pilot, the cops wouldn’t bother with a trial. They’d pretty much go straight to the chair. Not the electric one, just one they’d shoot me in.

The cop had stopped pretending not to see me now. They pulled the gun.

VOICE: Freeze!

THEIA: Calculating distance to next rooftop.

VOICE: If you’re waiting for backup, you’re not gonna get it. I have this area checked. You’re alone.

JUNO: Nope, not waiting for backup.

THEIA: Next rooftop is within. Jumping distance.

JUNO: Just stalling on this next part, ‘cause I’m gonna hate it. Bye!

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

VOICE: Hey! Get back here! I said freeze!

THEIA: For optimal timing, jump in three… two… one…

JUNO: (SCREAMS)

SOUND: THUD.

JUNO (NARRATOR): It was a beautiful flight. It was a beautiful landing. And, just to finish the set: the cop made a beautiful shot.

SOUND: BLASTER SHOT.

JUNO: (GRUNTS)

VOICE: (DISTANT, FADING) Crazy idiot, jumping that far – don’t move! Not that you can! Oh, what a day, what a day, get a call from my landlord, now this…

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: SLAP.

VOICE: Wake up.

I said wake up.

SOUND: SLAP. DISTANT MUSIC.

JUNO: Wow, this alarm is annoying. You mind hitting snooze for me?

SOUND: SLAP.

Ow! Ow, okay, I’m up.

VOICE: About time. And if you want to stay awake, you’ll tell me what you know.

JUNO: I… don’t want to stay awake – that’s kind of what I just said.

VOICE: What? Don’t question my threats!

SOUND: SLAP.

JUNO: Wow, you got a lot of slaps in you, huh? This pretty much your whole playbook for interrogations, or can I expect some surprises?

VOICE: You want surprises, huh? Hm, I’ll get you some surprises…

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I wanted them off me for a second so I could get my bearings. I was tied to a chair in a room with concrete walls, cold, damp air, tools hanging from hooks across from me. My first thought was medieval torture chamber. My correct thought, a few seconds later, was suburban basement.

When the cop was on their way back, I got a look at the name on their uniform. “L-T L-O-O,” it said. Lieutenant Loo. Never heard of ‘em.

SOUND: DISTANT, MUFFLED VOICES.

VOICE (LOO): So, now that I’m prepared… do I have to send a laser through your head, or are you going to tell me what I want to hear?

JUNO: You’re a natural-born leader and that eyeshadow looks great on you.

LOO: What?

JUNO: Do you all wear coats like that? Yours looks a little nicer than your buddy’s on the street, but I—

LOO: Coats? My buddy on the str– what are you talking about?

JUNO: If you don’t know? Nothin’.

LOO: But—

JUNO: So what were you doing on that roof, anyway? Funny place to take a walk.

LOO: I was gonna ask you the same thing.

JUNO: Not very original of you.

LOO: It was my plan first!

You’re the one tied to the chair! Why am I answering the questions?

JUNO: I don’t know. Why are you?

LOO: Low self-esteem and a natural tendency to follow orders– oh, damn it! (GROANS) Look. I know you were watching Mayor Pereyra. What did you see?

JUNO: No idea what you’re talking about.

SOUND: SLAP.

Ow! Slaps? Again? You’re holding a gun!

LOO: Shut up! Tell me what you saw!

SOUND: SLAP.

JUNO: Ow, quit it!

LOO: Not til you tell me what you…

That looks like a cybernetic eye. You didn’t record anything, did you?

JUNO (NARRATOR): The hardest part of any interrogation is the balancing of information: figuring out how much the other person knows, how much they want to know, how much you know, how much you can make them think you know, and, most importantly, how little you can make them think you know.

LOO: So? Did you?

JUNO: Yeah, what’s it to you? Since when has recording people without their permission been a crime?

LOO: Send me the footage. Now.

JUNO: Rather not.

LOO: Send me that footage, or I pull the trigger.

SOUND: GUN COCKING.

JUNO: Not gonna help you any. Eye’s worked into my brain – that’s how it does all these weird things like make me shoot faster and speed up my reflexes and give me this one dream over and over again where I’m falling into a giant birthday cake that has my mother’s voice. You kill me, and all the data on it gets scrambled.

LOO: Just send me the footage, then.

JUNO: Love to, once we get to the station. Why didn’t you bring me to the station, anyway? I mean, this is a nice basement, but still. How’re the kids?

LOO: The what?

JUNO: You’ve got half a dozen sand-sleds up against the wall over there. I can tell at least three of your kids are little because one, those mittens are tiny and adorable, and two, all the left ones are missing.

LOO: Those aren’t… I-I’m not…

JUNO: Taking your dirty cop business into your home, huh? Pilot Pereyra covers your boots in mud and you track it all inside?

LOO: Mayor Pereyra? But I wasn’t—

JUNO: The hell are your kids gonna think of you, Loo? Embarrassing. A train wreck.

LOO: Oh! This isn’t my house!

SOUND: DISTANT, MUFFLED CRYING.

Damn it, now look what you made me do!

JUNO: You’re a cop who breaks into people’s basements for interrogations? What’s wrong with you?

SOUND: DISTANT DOOR OPENS. CRYING GETS LOUDER.

CAPTAIN KHAN: (DISTANT) Loo! What the hell is goin’ on down there?

LOO: (YELPS) Captain Khan! I-I-I-I didn’t mean—

SOUND: DOOR SLAMS SHUT. STOMPING FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO: Captain… Khan?

KHAN: You done questioning him yet? You show up at my apartment with someone in a damn duffel bag and then you wake the baby?!

Oh, no. No, no– d-agh, God damn it, it’s you!

JUNO (NARRATOR): Omar Khan was a good guy – and that’s why he’s one of the only cops in Hyperion City that I never wanted to deal with. The other ones you could punch all you wanted and never feel bad about it, but Khan… was clean. And that meant I had to play nice, or else…

Nothing, okay? I’d just feel bad. I liked Khan. He was a good cop. He became the Captain of my old precinct after I left and he’d really turned the place around, or… so I heard. And that meant the world was a better place with him in it. Or whatever. Ugh.

Also probably worth saying that Khan didn’t feel the same way about me.

KHAN: Loo, you moron! You didn’t tell me the Nosy Nanette you brought in was Juno goddamn Steel!

LOO: Am I supposed to know who this is?

KHAN: Oh, right. You’re new.

JUNO: Come on, Loo. Didn’t anybody ever tell you that the first thing you’re supposed to do at a new job is catch up on the old gossip?

KHAN: We can’t trust a goddamn word Steel here says! Didn’t anyone tell you about the Hijikata case?

LOO: The… what? Please?

KHAN: You got spaghetti in those ears, Loo? Don’t they teach you curiosity in diaper-school anymore? Captain Hijikata! Of the one-five-one, our goddamn precinct! It was the case of the damn decade and this walking pile of nitroglycerin decided to—

JUNO: We really don’t need to get into the details, thanks.

KHAN: We can’t trust him. Especially when it comes to taking down someone reeeally big. Steel’s a glory-pig. Honor-hound. Wh-whatever. Anyway, why’s he here? You said this had something to do with our op?

JUNO: ‘Course it does, Captain. I’m gonna help you take down somebody really big.

KHAN: What?!

LOO: Uh… he’s telling the truth, Captain Khan. He— (GULPS) …saw the meeting.

KHAN: And where the hell were you?!

LOO: Seeing him… seeing the meeting.

Traffic was really bad and I got a call I had to take I’m sorry.

KHAN: God damn it! After months we finally get someone on the inside with Pereyra just to get the details on this meeting and you missed it because you were on the comms?! How the hell are we gonna pin them now? You got another sting ready to go, Loo? Do you? In the next four goddamn days?!

JUNO: So that’s what all this is? A sting to catch Pilot?

KHAN: Of course it is! The hell do you think we are, some kinda sneaky-sneak on-the-take-takers? No way. We’re— (COUGHING) We’re the good cops.

JUNO: …There are… only two of you.

KHAN: ‘Course there aren’t only two of us, blockhead! There are– I don’t know, four or five, at least.

LOO: Captain, there are more than five—

KHAN: Well, I’ve never counted, alright? Maybe you don’t give two ding-dongs about doing the right thing, Steel, but some of us are busy trying to make the world a little better! We’ve been tailing Pereyra for months, and I’m not gonna let you get in my way.

JUNO: Not planning on it, Captain.

KHAN: Oh. That’s– nice.

(CLEARS THROAT) So, uh… did you see what they were talking about?

JUNO: Yeah.

KHAN: You wanna tell us?

JUNO: Nah.

KHAN: I knew it! You weasel! You skink! You… momonga!

JUNO: Don’t know what’s got you so upset, Khan. I wasn’t lying. I’m not gonna stand in your way – I’m just not gonna say anything unless I get to come along for the ride.

KHAN: What?!

LOO: There might be one way around it, Captain. He said he recorded it all. On his… eye.

KHAN: On his…!

…on his eye. Hmmmm.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

Hey, look at that. You didn’t have that last time I saw you. Where’d you get it, Steel?

JUNO: Left my real eye under my pillow and the eyeball fairy dropped it off.

KHAN: Doing something illegal is my guess. For one of your usual business partners. Valles Vicky, Clark the Shark, Cecil Kanagawa… something that’d leave a trail, I’ll bet.

JUNO: You’re close enough that your mustache is leaving a trail into my mouth, Khan. Back off.

KHAN: (GROWLS)

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

Lieutenant!

LOO: Yes, sir!

KHAN: I want as much data as you can get on everyone Steel’s talked to for the past three weeks. Pull from Security Office databanks, private camera feeds, everything. How long’d that take you?

LOO: About two days, sir.

KHAN: Meanwhile I want you to get Goren to look into that eye: make, model, most importantly, how to pull the data out of the damn thing. Tell her she has a day and a half.

LOO: Yes, sir!

KHAN: Ha-ha! You hear that, Steel? We got you this time. Either you tell us what you saw, or in two days, we’ll know.

JUNO: Y’know, Khan, I got to hand it to you: that’s pretty impressive. Two days is fast.

KHAN: You bet your booper it is.

JUNO: But not fast enough to make it in time for Pereyra’s heist tonight.

KHAN: …What’d he just say?

LOO: I think he said… that Mayor Pereyra’s gang is going to do a heist tonight.

JUNO: At midnight, specifically.

LOO: At midnight, specifically.

KHAN: Yeah, yeah, I heard him.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Poor Khan looked like a balloon with all the air let out. Or, maybe just a balloon that was depressed. And that meant I was playing the interrogation game right. I’d given them just enough info to make them think I knew more – to make them want to work with me. And sure, I didn’t actually know more; but so long as they didn’t ask for anything else, that never had to be a problem.

KHAN: No, no no, wait, you know what – I don’t buy it. You could’ve just made that up. Might not know a damn thing, could’ve just made up some heist tonight to get us going. No. I think we’re gonna wait the two days. But thanks for the intel.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Well, so much for “not a problem.”

But interrogation’s like a high-stakes card game, and that means there are two ways to win. Either you actually get a good hand… or you bluff. Last card game I played like this, I wasn’t the one bluffing.

Wasn’t alone, either.

But no matter what I wanted, I was alone now. So I played my last card… and I bluffed.

JUNO: It’s in the Museum. Pilot told their gang to hit the Museum of Colonized History at midnight tonight and I know what they’re gonna steal.

LOO: Huh?!

KHAN: Huh. That’s… specific.

And if it’s supposedly tonight, it’s not like we’d have to wait long to find out if he’s lying.

LOO: But the Museum of Colonized History is huge, Captain! If it’s just the two of us, how can we be sure we’re going to check the right part? While we’re in the North Wing, the mayor’s gang could be robbing the South Wing.

JUNO: Captain, look. I know you’ve got a million reasons not to trust me on this. I know my reputation’s not exactly sparkling, and one time I tried to steal classified evidence off your desk, and later that same day I handcuffed you to a car, which was very funny, but also very wrong, probably.

KHAN: Steel—!

JUNO: And I know you probably have a million good reasons to take Pilot down and I might only have one but it’s a pretty damn good one, so I just. Need. To be there. Tonight. …Okay?

KHAN: (GROWLS)

LOO: Captain. This close to the election, this might be our last chance. If we could just get one person from Mayor Pereyra’s gang to talk—

KHAN: Alright, alright, fine. I’ll babysit the P.I. You happy?

JUNO: I’m happy.

KHAN: But listen up, Steel. When I’ve got the scent of something big, you’d better not get in my way. You try it, I’ll show you just how scary Omar Khan can get. Got me?

SOUND: DISTANT DOOR OPENS.

VOICE: Omar! We just got another one of those letters from the landlord! Do you want me to open it, or—

KHAN: Damn it, Noor, I told you I’m doing business down here!

VOICE (NOOR): Oh, do you have some friends over? Did you ask them if they want some pasta?

KHAN: I said we’re busy!

NOOR: Omar! What kind of a host are you! You drag them into the basement, let them make all this noise, wake the baby—

KHAN: ALRIGHT, FINE!

Do either of you want pasta?

(SIMULTANEOUSLY) LOO: No thank you. JUNO: I’m good.

KHAN: They don’t want pasta!

NOOR: What?

KHAN: I SAID THEY DON’T WANT PASTA!

Are you sure?

JUNO: Yeah, thanks, I’m all set—

LOO: Actually, I am a little hungry.

KHAN: Nevermind, I’ll come up and get two bowls in a minute, Noor! Thank you! I love you very much and I’m glad we’re working on our communication!

(PANTING) Ah– alright. So, like I said: all business, Steel. You’d better get used to that. First, farfalle; then, you and I take a little trip to the museum.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

JUNO (NARRATOR): In P.I. work, a real big lie is like a summer rainstorm: it comes on suddenly, it’s really hard to get out from under, and it’ll burn just all your skin off if you don’t get dry quick. Summer’s pretty rough on Mars.

I’d told a whopper of a lie back in Khan’s basement, and I’d gotten soaked before we ever made it to the museum. All it took was nine words, said while Loo was driving us:

KHAN: So where in the museum are they gonna hit?

JUNO: I, uh, told you, Khan, if I say that, you’ve got no reason to bring me.

KHAN: Yeah, whatever, keep your secrets if you want, I don’t care. But the Lieutenant at least needs to know which door to drop us off at.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The Museum of Colonized History is huge: blocks and blocks of dome prototypes and early terraforming pods and the mummified remains of the first space-colonists. If I picked a door at random, we’d miss the heist entirely, and there went my lead.

So what did I know? Not much. The Piranha shared some intel with Pilot, but it wasn’t enough on its own; there was something in here with information on it, and Pilot wouldn’t know how to read it without the Piranha.

One of the last things I’d picked up before Loo zapped me was a word: “codex.” A codex that covers the entire city. I had no idea what that meant, not yet, except for one thing: there was one wing of the Museum dedicated to things that covered the entire city.

KHAN: So? You’d better have something, Steel.

JUNO: The Hall of Maps. West entrance should get us there. Come on, Loo, you better speed this thing up; we don’t want to be late again.

LOO: I know, I know.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Loo dropped us off at the Hall of Maps at 11:30. We crawled through the window and crept past walls covered with old paper and flickering diodes, images of a thousand sprawling Marses measured and cut-up and categorized. There were maps from throughout the ages: before the telescope, before the terraforming pod, before the transgalactic travel engine.

It was beautiful, or whatever. But there was one thing that stuck out to me most of all:

JUNO: God, this place stinks.

KHAN: You get a free pass to the wonders of human progress and all you can think about is the smell?

JUNO: Yeah, basically. I hate that musty old hard drive stink. Just mold and motherboard-termites.

KHAN: It’s history, damn it! These are the maps that invented space colonization, Steel! You wouldn’t be here without ‘em!

JUNO: So that’s a con. Got any pros?

KHAN: (GROWLS) It’s not worth talking to a punk about the unpunkable. You couldn’t see the value of these maps if they reached out and tickled your whiskers.

JUNO: Anyway, why do you care? Aren’t you from Earth?

KHAN: (GROWLS)

JUNO: If you want history, Earth’s got thousands of years on literally anywhere else – you don’t have to travel thirty-four million miles to find history. People leave a mess everywhere they go.

KHAN: Sometimes a place means more than just itself. It’s an idea, or a promise, or… something. And even if that promise doesn’t get kept, it means you can go there and expect them to keep it. Demand they keep it. You know what I mean?

JUNO: I… huh, I-I do, actually, but, what promise—

KHAN: It’s like with my Little Mom. Made this curried lasagna every Tuesday for Big Mom. You do that long enough, it’s like a promise, right? Gotta keep a promise, or it goes bad. We’re all just like egg-noodles in the lasagna, skim milk in the sauce. Never should’ve thrown out that recipe.

JUNO: And hey, just like that, I lost you.

Found someone else, though. Hide!

SOUND: WALKIE-TALKIE BEEP.

VOICE 1: (DISTANT) Hallway B is clear. Moving on target.

SOUND: WALKIE-TALKIE BEEP.

KHAN: You get a good look at ‘em?

JUNO: It’s pitch black in here, Khan, of course I didn’t get a good look at ‘em.

THEIA: May I suggest. Night-vision mode.

JUNO: …Yet. Did not get a good look yet. Will in a second. Come on, follow them.

SOUND: SOFT ELECTRIC HUM.

THEIA: Night-vision mode. Activated.

JUNO: Looks like they’re armed, and… it’s hard to make anything else out from this far away.

KHAN: Gun sounds like a good reason to stay far away to me.

JUNO: Unless they’re one of the gang’s lookouts – then we can’t risk losing ‘em.

KHAN: Muh, alright. Then I guess we’ll just stay far away from close up.

SOUND: WALKIE-TALKIE BEEP.

JUNO: Wait, they stopped!

VOICE 1: Reporting in. Just heard a noise outside the First Light Room. I’m gonna go check it out.

SOUND: WALKIE-TALKIE BEEP.

JUNO: Damn it, damn it, damn it!

KHAN: Don’t get your petticoat in a twist just yet, Steel.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

Looks like our burglar oughta burgle some better ears. He’s walking away from us.

JUNO: He’s headed into that exhibit. Follow him.

SOUND: WALKIE-TALKIE BEEP. RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

VOICE 1: Didn’t find anything. Returning to group.

SOUND: WALKIE-TALKIE BEEP.

JUNO: You hear that? He’s going back!

KHAN: So?

JUNO: So we have to pick ‘em off one by one, don’t we? Learn what we can from each one, and then—

KHAN: Hang on. Something’s not right here.

What the hell are they trying to steal, exactly?

JUNO: I told you, I’m not gonna—

KHAN: —because you needed to come along, you said. Well, now you’re along. It sounds like we’re in the room they’re robbing.

JUNO: And while you’re wasting time, he’s gonna get away!

KHAN: So tell me, Steel. What are they stealing?

JUNO (NARRATOR): Sitting there in the dark, with Khan’s hand on my shoulder, all I could think about was that this was our moment and we were letting it pass us by. Because at the tail end of every failure case, there’s always one moment you can look back at and say to yourself, “I should have taken the shot.” A single mistake. A moment that you can beat yourself up about for years. Thinking about how if you’d just done it, if you’d just jumped when the time came to jump, it all would’ve worked out in the end.

Staring at that shadow in the doorway, I knew one thing: I wasn’t going to let this be that moment.

SOUND: FABRIC RUSTLING.

KHAN: Steel, what– what the hell are you doing, Steel? Get back here!

JUNO (NARRATOR): “I’m not gonna look back at this and wish I’d done something,” I thought.

And I was right. Later I’d look back and wish I hadn’t done anything.

JUNO: Hmf!

VOICE 1: Oof!

SOUND: HEAVY THUD. RUSTLING.

JUNO: Alright, buddy, you’re gonna tell me what your gang is after, and you’re gonna tell me now.

KHAN: Steel, he’s reaching for something!

JUNO (NARRATOR): So I panicked.

SOUND: BLASTER SHOT.

VOICE 1: (GRUNTS)

KHAN: …A gun? Where the hell did you get a—

When did you take my gun?!

SOUND: ALARM.

God damn it, what now?

PIRANHA: (DISTANT) Ugh, the alarm! Unless you want a laser through each of your thick skulls, you’re gonna find who hit that god damn alarm, see!

JUNO: Come on, we have to hide. We’ll let the Piranha clean up her own mess.

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

PIRANHA: Well? You see anybody?

PEREYRA: Hey there, no reason to get all excited. Looks like our party crasher just crashed.

KHAN: That voice… is that Mayor Pereyra?

JUNO (NARRATOR): It was. The Piranha. Two goons. And Pilot Pereyra.

What the hell were they doing here? Why the hell would a crime boss on Pilot’s level show up to their own heist?

It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make any sense.

KHAN: Oh, no. No way, no how.

JUNO: What?

KHAN: That fancy eye of yours make you soft in the cerebellum? Look at that gangster’s face! She doesn’t recognize that poor sucker you just knocked out!

PIRANHA: Well, well. Just who the hell are you?

PEREYRA: Looks like a museum security guard. And it sounds like he flipped quite the alarm.

PIRANHA: Damn it, I thought you said you knew the patrol schedule!

PEREYRA: Hey, Pilot Pereyra makes the trains run on time, but I never promised to make the guards do the same.

PIRANHA: (GROWLS) Alright. If that’s how you wanna play it… plan B. We’ll have to blow our escape plan, but—

PEREYRA: Leave the escape to me. Now. Show us how it’s done.

PIRANHA: Fine. Hey, you. What’s your name?

VOICE 2: His name’s Mike. He doesn’t talk.

PIRANHA: Good for him. Hold this comms, Mike. We’re gonna take a home movie.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The Piranha stepped closer to the guard I’d stunned.

And she pointed her gun right at his head.

SOUND: GUN COCKING.

The Piranha’s flashlight caught his badge and I saw his name and… I’d never unsee it again: Barton Pollock. Barton. Sounded like my brother’s name, if you thought it fast enough, if your mind was spinning around it. Bart to his friends, or Barty? Kids, husband, wife, friends?

I felt so sick that when Pilot stepped forward, hand up, I even let myself get hopeful for a second.

PEREYRA: Hey, hey now… let’s not rush in without thinking, alright?

PIRANHA: You said solve it my way, so I’m solving it my way, see? You have a problem?

PEREYRA: I do, actually.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Maybe they’ve got a soul after all, I thought. Maybe this city isn’t as bad off as I thought it was.

PEREYRA: Your blaster’s on stun. Better set it to kill – you can tell the difference on video.

JUNO (NARRATOR): That thought didn’t last long.

PIRANHA: Thanks, Mx. Mayor. Start rolling, Mikey.

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEP.

Dear Museum of Colonized History Security Force, HCPD nightowls, late-night comms scanners and all other busybodies: we know right about now all you got blasted with a hell of an alarm from this exhibit, and we know you’d probably like to do something about it.

Well. Me and my associates invite you to consider a different option, see: we got about a half-dozen hostages here we was hoping to trade for clean getaway, but if any of you flash so much as a siren? Well. We might just have to do something to those good citizens. Something… like… this.

SOUND: BLASTER SHOT.

JUNO: No way. No way, no way, no way…

KHAN: (GRUNTS)

PIRANHA: Your move, coppers. (CACKLES) We’ll call again in fifteen minutes. Cut the feed, Mikey.

SOUND: BEEP.

How’s that for style?

PILOT: Not bad. Just… make sure I don’t end up in frame.

PIRANHA: I’m a professional, ain’t I? Now let’s go check on the hostages – and our map.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

JUNO: I can’t believe… I can’t believe she killed him. While he was out cold. Khan, what do we do?

Captain?

KHAN: Never should’ve listened to you. Damn it, god damn it, I knew I should’ve waited. I knew it!

JUNO: What…?

KHAN: You don’t know a thing about this heist, do you? You didn’t know the guard. You didn’t know Pereyra was gonna be here. You knew a little, sure, enough to dupe me. But this was all just another Juno Steel lie, wasn’t it?

JUNO: The heist was tonight. So what if I didn’t know everything? You were gonna sit back and just let it happen.

KHAN: You think that guard’s kids care which of us was right?

I can’t even blame you. I’m the one who listened. I’m the one you took the gun from. Damn it, I should’ve waited. Damn it!

JUNO: Khan?

KHAN: Just shut up and give me my gun.

JUNO: …Okay.

KHAN: We rushed in, that’s the problem. And now we’re… here.

(CLEARS THROAT) But it’s not gonna happen again, Steel.

MUSIC: STARTS.

You hear me? From here, we do it the way we always shoulda: slow. And nobody dies anymore, you hear me?

JUNO: Slow? But Captain—

SOUND: FABRIC RUSTLING.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Khan grabbed me by the coat and pulled me so close I could smell the pasta on his breath – and see his eyes twitching, wild. Scared.

KHAN: We do this by the book. And the book says nobody. Dies.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Khan was in the kind of mood right then that you don’t argue with, so I didn’t. Didn’t tell him what I thought: that I had no idea what book he was talking about, but any book that tells you nobody’s gonna die is lying. Because you can romanticize the past all you want; put it in a nice case with a tasteful little plaque next to it, but the fact is, that the book of time is written in blood. Elections, colonization, policework… you don’t get the fancy statues and the pretty maps without dropping a few bodies along the way. Which isn’t to say those people deserved to die, or that their killers deserved to live. Just, that history is only written by those who live long enough to write it.

Barton Pollock didn’t deserve to die.

Yasmin Swift didn’t deserve to die.

I can’t even swallow the idea that the Proctor deserved to die, not while there was a way around it. But the fact was that they were dead and I was alive, and that had been the price to get to this moment… for now.

I was sure it would cost more before we were done. It always did. The best I could hope to do was make sure the right person footed the bill… even if that meant paying up myself.

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, Avi Meehan, and Joshua Ilon, and co-creator Sophie Kaner:

SOUND: TRAIN STOPS, DOOR SLIDES OPEN, RAIN.

SOPHIE: …Well I also think that, I’m sure, Joshua and Kate can, um, relate to… playing themselves. (LAUGHS)

KATE: What?

JOSHUA: I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.

AVI: Oh, can I say one more thing?

SOPHIE: Yeah!

AVI: Can I say one more thing? Can—

SOPHIE: Say two! Say three!

AVI: I think, another thing that was really exciting was, um I’m a non-binary hume [is this a word?], and getting the opportunity to play a non-binary character was sooo gosh-dang exciting for me, just because it’s sort of like, ‘alright, you’re small, you look kind of– you, you’re just a girl!’ And I’m like…

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 Francie Liana, Charlie Spiegel, Minchowski, Lynné Herman, Jaimie Gunter, and the Princess and the Scrivener for their incredibly generous contributions per episode. Thank you.

This tale, Juno Steel and the Stolen City, was told by the following people: Joshua Ilon as Juno Steel, Elliot Sicard as Captain Omar Khan, Avi Meehan as Lieutenant Loo, Simon Moody as Mayor Pilot Pereyra, Sophie Kaner as the Piranha, Matthew Zahnzinger as Ramses O’Flaherty, and Kate Jones as Noor Khan.

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.

[theys-a-joke]

Albert/Reader : In Sickness and In Health

Request: it’s just them alone at the lodging house because Race/Albert is sick and Reader doesn’t want to leave them alone???

Here it is! I had @lovethyfanperson look over this, amazing, I love her, 10/10, and she really seemed to like it so I decided to post it now! Be warned, it does delve into death, but only for a short bit. 

Here’s the ao3 link! 

It had been a pretty bad selling day. You and Albert had gotten caught in the rain while selling, and had to run back to the lodging house as quick as you could. You managed to run in between buildings keeping somewhat dry, but Albert ran straight back to the lodging house. By the time you got back, he was still soaked. A couple of the other boys were damp too.

“It smells like wet dog in here.” You stated as you entered the main room.

“Yeah and I bet you smells like flowers huh.” Albert said from across the room. He had changed into some drier clothes and was lying on the floor.

“Ise likes to think so. Ya know, I thinks that what this place needs.”

“What?”

“Flowers.”

“Ya really thinks so?” “Yeah, ‘specially on days like today, with everyone bein down n all cause o’ the rain.”

“If youse wanna pick ‘em go right ahead doll, but while youse is out, could you get me somethin to eat?” “You want I should get youse a seltzer too? And why is you lyin on the floor?”

“I ain’t feelin too good, and floor feels nice.”

“Oh. Maybe you shouldn’t sell papes tomorrow and get some help.”

“I don’t need help, alls I need is some rest.”

“Well, then maybe youse should get to your bed then, here, I’ll help ya.” You crouched down to help him up, putting his arm around your neck. His skin felt warm, though it could’ve been from the humidity. You helped, more-so dragged, Albert to his bed and he laid down.

“Thanks for helpin me out doll, though I’m not sure I needed it.” “Albert, I practically carried youse to your bed. I think the sickness is gettin to your head. Get some sleep.” You were leaving the room when he called out.

“Thanks for carin doll!” You laughed as you made your way to your bed, a couple guys shushing you along the way. You whispered an apology as you passed and got into your own bed. You hoped Albert would be alright tomorrow.

THE NEXT DAY

When you didn’t see Albert while you were getting ready, you knew something was up. You went to check up on him and suffice to say, he had gotten worse. He was paler than usual and his red hair was matted all over his face. He looked miserable. You slowly walked up to his bed so as not to startle him and spoke gently.

“Hey Albert, how ya feelin?” All you got in response was a groan.

“That bad huh?” You held his hand and rubbed circles on the back of it with your thumb. His skin was scorching.

“I’ll go tell the others youse is stayin in today, okay?” You got a muffled response that you determined to be an ‘okay.’ You went to the main room with all the boys about to leave.

“Hey guys, Albert ain’t feelin too hot today, poor guy, so he’s stayin back.”

“Youse gonna stay with him?” Specs asked.

“Somebody’s gotta take care of him.” You shrugged as you responded.

“Just don’t get into too much trouble while we’re gone eh?” Race said.

“Yeah sure.” You smiled, glad they understood, and headed back to Albert.

“Hey, I’m back, and I’m gonna be here all day if youse need anything alright?” “Thanks.” He managed to say. You pushed the hair out of his face and felt how hot his skin was again. You needed to do something about that.

“I’m gonna go get youse a cold cloth alright?” You left his bed to go get some rags and some water. You brought them both to Albert’s room and dabbed the wet cloth on his face. He sighed happily at the coolness. After a while, Albert seemed to have fallen asleep again. You left the cloth on his forehead in hopes of cooling him down a bit more, and decided to make yourself useful while he rested. You tidied up his room a bit, picking up and folding clothes, organizing some of the things the other guys had left, etc. Once you were done, you decided to go to Jacobi’s to get something for Albert.

“Good mornin Mr. Jacobi.” You greeted him politely.

“Ah, good morning (Y/N)! And what are you doin here? Shouldn’t you be out sellin papes?” He greeted you back, you were his favorite of the newsies, and was always glad to see you.

“Not today sir, Albert got sick from yesterday’s rain an’ Ise is staying behind to help him through it.” “Well aren’t youse a good friend. Did ya come for somethin to help ‘im feel better?” “As a matter of fact, I did. What sorta things do ya have?”

“Well, for what Albert mighta gotten, I’d suggest a good, warm soup.”

“Wonderful, I’ll take it, how much?”

“It’ll be 7 cents.”

“7 cents?! This better work some miracles. Oh, could I also get a seltzer?” You remembered what Albert had said last night about wanting a seltzer and decided to get him some. “Sure thing, that’ll be 9 cents.” “Here’s a dime. And do you mind if I take the bowl and glass? I promise to bring ‘em back.”

“Sure thing. Here you go,”  He handed you your items and penny, “and tell Albert I hope he gets better.”

“I will Mr. Jacobi, thanks again!” You headed back towards the lodging house, careful not to spill the soup or seltzer. It was a challenge trying to open all the doors, but you managed. Albert was still sleeping when you got back. You put down the soup and seltzer and gently shook Albert to wake him up. While you were out, he seemed to have taken off his shirt, probably because of how hot he was feeling.

“Hey, I brought you something, could you sit up for me?” You helped him sit up, and brought over the soup.

“Whadya get me?” He asked, his voice still hoarse from waking up.

“I went to Jacobi’s and got you some soup. He said it’s supposed to help you feel better.” “Really?” “Supposedly, here,” You handed him the bowl and spoon, encouraging him to eat, “Do you want me to feed it to you?” That made him chuckle.

“Sure.” And so you fed him. About halfway through the bowl you remembered the seltzer.

“Oh! I got you something else!” You put the bowl off to the side, and dashed to get the seltzer, hopefully it was still bubbly.

“Here.”

“You got me a seltzer? How much money did you spend on all this?” He was happy that you had brought him something to eat and drink, but mad that you had probably spent a lot of the money you earned.

“Don’t worry about the price, just enjoy what I brought you.” He seemed to growl at your response, but kept quiet. You didn’t need him getting mad while he was sick. He needed to rest up.

“Thank you, (Y/N), for this. It means a lot.”

“Anytime Al! I care about you and wanna make sure you get better. Can’t have my partner dying on me now can I?” It was meant  to be a joke, but after you said it you knew it was the wrong thing. Albert looked down, suddenly very interested in his blanket. The thought of Albert dying brought tears to your eyes and he looked up again.

“Hey, don’t cry. I ain’t ever leaving you, youse is stuck with me. Ya got that?” He pulled you closer to him and held you tightly.

“I got that.” You whispered from against his chest, your tears going as quickly as they came.

“Here, why don’t youse lie down with me for a while?”

“I’d like that.” The two of you lied down, Albert’s arms still around you, his skin cooler than before. You enjoyed being held in his arms, it was comforting. After a while, you realized how close to Albert you really were, and how defined his muscles were. You came to the realization that you had never seen Albert shirtless before. And looking at him up close, you had an urge to touch him. You gently traced the outline of his chest and abdomen with your finger, only stopping when you heard a laugh from Albert. You wondered if he was having a funny dream, or something similar, though you dismissed it and went back to tracing his muscles. The he laughed again, a bit more this time. Wait, was he ticklish? There’s was only one way to find out. You began to tickle Albert, gently at first, and then increasing in force. He was laughing so hard that he woke himself up and once he realized what was happening, he began to tickle you back.

“No, Albert, please!” You managed to get out between breaths. You were laughing so hard and trying to get away from Albert that you didn’t realize how close you were to the edge of the bed. You promptly rolled off in an attempt to remove yourself from Albert’s tickling, falling onto the floor. All the while you were still laughing.

“Woah, you okay doll?” Albert’s tone became concerned for a moment, as you had just rolled off the bed.

“I’m fine, I fell what, a foot? Nothin too bad. I’m more hurtin from laughin so much. Speakin o which…” You got up off of the floor and tickled Albert again, but only for a short while, and then ran away so you wouldn’t get tickled back.

“Ay (Y/N)! Get back here!” Albert shouted from his bed, he was already getting up to chase you.

“You  gotta catch me!” You shouted back.

“Oh I will!” He saw you running from one room to another and set after you. The two of you played this game of cat and mouse for a good while, going through all the rooms and all the levels of the lodging house. He had nearly cornered you a few times, but you managed to just barely escape, tickling him and getting tickled in the process. Though he had gotten you eventually somehow by sneaking up behind you while you were in the main room.

“Gotcha!” He said as he scooped you up in his arms. You shrieked as he picked you up.

“Okay, okay, you win! Now can ya put me down?”

“Nope. Youse made me run around so now wese is gonna take a nap.” He shifted how he was holding you, so instead of by your waist, he was carrying you bridal style.

“Ugh. Fine. But no more tickling! I can’t take it.”

“I promise if you promise.” “I do. And I’d shake your hand but it looks like youse is carrying something.” You chuckled and curled up closer to Albert’s chest as he walked back to his bed.  Soon enough you were back at his bed, but you weren’t laid down, oh no. He dropped you. What a guy.

“What a gentleman you are.” You remarked after being dropped.

“Ain’t I doll?” He climbed into bed next to you.

“You want I should tuck you in too?”

“Sure?” Albert tucking you in sounded suspicious, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt because he offered to tuck you in. Wrong choice. Instead of tucking you in, he just tossed the blanket over your face.

“Gee thanks Albert.” Your voice was muffled from the blanket, but the sarcasm was loud and clear.

“Anytime doll, now, you thinkin of sharing the blanket?”

“Nah.”

“I’m hurt! You wouldn’t share with me, your favorite person. Don’t you care if Ise is cold or not? What with my sickness an all?” “Albert, you just chased me throughout the lodging house, carried me to the bed, and threw the blanket on me, I think you’re fine. But because I’m so nice, I will share with you.”

“Aww, what a sweetheart.” You took the blanket and covered both you and Albert, though difficult, you did it. “But my favorite person is Crutchie, not you.” “That’s fair.” He pulled you closer and you closed your eyes, ready to take another nap.

“Goodnight (Y/N).” He said and kissed your forehead. You smiled into his chest, tempted to start tracing his muscles again, but deciding against it.

“Goodnight Albert.”

[tjroewrites]

Natural Selection

Pairing: Castiel x OC!Fallon Fawkes

A/N: I started this one-shot with a certain ending in mind but it took off in a totally different direction. This felt way more natural with the scene. Supposed to take place after the events of my fic. Which I’m still working on. Fallon wouldn’t act this way before everything went down. But this is something that helped me shape her as a character. 

Prompt: Callon (I know, I’m dumb) has finished up a hunt in an Oregon beach town. Castiel gets an idea. 

Warnings: Baby sea turtles. That’s all I’m gonna say.

Word Count: 2.1k (lol)

           The last vamp nest had taken its toll on then.

           Most times, it was a cakewalk. Castiel would smite a few; Fallon would start swinging her machete around. Save some vics; reunite a couple families. Easy-peasy. But most times the nest was small-ball. Not this time.

           Gold Beach was on her side of the states. Maybe six hours from her hometown in Oregon. It was a tiny little beach town. About as small as Lakeview. She’d never been, but she’d heard plenty of stories. Tight-knit community. Good people. Not a lot of trouble to find out there.

           Which was why the idea of the mother of all vamp-hives being located no more than half a mile from the town marker was a bit shocking.

           They’d just gotten through talking with a dad whose daughter they’d just pulled from the nest. No more than fifteen years old. The girl was damn near cold by the time they’d cut their way through the abandoned warehouse. If Fallon had been hunting alone, she’d be delivering a dead body to his door step. Lucky for the girl, there was at least one angel that still gave a shit about humans. God only knows why.

           The town’s main road actually ran alongside the ocean. If you pulled onto the shoulder and jumped from the car, your feet would hit sand. White, fluffy sand. Like a cloud on a warm summer day. Not like the swamp-muck shit they had over near Hat Creek. It looked so much different than those sappy movies they played on TV. It was the first time she’d seen it in person.

           They passed by one spot in particular on their way out of town. A giant boulder sat right at the lip of the shore. Every time the tide rolled in the waves would crash into it, forcing white spray in every direction in the most dramatic fashion. Then it would slide over the stone and weave through the cracks back to the sand. Over and over again. Roll, crash, slide. Roll, crash, slide. It was kind of relaxing to watch.

           Castiel slowed the truck down and veered off the asphalt, the tires hitting gravel along the shoulder. He insisted on driving them back to Lebanon since she’d gotten them there. And now she was paying the price. “What are you doing?” She groaned.

           He wiggled the shifter into neutral and fumbled with the emergency brake. The truck jolted a bit. He’d gotten good with shifting but parking a manual still wasn’t his specialty. “Stopping.”

           “Yeah, not very well.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean, why are we stoppin’? It’s damn near dark and we still haven’t cleared the cliffs yet.”

           “Just because you cannot see five feet in front of you does not mean my eyesight is poor.” He climbed out and shut the door, striding around the front of the truck in that wide-leg stride he always did. Arms out slightly. Head bobbing up and down. She jumped out of the cab and planted her boots in the gravel. “My vision is just as clear at night as it is during the day.”

           Fallon scoffed. “My eyes work just fine. Just don’t like drivin’ mountain roads in the dead of night.”      

           “So you allowed that vampire to nearly tear out your jugular vein back at the warehouse.” He tilted his head to the side and raised a brow. “It wasn’t because you could not see nor hear him. I was forced to come to your rescue just for fun, correct?”

            The creep had popped up out of nowhere. She’d spent too long making sure one vamp was dead and not long enough trying to figure out where the next one was. Too much noise, not enough light. Her ears had still been ringing from the last blood sucker to hear another snarl behind her back. She was seconds away from becoming the next Dracula before Castiel plucked him out of thin air. “He’d’ve gotten his share. Was just givin’ him a bit of false hope for his last few seconds on Earth.”

           Castiel chuckled and shook his head. Then he started out into the sand. His dress shoes left imprints with every step.  

           “What are you doing?” She asked for the second time. He knew how much she hated being ignored. Drove her crazy. Why did he insist on doing that? He turned back and smiled. The sunset cast a vibrant light around his head like a halo. She forgot how to breathe for one long-ass second.

           “I think we have earned a moment of peace.”  

.           The air was even thicker near the water’s edge. Castiel had suggested she take off her boots. She had suggested for him to shut his trap. But then he’d given her that look. The one where his stare glazed over and turned doe-like. His chapped lips puckered slightly. Dean called it the ‘puppy dog pout.’ Fallon called it the ‘bitch’s way out.’ But there she was, holding her boots in her hand, bare feet walking beside a shoeless Castiel along the damp shoreline. She’d say no next time. She swore on it.

           They were quiet for a while. The scene spoke for itself. The slap of the waves against the sand was something she never thought she’d enjoy, the white foam tickling the thin layer of skin on top of her feet as it rushed over. They had both rolled their pants up but the water still nicked the fabric a couple times. The sand squished between her toes with every step. The salty wind blew through her hair and pulled loose strands from underneath her bandana. The air was like a thick blanket draped over their shoulders. For the first time in a long while, she couldn’t find one thing to bitch about. She let her eyes close for a minute while she breathed it all in. But when she opened them again, something caught her eye.

           “The hell’s that?” She pointed at a deep hole farther up from the lip of the shore. There weren’t many holes out here, just dents and footprints, but this one stood out. Castiel looked down at her as she strode toward it, her right leg dragging a bit more with her increased speed.

           “A hole.” He said. He wasn’t wrong. It was what was inside of it that had her damn near splitting apart at the seams.

           “Holy shit.” She stared down at the hole. Inside were ten or twelve baby turtles.

           Baby. Freaking. Turtles.

           Real living and breathing (did turtles even breath?) animals. Not the little bath toys you see kids throwing around in a tub. Not the cartoon ones from that ‘Finding Nemo’ show. No, no. These were the real deal. The whole nine yards. The turtles were scampering into each other like bumper cars, desperate for a way out. But the hole was too deep. And they were tiny little things. They flapped their fins like they were trying to fly.  

           “Sea turtles.” Castiel confirmed, his knees hitting the sand a foot from the nest. Fallon followed suit. “They are attempting to make their way to the ocean to begin their life cycle.”

           “But they can’t get out.” Fallon waved her hand at them. What kind of mother sets her kids up for failure like that? “How’s a sea turtle s’posed to live if it can’t even get to the sea?”

          “Some nests do not survive the first stage.” Castiel sighed. “Charles Darwin was correct in his studies. Natural selection plays a primitive role in this world.”

           “So, what, we just let ‘em die?”

           “It is best not to interfere with the nest. It could confuse them further.”

           Castiel made to get up. For a very rare moment, she actually felt her heart clench. A heavy weight right on her chest. Her eyes burned in their sockets. Fuck Charles Darwin.

           Her hands dug into the sand, breaking away the lip of the nest and building some kind of ramp with her fingers. A few of the baby turtle’s flippers grazed her skin as she worked. They felt like gently worn leather with a soft finish. The sand clumped underneath her fingernails.

           “Fallon, what are you doing?”

           “I might be a cold-hearted bitch, but I ain’t gonna watch these turtles become some bird’s evening snack.” They were moving now, flapping a bit more wildly at the foreign hands working around them. “You gonna stand there and supervise or you gonna get down here and help me?”

           For a second she didn’t think he’d do it. Castiel had a big heart, but he was also methodical. There was a rhyme or reason to everything. Natural selection definitely fell into that category. But no more than a minute later he was down next to her, scooping sand out of the nest like his life depended on it. They broke the nest wall with a couple more handfuls. Then the race began.

           They moved quick after that. Waving their fins like mad in a dash to get to the water. Little ripples of sand trailed behind them as they swam through the grains. Fallon and Castiel had to actually move out of the way to avoid their frantic crawl. One after another, each one followed the next. It was a clumsy dance. Not very graceful. But if it wasn’t the prettiest waltz she’d ever seen. Her smile widened as she watched them run, their tiny little bodies blindly wading over the land until they finally hit home. They flopped a bit in the wake before disappearing under the water. She hardly noticed the tear sliding down her cheek as it all unfolded in front of her.

           If this had been a year ago, she would’ve kept on walking. Told herself the same bullshit Castiel had argued about natural selection. Or something close to it. If they couldn’t make it on land, how were they supposed to survive in the sea? Better to struggle on your own than to rely on an extra hand to help out. Can’t count on anyone. But now, sitting with her toes dug into the sand, her blonde hair stained with vamp blood and the sea spray in her face she felt something… different. That maybe, sometimes, people needed help. Like those turtles needed help getting to the ocean. Like that girl needed help from that vamp nest. Like she had needed help all those months ago.

           Her eyes fell to Castiel. He was watching the turtles crawl across the sand, his lip tugged up in one corner. His eyes shone a brighter blue than the ocean stretched out in front of them. But that’s how they always were. Bold and deep, a never-ending pool that always seemed to see right through her bullshit. The same ones that stared right through her on Mount Nebo when she let him heal her for the first time. The same ones that stared back at her when she asked for a socket wrench to tighten the Chevelle’s lug nuts. Every monster, every case, every car ride worth remembering: it all came down to those bright blue eyes. They’d been there through everything.

           He noticed the tears. And when he raised one of those callused hands to wipe them away with his thumb, she didn’t even stop him. Her cheek burned hot under his touch. But it was the sweetest burn she’d ever felt. She leaned into his hand and his chest stopped mid-rise under his suit jacket. His lips parted. She licked her own.

           She couldn’t remember telling her body to move. She was sure she hadn’t. She didn’t need to. Like pure instinct her lips landed on his and the entire world stopped spinning. Every moment came tumbling down. Every sleepless night he’d helped her through. Every time he’d saved her ass. Every time she’d saved his. It all crashed down like the waves on the shore as their lips moved as one. When they broke apart it was only a few inches, breathing each other’s air and staring at the other like they were a lifeline. His eyes shone down on her like a second moon. She was bathed in his glow.

           “Hey, Blackbird.” You could hardly hear it above the waves. He let out a breathless laugh and slid his fingers into her hair. Her bandana slid off somewhere behind her. His other hand found her neck and traced her pulse point with his thumb. Breathing became difficult. When he answered it was a whisper against her lips, his eyes half-closed and his head tilted a bit to the side. The tip of his nose grazed her own and she sighed.

           “Hey, Falcon.”  

[captainwhogotthecanary]

Something In Your Eyes (5/?)

Soooo, remember I said this would be 15 chapters and an epilogue?

Yeah, I just replotted it out to include the rest of her pregnancy and also nods to s2 where possible, sooooo it’s now weighing in at 33 if I stick to the outline.

Whoops? Blame Tavyn and Claudiarain <3

Thanks too to SylvanHeather starting this chapter, who also read through for feedback. Assume these three lovely ladies are giving me general feedback, at minimum, going forward, unless otherwise stated.

Starting this week and until I run out of buffer (which is almost month at this point, if I stopped writing today), SIYE will update Tuesday and Fridays. There’s still roughly a week happening in/between each chapter until otherwise stated.

Content warning this chapter for some violence, but not even as much as we usually see in canon.

Also on AO3.

Sara yawns again. She’s been trying to get to bed at a decent time, but life gets in the way.

Okay, spending time with Leonard gets in the way.

They’ve been keeping to their agreement, keeping things platonic aside from some harmless flirting neither of them seems able to turn off. There’s also been an increase in solo activities starring Leonard as inspiration when she isn’t too tired, but he didn’t exactly seem to mind when she let that slip. Her cards are on the table, and taking the edge off can only help, right?

Only, it doesn’t really help. Every moment between them is still charged. They went out to the bar with Mick the night before—Sara stuck to club soda because alcohol just didn’t sound particularly appealing—nominally to celebrate her working with them, but they just sort of kept forgetting Mick was there.

It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy the other man’s company; she actually thinks they could get to be pretty good friends, too. It’s just that every cell in her body felt like it was being pulled toward Leonard, like every accidental touch set her ablaze.

Luckily, Mick didn’t take offense. He seemed tickled every time one of them blinked at him after he spoke. Still, she knows they need to work on that, especially since they’ll be working together.

Her first training job is today, and she’s spent five minutes trying to wake up enough to get out of her car. She needs to make it upstairs to his office to run back over the details, then back down and over to the location.

It really wasn’t the morning for her to realize she was out of coffee. She makes a note to grab some caffeine before heading to the job, if she has time, then takes a deep breath and gets out of the car.

As she makes her way to Leonard's office, she smiles at new coworkers who are already growing familiar. She waves at Felicity, who she’s found out is the tech wizard who got Leonard into her vault, then raps smartly on the office door.

“Come in,” Leonard calls. She walks in, finding Mick and Leonard already pouring over plans.

“Am I late?” she asks, glancing at the clock.

“No,” Mick answers. “Boss just wanted to get a head start since you’re the one going in.” There’s a slight edge to his voice, and Sara makes a note to ask Leonard about it when she gets a chance, but he doesn’t look upset, and his body language says she isn’t the target of his ire.

“We don’t usually let trainees go in on their own so early,” Leonard says, glaring mildly at Mick before looking at Sara, “so yes, I’d like to be a little more cautious than usual. Given your expertise and the ease of this part of the job, though, I don’t foresee any problems.”

There’s an empty chair next to Mick’s, a new addition to the room, and Sara sits in it and starts looking over the publically available information.

“You know what you’re doing today?” Leonard asks, and Sara nods.

“The target is a high-end department store,” Sara says, “with the main entrance on a busy street. They sell a lot of big ticket items, and they attract a lot of the type of clientele who can afford to pay in cash, so it’s high risk if there are any security holes. The owner wants to make sure she’s not gonna lose out on hard-earned money. I’m going in, with a camera and earpiece, to scope out the place before you actually attempt a job.”

Leonard nods, and Mick speaks. “Trickier than a lot of ‘em. Department store makes it near impossible to attempt anything without upsetting customers. Means what ends up happening is we only get as far as handing over a note that says we’re pretending to rob the joint. I see that and let security know it’s a test at that point, but they still have to get at least one armed guard in range before it’s been too long.”

They spend time pouring over plans and what parts of the store Sara needs to get on camera. She’s also testing alertness of security guards by acting suspect around some easier-to-lift items, with no actual intent to steal. Mick seems like himself, or at least the self she’s come to expect, so she dismisses the initial edge to his voice as imagined.

By the time Sara’s walking into the department store, she’s confident in the job, and she’s more excited about the work than she’s been in years. She only has half the coffee she picks up on her way, because she’s already humming with anticipation.

“Alright, Sara,” Leonard’s voice says in her ear, “video and audio are both good. Go ahead as planned.”

“Will do,” she says under her breath. She goes through the center of the store before making her way back around its edges, making sure she catches as much of the walls and ceilings on camera as possible. Occasionally, Leonard will give her more specific directions, things she missed, places he wants her to stop, things he could only have guessed at until he had eyes on. She quickly gets a feel for it, and she can hear the pleasure in his voice when she next stops.

“Precisely,” he tells her, and she waits a few more seconds before moving on. “Okay, you see those earrings over by the closest register? I want you to hang out over there. Fidget, look nervous.”

“Look like I want to take them,” she confirms before moving over to them.

They’re pretty, she admits, but not at all her style. They look like they would catch on her hair every two seconds. Besides, when she lifts one up, eyes darting around before she sets it back down, she sees that the price on it is about what she makes in a month, and she’s not exactly underpaid.

“Who would want these?” she mutters, and she hears Len chuckle. She almost breaks character with a returning grin, but her eyes are suddenly drawn to a man standing near the register.

He looks even more suspect than she’s trying to.

“You getting this?” she asks Leonard without taking her eyes off him.

“I am. I’m ready to alert police, and Felicity’s running facial recognition, though the hat’s making it tricky.” He pauses. “Get just a little closer if you can, but not too close. You don’t want to end up a hostage if this isn’t a false alarm.”

She moves a little closer and is positioning herself in front of a sock display when the man suddenly makes a move. He yanks down a ski mask, the edge of it only barely sticking out under his cap, which he knocks off in the process. It’s a quick move though, practiced, and his face is covered before anyone else knows what’s going on. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a gun, which he points immediately at the surprised cashier.

Sara takes a step closer when the cashier starts shaking and crying. The gunman isn’t reacting to her hysterics well, and he starts yelling. Sara has enough training that she thinks, even unarmed, she can take him down before anyone gets hurt.

“I know you have to help even though I’ve already alerted the police,” Leonard says, predicting her next move. His voice is controlled, if not quite calm, in her ear. “I know you’re able, too.”

Sara tenses as she waits for an opening, watches the unknown assailant wave his gun at the sobbing cashier.

“But you aren’t in charge here,” Leonard says. “I know at your bank you’d risk everything to foil a robbery, but head of security? That’s not you anymore, not here, not today. You’re here as my employee, and I’m telling you not to risk your life to save some cash.”

Sara internally rails against the order, but he’s right; she shouldn’t risk herself to stop the thief from getting away with his haul. She can and will, though, step in if it escalates any further, if it looks like anyone is about to get shot. Minutes pass, and she shuffles closer still when the man’s back is turned.

“Sara…” Leonard’s voice holds caution, not censure, like he can tell the compromise she’s settled on. She watches as the cashier starts handing over the money in the register, the gunman impatiently gesturing for her to go faster. “Detective West is in the building, Sara,” Leonard says, and something in her loosens to know she’s not only got backup, but backup she knows and trusts. “Hold on for just a few more seconds.”

And she tries, she really does, but the thief hears Detective West too early, and as the assailant spins toward someone she considers a friend, arm tense and finger on the trigger and face contorted in anger and fear, Sara finds she doesn’t really have a choice. She’s only a step away, and that’s all it takes to put herself in the path of his spinning arm, letting her grab the gun without ever being in its sights. It takes no effort to disarm him, and she steps back immediately, giving Joe a clean path to the man.

Sara can hear Leonard breathing hard enough for it to come over the microphone, but she doesn’t let herself talk to him until Joe has cuffed and unmasked the robber. “It’s over,” she says.

***

When Sara comes out of the building as he approaches it, she’s looking a just little rattled and entirely unharmed, and there’s very little that could keep Leonard from wrapping his arms around her. She doesn’t resist, instead melting into his embrace, leaning against him like she suddenly needs the help standing.

“You made the right call,” he murmurs into her hair, and she chuckles, finally lifting her own arms and wrapping them around his waist.

“I had some help.”

They stand like that until Detective West approaches, and then Leonard reluctantly lets go.

“We got all we needed from you, Sara,” West says before turning to Leonard, “but the video feed from her camera would help us when it comes time for prosecution. I assume you recorded it like usual?”

Leonard nods. “I’ll get that sent over as soon as I get back,” he says, and the detective nods and leaves.

Sara turns back to Leonard. “Do you need me back at the office?”

He frowns. He’s pretty sure she just means today, but after the experience her first time out, on a job that should’ve been safe, he has to ask: “Today, or ever?”

She looks at him like he should know better, and she’s probably right. “Today. I’ve still gotta run some errands before I call it quits for the day, and I was already tired. I know soon as the adrenaline finishes wearing off, I’m gonna be useless.”

“That’s fine,” he says. “We have what we need from the video, and we can have you sign the incident reports tomorrow after they’re ready.” He hesitates. “Do you need a ride?”

“I’ll be okay to drive,” she says. “You didn’t need to come down here at all… but I’m glad you did.”

He stares down at her and reminds himself they still have a few weeks before he’s allowed to give into his almost overpowering urge to kiss her. Hugs seem to be acceptable, though, so he pulls her into one last embrace before they part ways.

***

Alone in her apartment a couple hours later, Sara unpacks her groceries, putting away the coffee for morning and leaving out the beef so she can cook it for dinner. When she opens the meat, though, she wrinkles her nose; it’s definitely gone bad, despite looking fine. She tosses the meat, deciding it’s not worth a return trip to the store after the day she’s had. She’s not gonna keep spoiled meat around just to get back less than ten bucks. She grabs a box of macaroni and cheese for dinner instead, and a few minutes later, she’s curled up on her couch, wrapped in her softest bathrobe and watching Netflix.

She looks at her phone as she gets a text from Leonard.

You okay? Want any company?

She responds before she can talk herself out of it.

Sure. Just watching tv but wouldn’t mind not being alone

You know where I live, she adds. I’ll unlock the door, so come on in.

I’m on my way, comes the almost immediate response. Sara smiles and gets up long enough to unlock the door before getting comfortable again. She starts eating, but her movements slow and her eyes grow heavy, and she falls asleep before her bowl is even half empty.

She’s dimly aware when Leonard comes in, managing a noise of acknowledgement when he calls her name from inside the door. She feels him lift her, and she snuggles into his neck until he sets her down in her bed, pulling the covers carefully over her. When she hears his footsteps leaving, she calls out without opening her eyes.

“Stay?”

He pauses, and she hears him come back over, feels his weight as he joins her on the bed.

“Go back to sleep, Sara,” he says, wrapping his arms around her.

And she does.

[boogsbear99]

Demon and the Princess part 2

"...for quite some time. In the meantime, you can stay with me in my complex~” Ambrosia pales. “You--You lied to me.” Alnon groans at that.     “Honestly, child, it's just a pit stop. I already have consent from your father.” He motions Elias to go call him right now. Alnon jumps off and picks her up, walking over to a chipped door. He knocks four times before muttering latin under his breath. The door opened to reveal a thick raven haired woman. She squeals before reaching for a sacred Ambrosia.         “Aw, Al you shouldn’t ha--” Alnon shoved her towards the wall before growling.     “I didn’t. Beat it, tramp.” He sneers before taking Ambrosia upstairs. Ambrosia clung to him for dear life as they passed by a couple of creepy men in over coats. “Who are those men?”     “Jimmy’s friends. They’re super friends, why they do a ton of favors for em’.” Alnon leads her into a small room, a couple of toys and a child-size bed. Alnon set her down as she looked around. “How long will I be here?” Alnon has heard that many times. It wasn’t a new thing to him really. Though time was sporadic. It could be for a few days, months, years. It all depended on the person's will to negotiate. Though this was Walter Theol. You see, a couple of months ago, Walter had hired them to take out his competition from running a second term, so long as they had cover up that he had nothing to do so. And so they did, it was pretty simple job. That is, until one night, when Elias and his ‘family’ were having a hangout, several rogue policemen came in and raided their house, taking in 5 people in custody of murder and plotting. Turns out, they were almost on Walter's case until he had told them it was “the dirt mongrels on Ewan Ave.” Since then, they had blacklisted Mr. Theol from their alliances. And he was gonna pay. Alnon leaned against the door, avoiding her stare.     “Who's to say? I sure as hell ain’t the boss. I’m surprised you caught on this fast.” He whistles     “I heard a bad man yelling at daddy over the telephone. He was very upset at him for breaking his promise. I heard the bad man talking to daddy in some weird wording’. Mama says it's witches language. The bad man had placed a curse on daddy.” Ambrosia felt her eyes tear up “My daddy gon’ made a deal with a satanic witch--now we all gonna pay the price for his transgressions. Please, mister, don’t kill my mama and me. And if my daddy died, may god forgive his soul for bowing to Satan's word.” “Not even the devil himself would have dealt with your old man. He knew what he was doing and now he has to pay the price for it.” Alnon walks off and closes the door. Sometimes, he wished he didn't have families who dealt with this kind of thing or made deals, then who's to change the guy's mind once they already struck a deal. Elias might as well had been the real satan. Alnon was nothing compared to the sick, twisted things Elias had done. Alnon was a freelance, lower class demon, when a vessel got old, he’d move onto the next. Gambling, taking on lady escorts, and occasionally killing people in the sake of continuing is criminal escapades. But Elias was so much worse. If he hadn’t been on this mission, no doubt this kid would be going through with some of the harsh tortures. It was a few weeks later, Alnon watched as Ambrosia watched the rain from the window seat. He glanced over at Elias who was talking his hourly dates, probably boasting on how rich and powerful he was. One things for sure: Alnon was bored. Sure as hell he was going to hang out with one of his colleagues. He walked over towards the small silver hair girl before sitting on  the piano seat. He whistled lightly to get her attention. Nothing. “See any straggling’ spooks out there?” He questions, trying to lighten the mood. Ambrosia said nothing, but shook her head, sniffling. Alnon sighs, turning away only to see the piano keys in his view. Hmm maybe if he just--He pressed some keys. This sure wasn’t a cryptic organ, though it had a similar look to it. “Have you ever played an instrument?” He glanced over to her, but still she wasn’t not answering. Alnon sighs, slumping on the keyboard making a sudden offkey sound. He pouted before hearing a slight giggle. Alnons neck spruced up as he eyed a less upset Ambrosia. “Was that a little chirp I heard from a mouse? Certainly not from a Miss Theol~” He teases, adjusting his posture on the seat. The certain theol cleared her throat trying to brush it off. Alnon smirked. “Laughs don’t sound like that,” he exclaimed in a silly voice, smashing on some keys, Ambrosias laugh increasing in volume. He turned back, cracking his knuckles before playing a soft, melodious tune. His fingers gradually pressed the keys as to be in sync with a certain sound. Even he, Alnon himself, was shocked on how he was able to play with such harmony. He heard a slight squeak of a chair being pulled up next to him before he peered over to see Ambrosia staring down at the keys and his fingers graciously moving among them. He noticed that her expression was in trance before she started to play aside from him, a slight upbeat tune to match up with his slow, calm one. Alnon stayed fixated on his, stealing a small glance as he smiled at her actually enjoying herself. As the duo played, they started to attract some of the other ‘people’ that were there. Sure enough, a small crowd surrounded the two, both with huge smiles as they mutually played next to each other. Claps, cheers, people were dancing. If a person were to look at this, they’d think of a party, no less a celebration between some guests enjoying music of a father and daughter. Ambrosia watched as people cheered her on, her head swinging from side to side. Meanwhile, the raven haired lady from before was lurking in the doorway, crossing her arms as she glared at Alnon. But before she was going to parade in with a snarky comment, the two had stopped and stood up, bowing as they smiled widely. “Ah, thank you, all of you! Though, the real talent would have to be Miss Theol~ Let’s give up for her ladies and gents!” The crowd roared in applause as Ambrosia bashfully coursteyed. Just as she bowed she heard slow clapping from the figure in back. She spotted the raven haired vixen slowly walking over to them. “Very exquisite~ I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself from before. The names Charlotte De chagny. Nice to finally see you warming’ up to us satanic creatures~” She booped her nose, making Ambrosia back away, her nose scrunching up “I was just--I was--” “She was just tickling the ivories, you harlot, it was all in good fun!” Alnon interrupted, standing in front of Ambrosia.         “And does boss know you’re letting the kid place her--ugh-- dirty human hands on his beaut?” She sneers at him         “Excuse me, ma’am, I always wash my hands, and to be fair, your hands are probably just as dirty,” Ambrosia replies, making Charlotte's eyes darken. The crowd gasped and looked at the demon for a reaction. Sure enough, Charlotte's eye twitched before her claws lengthen.         “Little brats like you shouldn’t even breath the same air as US!” Charlotte rose up her hand to strike her before a firm hand held her wrist in the air. They all turn to Elias who still had his signature grin on his face. The scene was quiet before he spoke up.         “Ladies, Ladies, no need to get riled up now. It was all in good fun, like Alnon said. Remember that Mrs. Theol is a guest in our humble abode. It is not host-like to frighten and discipline the child. Though you seem to forget--” he squeezed her wrist tightly, Charlotte winced and whimpered before he threw her against the wall.     “Your place,” he finished. Elias looked over at the crowd before he dusts off his shoulders. His eyes were half lidded, almost calm but you were able to see he was holding down his aggression.         “That's enough performance today, remember where are of y’all are in. You think this is a god damn game, everyone of ya. If it ain’t for me, you all would be stuck scraping by in the Under whilst you try to make ends meat. I coddle and treat ya with all these gifts, but you seem to forget that you’re still below the boss’ shoe.” He steadily stalks toward a scampering Charlotte, bending down and raising her chin with his cane.         “And that spoil can be easily taken back. Do you really want to go back to that kind of life, doll?” Charlotte's grip weakened as she slumped down, silently admitting defeat.     “No Mister Elias,” she spoke quietly. Elias raised an eyebrow.     “What was that, honey? Do speak up now, my cane can’t hear you?” “I said,” Charlotte started as she covered her shoulders, “No Mr. Elias, I do not, please excuse my behavior.” Elias glanced down at her arms, bruises and burnt scars decorated her skin almost faintly.     “Good because I’d hate to see such a fine lady like yourself receive another one of them dark accessories from me, ya here?~” He presses a finger to her nose before getting up to face the crowd.         “You see this here is a fine example of what happens when you don't--haha--obey the rules. Let this be a lesson to all: if you ever--ever double cross me.” He walks toward Alnon, his smile widening.         “I will be the first to knock you down before you go runnin’. Do i make myself clear?” Lennon's expression hardens.         “Transparently~” Alnon croons as the others disband in haste, Ambrosia looking up at them. Elias motions him to come over to his office, sending one of the burly henchmen to take Ambrosia to her room. Alnon groans before walking over to his office, preparing for whatever complaint he was about to say. Elias sunk into his chair, striking up a match to light his cigar. He fixated his eyes on him.     “Alnon, do you remember the time we met?” His tone was eerily calm. Alnon smiled a little, leaning against the wall.         “Your friends tried to mug me. They realize what--race I was then brought me to you~ Inseparable ever since. Ain’t that right, Elly?” He winks, making Elias chuckle, adjusting his glasses.         “It seems so long since we’ve first encountered each other, huh? You’re the eldest of many of my little followers. So it seems only fair that you know better than that little slut or any of those ass kissers do. I like you, Alnon, you’re like a--son if I ever had one. I admire your spark in little jobs i have for you. The same knack for spilling blood then wiping

[ghosttownaz]

UNDERGROUND UPRISING "ARTIST OF THE WEEK": JOSEPH BILLS

We sat down with the latest Underground Uprising "Artist of the Week", Joseph Bills and asked him some questions to give some insight into his #MAXOUT mentality and music.

Where is Joseph Bills from?  What was it like growing up there?

"I’m from Arizona, born in Tucson and grew up in Scottsdale. It was a great childhood for sure lots of love and adventure although as years passed I realized I needed to get out of that bubble and experience more culture. Moved to to mesa then sunny slope and landed in north Phoenix. Consensus - people are people no matter where you go lol."

How long have you been making music?

"I’ve been making music since the age of 13, so close to 20 years. Seriously pursuing music as a career for about 8."

Top 5 artists who have influenced you?

"Juelz Santana, Em, Ludacris, TI, Tupac, Bow Wow. Sixth man award goes to Shad because he the same age as me, and when he was everywhere Mr. 106 I was in 7th grade like, if he can do it I can too shrug emoji. "

Have you always had a high energy level on stage?  What about in your personal life?

"OH yes lol my energy level on stage is a direct correlation to my energy in LIFE! #MAXOUT isn’t what I do its who I am. The hyperactivity was once attempted to be lessened but soon realized it is a vital part of my success as a human. “Let that boy #maxout” they said."

Biggest challenge in your career so far?

"Biggest challenge so far is breaking the internet. I set goals year after year and through God’s grace I’m able to meet them whether winning challenges or acquiring feature or simply working hard enough until the price stated is the price paid. All I’m missing now is enough eye balls to carry me to the next level, enough people sharing and commenting and expanding the network until I can live solely on music."

What do you think of the current state of AZ Hip Hop?

"I love the current state of AZ hip hop, I believe there are 4 different artists charting on iTunes as we speak, shout out to Jaron Ikner for pointing this out to us. There are so many talented individuals who are solidifying their positions not just in AZ hip hop but hip hop in general. The ones just emerging as well are taking serious strides towards excellence and that is what I love most. The quality of everything from the sound to the visuals to the professionalism increases year after year."

Favorite project you’ve released?

"My favorite project has got to be Pas Due Bills Vol. 2 simply because it wouldn’t exist without the perfect storm of success. I had a few songs done around the time I won that Rick Ross concert and I told my fans, the #maxoutmob, that if I won I would drop a mixtape by the time I opened for the bawse… sure enough I had 2 weeks to get it all recorded and distributed and that was the funnest part. Getting to bring ideas to life RIGHT NOW instead of waiting and curating and re mixing and so on and so forth. I’m a spontaneous individual so when it’s all of the sudden go time I kick it into high gear. Plus I got my first taste of internet hate and that drove me to create on of the best songs of my career ‘Blah Blah’ so that was cool lol."

When was your first live performance?  What was that like for you?

"Oh man hahahaha oh man oh man… FIRST performance I was 16, down on mill with the homies and being underage I had to wait until I was up to enter the club. Well if you know J.O. The Axis (my former rap name) I KEEP a fifth of henny and a pint incase it’s empty. That night, hours waiting to go on, that fifth was emptied and when I reached the stage it was quite apparent. I held my mic to my mouth about 20% of the time, didn’t yuke on stage like an amateur but did everything else wrong for sure. It is the very reason I refuse to drink before I perform, because I KNOW somebody gonna get up there and forget their words or do it like a talent show and I need to ensure you understand I do this for real. In essence I show who really really, and who really not. (Video playing on my YouTube go check it out)."

Who would you like to work with in the future?

"I would love to work with tory lanes, wiz, train, uzi, they seem like some fun having suns of guns perfect for the #maxedout movement. And locally there’s some dope artists still to check off my list too."

What’s the next move for Joseph Bills?

"Next move is upward, up up and away all pun intended. I'm dropping a new video every month this year and what's dope is they've all been hittin 1k on YouTube which is dope for me cuz as I've stated me and the internet don't get along lol Grown is the #1 goal though, I know i got the “stuff” I just need more people to see it. So whenever a fan or follower or even some one showing slight intreats in my craft see’s or hears me they need to show it to a friend. Preferably someone who doesn’t already know me. I need to break into different markets and regions. When I was rapping in the streets of Colombia earlier this year I gained so many fans down there that if the world was open I’d be there now lol It’s a movement based on Mob mentality meaning when I go, we all GO! So tell a friend to tell a friend to #MAXOUT #MAXOUT #MAXOUT and tag ya boy yamean."

by: Steven Sandage

[quanrel]

How to Own the Front Page of Google Not Just Rank #1 | Neil Patel SEO Basics

https://www.quanrel.com/how-to-own-the-front-page-of-google-not-just-rank-1-neil-patel-seo-basics/ How to Own the Front Page of Google Not Just Rank #1 | Neil Patel SEO Basics - https://www.quanrel.com/how-to-own-the-front-page-of-google-not-just-rank-1-neil-patel-seo-basics/ In this video I’m going to share with you how to own the first page of Google. Do you know what’s better than being on page 1 on Google? And no, it’s not being ranked #1 on Google. There’s actually something better than that. Today I’m going to show you how to own the front page of search – not just ranking #1, but owning the first page of Google. Follow these tips and not just rank #1 on Google, but take over the first page with multiple listings. __________________________________________ RESOURCES & LINKS: Ahrefs: “My Favorite SEO Hack to Increase Website Traffic” (video): “The 3 SEO Tools I Use Rank #1 on Google | Neil Patel” (video): “How Digital Marketing Will Change in 2019” (video): “Best SEO Tools For Beginners” (video): “SEO For Beginners: 3 Powerful SEO Tips to Rank #1 on Google in 2019”: “How Digital Marketing Will Change in 2019” (video): “How to Show Up on the First Page of Google (Even if You’re a Nobody)”: “Online Marketing Made Simple: A Step-by-Step Guide”: Read more SEO tips on my blog: ____________________________________________ ►Subscribe: to learn more secret SEO tips. Find me on Facebook: Read more on my blog: How to rank on page one, or even number one, I’m gonna teach you how to own the first page. The first tip I have for you, is to interlink your content. So, let’s say you’re trying to rank for a term like SEO, or online marketing. If you have a article that’s super in depth about that topic, you can create other offshoots. Don’t duplicate your content. A lot of people when they’re trying to rank for a term like online marketing, they’ll take the same content and regurgitate it throughout their whole site. If you do that, Google’s not gonna wanna rank duplicate content from your own site multiple times, that would create a terrible user experience. If you do that you’re not gonna do well, so don’t duplicate your own content. Write fresh, unique stuff that you already haven’t written about. Build links. If you build links to your site, you’re gonna rank higher, you know that, but you also wanna build links to every version of your post that you’re trying to dominate page one for. So using Ahrefs, they have a feature called link intersect. You can put in your URL, as well as other competitor URLs, and it’ll show you who links to your competitors, but not linking to you. The beautiful part about this feature is, if someone links for three, or four, or five of your competitors, but not you, there’s a good chance you could potentially convince them to also link to you, because you know they’re open to linking to other sites within your space. So, using the link intersect tool, you can see who’s linked to other online marketing articles, or other online marketing sites. You see that, then from there, what you’ll wanna do, is hit up those sites, and asked them, hey, you got a detailed post that you cover A, B, and C, that your competition may not, ask ’em to link to you as well. And don’t just do that for your main post on that subject, but also do it in regards to your secondary and third pages that are also around that same topic. Promote your articles on the social web. From Facebook, to Twitter, to Linkedin, you’ve heard this before, you wanna promote your main articles, as well as your sub-articles that are also around that topic. But what most people don’t tell you when it comes to social promotions is, and you know this, you share a article on Twitter or Facebook, most of your fans or friends aren’t gonna see it, so you don’t wanna just share it once, you wanna share it four or five times over the next six months. By doing this, you’re gonna continually get more eyeballs, more shares, indirectly, some of those people may link to the article, leave a comment, this will help with engagement, better user metrics, and that should help with overall rankings in the long run. And the last tip I have you for you is, no one likes outdated content. You publish content, it gets outdated over time, it’s natural, even if you write about tools and tips. #NeilPatel #SEO #SeoTips Check Price & Availability seo ranking,how to rank in google,how to rank #1 on google,how to own the front page of search,google ranking,seo,seo 2019,seo tips,what is seo,on page seo,neil patel,neil patel seo,seo for beginners,seo tutorial for beginners,seo tutorial for beginners step by step,how long to build seo,search engine optimization,seo tutorial,seo training,website seo,seo techniques,seo hack,ahrefs,google seo,seo in 2019,rank 1 in google,seo strategy,seo basics

[gsmatthews95]

Oz: a recap

The time has come. It has been ten months in waiting but it had to come. It is with a slight twinge of sadness but an overpowering sense of excitement and happiness that I am leaving Australia on my way to Singapore. Which  is actually pretty ideal because I have a nice long 9 hour layover. There are very few occasions I would describe a 9 hour layover as "ideal" but this is one of them. Such a cool city. So much to do and see. And, apparently, it isn't even too big. So I'm hoping I should be able to DO/COMPLETE Singapore in a nice six hour stint, tick it off my list, add another pin to the map and tell everyone about how I've now basically completed Asia. Sick eh?. A wee bit more background before I delve into the meat of this potentially juicy post which I think I will compare to a fat fillet steak by comparison to the rest of my posts that I would say are more like coles BBQ sausages, 24 for $8... good value but not much substance. A good reference I reckon. So I'm currently on my flight. It is maybe 9am Aussie time and I am awake, not that tired, with very little to do in this flight as I went for the lost budget option (still pretty expenny). You have to pay 11 bucks for films, Ye right. Go do one scoot airlines. Urgh, absolute scandal for a 7 hour flight. No worries however. Gives me ample time to write an absolute Goliath of a blog post. Okay seriously guys stop cheering. It's distracting me and my brain flow you have to pay for food and entertainment. Not good. However, the there are two upsides to this flight with nothing to do, firstly it allows me to blog blog blog and the other upside of this prehistoric flight comfort is that it gives me a chance to register to Stephen Hawkins "a  brief history of time", what a bangin audiobook. Well bloody confusing but I feel cleverer listening to it. Although in the last nine months I have forgotten the vast, vast majority of it. All the better it's like a new book. I'm now not that excited however about my connecting flight to Berlin. 14 hours. 13 hours of no films, just sleep, urgh lame. I may find some more wee audiobooks. I'll tell you what, I may get the game Of thrones ones. They'd be immense, especially as I'm now a proper game of thrones loser (read loser as legend/fanatic).

This is what I mean, I have so much time to ramble this piece is gonna drag. Oo I have an idea. As I didn't have this blog for the majority of the trip should I go back and wrote posts for them? Hmmmm, that does kinda defeat the point of the blog though. I don't think I'll do that. the other nagging question is whether I carry on the blog for the next 3 months as I galavant around Europe. I think I should. You're welcome guys. I love you all too. Also sick that I'm using my British passport to its full extent before we F off out of Europe as part of brexit. Wooo freedom of movement. Cosmopolitan ideals, something we should probs all strive for as much as possible. However, I do think we probs made the right decision leaving the EU as most people who have spoken to me about it will know. This post is not about my political views however. Otherwise it would not be called holidaying. Maybe something like #Jezza4PM would be a better name for it if I were to become a political blogger slash activist. But I digress.

So as many of you may have gauged from speaking to me, reading this blog or merely by observing my Facebook presence. I have had an immense time. Even though my article about the ups and downs of travelling may have seemed a bit depressing, I can safely say the last ten months, yes that ten months, a long time, have been smashing. I am currently conflicted, in poor stylistic technique I have embarked upon this post without a plan. And now I am at a crossroads. Do I continue chronologically or thematically? I think I will stay true to convincing writing styles and go thematically. Let's push the boat out he he. Ok ok ok so I'll start with my hostels. I believe I do want to talk about them a little bit first.  To start, I have been in lots. Off the top of my head in Sydney alone I was in 7 separate hostels. Many for a week as I was forced to move because of the price increase, my bed being sold, being chucked out etc. But 3 main ones. Firstly, hump. What to say about this place. A mad house, a good outside smoking area, a room that stays open all night and a lot of sound people who I've seen since leaving Sydney too. One jack gawthorpe, I've seen in four separate places (who's stalking who...). My month or so there was heavy. There was always something going on, I have very fond memories. Secondly, dury house. As described by James, my friend who I took there one night: "that was literally a crack den". Yes James, but it was our crack den. With the roof that never closed and the never ending session, there was always something going on, whether it be 11am on a Sunday morning or 4am on a Friday night. And again some belter people, who again I've seen down the east coast. Thirdly, finally, and ultimately we had the palms. What a place. What a time. November-December 2017. The palms glory days. Clean hostel, nice kitchen, comfy beds, sound people, like a giant sharehouse it had the intimate feel that you knew everyone but was big enough to still be lots of fun. The palms massive made my first xmas away from home so fun and so comforting. Never forget. Loved everyone there, except dan obvs, I hate dan. Everyone else though, I love you. And the hostel. I'll give a quick shout out to bev and micks in Melbourne. Small, intimate, cosy and friendly. Not that exciting or fun but enjoyable for my three weeks. Plus it was the cheapest place around. However, barossa backpackers. Dirty, smelly, small, tiny kitchen, leaky fridges, small room, had to pay for wifi and in the middle of nowhere. Pretty crap hostel tbh. But as I was there for some time, working with and living with everyone. I had an unreal time. Even working in a potato factory. So much fun cause you're constantly with you're mates and chilling, I won't forget those few months in barossa. The hostels down the east coast were nice. Big and nice but with my motivation waiting and the fact that I was staying at each place for a few days I didn't really form much of a bond with many of them. The hostel is key to your experience. Regardless how long you are in a place for but especially if it's for the long term. And overall I think I did well with a only a few mistakes.

Work. Ok so work never went quite as I'd hoped before I came out to Australia. Maybe I was naive, maybe I just wasn't made for call centres. My one regret actually was not going in to construction in Sydney, making lots of money, doing easy work and finishing at 3:30 each day. I then could have done it all over oz as I'd have had experience and wouldn't have had to do some of my crap jobs. We live and learn, one of my bigger regrets I'd say. No hassle though, all has worked out well and I haven't been too low on money. But yes call centres and cold calling, not the job for me. Neither as it turns out is face to face fundraising. What I have learnt though is that there is no worse job than those and I now have sympathy for those doing it, I have the knowledge that I will never work in a job like that again and it has now given me a great  appreciation of any job that isn't that. Which was one reason I think I enjoyed the potatoes so much. Mainly because it was so easy and so much less depressing than my other jobs. Everyone constantly complained, I just smiled and said it could be worse. People said the job would break me. It never did. Smashing job, smashing people, smashing time. The worst of all these jobs though was the charity fundraising, I knew it would be but I just wanted 2-3 weeks work and it paid well. I lasted 1 week. Never again. The best job. Easy. Grape picking and wine making. It was so sick. I got a lot of hours, lots of free wine and food and learnt to make wine in the sun. Dream job. I even have a wine named after me, I'm gonna get a case delivered home of the 2018 vintage GSM lol. But that's enough about work after all it is a work holiday visa.

This part will be harder to split up do I discuss  specific experiences? Or parts of the journey. Oo I have an idea. Animals. I have devoted a few pieces to various animals but I haven't spoken about all of them. There are two that I will leave out though as they deserve their own piece. Australia, famous for its diverse and unique wildlife and I think I've done well in seeing a lot of it. And I got selfies with lots of them. Firstly I have fed and patted wild kangaroos and wallabies. So cute, they love carrots btw, not apples so much. One of the wallabies even had a tiny Joey in its pouch. Too much for my heart. They're great I loved em both. Then came the quokka. As many of you may have seen by my  Valentine's Day post devoted to this one. They are like giant rodents. Although they're not giant, and they're actually cute. I dunno how to describe them actually just look at my photo, well adorable. I will now move on to the dangerous segment of the list of animals, cause, as we all know, that's what oz is most famous for. Firstly, the red back spider, v venomous. Hannah (friend not sister) almost died as she entered his layer/graveyard and only just escaped with her life. I have also seen three wild snakes, woohoo. That was a real target. The python in the kitchen and the two cuties slithering across the path in Lichfield national park and the twelve (4) apostles. Now. The personal favourite. The crocs. There have been lots of crocs, none completely in the wild without a tour guide sadly, but the jumping crocs were wild and were damn sick. I even have a croc tooth necklace (sorry axel, Brutus and dominator). The one animal conspicuous by its absence I haven't seen though, sadly, a shark. Waaaaa I should have gone shark cage diving, ah it was too expensive anyway. I think I'll carry on with my sea critters vibe now for a few more. Next was the manta. MANTA MANTA MANTA. I saw lots in Indonesia but another at whitsundays. So big, graceful and noble. I love them, as everyone does, they're god personified in an animal I reckon.  I would like to be a manta ray. Next up dolphins. Not many and both times I saw them from a cliff. Not overly exciting mainly because I have been spoilt in the past both in cornwall And in the SAN blas when they swam with our boat, so very nice. My final sea dweller. Whales. Lots of humpbacks as I said in my Fraser Island piece. They are awesome, so big and majestic and loving. I would also like to be a whale. Sue me. I saw lots of camels too, they're funny I like camels teehee and dingos, they're so cute, not scary. I would like to chat to a dingo and befriend him. I love dingos. I think however, my proudest find and subsequent selfie was with the koalas. We found 8 on magnetic island. One barely 8 foot away. Perfect for a selfie. And I snapped it yay. They're such chillers too, I love koalas. I love animals actually. I also miss Rolland, I love you too Rolland!!!

So as to stop myself writing another dissertation I may make this the final para. And I'm going to try and be concise. My favourite moments. I won't describe them much but merely mention them. There's a variety of reasons why a moment could have been so great. Maybe where I was, what I was doing, who I was with. Who knows? Maybe I just felt at peace and the world felt right for a moment. Deep. And I'm not talking about every moment I sat down with a full box of goon. Ok ok seriously. The hump boat party. Both 1 and 2. Unreal, a boat party in the Sydney harbour, beers, mates, opera house, swimming, tunes, I won't ever forget those two days. My first moment seeing the extent of the blue mountains at the end of the garden of the nbb Jill and Richard had so kindly rented for us. A little ten minute walk and you were on the edge of the crator with the blue trees stretching out, I reckon I spent a couple of hours just sat there over the three days, peaceful. Sash, pretty much every sash, but one in particular when I'm pretty sure everyone I knew in Sydney was there. It was sunny and we boogied. I was having so much fun several separate people came and asked me if I sold drugs cause I was so deliriously happy. Oo also the sash it rained that was unreal, dancing in the rain with the boys, never forget. Two more from Sydney. The beach party, amazing. One of the best, if not the best day of my life. Music and goon on the beach, swimming as the sun set over the harbour bridge, so wicked. And finally xmas day. Singing for the Aussie prime minister with a broken voice having lost it the night before was something I will NEVER ever forget especially as I have the video of it all ahahahaha. We move on to mine and Hannis road trip. My first thought. The pinnacles. The pinnacles were sick, so random just a load of pointy rocks in the ground. I doubt two people have ever been so excited in one place. So funny. Also actually hannah, all of our carpool karaokes. They made your company bearable. Completing the 8km hike in kalbari was also a good moment as it was 30+ degrees and we had about two litres of water between us, stupid English. But we did it, I'm proud. Finally hanni, 100% when we chilled with Roos in morriset park for hours after Jill and richard basically laughed us down for going, v funny. A good afternoon. Days of our lives festival. Awesome, what a send off from Sydney. Dury house you did yourselves and me proud, cheers for convincing me to go xoxoxo. The whole outback trip was awesome, if I picked a few moments though... I reckon the first proper big fire was a great moment, and sorting out the car light that we couldn't turn off meaning we didn't have to take the fuse out every time we stopped the car, sheer happiness. Also getting in to alice springs. This may seem weird but I cannot explain how touchy everyone was, we needed food, civilisation, electricity, a shower and some goon. We got all of the above and spirits were restored. Also the natural springs were amazing. So beautiful, completely free and refreshing. Darwin, croc diving, easy, it was unreal. Spotting the koalas on magnetic island obvs was memorable. I want to pick some moments from Fraser but it was all so fun. If I had to pick a few though, I'd say the horse racing on the second night united everyone, we were all so into it and the crumbed sausage obvs haha. I have missed things out but when I look back on oz these are the things I feel stand out as specific moments but like I've said before travelling isn't just about the moments (sorry Alina) but the whole experience, what you feel and who you meet.

What a holiday. I am content with my time in oz. if I came back I'd change things but I'm happy just the way they went. It's been sick. Stay posted I have one more oz piece before we move to EUROPE yahoooooooo. This piece has literally killed at least two hours of my flight maybe even three. I have been very engrossed aha. But back to mr hawking for me. G.