#jellyfishpikachu

[thebibliosphere]

You've probably gotten this before, but I accidentally misread your blog title as "A Humble Paddler of Weres" and now can never unread it.

You know, that’s the first time anyone has ever said that to me, but if I’m honest it’ll probably be canon at some point sO

[ernmark]

I have this little headcanon that Juno thinks Peter wears cologne, but really that’s just Peter’s natural scent he likes. A thief wouldn’t wear something that could identify them, after all! It’s probably far-fetched, but I think it’s cute~

It is very cute.

We know that Peter does wear cologne, because he mentions it.

JUNO: Hey, anybody ever tell you you gotta nice smell? What’s aguy gotta eat to smell like that? 

REX: It’s… cologne,Detective.

JUNO: (DIZZY) Huh.Never tried eating cologne before. Have fun with your first aid kit. (Murderous Mask)

But here’s the thing: Peter really does just have a natural scent that Juno likes. It’s why the cologne smells so amazing on him.

From Popsugar.com:

"Body chemistry has everything to do with how fragrances smell," Anne Nelson Sanford, cocreator of Lurk fragrances, says. "It depends on the pH of your skin." And since you and your friend aren't the same person, perfumes are going to smell differently on you two. But it's not just body chemistry that affects the way perfume smells. Find out what else changes the way your perfume smells when you keep reading.

Everything, including your diet, your body temperature, and what body lotion you're using, affect the way your fragrance is going to sit on your skin. Even something seemingly unrelated — like that hangover you've been nursing — can completely alter how good your perfume smells on you.

[ernmark]

I've always felt like Coming Down by Halsey is a good jupeter song!

I’ve got to say, I’m liking the religious themes in this one. It’s a nice match to Peter “Semi-Divine” Nureyev and Juno “how many allusions can Ernmark make to being a goddess” Steel.

I found a saviorI don’t think he remembers‘Cause he’s off to pay his crimesAnd he’s got no time for mine

Now we’re lost somewhere in outer spaceIn a hotel room where demons play

[ernmark]

If you haven't done something like this yet: Juno gets frustrated trying to get something he needs off a high shelf that he's too short to reach, so he starts stacking stuff to reach it. Peter walks in on him trying to climb up it.

Peter isn’t unfamiliar with the sound of things crashing in Juno’s apartment. Instinctively he has his knife out and ready, just in case the crash came from a another would-be assassin.

The string of curses filtering from the kitchen, though, suggest something a bit more mundane.

“Goddamn fucking twelve-foot ceilings and the fucking stupid top shelves made for goddamn fucking giants with their stupid stupid stretchy arms and...”

The knife is returned to its safe place in his back pocket. “Juno? Is everything alright?”

“Fine,” Juno grates out. “Stay where you are, I’ve got it covered.”

As if Peter could resist. 

“Are you sure?” he says innocently, poking his head into the kitchen. And oh, it is worth it.

He’s not sure exactly how Juno got up there, but his detective currently has one foot in a cabinet and the other resting precariously on the point of the kitchen sink. Scattered across the kitchen floor are two separate chairs; judging by the way they’re arranged, Juno tried stacking them on top of each other before he climbed on them. That seems to have gone about as well as could be expected. 

“Goddammit, Peter. Not a word.”

“I haven’t said a word.”

“And I swear, if you do--”

“My lips are sealed.” Peter even draws a finger across his lips to illustrate it. Hopefully the gesture disguises the fact that he’s activating the hidden camera in his jacket button. There are some images that should be preserved for posterity-- or at least for Rita. “Would you like help getting down?”

[ernmark]

So I've been listening to the penumbra soundtrack too, and I've noticed a lot of similarities between Juno's theme and the theme for Hyperion City, as well as similarities between Juno's theme and Peter's, and I was wondering if you have any thoughts on how those similarities reflect these relationships?

Understand that my knowledge on this subject is pretty limited (I was an English major in college, not a music major), but here’s what I’ve got:

Juno’s theme sounds a lot more rough and raw, and it’s got a slower, drawling pace to it.

Peter’s is on an electric guitar and probably modified in some way (god help me, I don’t know what the terms are for this), and it’s a lot faster and smoother, with rougher cords thrown in more as accents than as the main sound. He’s a smooth fast-talking con man, after all.

I’m seeing a lot of the same raw sound from Juno’s theme in the Hyperion City theme, though it’s softened. I’m hearing less of Peter’s in this one-- though what I do hear is a stronger similarity with another song you didn’t mention, “A Thief Without A Home”, which is the theme from the Square on New Kinshasa. (I’ve talked at length about Juno and Peter’s relationships to their cities.)

I threw these songs at @ryosei-hime, who’s got more of an ear for music than I do, so here’s her two cents:

Immediately my first instinct is there's a stronger connection between the theme for Juno and the theme for the city

They're on the same wavelength

Then you've got this heavier sound

It feels less like sadness and more like a sort of pushing through

Like Juno's is a slow walk in the rain, the city is the rain, and this other one is the mud

Slow, thick, and heavy but it sounds more determined

As much as I enjoy music, I’m not super musically inclined myself, so I’m definitely opening this up to people who know more about musical composition, because I know there can be layers upon layers upon layers of depth when you really dig into music and have the context to know what you’re talking about. If anyone else has observations to add, I’d love to hear them!

[ernmark]

Hello c: Could you maybe do a Jupeter AU where Peter is posing as an "entertainer" at Valles Vicky's, and that's how he and Juno first meet? Thank you <3

Oh god. I have Stories. 

This one’s surprisingly SFW.

Okay, so my best friend since we were four isn’t taking my calls. That’s fine. Who needs her? Hell, she was probably holding me back anyway. Her and Mick, both– and why the hell did he take her side in this, anyway? Whatever happened to being neutral? But no, he’s got to be all morally superior, like he has any room to talk.

Who needs them? Not me. I don’t need anyone. 

My internal seething is interrupted by a voice like honey. “You look like you could use a refill.” 

I look up from the table and into the brightest eyes I’ve ever seen, and not just because the irises are a dazzling silver.

It takes me a second to collect myself– all of Vicky’s Vixens are a bit of a shock to the system, but I’m instantly drawn to this one. He’s wearing more clothes than most of the Reynards, though all of it combined probably covers less area than my hat, all of it metallic. It’s really hard to keep looking him in the eye when his nether regions keep catching the light and glinting at me like a freshly-polished laser. So I don’t.

“I could stand to have another.” I at least have the decency to look him in the eyes when I’m talking to him. I’m not a complete creep. 

He grins and reaches over me, his bare chest brushing my shoulder and ruffling my hair as he takes the glass. I don’t know what kind of scent he’s wearing, but it’s more subtle than anything I’m used to from the other dancers. It’s incredible.

He comes back with a gin and tonic, but he doesn’t hand it to me right away. Instead he swirls it in his hand, looking like he might take a sip himself. 

Looking at the quirk of his lips, the long, fine throat, I’m suddenly finding that I wouldn’t mind watching him drink in the slightest. 

“It’s Juno, isn’t it?” he asks, leaning against the table. His thigh is inches from my hand. “They tell me you’re a regular around here.” 

“Something like that,” I say. “I haven’t seen you before, though. What’s your name, beautiful?”

“Around here, they call me Silver.” 

His outfit definitely reflects that– along with every light in the room. His bare skin is adorned with a tasteful amount of glitter; even his eyes are an ethereal, metallic silver, though I hope that’s just from contact lenses.

Goddamn, he’s beautiful. 

But I try to keep my head. “A bit young to be a silver fox, don’t you think? You can’t be much older than I am.” Maybe twenty-five, tops.

“Can’t I?” He leans in, almost daring me to kiss him. I know better, though. I do. It’s one of the first rules of these kinds of establishments: don’t touch the dancers, no matter how much you want to. 

Instead I focus on the details of his face. He’s long, lean, lithe. His makeup is expertly applied– just enough to stand out in the dim light of the club, but not overwhelming. Even the glitter looks elegant and refined, and that’s damn hard to do. There are no obvious lines on his face, no marks whatsoever besides the slight indentations on his nose where glasses usually sit. 

He grins again, and I get a flash of sharp, vulpine teeth. 

God damn. 

“Perhaps you should take a drink.” A cold glass is pressed into my hands. He holds it in place long enough for me to get a grip on it– otherwise it would probably be shattered on the floor right now. His fingers brush mine as he finally lets go of the glass. “You look thirsty.” 

[ernmark]

I don't know if this has been done yet, but: Jupeter AU where Juno is the thief and Peter is the detective?

I loved this prompt. I might have to do more with it sometime.

The woman who steps into Peter’s office is distraught. He can tell it’s serious– she barely even smiles when he lays on the charm, so he doesn’t waste any more time flirting. 

“How can I help you, miss…” 

“Rita,” she says quietly. “And… it’s not for me. It’s for a friend.”

“It must be quite a friend to have you so concerned.” Already he’s got a kettle boiling. “You look like you could use something to drink, Rita.” 

“Oh, I couldn’t,” she says. “I’m on my lunch now. The chief would be furious if I came back smelling like alcohol, especially what with all the drama over Kowalski and Chen…”

“I was thinking something closer to Oolong, personally.” Though judging by the way she’s fidgeting, she could use anything that might help her relax. “Now about your friend…?”

“Right. Juno. Um…” She doesn’t seem to know what to do with her hands until Peter hands her a steaming mug. “He used to work with me at the station. One of the detectives at the HCPD, ya know? Real talented guy. Real sweet, too. Only… only sometimes people break rules, ya know? Not all cops are squeaky clean all the time, right?”

“And your friend Juno wasn’t one of the squeaky ones?”

“Oh, but he was!” she says in a hurry. “He was. It’s just that he’d always get so mad at the ones who were dirty. He’d see them takin’ bribes or extortin’ little old ladies– and he had this temper, see. And he mighta punched a few too many dirty cops. Kinda got himself kicked out, and not before he made himself a few enemies back at the precinct.”

“I imagine not.” He’s not sure exactly where this is heading, but he invites her to continue.

“So now he’s working with the Kanagawas. Their muscle, some of the time. Other times, he helps ‘em find stuff. People. Like I said, he used to be a detective.”

“And he’s found more honor among thieves than among the people meant to catch them.” 

“Maybe a little,” Rita says meekly. 

Peter can’t exactly blame him. He’s worked closely enough with the HCPD that he knows to avoid them when he can. “It sounds like you care for him quite a lot, Rita.”

“He’s a good friend,” she says. “Practically family. And…” She lowers her voice. “And I really don’t want him to die.” She takes a long draft of her tea and chokes a little on the heat. It was boiling a few minutes ago, after all. “See, the streams haven’t been going as well as they used to, and the Kanagawas haven’t been paying their protection money the way they ought to, and when one of the beat cops came in wanting their dues, she came back in pieces. So now the HCPD is planning a raid on a bunch of Kanagawa businesses. It’s gonna be real ugly. They’ve been getting body bags delivered to the station all week.” Her voice is shaking. If anyone found out that she’d told him all of this, she’d lose her job at minimum. More likely, she’d wind up behind bars. “I want you to find Juno and make sure he ain’t there when it goes down.” 

Peter’s been in the business long enough that he’s developed quite a few aliases with a few credentials of his own. Today he’s drawing on one of his less developed ones– Duke Rose, a thief with delusions of grandeur from the outer rim. It’s not quite one of his favorites, but it’ll work well enough for this case.

According to Peter’s sources, Croesus Kanagawa intends to have Juno steal information on the upcoming seasons of the Triad’s shows. It’s a valuable asset from a dangerous rival, and that means it’s going to be a two-person job. It only takes a few little threats and bribes to make an old contact introduce Peter. He doesn’t stay long enough to vouch for him, but he doesn’t have to.

Juno Steel is a creature of habit. The dive bar they’re meeting in is one of his most frequent haunts. The scotch he’s nursing is his favorite drink. And his wallet is always kept on a chain in his back right pocket.

“Could I get you a refill?” Peter offers as Juno drains his glass.

The thief shrugs. “It’s your money.”

It’s a little bit thrilling to watch the nonchalance drip off his face when Peter pulls out Juno’s wallet from his own back pocket. “Actually, it’s yours.” 

For an instant Juno flounders, checking his pants for a wallet that isn’t there. Then he rounds on Peter, grabbing him by the collar and flattening him against the bar.

“You trying to be cute?” he snarls.

“I hardly need to try,” Peter laughs with confidence he doesn’t really feel. He might have swiped the blades and lasers out of Juno’s pockets, but the bar is still lined with glasses that could do just as much damage if they’re shattered and embedded in his face– and that isn’t even getting started on Juno’s fists. “You didn’t call me in for my looks, Mister Steel, you called me in for my abilities. You’ve seen a sample of what I can do. I want to know if it satisfies.”

Juno releases him with a sharp breath that might be a laugh. “Is that supposed to impress me? Pickpockets are a dime a dozen.” He returns to his seat and pushes his glass at the bartender, signalling for a refill. The motion takes less than a second, but in that moment, his eyes are off Peter.

That’s all the time Peter needs. In that single moment of distraction, he slides off the table. When Juno glances back at him, he’s gone. 

The thief frowns. “Where’d you–”

“Right here, Mister Steel.” Peter’s already on Juno’s other side, tugging open Juno’s jacket to slide his laser back into its holster. “I suppose you’ll be wanting this back?” He catches Juno’s hand the moment it comes up to grab him. He doesn’t have Juno’s strength, but he makes up for it with an intimate familiarity with ligaments and tendons. The smallest push, and he forces Juno’s fist to unfold long enough to place the wallet into it. “That too.” He gives it a little pat, just for good measure.

“Okay, fine,” Juno says peevishly. “You might be useful.” 

He can’t tell if the look on Juno’s face is more impressed or aroused. 

Growing up on Brahma, theft was necessary to survival. On Mars, he has the luxury of having a legitimate job that can pay all his bills, but he never quite let those old skills rust away. There’s something nostalgic about slipping back into the old ways and hearing Mag remind him of the thousand and one variations on Lesson One of Thieving. He has even fewer qualms about revisiting his childhood when his mark is an organization like the Triad. 

They’re only a minor mark, anyway. His real target is Juno Steel, and he’s far more of a challenge. Come on too strong and he’ll be frightened off; don’t come on strong enough, and he won’t catch on. Keeping him interested is a balancing act that keeps Peter constantly on his toes, and he can’t remember the last time he’s had this much fun. The case is thrilling. The banter’s delightful. Even when things go wrong, there’s a thrill in fighting beside Juno. They whirl and slide around each other with such fluid intuition that it feels almost like a dance, moving to the beat of laser blasts and fists on flesh. 

And all at once the music ends. The fight is won, their opponents are scattered across the ground, the air thick with the scent of blood and ozone. The two of them are left leaning against each other, their chests heaving as they catch their breath, still delirious with adrenaline.

And in a wild moment, all Peter can think about is how much he wants to kiss Juno until he leans in and does it.

Juno tastes like scotch and ashes. His lips are gentle and his hands are soft, as if he’s afraid he might hurt Peter if he applies even the slightest pressure. 

When he whispers Peter’s false name, it sounds almost like a prayer.

Juno’s phone is turned off and hidden under Peter’s couch, out of sight and well out of mind. Maybe some of Juno’s associates might have tried looking for him at his apartment, but nobody’s going to be looking for him at Peter’s place. 

The supply of condoms and lube is generous. The refrigerator is well stocked. The curtains are thick enough to blot out the passage of day and night. So long as Juno stays lost in the haze of sex and satisfaction, he’ll have no reason to notice the passage of time. 

Peter does, though. And he knows he should check the news, just to see if the HCPD raid has happened yet. Just to see if the job is over, so he can go back to his ordinary life. Juno can go back to his, too– though there’s no telling how many of the Kanagawas will be dead by the time all of this is over. How many of them did Juno know? How many of them were his friends? How will he cope with the knowledge that he wasn’t there when it happened?

It’s a reality he’ll have to face eventually, no matter how much Peter wishes he didn’t. But for now he doesn’t have to. For now Juno is right here with him, safe in well-fucked bliss, content to be in the arms of somebody who loves him.

[ernmark]

Since you said a while ago you listened to The Magnus Archives, can you maybe write a "statement" like the ones found in that show? I love it when you write horror!

I haven’t written for The Magnus Archives before, so that was a fun little experiment.

This is mostly an adaptation of a short story I’ve been toying with, based in part on a friend’s experience.

Edit: I’m listening to the new episode right this minute, and... huh. That was either really good or really bad timing. But I wrote this fic last night, before listening to MAG92.

Statement of Dani Nichols, September 2nd, 2017. 

Statement Begins.

You want my– my what? My statement?

Yes. Of course. Anything. I’ll talk about whatever you want. What do you want me to say?

Sorry, I’m a little bit flaky right now. You have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve spoken to another person. I don’t even know how long it’s been. 

Okay, my statement: I stole an airplane. I stole a lot of things, actually. I’m sorry, I really am! I didn’t want to do it, but I really needed it. I know that doesn’t make it better. I tried paying for the stuff at first, but eventually I ran out of money, and there wasn’t anybody to ask me for it, so I just kind of… took it? I left a note. I left lots of notes. More than I can remember.

Sorry, I know I’m not making a lot of sense. I’m not used to talking to people, I guess. And I mean, can you blame me?

Sorry. That was confusing. Let me back up a bit. 

I’m American– but you probably knew that already, didn’t you? I’ve still got an accent, I think? I’m from Ohio– I don’t know how much you know about the States, but it’s one of the biggish ones in the middle with a lot of corn. I’m from Aurora specifically. You probably haven’t heard of it, but it’s not too far from Cleveland, if that means anything to you. It’s not a big town; there were never a whole lot of people there, even before everyone disappeared. And that never bothered me before, you know? I mean, I’ve always been pretty okay at being by myself. That’s why I took the job.

It was the night shift, see, and I was supposed to be guarding this warehouse in the middle of nowhere. I don’t think the warehouse was actually used for anything– at least, I never saw any signs of it being used– but they needed to keep people out for insurance purposes. You know, in case teenagers fell off something and their parents tried to sue, or in case somebody tried to set it on fire or whatever. That kind of thing.

Sorry, I don’t know a ton of details. I got placed through a staffing agency, and all my checks came through them.

It was pretty simple work, really. My shift started around eleven at night, and then I’d have to go around to each of the checkpoints once an hour. There were these little mechanisms at each one, with these keys in them, you know? And I’d turn the key to prove I’d been there and that I’d been doing my job. The whole thing took maybe fifteen minutes, and then I’d go back to my station and read a book.

The company was too cheap to have two guards at the same time, so I’d arrive after the day shift had left and leave before the morning shift arrived, and all my paychecks were direct-deposit, so I never really saw anybody.

I mean that. Even at home, I never really saw anybody. I lived alone, and I’m not really close with my family. I did my shopping on my way home from work at a twenty-four-hour grocery store, and it was so early in the morning that there’d be maybe six people in the entire building. Most of my free time was spent playing video games or watching movies on my own. Yeah, I had friends, but they were always busy and our schedules never really matched up, so mostly we communicated by text and email, and sometimes it could take days for them to reply.

Which is why I can’t actually tell you when it started.

I’d been working at the warehouse for a little more than six months when the loneliness started getting to me, and I reached out to my friend Sam. But Sam never texted back, or called. And I get it– they’re busy– but then, neither did Julie, or Juanita, or Stacy. I tried calling them, too, but they never picked up. And that was weird, sure, but not… super weird? 

I don’t know if it was before then or after that I started noticing that the cashier was never around at the grocery store. I always figured they were off taking a break or something, but you’d think I would see them once or twice, right?

And I noticed that my car was always alone on the road.

I thought I was being paranoid. I mean, that’s natural, isn’t it? Spend too long shut away from the world, and you start thinking you’re the last person on earth, right? It’s dumb, isn’t it?

Only it wasn’t so dumb. 

Because I started getting a bit stir crazy, so I decided to stay up and try calling people at a reasonable hour. Only they still wouldn’t pick up. When I drove around town, the shops were all open, but there wasn’t anybody inside them. I started going up to people’s houses, banging on their doors, but nobody would answer me. 

Only– only there had to still be people around, you know? Because the shops were open. The doors were open, the lights were on. When I bought things at the self-checkout, the shelves would be restocked the next time I came in. So there had to be people there, they were just… I don’t know, hiding from me or something, right?

Like a– like a prank? A prank that the whole town was in on?

I– I think I started going a little bit crazy at that point. I kind of blew up at the grocery store. Not like that– I didn’t like shoot it up or anything, I just threw a fit. Knocked a bunch of boxes off the shelves, made a big mess. And then when I was done melting down, I just sat down right there and waited for somebody to clean it up. I figured somebody would have to come eventually– either that, or else the Rapture happened or something, and I was the last person left alive. I sat there for hours, not moving. I was sore, and the floor was hard and cold, but I was so tired, I must have finally just… drifted off. Because when I came to, I was lying on the floor of the cereal aisle, and the shelves were all cleaned up, good as new. Even the box I’d ripped open had been swept up. You’d think that whoever came to clean it up would have woken me, but they didn’t, and I didn’t hear anything. 

I tried a few more times in the grocery store, and then in the gas station, the movie theater, the coffee shop. Always the same thing. It was always fixed when I fell asleep.

I tried not sleeping for a while. I dosed myself on so much caffeine that I gave myself palpitations, thinking I could wait them out. I made it seventy-two hours, and still I didn’t see anybody.

So I figured, whatever was happening, maybe it was just Aurora. Maybe there was a gas leak or something, you know, like that one town where the coal mine caught fire– Centralia?– they had to evacuate it, but there were still a handful of people left. So I figured maybe if I just left it would be fine.

So I drove up to Twinsburg, the next town over? And I knew it wasn’t going to be any better, because the roads were just as empty. So I figured, maybe whatever happened got Twinsburg, too. So I drove up to Cleveland. Only it was empty, too. 

I just started driving after that point. I followed I-90 for a while, to Erie and then Buffalo and then Rochester. Even freakin’ New York City was just empty.

No. Not entirely empty. There was this… this thing. I’d see it sometimes, driving.

No, that’s not the word, either. It’s not that I’d see it, it was more that I… didn’t see other things. When you’re driving at night in the countryside, you can see for miles, especially when Lake Erie is right there. The stars are gorgeous. But sometimes I’d look out over the lake, and there’d be this… blackness. Like the stars were blocked off by a skyscraper, or a mountain or something, but I knew there was nothing there. And skyscrapers and mountains aren’t that shape…

I thought it was maybe a statue or something. Maybe some big monument on an island? But I kept driving and it kept being there. And then it stopped being there only sometimes, and it was there every night. And then it started getting closer. Bigger. Only barely, but what started out as just a dark patch on the horizon became a real shape. I only saw it move once– just once– when I was staring at it and suddenly a few stars winked out. 

You’d think I would have been curious or something, but I was terrified. I don’t know what would happen to me if that thing got close enough for me to see it, but I don’t want to know.

So I drove until I hit the coast, and then I kept going. In New York I found an air field and a bunch of manuals, and I kind of… taught myself how to fly? I wasn’t very good at it, but there wasn’t anyone around to stop me from practicing until I got it right.

I didn’t want to steal the plane. You have to understand that. I didn’t want to. I was scared of what would happen. But I was more scared of that… thing. Pretty soon it took up half the night sky, and I just… I couldn’t stay any longer. I couldn’t. So I took the plane, and I took it here. 

I think part of me was hoping that I could outrun it. Or that whatever happened to the United States didn’t reach here.

I was wrong both times.

You’re the first person I’ve seen since this started. All of London is just… empty. I think the whole world is empty. At least for me.

And that thing…

It’s out there right now. That’s why I ducked into this building, you know. Because I looked up, and I realized I couldn’t see the opposite end of the street. 

Please– please let me stay here. Just for a bit. Please. Please? I just– I need somebody to talk to. 

I don’t want to be alone again. 

Statement ends.