the funny thing is that i am not lying when i say we get narnian organized crime in dust, and we have been getting the narnian mafia for a long time now.
MAFIA AU OMG. but not in this thread because we've already gone au enough and we'd get confused. (the other funny thing is that all my novel-lengths in csi:ny involved the new york mob and one of the detectives who has been implied to have mob connections. and you know me and research. i know these things. although. i have never seen the godfather.)
i have never actually been to an ihop. although my town is supposed to be getting one!
LASS PETER LEFT HIS SHIELD IN ARTHUR'S BEDROOM FOR REALZ.
by the time a missing child report is issued, it's three days later and they're five states away. ed is driving, su sitting shotgun beside him, with peter and lucy asleep in the backseat, and when the call goes out over the radio they look at each other.
"three days?" edmund hisses. "really? three days?"
"edmund, watch the road," susan says. "edmund, watch the road, you're swerving. edmund, that's oncoming traffic!"
"i have it under control," edmund says through clenched teeth, which is when peter wakes up and says sleepily, "wha --"
susan switches the station on the radio. "everything's under control, peter," she says. "go back to sleep."
but something's got peter awake now, and he squints at them and sas in alarm, "you're letting him drive? su, he doesn't have a license!"
"since when do you care about little things like that?" edmund demands.
"he has a learner's permit," susan points out. "he has to get practice somehow."
"and they're, what, just going to let me waltz into the dol and take the test?" edmund says. "i don't think so!"
"he doesn't have a license and we could be pulled over!" peter points out.
"we are also in a stolen car," susan points out, very dryly.
- -
"we're crossing the mason-dixon line?" edmund says. "really?"
but susan's ridiculously happy when they end up in new orleans' maze of one-way streets and turn-arounds. they get a hotel uptown, and peter tells the concierge that they're looking at colleges and doing the tourist thing for a few days. this far away they haven't heard the missing child reports.
peter buys them beignets and chicory coffee from the cafe du monde and they walk around jackson square, looking at the art for sale and smiling at the fortune-tellers, the other tourists, trying not to get too much powdered sugar down their fronts. lucy begs a twenty off peter and tears off with edmund in tow to get her fortune read.
there are enough people around, even though it's the off-season, that she expects hi to relax a little, but he looks around like a wolf on the prowl, his gaze flickering impassively over the police cars in the area, the jewelry stores in the blocks surrounding jackson square.
"what are you planning, peter?" susan asks softly. "tell me you know what you're doing."
peter grins at her and bends his head to kiss powdered sugar off her nose, the corners of her mouth. "i know what i'm doing," he says, "but i'm going to need some help."
i, uh, write what you know? and by that i totally mean, not the thieving part.
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MAFIA AU OMG. but not in this thread because we've already gone au enough and we'd get confused. (the other funny thing is that all my novel-lengths in csi:ny involved the new york mob and one of the detectives who has been implied to have mob connections. and you know me and research. i know these things. although. i have never seen the godfather.)
i have never actually been to an ihop. although my town is supposed to be getting one!
LASS PETER LEFT HIS SHIELD IN ARTHUR'S BEDROOM FOR REALZ.
by the time a missing child report is issued, it's three days later and they're five states away. ed is driving, su sitting shotgun beside him, with peter and lucy asleep in the backseat, and when the call goes out over the radio they look at each other.
"three days?" edmund hisses. "really? three days?"
"edmund, watch the road," susan says. "edmund, watch the road, you're swerving. edmund, that's oncoming traffic!"
"i have it under control," edmund says through clenched teeth, which is when peter wakes up and says sleepily, "wha --"
susan switches the station on the radio. "everything's under control, peter," she says. "go back to sleep."
but something's got peter awake now, and he squints at them and sas in alarm, "you're letting him drive? su, he doesn't have a license!"
"since when do you care about little things like that?" edmund demands.
"he has a learner's permit," susan points out. "he has to get practice somehow."
"and they're, what, just going to let me waltz into the dol and take the test?" edmund says. "i don't think so!"
"he doesn't have a license and we could be pulled over!" peter points out.
"we are also in a stolen car," susan points out, very dryly.
-
-
"we're crossing the mason-dixon line?" edmund says. "really?"
but susan's ridiculously happy when they end up in new orleans' maze of one-way streets and turn-arounds. they get a hotel uptown, and peter tells the concierge that they're looking at colleges and doing the tourist thing for a few days. this far away they haven't heard the missing child reports.
peter buys them beignets and chicory coffee from the cafe du monde and they walk around jackson square, looking at the art for sale and smiling at the fortune-tellers, the other tourists, trying not to get too much powdered sugar down their fronts. lucy begs a twenty off peter and tears off with edmund in tow to get her fortune read.
there are enough people around, even though it's the off-season, that she expects hi to relax a little, but he looks around like a wolf on the prowl, his gaze flickering impassively over the police cars in the area, the jewelry stores in the blocks surrounding jackson square.
"what are you planning, peter?" susan asks softly. "tell me you know what you're doing."
peter grins at her and bends his head to kiss powdered sugar off her nose, the corners of her mouth. "i know what i'm doing," he says, "but i'm going to need some help."
i, uh, write what you know? and by that i totally mean, not the thieving part.