andromedagarcia

[andromedagarcia]

A spooky present for @andromedagarcia ...you know it ♥. I hope you like it.

The sound of the ocean was deafening, overwhelming, filled with a thousand voices. Wave after wave crashed against the steep cliff, sending a salty mist into the air and making white foam spray the tired traveler.

The traveler looked up, wiping water away from his face with the back of his hand. The sun was about to set. If he wanted to reach the inn at the top of the cliff he’d better hurry. He would have picked up his pace but, even though the rocky crag had crudely carved steps to facilitate the ascent, to anyone unfamiliar with the terrain as he was, any misstep would end up in a deathly plunge to the unforgiving water below.

The moon was showing her face just above the horizon when the traveler finally reached the inn. He thanked her for lighting his way and not letting him slip to a watery grave. The ocean wasn’t visible from where he was standing, but he could still hear it loud and clear, almost like a song, a calling. When he recovered from the climb, he proceeded to the inn.

The door to the tavern was slightly ajar so the traveler let himself in. Inside, there was a nice fire in the hearth. It made him shiver, he hadn’t realized how cold he was, but of course, his cloak was soaking wet. He seemed to hesitate as he lowered his hood and removed his cloak, not wishing to trail water all over the stone floor. He hung his cloak on a hook by the door and walked toward the bar. The woman behind it had her back to him, busy filling two flagons of beer.

‘Good evening,’ he greeted her with a soft voice, so as not to startle her.

‘Evening,’ she replied without turning around. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’

That was fine, he wasn’t in a hurry. He was still trying to catch his breath after the treacherous climb. He ran his fingers along the coarse wood of the bar, trying to read stories in the grooves. As far as he knew, the inn was a couple of centuries old. He couldn’t even grasp the sheer number of spilled drinks and bar fights, of stories told by the fire.

‘What can I get you?’ The young woman had returned.

‘Are you the innkeeper?’

‘Innkeeper, barmaid, waitress…’ she tapped her nails on the counter.

‘Beer, please.’

She filled a tankard and put it in front of him. Then she looked him up and down, somewhat disdainfully. ‘You must be here to see them.’

‘See who?’

‘Every full moon, foolish men like yourself come here to get a glimpse of them.’

The traveler shook his head. ‘I just came to see the inn, I’m writing a book. Mind you, I almost didn’t make it, the climb is tricky. I could have slipped and…’

‘The mermaids would have taken you.’

‘The…?’

The barmaid rolled her hazel eyes. She looked around. There were just a few more people having a drink, but since she’d just brought fresh mugs to everyone, they wouldn’t bother her. At least for a few minutes. She sighed resignedly and sat beside the traveler.

‘Did you see the painting hanging above the coat rack?’

He hadn’t been paying attention when he’d come in. He turned around in his seat to look. A beautiful woman with locks of raven-black hair, dressed in a lovely white dress, stared back at him. She was sitting on a rock by the ocean. Her expression was indescribable. He could sense a profound sadness, but her eyes also spoke of anger.

‘She’s…’

‘Very beautiful, yes, I know.’

‘Who is she?’

The barmaid bit the inside of her cheek, as if she were trying to gauge how much to tell him. 

‘She is. Was. My great-grandmother’s sister.’ She shrugged. ‘And if legends are to be believed...’

‘Legends?’ The traveler asked, urging her to keep talking.

‘Andrómeda.’ She pointed to the painting with her head. ‘Was a celebrated beauty. She had many suitors, as you can imagine. But her father gave her hand in marriage to an awful man. When she heard about this, she ran away with the man she loved. Andrómeda thought they would be happy together, that they’d find the way to make a living. But that dream was short-lived. Her beloved turned out to be a scumbag, the worst kind of man.’

The barmaid looked away, absentmindedly curling a strand of her reddish hair around her finger. She was quiet for a minute before continuing.

‘No sooner was she out of her parents’ place than he assaulted her. She fought back, of course. Alerting those inside the house. Her brother and sister, my great-grandmother, among them. But when they went out, all they saw was Andrómeda tangled up in a fight with this man. And then they both fell down the cliff.’

The traveler gasped audibly, his heart skipping a beat at the thought of that abyss.

‘There was a storm raging that night,’ the barmaid said. ‘The sea spirits were watching. The next day, they found the scumbag’s body on the rocky beach below, in oh so many pieces. But where was she?’ 

He shook his head, hoping she would say they’d found the dark-haired woman alive and well. No such luck.

‘The sea had taken her, they concluded.’ She sighed. ‘My great-grandmother mourned her sister for weeks. And then, during the next full moon, she was walking on the beach and she saw her. Her lost sister. Sitting on a rock, the one from the painting, watching the ocean wistfully. Not only that. My great-grandmother claimed Andrómeda had spoken to her. She wrote it all down in her diary. I memorized it.’

The barmaid took a deep breath and closed her eyes before reciting:

“Don’t weep for me, Cass. I am far from dead. That night, as I fell, I embraced my fate. But instead of the cold embrace of the ocean, She put her arms around me. The Sea Witch, with her enticing eyes and honey blonde hair. And she offered me my life, in a way no one else could possibly offer it. ‘Andrómeda,’ the Sea Witch said, in the sweetest voice you can imagine. ‘You have been mistreated in the world of men, disregarded, hurt. If you choose to surrender your life now, I promise you a calm passing to the Underworld. But if you choose to remain, I will make it so you appear even more beautiful to the eyes of men. Alluring, irresistible, and terrible like the ocean itself. So you can drag them to their doom. Drown them.’” It was then that I noticed Andro’s sharp teeth, her raven-black hair so long it reached way below her waist… where a fishtail with shimmery scales had replaced her legs…

‘The Sea Witch?’ the traveler interrupted the barmaid, his voice hoarse. He hadn’t realized his mouth had been hanging open since the barmaid had started telling him the story. He drank deeply from his tankard.

‘Airi, they call her around here. Another maid of the sea.’ 

‘Maid of…?’

‘That’s what locals call them. You would call them mermaids. Some say they’re the souls of young women who died at sea, some say they have no soul at all. Anyway, after Andrómeda talked to her sister, she jumped into the ocean and disappeared. A few months later, the rumors began. Young men drowning in shallow waters, boats left adrift because their sailors were suddenly possessed with the urge to jump into the water. And yet, more and more people who heard the rumor come every month. Most of them return these days. But some…’ she shrugged, letting her words hang between them. ‘They say my great-grandmother never stopped looking for her. She bought this place… and here we are.’

‘What do you believe?’ the traveler asked, truly intrigued.

‘Part of me believes Andrómeda drowned that fateful night. But I want to believe she found another life in the dark depths, and that she takes her revenge every month.’ 

The traveler felt a shiver running down his spine. Perhaps the Sea Witch and the Dark Mermaid were listening. He couldn’t know it, but he was lucky the barmaid had decided he was trustworthy. Otherwise, she would have offered to take him down to the beach to see the actual Mermaid Rock from her great-grandmother’s story. And then she would have offered him to the vengeful maids of the sea.

#MERMAID AU #I am screaming!!!!!!!! #i love it so much 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 #i could cry #THIS IS PERFECT #SPOOKY OCTOBER #Andriri #always and forever #i love you with my entire heart #airi-of-hearts

[andromedagarcia]

CAMILA MORRONE via makeup artist @dianebuzzetta on instagram (September 11, 2023)

#face

[andromedagarcia]

“Well, suppose they do. How would that make you feel?”

“…Like I don’t matter.”

La Casa de las Flores · ERÍSIMO (símb. adversidad)

#androcoded #Big Andro Mood

[andromedagarcia]

CAMILA MORRONE for the biarritz film festival

#face

[andromedagarcia]

‘Your mum came by. We had a very nice talk! She left a note for you.’

Surprise that left her blinking a couple of times in awe, unable to find the words. Her mum did… what? Andrómeda knew she was the only one out of the three siblings that lived in New Atlantis, and that her parents missed Hérc and Cass to death, but this was too much. With a strained smile and burning cheeks –she was only able to blush when it came to María and Fernando García–, she grabbed the slate her colleague was handing her and put it in one of the many pockets of her cargo trousers.

‘Thank you, I’ll… listen to it later. I have work to do.’

If the work consisted of boring patrols in the Well and it was an excuse for her to not immediately listen to whatever her mother had to say, nobody had to know.

This was Andro’s least favorite part of the city; the subterranean one.

A place filled with noise and people, most of them living in quite poor conditions. Like Cydonia, but on a different planet. Like Cydonia, if around thirty-five percent of the population was rich and able to live on the surface, while the rest of society didn’t even get to enjoy the rays of sun on their skin.

So, worse than Mars, even, and that was saying something.

Most people in the Well acted as if the Security Officers from the United Colonies didn’t exist. And that was alright with her, honestly, because she sort of also pretended to not be aware of… them. When she was in her nice, fancy apartment in the Mercury Tower, enjoying a cup of Terra Brew coffee. When she spent an amount of money that was, definitely, much more than those people earned in an entire month in a dress. When she went to expensive restaurants with her friends once her shift ended.

It was… uncomfortable, to say the very least. She had tried to get her supervisor to give her anything, any other assignment, but…

‘You recently got injured. The doctor said your rib dislocated and punctured your lung. You are healing nicely but you can’t be on the field yet, Andrómeda.’

And there she was. In the Well. In the year 2330. Stuck in a small planet while there were over 120 systems, 1,700 planets and moons in total.

But some people had it worse.

Like the Martians.

Her dark eyes traveled around Jake’s Bar, in which people were drowning their sorrows in beer, whiskey, or other liquors. There were also a lot of wannabe pilots, weapon specialists and shields engineers, hoping that some captain would give them a place in their crew. She would have to ask Cass, if she required any assistance…

There were also two men, drawing attention to themselves because they were laughing. Laughing out loud, in fact. A sound that wasn’t that popular underground. Most people avoided them, as if they were spreading radiation with that simple gesture, as if they had a deadly illness like the plague had once been on Earth. Her father, a history professor, had taught Andrómeda that much.

No doubt, something had happened to them. Something joyful, exciting. The taller one, a long-haired monster that was certainly over two meters and with muscles like those of a bull, had an arm around the shoulders of the shorter one, also muscular, but leaner. He was saying something, with a deep voice that reverberated in the entirety of the bar, but that Andrómeda still couldn’t hear because of the volume at which Jake kept the music.

His green eyes encountered hers. And they seemed to watch her intently, although the young woman was quite sure he couldn’t quite see her face with the helmet she was sporting, especially not from a certain distance.

Was she supposed to say something? No. She was here to check for criminal activity, for people in danger. She couldn’t simply approach two middle-aged men because they were laughing.

Maybe one of them had just become a dad, or something.

No, he wouldn't be so happy, then. Not if he lived in the Well.

───⋆☆─────────────

‘You are going back on the field.’

John Tuala –John for friends, family members and absolutely anyone after a couple of drinks–, leader of the Vanguard in New Atlantis, had called Andrómeda to his office. And there she was, sitting down in a chair, with a straight back and hands over her knees, trying to be the image of good behavior. Something that had made John laugh, but he hadn’t commented on it; there were more important subjects at hand.

‘Really?’ Andrómeda was wary. She didn’t want to get her hopes up and then… it hadn’t been the first time they had considered putting her back out there. But it had never been John to tell her. Usually a nurse, or a doctor, or some low-ranking member that should be answering to her, instead of the other way around…

‘Really. Two reasons: you’re accompanying Diplomat Airi Takahashi in Neon. Be ready to leave in a few days. She will give you the details of her mission, if she so desires, when you get there. Once you land the planet, you will act as her bodyguard. No, better yet, her shadow. Attempts on her life have been made, as you very well know.’

Andrómeda pursed her lips.

Of course she knew.

She had been the one to stop quite a few of them.

And still, she was excited. She liked Airi, a lot. They had quickly become friends, even if what had brought them together was Andrómeda’s work and Airi’s need for protection. But they were like-minded spirits, twin souls, people who were born of the same stardust. She couldn’t wait to see the Diplomat again.

She nodded firmly, for John to continue. If there were any questions about the assignment, she could ask them after he was done. He had, after all, said there were two reasons…

‘We are looking for a man. Goes by Vessel.’ Andrómeda raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. ‘An ex-member of the Crimson Fleet.’

That did it. ‘How do you exactly leave the Crimson Fleet?’ The Martian blurted out.

They hadn’t really become a problem until recently. A few years back, when Andrómeda was a kid, they were nothing but a loose confederation of individual parent captains; now, however, they were more or less an organized entity, that had expanded way beyond Kryx (what used to be their main base), all the way to Sagan, Cheyenne, Lunara and Narion.

‘Apparently, by hiding in between the cargo of a merchant’s ship and making your way to the next port.’

She was impressed (not so much with the tactic itself, but by the fact that a plan as simple as that had worked – and that still nobody, not even the faction he had once belonged to, had managed to find him) but she tried not to show. John, however, saw right through her, laughing as he said his next words:

‘That’s why we need you. You’re one of the best – if someone can bring this man to justice, it’s you.’ He rounded the table, to come closer to her and be able to look her straight in the eye. He did that when he wanted her to really see him, usually when he was asking her to take on a very demanding mission. Andrómeda had been slightly near-sighted when she had first joined the Vanguard; not anymore. She had had eye surgery years ago, but some things never changed. ‘The Crimson Fleet is also looking for him. You have the right to kill those who stand in your way.’

‘I will bring him to justice.’ Andrómeda declared. It was not the first time she had been sent in one of these missions. She had a reputation, and before she had gotten injured, her name was one of the favorites to become John’s second-in-command. She wanted those rumors, those whispers, to start again.

‘I expected no less from you.’ A proud smile, almost like that of a dad, even if John wasn’t much older than her. ‘Of course, if you ever need help…’

‘Can’t trust the Neon City Guard. Maybe the Rangers, but not likely. Safest bet is to try and contact any UC ships that are in orbit.’

‘Exactly. And now,’ John clapped, stretching his neck and back, rotating his shoulders. ‘Enough about work. Want to go get a Terrabrew and catch up?’

#monthlyAU001

[andromedagarcia]

‘That security officer is hot.’

‘Pete?’

‘I tell you, she’s hot.’

‘How do you even know she’s a woman?’

Espen Bakke was holding a glass full of ambarine liquor in his hand. The third? The fourth? No, not the fourth. Certainly the third. They were having a little celebration – their last job had been an absolute success and they had been able to smuggle Aurora (the drug that was fabricated and only sold in Neon City) into New Atlantis. Without getting caught.

He would have attributed it all to himself, but nah. Petrus was the mastermind here. The giant of a man had decided to wrap the drug in some sort of strange membrane. Apparently, a girl he had slept with once had been a MAST biologist and had explained to him between moans and groans of pleasure that some alien monster from the Aranae system used it to become invisible. Invisible! And that a few years back there had been a scandal when some crazy government worker had tried to sneak a few of them into Akila City, because the contraband scan hadn’t picked them up and… bam. Bingo.

The idea had been born right there and then.

They had gone to the Aranae system, killed a few of those giant bugs and taken their corpses with them. Visited Neon City, bought a lot of Aurora from street vendors, put the package inside of the alien insects and… the rest was history, as they say.

It would have been slightly easier if any of them had known where the creatures’ membranes were located, because they have been disposing of the dead bugs for days. But, Pete’s relationship with the biologist had ended the same night it had started and anyway, it had all worked out in the end, and that was what mattered.

‘She has boobs.’

‘Could still be a guy.’

‘Nah, that’s not a guy.’ Peter shook his head, his glass of beer looking small in his huge hand. ‘And if it was a guy, it’s not like I would care, either. She or he is pretty hot.’ He declared, staring at her ass as she –or he, it was damn impossible to know with that shapeless uniform– continued her rounds.

‘So, what’s next?’

‘Other than spending the money and enjoying each and every second of it?’

‘Yeah. I thought maybe I could go back to bounty hunting. My knee is not as fucked as it was before, so…’

‘You really can’t stay put, can you?’ Petrus laughed again. A laugh that made everyone’s faces turn in their direction. Whatever. They didn’t know what this was about, no one had given them a candle in this burial.

For all they knew, the big man could have just become a dad.

But no, then he wouldn’t be so happy. Not here.

‘Espen, man.’ A slap in his back, so hard that it almost made the shorter man spit his drink all over the wooden surface of the table. ‘Buy a succulent or two and relax. In a few weeks we can plan what’s next.’

───⋆☆─────────────

It was the middle of the night when loud banging noises woke Espen up.

He wouldn’t have been surprised; he lived in the Well. A person who had spent more than a year here would soon find themselves unable to sleep except with the sound of low engines, of constant chatter, of distant music.

But the sounds were coming from his door. A fist, hitting the metal surface of it, repeatedly.

He put on some trousers and went to see if the cacophony had woken his father up.

No.

The old man was still sleeping. Half-deaf as he was, way over seventy years old, this pounding sound was probably nothing but a low murmur for him. Wishing he could also be that lucky, he made his way through the door, already with a very clear idea of what he would find. Or better yet, who he would find.

‘Pete.’

‘Hey man, woke you up?’

He dismissed the answer with a wave of his hand. Espen didn’t sleep much, either way. He offered his friend a seat – he still found it extremely funny how the long-haired man looked out of place sitting in a simple chair, as if it could crash beneath his weight any second – and went to the kitchen to make some coffee.

‘Add a little alcohol into mine, if you can.’ Petrus winked roguishly, with a half smile.

‘It’s…’ Espen wasn’t quite sure what hour it was. ‘Early.’

‘Late for me, I haven’t gone to bed. Want to know why I’m here?’ It was hilarious. This gigantic man, rocking back and forth in his chair like a little kid who couldn’t quite stay put.

‘I’m afraid you’re going to tell me either way.’

‘We have a job.’

‘We?’

Espen would have expected Pete to at least have the decency to blush. But no. The man had accepted a job in his name and his smile hadn’t faltered, not even a tiny bit. In fact, he looked proud, accepting the mug of coffee in his hands and blowing off some of the steam before taking a sip.

‘Yes, we. In fact, they were looking for you, but I made sure to say I was your partner. We need to go to Neon, find a guy, deliver him to Kryx.’

‘Kryx?’ Espen raised both eyebrows, as he took a seat in front of his friend. He had also prepared himself a coffee, but he left it on the table in front of him, untouched. ‘Where the Crimson Fleet is located?’

‘Indeed. The person we are looking for used to work for them, but deserted some time ago. He goes by Vessel. He was last seen in Neon, a few weeks ago, but they say he’s bound to go back. Work’s kinda easy – we go, we capture him, we take him to Kryx and…’

‘Of course,’ Espen snorted. ‘Because he’s going to come with us willingly.’

‘No, but we are two tough guys.’ Pete flexed his, Espen had to admit, quite impressive muscles to make a point. ‘And he has nothing to do against us.’

‘And how much are we getting paid for this?’

There was no point in saying no. Pete had already accepted the gig. And even if he hadn’t… it was good to have something to do, to be on the road again. Not having work meant staying at home, and staying at home meant having to put up with his father and his incessant talking about his dead wife. Espen’s mother.

It hurt, just thinking about her. It would have shown on his features, had it not been because surprise widened his eyes and his lips parted in shock at the amount of credits Petrus had just mentioned.

‘Are you serious? One hundred thousand credits?’

‘I am. Six digits, baby.’

‘Get Venus ready, we’re leaving tomorrow.’

A victorious smile on Peter’s face. A resigned expression on Espen’s – he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and holding his head between his hands. Another contract signed. Another occasion in which his life would be in the utmost danger, and…

He just wished he could get rid of the excitement he felt.

#monthlyAU001 #introduction to two babies that one day showed up in my head and didn't quite leave it

[andromedagarcia]

Why are none of the Garcia siblings FCs even the same ethnicity? Camila is Argentine, Sebastian is Ecuadorian and Columbian, and Olivia is English.

...because I do whatever I want when it comes to characters I have created and those are the FCs I liked for them?

Shocking answer, I know.

#out of character

[andromedagarcia]

‘It is, indeed.’ A recruitment offer. Human resources, knocking right at your door, smelling of exotic spices and flowers and handing you a gift; burgundy and black, the color of dahlias, of course, but also of a severed head on a plate, of internal bleeding, of bruises on one’s skin.

The three siblings had a tendency. A habit they all shared, like their black curls – it didn’t matter if Cass dyed them blonde or if Andrómeda straightened them every single day of her life – and their crooked smiles, higher on one side of their faces than on the other. This habit of theirs revealed how nervous they truly were, the turmoil going on behind steady voices and unaffected expressions and it consisted on using their fingers to draw shapes, to write the words that left their mouths in surfaces. Like little notes they left behind. Only instead of Andrómeda was here what it read was You don’t really expect me to reveal all the aces up my sleeve… the words she was saying now, out loud. Was he able to tell? Able to hear the almost inaudible sound of her index finger writing her speech on top of the bed sheets? How her half smile had faltered slightly, before recomposing, when he had moved towards his desk to put some distance between them? She had then, taken a seat on the bed, knowing these kind of things took nine parts acting and… one part acting, honestly, and she would feel more comfortable if she treated his room for what it really was; hers.

She wasn’t a visiting team playing in the competitor’s stadium. Everything was hers.

‘You don’t really expect me to reveal all the aces up my sleeve, do you? I guess, you will have to follow your instincts with this one.’ Her voice; unyielding, a sultry tone to it. She couldn’t really look at him a certain way; he couldn’t see her, after all. It was for the better. He might have been able to perceive the slight hesitation, the fact that she wasn’t as strong as she made herself to be. But again, she was an actress on stage and if Fernando García had inculcated something in his eldest daughter it was four words: Get the job done. ‘All I can tell you is,’ A pause, to create expectancy. ‘You might be out of employment really soon if you don’t decide fast where your loyalties lay, Soma.’ His name, like a caress, slightly elongating the s sound, like the hissing sound of a serpent coiling up around its prey, getting their hooks in them. ‘Plus, you’re entertaining the possibility already. Or is there any other reason as to why you haven’t kicked me out, yet? There’s a certain interest in my offer, I can tell, or… perhaps it is that you just want me to touch you again?’ His little speech impressed her. Left her breathless, for a second or two. She memorized it; she would think about it later on, squeezing the meaning out of every. Single. Word. But now she needed to act fast, puncture the skin with her fangs and inject the poison. Or, maybe, would it be better if she…? No, she couldn’t afford any hesitation. What am I worth to you. ‘What are you worth to me?’ Gaining time, seeing what was that she could answer. What words could she say to convince him. She felt like sobbing, but she kept her cool. Get the job fucking done. Honesty, as the best policy.

'Right now, you are worth my entire life. Or, life as I know it, at the very least.' Was this baring too much? Maybe. But the daughter of El Señor de la Droga, the person she called papá, had never known privacy, not even for a single day of her life, so it wasn't like she could miss it.

Selling her feelings was little different of selling her body.

Now, she regretted the comment about not showing him the aces up her sleeve. Keeping her cards up close would do no good, not here. 'I want the same thing as everyone else. For my future to not be dictated by the actions of other people.'

'What if this wasn't a recruitment offer? But instead... a pitch. For a collaboration. Don't think of me as Andrómeda, your boss' wife. Think of me as Andrómeda, your equal. Let's work together. Let this really be our team.'

And again, unsaid words. Trust me. Please, trust me.

@somatheking

Soma's expression didn't change throughout her speech, despite his surprise at Andrómeda's bluntness. Here she was, freely admitting she was aware of 'something in motion' and asking him to be on her team. Daring, really. If he wanted to remain loyal to Hatter and turn her offer down, she’d be on his sights now, so she either didn’t care about that, or simply assumed he was going to accept whatever she was offering. Both being attitudes shared between arrogant fools and people hiding an ace up their sleeve, and it was up to him to find out which one it was.

“On your team?” he said, tilting his chin slightly upwards. Fortunately for him, this was the second time someone had thought the best way to persuade him would be by enticing him with their touch, so he was able to remain unperturbed. Stony, glassy eyes fixed on her, his lips curved into a smile that had turned from amiable to taunting; he regarded her with interest. “In that case, this isn’t a wish. It’s a recruitment offer.”

“So,” he started, clapping his hands once and walking to his desk to half-sit, half-lean on it, if only to put some distance between them so he could think clearly, “recruit me, then. Who’s on ‘your’ team? Who’s the other team? What advantages does our team offer?”

He wanted to gauge how much she actually knew, and how much was a bluff on her behalf. She’d mentioned ‘something in motion’ and ‘her team’, but never once mentioning Hatter, and it might be because she wasn’t actually aware of what was happening and wanted to trick him into confirming her suspicions. However, Soma had been in the game for long enough to spot potential traps like that, and if she truly wanted to get any information out of him, she was going to have to try a little harder than that.

“All in all, I don’t know you. I’ve never worked for you, not really. I’ve done things for you, yes, and possibly more than you’re aware of, but always through Hatter or other intermediaries. I don’t know how much you value loyalty, I don’t know what or whom you’re willing to sacrifice, and as it happens, I’ve been told I look good in many different colours, so I don’t really care if I wear blue, green or burgundy and black like your flowers. Ultimately, Andrómeda, I just have one last question to make.”

“What am I worth to you?”

@andromedagarcia

#aib oc #aib roleplay #carteland au #aib drug cartel au #somatheking #WHAT AM I WORTH TO YOU

[andromedagarcia]

'Is it?'

She asked, an index finger pressed to her full lips, her dark eyes focused on the ceiling of the room, as if the answer laid there, somewhere, and she was just waiting for it to unveil itself. He couldn't see her, but Andrómeda was used to talking with her body, maybe more than with words.

A lopsided smile, as if she knew a joke the other person didn't but that didn’t reach her half-lidded eyes, seemingly disinterested, but that darted everywhere and followed each and every move of the members of her court. Tapping nails on counters, on tables, on walls, revealing impatience, the ability to wait not forming part of her virtues.

All those acts more in concordance with what she was truly feeling, what laid below. What only a lucky few could contemplate. A young woman, not even thirty years old, full of doubt, scared to death, but that couldn’t allow herself to feel any pity. The situation was what it was. The cards were on the table. The chess match had started. Andrómeda might have found herself unprepared, but, was there really a way to be ready for what was coming? For the murder of your husband?

No.

There wasn’t.

So she kept speaking, trying to secure what she wanted: El Genio’s support.

‘It might be how they work in fairy tales for kids. But the truth is, in legends, djinn are known for twisting your wishes however they want, unless your words are chosen properly,’ She approached Soma. Hoping that, even if he didn’t know how she looked like, he’d found her smell, her presence, her voice, as intoxicating as did most men. ‘Let me speak bluntly. You know there is something in motion. It has already begun, but we aren’t aware of how it will end. I want you, on my team. You would look stunning in blue.’ A cheeky remark, as she lifted both her hands and fixed the collar of his shirt, her fingers then softly caressing the area of his neck infested with purpura. Not pressing. She didn’t want to hurt him, only… entice him. ‘Matches the purple.’

@somatheking

Andrómeda walked inside the room, her strut sounding clear and confident as her heels clicked against the floor tiles. There was no way of knowing for certain, but Soma would bet both his arms that she was wearing something absolutely ravishing, never one to neglect her personal appearance. This, gratefully, included her scent, floral and with a hint of bitterness from the almond-like smell the cherries provided. 

When she placed the dahlias on the table and ever so casually mentioned they were burgundy and black, he immediately realised she wasn’t going to beat around the bush. Straight to business. He had her request laid bare on his table: betrayal, but she didn’t have anything of his yet. As many times as he’d planned how this conversation would go in his head, he’d never managed to reach an ending. So complicated and twisted were Hatter’s affairs, that it was unclear to him just how much influence Andrómeda really had on what he claimed to be his empire. Soma had heard it all, how oftentimes, it’s a powerful man’s wife who manages a big part of the business just with a well placed word here, a request there. And there was also the matter of her having a defunct father who worked as the head of the most dominant Spanish drug cartel, Fernando García, a man he’d sadly never got to meet. But to gauge how many ties she still had to it was murky, a lead difficult to follow, no matter how many people he’d put on it. 

Any other day, and this would’ve seemed exciting. To see if he could finally unveil Andrómeda’s true colours (because he’d never believed the sweet tone she regarded him with was genuine) and figure out if she was a piece worth keeping in the chessboard, but there was so many things he had to deal with, that adding one more was tiresome. What he wouldn’t do for a good night’s sleep. 

He debated on whether to humour her and match her tone by referring to her as Queen, since she had used his nickname, but that would be reaffirming a power he did not want her to have while in a conversation with him. “Well, you are my boss’ wife, Andrómeda,” said Soma, purposefully ignoring the message the dahlias, sitting a few feet away from him, were giving. A reminder of his current position, and hers. “You only have to tell me what your wishes are. That is how genies work, no? You make a wish, and they’ll see to it that it comes true.”

@andromedagarcia

#aib oc #aib drug cartel au #aib roleplay #somatheking #carteland AU

[andromedagarcia]

Seeing Soma never got easier. The man looked like a walking corpse. Like those pictures on the packs of cigarettes. Black lungs, infestated with tumors. A severed hand. A milky eye devoid of vision. If Andrómeda had ever considered taking drugs, she had immediately discarded the idea after meeting him. El Genio. The Genie. That who could make all of your dreams come true if you rubbed his lamp the right way. Grant you as many wishes as you desired. But oh, they didn't know. Genies twisted wishes to fit their best interests, if you weren't specific or careful enough. Interpreting them in an unintended way, leading to unexpected consequences. She knew very well the power he held. And that was why she had to prepare for their meeting. It wasn't as simple as just. Showing up.

'This is my house, you're right.' Emphasis on the possessive determiner. She was glad he couldn't see her. Had he kept his eyesight, he could have noticed that, for a fraction of a second, her charming, crooked smile, had faltered. But here it was, again. As if nothing had happened. 'Still, it's only polite to ask.'

She walked inside of the room. Left the pot with the flowers on the nearest surface - a wooden table. They were beautiful. Such a shame they couldn't stay in her garden, where they belonged, and they would instead wither here, when Soma would most likely forget to water them, eventually leading to their death. Her long fingers caressed the petals, with a softness she didn't show to anyone else anymore, except maybe, her siblings. Thank you, my dears. We all have a part to play, and this is yours. I'm sorry for your sacrifice. Words left unsaid. 'I hope you like dahlias. The flower, I mean. You can't see them, but you can smell them; musky, with hints of light sweetness. Not too much of a fragance. I heard blind people have stronger senses than us.' And now, the big reveal. 'They are burgundy. And black.'

@somatheking

You’re going to die soon. 

It’s not like Soma hadn’t warned him. 

Oh, come on! That’s been happening at least twice a week ever since I became the cartel’s leader. 

Yeah, but not like this. Back in the day, it had been a few guys from a rival cartel, someone with their own agenda trying to climb up the ladder, an undercover cop here and there, meddling where they shouldn’t. Flies that Soma had been able to swat with ease. There hadn’t been so many people coming from so many different fronts, intertwining with each other, weaving a web with Hatter stuck in the centre of it. 

Why so glum? My people will never betray me, and as for the police, those assholes can suck it. We’ve gotten out of worse before. You’ve gotten us out. 

‘You’ve gotten us out.’ Those words had stuck to his head like a broken record, playing again and again. You’ve gotten us out, which actually meant you should get us out, but didn’t necessarily mean you’re gonna get us out. Because how the hell was Soma supposed to manage that? Hatter was oblivious to everything going on around him, too focused on himself and his own perceived grandiosity to pay attention to the fact that half of his subordinates were turning their backs to him in a matter of days. Chishiya was looking for Soma like a madman, Airi had closer and closer ties to Hatter, and Andrómeda… Jesus Christ, that woman. He could understand the new bank accounts she was creating, a ‘just in case’ option, and all her recent meetings with the important members of the cartel, to see who she could count on and trust, but changing the uniforms of Hatter’s guards to a colour everyone associated with her? His own wife was declaring war on him and here he was, worrying about whether he should steal Andean cats from the zoo. 

Speak of the devil and she shall appear, smelling like a garden in spring and knocking on his door with a few firm raps and a tone that didn’t leave space for discussion. He’d gathered that she was going to approach him sooner or later, though he was perhaps a little offended that she’d gone to other people with less important jobs than him first. However, he was aware she found him repulsive, and every time they’d interacted their conversation had been succinct and ended exactly when it should, without any offers to continue it anywhere else. That had ended today, he supposed.

“Andrómeda,” he said, greeting her with a smile. “Please, do come in. This is your house, after all, I’m just a guest in it.”  

@andromedagarcia

#aib oc #aib roleplay #somatheking #aib drug cartel au #carteland AU

[andromedagarcia]

You'll be a beautiful widow soon enough.

Funny, wasn't it? How a few words could affect you. Change your entire outlook on things. Give you a new perspective on life.

Takeru was going to die. Andrómeda didn't know how to feel about it. And, because of that, she didn't want to hear, talk, or know anything about the topic. But, she had to prepare. Elaborate a strategy. She was also tired of being a mere pawn when she was the most important piece in the chess board. The Queen.

Bank accounts opened under different names, that couldn't be tracked back to El Sombrerero. New uniforms for guards and service; blue. Like a general dressing their troops, a color everybody identified with her. So that they knew who they really belonged to. Phone calls, asked favors, rekindling old friendships. Honeyed words, free days conceded. Favors guaranteed.

Busy as she was, she had almost forgotten about the pair of unwatching eyes that saw everybody's moves. A man as dangerous as an inland taipan, as docile as a rabid wolf. They were supposed to believe his loyalties were clear, but Andrómeda knew better. And if the last few weeks proved something was that absolutely every person had a price.

She knew his room, just as she knew everyone's. So she made her way there, one afternoon, wearing a beautiful, figure-hugging midnight blue dress, smelling of vanilla, cherries, flowers, the sound of her heels against the wooden floor commanding respect, drawing attention to herself. Carrying a flower pot with the most striking burgundy and black dahlias in her garden. Soma was a man of knowledge. She was sure he would know what they meant. Betrayal.

Knocking on the door, however, her voice was sweet as sugar. And yet, demanding, imposing. Refusing to accept a no for an answer.

'Soma? I bring a present for you. May I come in?'

@somatheking

#carteland AU #somatheking #aib oc #aib drug cartel au #aib roleplay

[andromedagarcia]

🖼

#LISTEN TO ME: WHENEVER YOU WANT #i always want to write with you #the quote #the pictures #this is killing me #i love you i love them #fluffybrowncat

[andromedagarcia]

@cheshire-shuntaro

#more moodboards for my friend bye love u #chishiandro #cheshire-shuntaro

[andromedagarcia]

AIB Drug Cartel AU - Masterlist

Below you can find (almost) all of the talented people who participate in the ongoing AU I came up with. Original post explaining the premise and ways to participate is here. We're not done yet!

La Reina del Jardín by @andromedagarcia

Cheshire Cat by @prosopagn0sis

La Infiltrada by @airi-of-hearts

Hércules García being an absolute cutie working in a cocaine lab by @andromedagarcia

Cassiopeia García being an absolute cutie while painting a ominous masterpiece by @andromedagarcia

Aki the not-so-careful killer by @andromedagarcia

Vessel the unnamed assassin by @airi-of-hearts

El Sabelotodo (piece + art) by @hinataxsunshine

A piece about true love and why sometimes it isn't possible by @biggunsaguni x @andromedagarcia

Pieces about two powerful women by @andromedagarcia and @airi-of-hearts

Yalina the hidden by @fluffybrowncat

Another piece about true love and why sometimes it hurts by yours truly

A respose to said piece that broke my heart by @andromedagarcia x @biggunsaguni

More gorge El Sabelotodo (art) by @hinataxsunshine

#aib drug cartel au #♥️

[andromedagarcia]

SHAMELESS. DELETED SCENES.

#Big Cass Mood #Big Andro Mood #i cry #i can see this happening word by word

[andromedagarcia]

hello hello!

it has come to my attention that some people in the aib rp community are feeling excluded. i do get that this is disheartening, and i would like to try to lighten everyone's mood a little.

thus, i'm currently thinking about creating a community d.iscord. the purpose is easy: just some random, light-hearted chit-chats with the rest of the community whenever you feel like it. no obligations, just some fun little banter.

i created a poll to see, if this idea would find favour with the community. so please answer the following question:

#vote vote vote VOTE

[andromedagarcia]

by petition of @somatheking who refuses to do it himself

the roles:

- fucked by soma: @cheshire-shuntaro

- fucking soma: @prosopagn0sis @airi-of-hearts and me

- simply soma: @somatheking

- not fucking soma: @diamondfucked

i honestly don't know what life choices led to me being in this group

#there's also a thirst traps channel #but that's private