Teasing the captain
I don’t usually write fanfiction but after reading this post, I just had to write a little scene for Calderon. Bordering on NSFW? Probably. 18+
The captain has called you all for a meeting. You find you are one of the first to arrive, apart from Calderon, the only other person on the bridge right now is Aya. She's positioned in the pilot seat, as expected, her back to you as her hands shift over the various keys and buttons. Your eyes glide towards the captain. He's looking at you with a gentle smile upon his lips, the kind only you have the privilege of seeing. You return the gesture. Your attention is captured by the sounds of boots on metal coming from behind you. The others are finally gathering. You move from the threshold, your feet guiding you to Calderon. You tease your fingers over his firm chest and you hear him inhale sharply. Catching his eye for only a split second, before you push further past him a few more steps, you find a comfortable place to perch yourself at the back of the room. Knowing his attention still lingers on you, you relax your body into a casual but sexy pose, pretending all the while that you aren't trying to tantalise him.
Once all the other members have finally arrived, Calderon clears his throat and begins to explain the reason for this meeting. It's important stuff, as it always is, but you just can't focus on a single word of it. You watch his lips move and your thoughts drift. You were already feeling a bit playful when you first entered the room but seeing this stoic man, posture perfect, voice clear, you can't help the grin at the idea that flashes through your mind.
Could you possibly make him come undone, right here, in front of the rest of the crew? They are all listening to him, stood at various places around the room, but you, at the back, are out of their view.
You know the idea is a bad one. You know you should be paying attention, but dammit, you aren't in the right mind to care right now.
You shift your stance into a slightly more lustful position. Your movement immediately catches the captain's attention. His words falter for a fraction of a second before he catches himself, looking away quickly. You don't miss the slight colour change to his cheeks. His gaze darts back to you. He's fully composed once again, minus the tiny spark in his eyes. You can't help it. You are going to push this further.
Calderon is still looking at you. Still giving his speech. You have an inkling that he knows your mind is elsewhere. You raise a sultry eyebrow then slowly draw your lower lip into your mouth, gently biting down. His speech falters for the second time and he tries to cover it up with a cough.
Both Damon and June turn to look in your direction curiously, but you've already reverted to the picture of innocence. June, seeing nothing amiss, turns back around, but Damon... Damon with his ability to see everything locks his attention on you. A silent chuckle escapes his lips as he regards you. He offers you a knowing smirk and a wink before he too turns back to face the captain. You stare at his back for a moment longer, wondering what his reaction was about. He doesn't leave you guessing for long. Damon starts peppering Calderon with questions. By the way the captain rolls his eyes and sighs, you know the sly assassin is forcing him to repeat himself. He's stalling the meeting. Giving you longer to break the captain. Really, you should have known.
You silently thank Damon before returning your efforts back to your target. Try as you might, you just can't catch his eye. Calderon is pointedly avoiding looking towards you. You readjust your position and slide your body to the left, where you realise his sight currently is. Success. You've caught him.
You don't allow him even a second to escape. You plaster on your most intense "come fuck me" face and his world stops.
There is complete silence in the room. Everyone is confused by his abrupt quiet. You can't quite tell from the look on his face what he's thinking, but you most certainly see the red that now covers his face and neck. Damon's loud boisterous laugh is the first thing that breaks the calm. Calderon covers his face with his hand, turns his back on everyone, and calls the meeting to an immediate end. You imagine he was mostly done either way. Most of the crew still don't understand what happened. Damon doesn't answer their curious looks as he continues to cackle; you can only guess he plans to keep this to himself with the sole purpose of teasing the good captain with it relentlessly in the future. You try to escape the room with everyone else, but you just aren't fast enough.
"Stowaway!" Calderon's voice booms throughout the room. You flinch, plaster on your most innocent look, and turn to him. His eyes are most definitely on you now. He waits for you to approach.
"Yes, captain?" You do a really good job at pretending you weren't just teasing him moments ago, but that won't save you now. His eyes darken and narrow. His tall figure bends down towards you, his lips at your ear.
"You are in so much trouble." He whispers, his voice husky and heavy. "You are so lucky I have things that require my immediate attention, or I'd punish you right now." Your entire body shivers at the prospect. "Something for you to think about until later, perhaps." He pulls back, gives you the smuggest, most lust-filled expression you have ever seen, then he marches off. You stand there alone, heat creeping up your body. You will definitely be thinking about this until later. You can guarantee it.
A smirk graces your lips. You aren't sure who won this little impromptu game but you feel quite satisfied with yourself nonetheless.
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Can you Hear me, When I cry Myself to Sleep?
Fandom: Andromeda Six
Warnings: non-graphic descriptions of human experimentation.
Description: June and Jules, and a laboratory childhood.
Notes: apparently I hit my drama bone when writing this one! Also this is a quite a bit more vengeful than I imagine June to be. But I do it for the angst.
I wrote this a long time ago and kinda hate it but we’re gonna post it anyway.
Taglist: @amlovelies @writersgonefishing @oatssss @kimberrrrr @femmeshep @serana-spring
The small, frail voice resonates through the endless dark.
“Go to sleep, Julian. They don’t like it when we don’t sleep.”
“Why?” Jules asks, and June can imagine his face, wide-eyed curiosity on features exactly like his own.
So juvenile. So sickly pale. A puzzle, one that would be achingly beautiful if it weren’t missing too many pieces.
June doubts that his twin is truly unaware of the answer to his own question, but he’s learned that this is a way of dealing with the things he cannot comprehend. To ask questions as a way to evade answers. Keep turning and turning to avoid running headfirst into the truth.
“I don’t know,” comes June’s response, dismissive. He rolls onto his side, pulling his blanket over his head. “Stop talking. They’ll hear.”
Silence. June shivers under the single, wool blanket. The labs are always freezing. The cold air bites at his bandages, amplifying the ache that has settled in his bones.
“Do you think we’re going to die?”
The question makes ice of June’s abused veins, freezing solid the little blood that hasn’t been extracted, mixed, tested, or analyzed.
“I don’t know.”
Words that taste familiar on his tongue. This time it’s not a lie; he has no clue whether their parents plan to kill them here. But he suspects. He suspects, based on the whispers he overhears when they think he’s unconscious. He suspects, based on how Jules’ skin looks paler every day, peeling from his thin form like pastry crumbs. He suspects, and he hopes he’s wrong, that Jules is going to die.
He’s only nine years old, and he’s struck by the realization that he’s going to be all alone. June always thought he had nothing to lose. As it turns out, he was wrong.
Jules speaks again. “But mom and dad wouldn’t do that to us... right? They wouldn’t...”
Would they? If they did, would he feel hurt? Could he mourn a life he never had? Miss a family he’s never known? June often wonders if this is simply how life works. This is, and always has been, his one and only reality.
“June. June, I’m scared,” Jules whispers, voice quivering like it does when his lower lip trembles.
Me too, he wants to say, I’ve always been scared.
There are no white coats to silence him this time, no gloved hands to shove another pill down his throat and tell him to shut up.
Before June can open his mouth to reply, or tell him to be quiet again, the white coats are there, pumping tranquillizers into their veins.
I told you they would hear, he thinks feebly.
Why do you never listen?
The white coats used to scare him. They look like people, but their faces are empty. He used to call them puppets, and wondered who pulled their strings. But June rarely feels scared anymore. He just feels hollow.
He understands the white coats now.
June tries to ignore the way Jules screams and thrashes and takes it, silently, jaw clenched and eyelids growing heavy with the weight of the drug.
When he wakes, the white coats are there to take him again. He bites back a retort when they bind his wrists and call him Subject A-645 instead of Juniper.
He doesn’t want to outweigh his usefulness with disobedience, after all. It didn’t take him long to learn you only live as long as they need you. Bleeding and beaten is better than ending up a nameless corpse, mourned by no one and forgotten by everyone.
Besides, he doesn’t have a name, not really. Juniper is just the product of a sad little boy trying to find happiness where there was none.
When it’s all over, when they’ve drained him dry of blood, sweat, and tears, he’s tossed back into the room like an empty can. Used and fragile and crushed.
His skin itches, scratched raw, and his stomach twists with the knowledge that each time, it leaves him feeling a little less weak. Each time, afterwards, for just a moment, his body thrums with something. He knows that he doesn’t like it, whatever it is. He hates what they’ve done to him. But it’s not like he’s ever had a choice.
And he knows that it’s not killing him like it’s killing Jules.
It’s making him stronger.
It’s terrifying, to consider the way it’s changing him, so June pushes the thoughts from his mind. The first thing he notices is that Jules is gone. The sheets on his bed have been hastily removed.
June’s mind swims with thoughts, explanations, questions, but mostly just frantic repetitions of no, no, no, no. Because he can’t think straight. Because he’s scared, because, because-
Because he’s still a child. Or he should be. Should have been. But he’s only ever been an experiment, as disposable as a plastic cup and as faceless as a mannequin.
“Where’s my brother?” he screams at the wall, the one he knows hides the white coats behind their one-way glass. Sitting with their coffee cups and their notes, perched on thrones sewn of bones and skin, he imagines. Unaffected by the misery and fear, pouring out from between cracks long sealed shut, that roll off of him in waves.
“Where’s my brother?” He repeats, softer, kneeling next to the bed, tears staining Jules’ mattress and mixing with the blood that soaked the fabric long ago.
That’s when he sees it. The bracelet, lying in the partial shadow of the bed frame on the cold, white stone floor.
“Now we are connected,” Jules had whispered, eyes wide and his expression prideful as he gazed upon the matching bands of leather.
“Whatever happens, we’ll never, ever be apart.”
With trembling fingers, from rage or fear or sadness, he doesn’t know, June picks up the bracelet and ties it around his own wrist, pairing it with his own.
It is then that he decides it was rage, after all.
One day. One day I’ll use what they’ve made me to make them pay for what they’ve done.
And through his tears, his eyes glow a brilliant green.
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Pairing: June x GN!Traveller
Description: His mind soothed by your everlasting touch.
The softness of your hands could smooth diamonds to dust.
The heat in your gaze could boil precious metals; your adoration could bring Eros to his knees. With every soft caress of your palms, like warm wind over the valleys and gentle slopes of his body, touched golden by light, your light, June can only think that he has never been touched like this.
Touched, and been touched, he has, with hands that cut like steel and bit like the maw of a starved beast. Those touches have been seared into his skin; reflected between mirror and iris, he has read the words written on has body as pain and hurt. Each time he turned from his reflection with a ripple of disgust, thus he has grown to believe he always deserved those touches and stifled the ache in his stomach, snuffed out the flame of his desire for anything minutely more.
Then you arose from the ashes like a phoenix and brought with you everything he has ever, no, never, wanted. Who was he to fall to your feet, when all he had to offer you was the broken pieces of something that had never been?
All too happy to take those pieces and stitch them back together, you were, your careful hand sewing thread between the aching cracks of his skin. Such surgical precision, to him, was no stranger, yet the way in which you worked rivalled every memory of white coats and anesthetic in his mind.
“June,” you breath his name into the flesh of his hip, lips grazing over sun-kissed skin.
How you can take one syllable and overflow it with an ocean of hidden meaning, he knows not. He knows only the sweet press of your mouth in this moment, your molten breath seeping into the crevices and setting fire to his veins.
You’ll take his poison and set in aflame, he hopes. Let your heat drive out the toxins which lie dormant in his blood, flip him inside out and give to him with your touch the sweet sanctity of rebirth.
He wants to be made new by you.
You drift with the softness of a gentle wave over the expanse of his skin, find a new target in his scars. Through clenched fist he cannot hide the way he jolts under your tracing tongue, memories threatening crushed ribs with their heavy weight upon his chest.
Your fingertips say, “I’m here” and your lips speak of comfort. The heady tranquility of everything that is you makes calm his rapidly beating heart. When next met with his own reflection, he’ll look upon his scars and think nothing but this, of you, all-encompassing and whole.
His hate for himself will be forgotten. His love will seep into you and then bleed back into him, until your equilibrium is infinite, and his mind soothed by your everlasting touch.
Notes: This was just a short lil’ thing I wrote to try and get my motivation to write back so I hope y’all enjoy :) I’ll have more A6 soon.
Taglist: @amlovelies @writersgonefishing @oatssss @kimberrrrr @femmeshep @serana-spring
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Pairing: June x F!Traveller (Celeste)
Fandom: Andromeda Six (I know the fan base isn’t huge so I encourage those who haven’t played to read these and see if you’d like to try it out!)
Warnings: Angst, minor mentions of gore and death.
Words: ~ 1800
Description: When Traveller tries to save June instead.
Notes: I chose my traveller for this little fic but will totally take requests if you’d like me to use yours. Just pop into me DMs and make a request! Also, this is one of several fics for A6 that I have so let me know if you’d like to be tagged.
This is self indulgent nonsense and I am sorry. I will do better next time. Actually I probably won’t.
Tags: @amlovelies @writersgonefishing @oatssss @kimberrrrr @femmeshep @serana-spring
There’s a sort of weightlessness to death.
An instant where you rest suspended in the between. Passed from warm hands into a cold, steel grip, there’s a split second where everything stops. Life no longer holds meeting and death has yet to make known its cruel face, so you are left...
It takes a moment for Celeste to realize that this isn’t the weightlessness she’s feeling. The sensation of suspense is not one due to hovering between life and death. The strength which holds her is not of some otherworldly being.
She looks up and sees kindly grey eyes. June cradles her head with gentle, reserved strength. Tawny strands of his hair fall against his forehead as he looks down at her with an expression of fear and unbridled concern, one that is utterly unfamiliar on the usually calm gunman’s features.
His fingers press against her side and withdraw, sticky and crimson with blood.
“Celeste,” June whispers, though it’s faint with the ringing in her ears.
Her name on his lips sounds sad, agonized even. The feeling that knowledge invokes within her is foreign. Once, existing only as the youngest child in a line of royals, fated for a life in the shadows, she held the belief that no one would mourn her death. Now, the look of anguish on his face makes guilt flare in her gut; she doesn’t want to hurt him like this.
He pulls her close against his chest, draws her into his arms as easily as if she were, truly, weightless. She knows of the strength that lies hidden under the layers of his sweet, gentle exterior, buried under his warm smiles and soft, thoughtful gestures.
Her fingers’ weak grasp finds his wrist, delving into the crisscrossed scars written in his skin. In them, she finds the affirmation she seeks.
Even if it drains her of blood, life, and spirit, it was worth it. For in this, just once, he will remain untouched.
She wakes to metal tables and blinding white light.
“Hey, easy now,” comes Ryona’s soothing tone. Her pale blue skin and soft, pretty features follow as she stands from her desk before rushing to Celeste’s side.
Ryona immediately starts fluttering around, reading numbers on screens and pressing buttons as Celeste puts her hand over the bandage on her newly-sewn side with a wince.
“You’re in the med bay. Came in pretty banged up, if I do say so myself. June had to carry you back.”
The incessant ringing has cleared to the steady beeping of the surrounding machines. For the second time, it occurs to Celeste in her clarity, that man has pulled her back from the brink of death and carried her toward safety in his arms.
“I’ve never seen our cowboy quite so upset,” Ryona adds, her tone full of meaning. “He really cares about you. Remember that if he-“
Celeste shifts on the table. “If he what?”
“I had to give you eight stitches, and you lost a lot of blood. You should-”
Golden eyes, filled with conflict, meet green.
“June doesn’t handle strong emotion well. He’s afraid it makes him volatile, destructive. Dangerous.”
“Oh.” The plastic sheet crinkles as Celeste settles back against it. The non-answer makes her nervous. “Okay.”
“He’ll be fine,” Ryona comforts, squeezing her ankle softly as she sits down by her feet. “Luckily, so will you. I was worried.”
Celeste stumbles in her attempt to formulate a reply. “I- thank you.”
The words stir some strange sentiment within her, an immense wave of affection threatening to drown her in their wake. Never in her life did she imagine she would be lucky enough to be cared for so deeply by people so utterly kind.
Suddenly, a knock sounds at the door, startling both women where they sit.
“That’s probably June. He sat by your side for hours until he went to get a blanket. Said you looked cold,” then, louder, “come in!”
June almost has to duck under the door, given his immense height, and he enters carrying a stack of blankets high enough to clothe a small army.
“I didn’t know which ones-“ he begins, setting the stack of fabric on the countertop, then trails off as he registers the sight before him.
Silence ensues. Ryona’s eye flit between the two of them before she stands, says, “I’ll be outside if you need me,” and excuses herself with a warm, supportive smile over her shoulder.
“I am so, so sorry,” he breathes, air rushing forward from his lungs, coming to kneel by her side. His eyes search her face, looking for what, she doesn’t know.
“What do you have to be sorry for?”
“I should’ve protected you. I shouldn’t have let you get hurt.” He looks disgusted with himself. This, this self-loathing, is something she recognizes. “There are a lot of things I should have done,” he adds softly.
Celeste moves to sit up and hisses as the skin around her bandages stretches.
Realization dawns in June’s eyes before they shift to her side. “Can I?”
She nods, lifting the edge of her shirt to reveal the expanse of fabric that hides her wound. Looking briefly into her eyes for confirmation, June lets his fingers brush against her skin, tracing the edges of the bandage and sending a tingling feeling up Celeste’s spine. At every point where their skin meets, warmth trickles outwards from his fingertips, seeping through her skin and settling in her veins. She can feel his breath, the unmistakable warmth of it, against her bare skin.
“You’ll have a scar,” June murmurs.
“So? You already have so many.”
He frowns. “I don’t want you to be like me, Celeste. I don’t want to make you like me. How could you- that’s the last thing I want.”
“You told me to run and I chose not to. You didn’t make me do anything. I’m responsible for my own actions. Did you really think I would leave and risk you getting hurt?”
That seems to throw him for a loop. His jaw drops slightly, eyes wide. “You- you wanted to protect me?”
She traces a featherlight touch along his cheek with a shaking hand. June’s eyelashes flutter, briefly, at her touch. “Of course.”
“You’re delusional,” June says, though it lacks any bite. He simply sounds lost, a little confused. “I’ve survived much worse than a back-alley gunfight. I can handle a few more scars.”
“But you shouldn’t- you shouldn’t have to.”
She swallows, jaw working as she looks toward the ceiling, yet she can see how he shakes his head, features pulled between frustration and overwhelming torment. “You shouldn’t have to put yourself in danger for me. I’m not worth that.”
“But you are-“
“I am not.” And the finality of his words draws her gaze towards his once more. She sees something there that she’s only seen once before, the day she stood outside his cabin and he shut the door in her face .
Anger. Fire, bright flames quickly smothered with a brush of his large palm over his face.
He breathes deep, chest rising with the motion under his vest. His grey eyes look more like steel than rainclouds as he speaks. “If you can’t follow orders, I won’t be able to take you on supply runs any longer.”
“June, please. You don’t mean that.”
She doesn’t know what she’s asking for. Acceptance? His friendship? His love? Would she dare?
Could he even give her such a thing?
“I’ll see you in the morning, Celeste.” June stands again, sleeves shifting further up his forearms to show his scars. “Get some sleep.”
He doesn’t once look back once as the door closes behind him.
The metal table beneath her feels so much colder without him there. How cruel he is, to let her taste what it’s like to have him by her side, then rip it away. Left with nothing but the hum of machinery and her thoughts, she begins to wonder if she’s broken, or he is.
Or maybe they’re both broken, she thinks. Maybe they both have jagged edges, and no matter how hard she tries to fit them together, there will always be a little space in between.
It’s an uncomfortable thought, one that lulls her to sleep under fluorescent lights and the weight of her own fractured heart.
Outside, June slumps against the wall, running his hand through his hair with a sigh.
How his heart ached when he turned her affection aside, how he wanted nothing more than to relish in the feeling of her caring for him, for him, to bask in it and soak in it and let it fill all of his cracks and crevices and make him whole.
And how he knew, just as deeply and with equal certitude, that that was the last thing he could ever let himself do.
He is no stranger to pain. But the hurt he feels now is different, gnawing at a part of himself he didn’t know existed. Not since he closed it off, so long ago. Not since-
No. Not going there. No amount of time will strength long enough for him to open those doors again.
Just look at what you’ve done to her already. All you’ll ever do is hurt her.
June presses his fists into the wall by his sides, hands trembling with the effort not to leave dents in the metal. It’s so easy for him to break and ruin, so difficult to build. And that is why he cannot have her. He won’t let her become another beautiful thing shattered by the strength in his hands.
How difficult she makes it, when she looks at him as if he’s fragile, when her lips form words like care and protect and things he never thought a monster like him could ever hope to receive. He wants to lay himself down at her feet and thank the gods for giving him something so sweet.
But he is dangerous and he is deadly and he has no idea how to love someone the way she deserves.
“You could stand to let someone in, every once in a while.”
Ryona crosses her arms as she leans against the wall beside him, one eyebrow raised.
“I won’t kill you to let yourself feel, June.”
“It’s not myself I’m worried about killing.”
June tries not to flinch as she lays a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not the monster you think you are,” she says.
A part of him wants to scream, to say that she doesn’t understand, that’s she’s wrong, but that part is smothered by the warmth that bubbles in his chest at her words.
He lets his head hit the wall and closes his eyes. “I don’t know if you’re right.”
“Am I ever wrong?” Ryona grins, eyes twinkling.
He has to admit, she does have a point.
“I hope you’re able to work this out,” she says, pushing herself off the wall. She walks back into the med bay and June keeps his eyes scrunched closed until he hears the door slam shut.
More than anything, he hopes for that too.
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Would anyone be interested in some... Andromeda six fanfiction? 🥺👉👈 I have some old ones I wrote that I was thinking of posting
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Andromedatober Day 4- June
June was uncharacteristically quiet. The rest of the crew was celebrating a successful mission, but June was quiet. You sat at the bar nursing your drink studying the gunman.
“If you think any louder, the whole bar will hear your thoughts.” Damon says as he saddles up next to you. “What has your brow furrowed?”
Snapping out of your daze you look at the assassin. Ever since two of you reconciled after Cursa, you counted him as one of your closest friends. “When you’re with Alisa, you seem so comfortable, you two have your own language and clues….” You sigh and take a sip of your drink. “I wish I had that with…” instead of finishing your sentence you finish your drink.
“You know, I’m pretty sure he feels the same way.” Damon pats you on the shoulder and walks off to go gamble with Bash. Damon wouldn’t lie to you, not after everything it took to get the two of you to this place in your relationship.
You gnaw on your bottom lip and try to get up the courage to go talk to June. He hasn’t been the June you know since Orion, and that scares you. What if the June you knew is gone forever? The idea of losing your first friend on the crew and the man you’ve come to care for deeply, terrifies you.
You decide you need some more liquid courage before talking to June, but you decided you would talk to June tonight.
Several drinks later you make your way over to a still sullen June.
“Hey handsome.” You smile at him.
June looks up and blinks a few times at you. “Your majesty! I didn’t see you there!”
“I just walked over so no harm done.” You smile.
June forces a smile then looks back at his drink.
You take a seat next to him. “So, uhm, is something wrong June?”
“No. Yes.” June groans. June takes a deep breath and continues to stare at his drink. After a while he speaks “Do you want to take a walk? I need some fresh air.” June gets up and leads you out of the crowded bar.
The two of you walk in silence until June stops in front of a small garden. He looks up at the stars and takes a deep breath. “I really don’t know how to say this.” He stays quiet for a few moments before meeting your eyes. “I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified.”
He chokes back a sob. “I’m in love with you and I’m terrified of the danger that would put you in.”
“I’m in danger regardless, June. I am a princess on a mercenary ship. Being hunted by a usurper and his gang of professional killers.” You grin, trying to lighten the mood.
“No. That’s not…” June runs his fingers through his hair. “You’re in danger from me. You saw what I am, you saw what I did on Orion.” He gulps down air to try to maintain his composure.
“Juniper Nyux.” You walk over so you’re directly in front of him. You make him look you in the eye, “Juniper Nyux, I love you too. I love everything about you. Nothing will change that.”
June looks at you and tilts your chin up and kisses you gently.
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Andromedatober Day 2
“Okay, I have to ask: What is the story behind the pig?” You nod toward the stuffed pig in the corner of the mess hall.
“Who? What? Lola?” Aya asks.
“The pig is named Lola?” You raise an eyebrow.
Bash and Aya nod.
“Oh that’s one of my favorite memories.” Bash grins, “let’s start from the beginning. It all began about two and half years ago, we were at this farm on the outskirts of Teranium.”
~ October 2, 3023~
“What the actual fuck is that thing?!” Damon’s face is contorted into a look of disgust.
“It’s a pig.” Calderon answers. “It’s a common farm animal in the Milky Way Galaxy. Humans there use it for various cuts of meat.”
“It’s teeth are fucking gross. They look human.” Damon stares at it incredulously.
“They’re omnivores like us.” June pipes up. “They’re actually very similar to humans. Humans can have specially engineered pig skin grafted onto them and it will grow with the human skin. It was a real breakthrough for burn victims.”
“That is disgusting.” Damon’s face is one that could only be described as appalled. “Keep that creature away from me.” he says as he backs away and slinks off.
June looks at Calderon. “He really doesn’t like pigs, does he?”
Ryona smirks, “it actually kind of looked like he was afraid of it. Did you see how he wouldn’t turn his back to it?”
Bash, June and Aya shoot each other a look. “You know what we have to do right?”
The three of them huddle together and whisper to each other.
“Whatever you do, please don’t bring a live pig on board. We have nothing to feed it.” Calderon leaves to barter with the farmer for supplies.
Ryona smiles at the mechanic, gunman and pilot. “I can’t wait to see what you three come up with.” she says as she leaves to go to the ship to tend to her plants.
“The captain said no live pigs, he didn’t say anything about a stuffed one.” June smirks.
“It can’t be cute, it has to have the teeth. The teeth are what freak him out the most.” Bash thinks out loud, “You know, I bet Oppo could get us a taxidermied one.”
“EW! We have to ask them.”
~ Present Day~
“So I’m assuming Oppo….” you look at the pilot and mechanic.
“Oh yeah, they knew who to contact about a taxidermied pig.” Bash says as he stretches.
“I really don’t know if I believe this story. I mean Damon afraid of pigs? That’s a really bizzare thing to be afraid of.” However the more you think about it the more you believe it. The story is too insane to be made up.
“Pigs are disgusting, vicious, heartless creatures.” Damon frowns at the taxidermied pig. “Back in the early 2000s a farmer was attacked and killed by his pigs .His dentures and pieces of his body were found by a family member in the pig enclosure, but the rest of his remains had been consumed.”
You stare at him, completely shocked by this piece of information.
“Fuck Pigs!” Damon says as he glares at Lola. “Since we’re going down memory lane, did Bash tell you about the time he and Oppo almost….” Damon is cut off by bash slamming his flesh hand over Damon’s mouth.
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The Little Things - Damon x Alondra
Summary: Damon Reznor wasn't a fan of celebrating his birthday but lucky for him, Princess Alondra Peg'asi was very good at convincing him otherwise.
Originally written for Damon's birthday - July 17, 2020
Author’s Notes: Welcome to my first foray into the A6 verse! This was originally written with the intent of being posted for Damon's birthday, but it took a little longer than planned to finish.
Thank you for reading and hope you all enjoy! All characters except Alondra are property of Wanderlust Games.
Tag List: @hellomynameisdevi @brightpinkpeppercorn @leondaltons @toglidethroughlife @the-strangerthings @spookoofins @venuscrescent @mygeekycorner @ayameikeda
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Alondra bit her lip while waiting for the other line to pick up, her anxiety spiking as she ran a hand through her long, straight, jet black hair. This might have been the most nerve-wracking call she'd ever made, especially considering who she was calling. She could feel her pulse racing and her palms sweating as the line rang once, twice, three times until a click came through on the other side, the sound of people chattering in the background becoming more faint until the noise disappeared following the familiar closing of a door.
"Hey, Damon! Please don’t tell me you’re calling because you did something to fuck up what you have with the Princess.” It was definitely Alisa who picked up the communicator and just the person she needed to talk to.
"Oh, ummm... Hey Alisa, it's Alondra, not Damon," she tumbled out, trying to shake the nerves from her voice.
"Oh. OH. Hi Princess, what can I do for you? Wait, don’t tell me. Did he do anything I need to kick his ass for? Or for that matter, that I need to kick your ass for? But if you’re calling for advice about that jerk, don't forget that I told you so."
Read the rest over on AO3: The Little Things
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Perseus - The beginning of the end
Another Andromeda Six drabble featuring one of my travellers, Perseus Peg’asi, the day everything changed.
Disclaimer: The A6 crew, Vexx, Nerissa and the rest of the Peg’asi royal family all belong to @andromeda-six and Perseus is an original character created by me.
Warning: angst, guns, violence, gunshot wounds (not graphic), mentions of death.
With a frown, Perseus looks in the mirror and adjusts his ceremony attire, smoothing down any visible wrinkles in the dark blue fabric. His scarred face stares back at him in silent reproach, and he does his best to ignore it as he steps away.
Sorenn is getting married today. It is supposed to be a day full of happiness and cheer, bright smiles and nice food. Perseus is expected to be there for a change, but he’s decided he has other plans.
Vexx has been gone for a while, and nobody’s bothered to give Perseus a plausible reason for his disappearance. Perhaps he’s been transferred, they said. Maybe he got fired, others commented. But none of that feels right; he’s the closest thing Perseus has to a friend, and he refuses to believe Vexx would just leave without a word. He’s determined to find him, and this is probably the only chance he’s going to get in god knows how long.
As he determinedly makes his way towards one of the many passages that lead out of the palace, he checks that the hallways are empty before venturing further. So far he’s been lucky, but as far as luck is concerned, he knows it isn’t bound to last long.
“Perseus?” Nerissa’s voice snaps him out of his calculations as he’s getting ready to cross the corridor towards the big portrait of one of their ancestors.
He calmly stops in his tracks, his jaw tightening.
“Sister,” he turns to her, offering a small nod.
“What are you doing over here? The ceremony is about to start,” she asks, then glances over at the portrait painting. “Oh.”
He follows her glance, then looks back at her to hold her gaze.
“I have to find him.” He straightens up, squaring his shoulders. “He can’t have just vanished. He has to be somewhere.”
Nerissa’s frown softens into a sad smile that almost makes Perseus recoil in anger.
It’s full of pity.
“Does it have to be today?” she simply asks, making no attempt at stopping him. “Sorenn is excited to have you there. You’re his little brother.”
“Funny how I’m his little brother today, and not for the past twenty-three years of my life.” He gives a bitter laugh, the repressed anger slowly bubbling up inside him. “Where was he the day our dearest father almost cut my bloody face in half? Where were Auberon and Ecko, Noa, or Elettra? Apart from you, where was everybody?” his voice keeps rising with each question, echoing off the walls.
Nerissa doesn’t flinch, though. She’s practically raised Perseus, since their parents seemed to often forget he even existed, as did most of their siblings. She knows him too well to be scared in the face of one of his outbursts, and it’s also because of it that she knows it’s pointless to try to convince him to stay.
“Save it. Don’t try to excuse them. Don’t excuse him,” he snarls through clenched teeth. It’s pretty obvious who he’s referring to.
With a tentative hand, Nerissa reaches into her pocket and produces a small, shiny silver ball that she places on Perseus’ hand before he has a chance to withdraw it. He eyes it with a frown.
“Why are you giving me the music box?”
“I know it was my gift for your eighteenth birthday, but if you’re doing to leave, I want you to have it. I want you to remember this, remember me, in case something happens.”
Perseus’ frown deepens.
“Why would anything happen? I’m just going to find Vexx, and then I’ll return.”
Nerissa smiles and shakes her head, closing his hand around the kitalphanite music box.
“Just keep it, will you?” she insists. “Please.”
There’s something in her eyes he cannot quite place, something that hadn’t been there before. A shadow, a sort of dread and sadness that make his skin crawl. Unwilling to give it any more thought, he slips the music box into his pocket and gives his sister a firm nod.
“I’ll… see you soon.” His voice almost breaks. Almost. “Don’t tell anyone about this.”
She just nods in reply and places her hand on his cheek, gently swiping her thumb across it. The touch is gone in an instant, though, as Perseus quickly steps away and covers his head with a hood. He disappears into the shadows of the passage behind the portrait without a last glance or word, his scar throbbing with pain.
He’s about to reach the bridge that separates the Gold and Silver Districts when it happens.
The ground shakes and rumbles beneath his feet, the sudden echo of an explosion resounding through the city. When Perseus whips around to locate the source of the noise, his breath dies in his throat.
Half of the palace has been blown up and the other half is almost completely engulfed in flames; the windows shattered, the walls collapsed, the trees in the gardens uprooted.
A string of ear-splitting screams reaches Perseus’ ears as the people around him realise what just happened. Some run past screaming, dragging little children behind them, while others stand and stare in horror at the enormous chaos unfurling before their very eyes.
The sound of gunshots is what snaps Perseus out of his shocked trance. Masked strangers in all-black uniforms are opening fire against all the Orsanna Guard officers they come across, as well as any civilians nearby. Bodies fall limp to the ground and Perseus doesn’t think twice before making a run for it—he can’t go back to the palace, so he rushes to the bridge, dodging a few bullets as he goes.
Grenades fly into the buildings and houses, many of them blowing up at the same time. Perseus’ ears are ringing heavily as he tries to find some cover to avoid getting crushed by the debris. He jumps over a fallen tree trunk and sprints towards the bridge, breath coming out in short gasps, until something makes him stop.
In the midst of all the chaos, a child is crying helplessly, clutching her mother’s dead body. She can’t be older than four or five.
“Mum! Mummy, wake up!” she calls, gently shaking her mother.
Those who are still alive or not badly injured are heading for the bridge, paying no mind to the poor child. Perseus’ heart seizes in his chest as he spots one of the masked attackers pointing their gun at the little girl from the other side of the street, and before he knows it he’s grabbing a brick and tossing it at their head. It smacks them right in the face and they fall backwards, their gun slipping from their hands.
Perseus wastes no time. He crosses the street, scoops the little girl up into his arms and takes the attacker’s gun.
“No! No! Mummy!” she screams, tears sliding down her face as they leave the body behind. “Let me go!”
“We have to go!” Perseus replies, running as fast as his legs can manage.
He doesn’t recognise his own voice. He hasn’t sounded so terrified before.
The bridge eventually comes into view. By the time they reach it, the little girl is clinging to his neck like a lifeline, but Perseus manages to set her down on the ground.
“You have to run now, as fast as you can, and don’t look back,” he tells her, breathless. “No matter what, don’t look back, understood? Go somewhere safe, and—agh!”
A searing pain cuts through his left calf, the sound of a gunshot echoing around them. Some stray bullet must have finally hit him. Groaning, he’s forced onto his hands and knees as little spots of light dance in the corners of his eyes.
“Go now!” he screams, reaching out and pushing the little girl into the crowd. “GO!”
Sobbing, the little girl hesitates for a moment, but later does as told and takes off, disappearing into the mass of people crossing the bridge. Perseus focuses on breathing deeply through clenched teeth, gripping the gun tightly in his left hand. If only he could lean on something to get back on his feet…
His vision is starting to become blurry as he drags himself towards the bridge, the concrete burning hot under his fingertips and the smell of dust and gunpowder flooding his senses.
His whole family is dead. Nerissa, his brothers and sisters, the King and Queens. All the officers in Orsanna’s Guard. Vexx, too, probably, if he was still in Silta Vie.
He has nothing left. Literally everything and everyone he thought he had is gone, and he’s lying face down in the concrete with a (probably nasty) bullet wound in his leg.
He’d laugh at the irony of it if he had the strength to do so.
He cries instead. The pain, the loss, the loneliness suddenly weighing down on him are unbearable.
He can’t move; the pain running up his leg is too much. It’s starting to become limp, so he refuses to take a look at it because he knows it’s not looking good.
He remembers the sorrow in Nerissa’s eyes just a few moments prior, the warmth of her hand against his cheek when she stroked it. The fact that that’s the last memory he’ll ever have of his sister is enough to make him scream in agony.
There’s another explosion, a much bigger one, and a lot closer to him. Perseus’ ears start ringing again as pieces of concrete and rubble fly in every direction, barely missing him. The shock wave that comes after is huge, so much that he has to cover his head with his arms to prevent any further damage as his body is rolled backwards against the ruins of a nearby building.
Still unable to hear a thing, Perseus forces his eyes open to see what’s going on.
The bridge has collapsed. The explosion must have been what destroyed it.
Smoke and dust fill his lungs as Perseus tries to draw a breath, causing him to cough and retch. Black spots start to dance in his vision as he leans back against the concrete, his body going limp.
Who would do this?
It’s suddenly really hard to keep his eyes open.
Who would think they have the right to decide who lives and dies?
Darkness envelops him. He feels like he’s a sinking ship in the middle of the sea. He wants to speak, scream, yell. But nothing comes out.
Is this how I’m going to die?
I don’t want to die.
“Here! There’s someone here!” a voice calls, far away. “He’s alive!”
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The Princess and the Guard - Daydreams
I wrote a scene from Vexx’s point of view for the first time :)
The princess’s eyes travelled over their surroundings slowly, wide with wonder, her mouth slightly agape. Up until this moment the truth of her having been confined to the palace for all her life had not truly set in, but now it did. This girl had seen nothing of the world. And thus the tall, decorative buildings and the bustling street of the gold district were enough to completely dazzle her.
“Aurora,” Vexx nudged her lightly in the side, then pulled on her arm a bit so she wouldn’t walk into someone. “Get a grip.”
Her eyes snatched back to him, and he allowed himself a small, genuine smile. “Right, sorry. It’s just all so beautiful,” she whispered.
Looking around he had to admit that she was right. The gold district was extremely posh, but it had a certain flair. If it were not for the contrast to so many other places in the system and for the people, he might have liked it. When he turned back to Aurora her attention had already shifted away from him again, this time to a street musician who was playing a lively tune on an accordion. Most people did pay him no mind, striding past as if he wasn’t there at all, some tossed coins into his cap, but those were few and far between.
“Wow,” his princess whispered. “How isn’t anybody stopping to listen?”
“Most people are too busy. It’s just how it is,” he shrugged. It wasn’t like he would’ve stopped, had it not been for her. Also, for Goldis standards, this was basically begging, even when it came with nice music.
For a moment she seemed too transfixed to answer. “A shame,” she finally declared, and twirled, her skirt billowing, “when it would be perfect to dance to.”
“Well,” he took her hand, lifting it up over her head, making her spin once more, “go ahead, pretty. No one’s stopping you.”
She laughed, her cheeks colouring lightly. “No, I can’t. There are too many people here.”
“What, you scared?” he teased.
“Never,” she lied, jutting her chin towards him, making him chuckle.
“I dare you, then.”
For a moment she just stared at him, clearly debating with herself. But then she kicked off her sandals, sunk into an elegant curtsy, her eyes never leaving his, before raising her arms. He had seen her dance often, having had to stand silently by the door for a great many of her dance classes, but it had always seemed just a little bit stiff, the tiniest bit uncomfortable. No wonder when her teacher kept snapping at her to point her toes and do better. But right now she moved effortlessly, lively and free and beautiful. In a way that made you think that she loved what she was doing. When she finally stopped moving her face was flushed and her breath accelerated.
Reaching out she locked eyes with him. “Now you.”
He laughed. “You must be out of your mind if you’re thinking I’m going to dance.”
“Oh, come on, I dare you,” she crossed over to him, pulling on his hand.
“That doesn’t work on me, petal. Some of us aren’t as easily manipulated.” But as Aurora gave him puppy dog eyes and the musician shifted his song into a waltz, he knew he had lost. He rolled his eyes and pulled her close. He was a bit worried that he might step on her bare feet as he tried to remember the correct steps. It went rather smoothly, with a lot of out of tact spinning and improvisation, until he messed up at one point and Aurora stumbled over his feet, just catching herself on him and almost bringing him – or at least his pants – down with her.
“Let’s stop this, I was clearly not made to dance,” he pulled her back to her feet, trying to gloss over the fact that he was blushing with a laugh. “And I’d have a hard time explaining later on if I brought you home damaged.”
“Damaged? I’m not a car you wreck,” she nudged his shoulder.
“No, you’re far more expensive, I’d reckon.”
“And you’re an idiot.” She turned away from him then, tugging a silver hairpin out of her hair. She dropped it into the cap of the musician, who let the song trail out, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. Aurora smiled shyly. “I do not have any coins on me right now, but this is worth a few, I’m sure,” she said apologetically and Vexx almost marched over there to snatch the hairpin back out of the cap. But it wasn’t remarkable enough to pe traced back to the palace, so he just stood by as she exchanged a few more words with the musician before they moved on down the road.
“He wasn’t from the gold district, right?” Aurora asked after a while of thoughtful silence.
The hesitant question made him think of how the silver she was wearing in her hair alone could tide over a whole family for a month or more. “No. What, did your fine nose catch the foul odour of poverty?”
The glare she cast his way was impressive. “What the fuck, Vexx?”
“What? Rich people do mind that. If the poor are not dancing for their entertainment they are supposed to go and suffer somewhere no one important has to witness it.”
Sometimes things like that just slipped out, even when it would probably be better to not hint at his true, rather critical worldview in front of a member of the fucking royal family. Then again he sometimes thought that he’d have to try pretty damn hard at this point to make Aurora stop liking him. She was like a puppy, so naïve and trusting it should be illegal.
Aurora got quiet for a few steps and he was sure that she was cross with him until she spoke up again. “Do you think you could take me to the other sectors sometimes?”
He snorted. “Aw hell no.”
“The commute is fucking long,” he started counting off on his fingers, “and we can only be gone for so long before someone would notice. They are not exactly worthwhile sights. Especially compared to this sector. Crime rates over there are higher, too, so definitely not a place for you, petal. All in all it would just be way too much trouble. So no.”
“I don’t want to be just another rich person who decides to ignore what’s going on in the rest of the system…”
Vexx sighed. It worked just fine for you before, though, didn’t it? he thought. “And what good would it do? Even Nerissa can’t sway your father…” he should leave it at that, but for some reason he added another lie to his long list: “Maybe you’ll get the chance to change things and do good once she’s in charge.”
His princess looked crestfallen. “Who knows when that’ll be…” she muttered.
“Hey,” he nudged her side. “It’s not your responsibility to change the world, you know?”
Aurora gave him a doubtful look. “What is my responsibility then? To stay quietly in my room and do nothing with my life at all?”
She sounded unusually bitter and resigned and he felt a little bit bad. “You know what?” he heard himself ask. “One day, we’ll run away, and I’ll show you the world. Everything you want to see.”
Her face lit up and his heart skipped a beat. “Really?”
Vexx laughed and allowed himself to fall into this daydream for a moment. “Sure. I mean, there are a ton of planets I always wanted to see. And what would be the point in going there alone? The best memories need someone to share them with, after all.”
For a moment Aurora seemed just locked in her own thoughts, then she held out her hands in front of herself, framing an invisible picture. “It would be awesome,” she said. “We would go and see the ocean.”
“More than one ocean, darling, all of them. And you’d get to see a ton of sunsets on a ton of different beaches.” He imagined the evening sun playing over her face and her golden curls. Aurora was made for sunshine and laughter and happiness. Unlike him…
“And wild forests and, oh, ruins of civilisations long gone,” she got more giddy by the second.
“Oh, definitely! Old castles and churches, overgrown by wildlife and haunted by ghosts,” he gripped her on the last bit without warning and she shrieked before laughing.
“You ass,” she gave him a light punch against the shoulder that did not hurt at all.
“Well, I’d be damned if I did not tell you all the ghost stories about whatever ruins we would explore. They are the best part. And imagining what those places might have looked like back in the day, of course.” Vexx loved abandoned places. There was just something about the eerie way nature reclaimed them. Something about the thought that those who had built them had probably thought they’d last forever.
“Alright, I’m sure I could handle a few scary stories as long as you’ll be with me,” she granted, her fingertips brushing against the back of his hand.
“A very courageous decision.”
“Stop teasing,” she tried to pinch him, but he sidestepped out of her reach. “I know I scare easily, but I can get better at that. I will.”
“No, really, I will. And then we’ll explore the system together,” she smiled at him, and in that moment, he wished she would get the chance to, even when he knew better.
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Fandom: Andromeda Six (Visual Novel)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Vexx Serif/Traveler
Characters: Vexx Serif, Damon Reznor, Traveler (Andromeda Six), Original Non-Binary Character, King Fenris (Andromeda Six)
Additional Tags: First Meetings, Bodyguard, Royalty, royal child, Rebellion
Series: Part 4 of Andromeda 6
Having Vexx on the ship with Damon, Ryvera is reminded how they and the other two were actually very much alike and why they get along so well. It then also reminded them of when they first met Vexx.
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A bit more of angst and comfort with the least likely person to comfort anyone, Damon.
It was weird how well Aurora kept it together. After finding out that her best friend had betrayed her and that her whole family had been murdered. Maybe it was because she was in a state of shock. Was that a stage of grief? Shock? Denial was one. Anger, too. She couldn’t remember the rest. Not that it mattered. For now she was functioning. And trying not to think about it all too much.
She put down her dirty laundry, throwing it into the basket with that of the rest of the crew. Well, ‘her’ clothes were mostly Aya’s, a few pieces of Ryona’s and a few shorts and shirts that she wore at night that, she was fairly sure, belonged originally to the guys. Aya had told her she could just take whatever, so she had not bothered asking any further. She turned to walk back to her room and fall into bed, even though she wasn’t particularly keen to get back to the nightmares that had plagued her since her memory had returned. And then her gaze caught on something. A sweatshirt folded neatly in the clean laundry basket. Her sweatshirt. The one she had worn for her escape. Back when she had ditched her intricate dress for simple clothing and had made a run for it, thinking she was escaping a life of royalty and rules, not a bloody coup that would leave her alone in this world and the galaxy under the rule of a different tyrant. Without thinking she crossed the room and pressed the shirt to her face, inhaling. What had she really hoped for? That it would smell like home? Like Nerissa? Like Vexx? It couldn’t have. She had gotten it for her escape, never worn it before that day. Still, the scent of laundry detergent and the absence of anything else brought tears to her eyes. She wanted something that was hers, something that smelled like hers, like home. And even more than that she wanted to be home, to curl up in her bed and to have Vexx knock on the door and ask her if she was alright.
No! Not Vexx! She couldn’t, shouldn’t wish for him anymore. That she still did only made her cry harder. How could she not have noticed? How had he been able to look at her as if he cared? To dream up the ocean for her and all the other fantastic places he said he’d take her to, when he had known that she would never live to see them? And, knowing all she knew, how was she still missing him? How could she think of him first when longing for home and not of Nerissa?
There was a soft woosh as the door slid open and she froze like a deer in headlights, the sweater clutched to her chest.
“Oh really? Bawling in the laundry room? How very damsel in distress of you.” Damon sauntered past her, giving her a dismissive glance.
Aurora stared at his back as he tossed his clothes into the dirty laundry bin and started collecting what was his from the clean pile.
“Why are you such an asshole?” her voice was weak and squeaky, and she hated it.
“What?” he raised one eyebrow, turning towards her.
“I mean, what have I ever done to you? Why are you so mean all the time?”
He sighed, as if she was just a dumb kid. “I thought we’ve been over this. It’s just the way I am. And you’ve never done anything to me, but you haven’t done anything for me either, so why would I care, princess? Get off your high horse, you’re not that special,” at the last words he flicked a finger against her nose in a gesture that could have been playful had it come from anybody else. Princess. Had his attitude alone not been enough, it was that word that set her off. Because whenever someone called her that it reminded her of the way Vexx had said it, blurring the lines of title and pet name, even though from Damon’s lips it was clearly an insult.
“Stop it!” she snapped, swatting Damon’s hand away. “It’s not just who you are, it’s who you choose to be! It’s not like you just can’t help it!” she was getting in his face as her voice got more heated, and the only reaction she got from him was that his cold eyes widened slightly. “But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry!” Aurora underlined the word by hitting his chest. “I’m sorry that June brought me abord! I’m sorry that I did not just die along with the rest of my family like I was supposed to! I’m sorry they did not allow you to sell me out! I’m sorry that I’m useless! I’m sorry I’m such a fucking inconvenience to you!” With every sentence she hit his chest again and again, tears still running down her face. “And I fucking hate you!” the last words came out with a pathetic sob and an even weaker punch.
“Alright, that’s quite enough, isn’t it?” Damon said with raised eyebrows, and then, before she could hit him again, he pulled her into his arms, trapping her against his body.
For a moment she went rigid, straining against his hold, and then she just gave in, leaning her head against his shoulder and sobbing into his shirt. Damon didn’t say anything, he didn’t even move, he just stood there, stoically, holding her a little too tight, until her sobs turned to sniffles.
“Better?” he asked.
Aurora gave the slightest nod.
“You’re not going to hit me again?”
When she shook her head he let her go, ruffling her hair before turning back to collecting his laundry as if nothing had happened at all.
For a few heartbeats she kept watching him. She was very aware that she wouldn’t have landed a single hit if he had not decided to let her, and she wondered if he really cared as little as he tried to make others believe. Whatever the answer to that puzzle was, he was an ass. But for some reason, she did not hate him, not entirely.
As she turned to leave, his voice did sound once again. “Just one thing, stowaway. Is that my underwear you’re wearing?”
Aurora glanced back at him, then down at her stolen shirt and boxershorts. “That’s my underwear now,” she proclaimed, and added, just for good measure, “asshole.”
“Watch your tone, you little thief. I’m still second in command, you know?”
“Must’ve slipped my mind. Anyway, fuck you, sir.”
He actually grinned at that. “Fuck you, too. Now run along.”
She turned away with a weak smile, her sweatshirt still tightly clasped.
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The Princess and the Guard - Sneaking out
There was a soft knock on the door. Aurora angled her head. She had been waiting, hoping, all day. “Yes?”
Vexx stuck his head in her room, and immediately raised his eyebrows. “What are you doing on the floor?”
“Good evening to you, too, my saviour in a world of boredom, my sunshine on a dark day,” she stretched out one arm towards him in a dramatic gesture. She was, as he had stated, lying sprawled across the floor, her head towards the door, so she saw him in an upside-down perspective.
“Gee, get a hold of yourself,” Vexx closed the door behind him and strolled across her room, stepping over her, and helping himself to a glass of water from the pitcher that was set on a side-table. “Were you throwing a tantrum because everyone’s out at the party and you had to stay behind?”
“I’m was not throwing a tantrum. I might be sulking a bit, though.”
“Tzz, if this is ‘sulking a bit’ then I guess I never want to witness a royal tantrum” for a moment he looked disapproving, but that passed quickly, replaced by a little smirk. “Bannon was dozing when I turned the corner, you could’ve easily snuck out. Right through the front door. If you ask me he’s more of a decoration than a guard, and not even a pretty one.”
“Thankfully my second guard is dashing and highly qualified.”
Vexx grinned. “Are you hitting on me, princess?”
“Yes, is it working?” she grinned back, but her blush kind of stabbed her attempt at nonchalance in the back.
“Always,” his smile was dazzling, but then he turned away.
She sat up, considering his broad back as he looked out on the lush gardens that stretched before her windows. “About sneaking out… would you like to?”
He glanced at her over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. “To sneak out?”
Aurora buried her fingers in the carpet, pulling at the soft threats. “Yes. I mean, there is no one around to notice, right? We could explore the park? It’s huge.”
“What do you want us to do, princess? Climb off the balcony?”
“We… wouldn’t have to do that? I know a more discreet way? I could show you.”
Something in his posture shifted, and there suddenly was a new light in his eyes. “Really?”
A smile spread over her face, proud to have caught his attention. “Yes. But you can tell no one that I know that way. Or better, not tell anybody about it at all.”
“You’ve been doing this before, haven’t you?”
“Proposing sneaking out to my guard? No, never,” she gave him an angelic expression and he laughed.
“Who would have thought, princess? You’re not as well behaved as you let on.”
Aurora got up. “Well, I never went far. I wouldn’t even call it misbehaving. Come on,” she went up to one of the walls and ran her fingers over the intricate stucco. Then she pulled at the wall-panel and it swung outward into the room, revealing a narrow corridor inside the wall. “Tadaa.”
“Tadaa indeed,” Vexx climbed in after her and stepped back, to let her pull the panel shut behind them. As she did, they were sealed in darkness and stale air. “Don’t we need some light?” For some reason he had lowered his voice to a whisper.
“No, I know this place very well, just trust me.” She turned to lead the way and startled slightly when she felt his fingers brush against her arm, running down over her wrist before he tangled his fingers with hers.
“If I stumble and fall I’m taking you with me,” he said, and she could hear his grin.
“Have a little faith, you dumbass,” it was much easier to be sassy in the dark. Still, she tightened her grip on his hand and pulled him with her, whispering out when there were steps or turns.
“Just how many rooms are connected to this?” he asked after a while, his voice still hushed.
“I wouldn’t know for sure. Probably a lot. There are a ton of secret passageways in the palace. Well, there are a good few for servants, but there are also the ones like this that are not used by anyone.”
“Except for our little explorer princess, I assume?”
“I’m pretty sure I haven’t found half of the ones there are,” she admitted, but she couldn’t help a little proud smile.
“You have to show me sometimes,” he murmured, crowding close to her as she stopped in front of a door, her fingers searching for the latch to open it.
“Do I now?”
“Mhmm, because I like hidden places and sneaking around,” his breath tickled her neck as he bowed his head down towards her. For a moment she was oh so tempted to press her back against his body, to reach back and lace her fingers through his scarlet hair and pull his head down to her, to feel his lips on her skin. She bit her own lip hard, trying to banish these thoughts.
“But a girl’s gotta keep her secrets,” she whispered back, finally opening the door and letting go of his hand as she danced out of his reach into the warm evening.
Vexx chuckled as he followed her out. “Just imagine all the adventures we could have.”
“Maybe I will,” she twirled, letting her dress billow around her, “but for now, let’s focus on our adventure at hand.” With that she turned and dashed over the lawn towards the woods.
The trees were far spaced, cultivated things. With the setting sun that dipped the woods in golden light Aurora felt a bit like in a fairytale. She took a glance over her shoulder at Vexx. Who would he be in a fairytale? Her prince? A clever guy who outsmarts everyone and thus gains the favour of nobility? Or maybe the wolf, out to take whatever he wants? That predatory smile of his would sure be fitting for that role.
He showed her a nicer version of a smile, cocking his head. “What are you dreaming about, princess?”
“Fairytales,” she admitted, and he chuckled.
“Really? You already live in one, what is there left to dream about?”
She wondered if he was just teasing her, because she thought she heard a light edge to his words.
“Being locked away in a palace isn’t exactly the part that excites me in tales,” she tried to read his face, but he wasn’t making it easy for her.
“What part do you want? Being poisoned by an evil stepmom? Lost in the woods? Eaten by a wolf or captured by a dragon?” he narrowed his eyes a little. “Or were you hoping for a prince to come and safe you from your dire fate?”
“I know my fate isn’t dire. And I wasn’t hoping for a prince…” she bit her lip to supress a pout. Because she knew she was privileged, but she had also not chosen this life and she felt like he was judging her for not being happy with it.
“Well, if you’re not insisting on a prince specifically, we can arrange for some fairytale moments for you. Like the kissing while you sleep and can’t give your consent bit, I could totally do that if you wish it,” his grin was suggestive, and she could feel heat rise into her cheeks, even though he was clearly joking.
“Knock it off, you jackass,” she slapped his arm, trying to downplay her embarrassment. Because him kissing her had been a recurring daydream of hers.
“Hey, princesses aren’t meant to resort to violence!” he laughed.
“Well, maybe I was dreaming of a scenario in which I’m not a princess, but…” she searched for something, “a lost boy,” she propped her hands on her waist and struck a Peter Pan pose.
“And you’d just fight pirates and play games all day?” he inquired with a smirk.
“Exactly!” she glanced at him, and then she jumped forward, tapping his arm. “Tag, you’re it,” she called out as she took off.
“Alright, I’ll just give you a bit of a head start,” Vexx’s voice carried behind her, and part of her wanted to challenge him for being condescending like that. But then he was way taller than her, so probably way faster, too. Thankfully her dress just reached her knees and had a wide skirt that allowed her to run unhindered. She dashed through the trees, willing herself to go even faster when she heard Vexx call out behind her: “Alright, I’m coming!”
She jumped over a log that looked like someone had artfully arranged it into the scenery, which was probably the case. While she was weaving through the trees her sides already started to sting. Running wasn’t something she often got to do, but it felt good and free and when she burst out onto a meadow that actually looked wild and untamed she allowed herself to spin around to see how close Vexx already was. Dandelions exploded around her as her skirt billowed around her thighs, the seeds dancing through the air around her like glitter in a snow globe. Vexx was almost on her, running so much faster than her, but she spun out of his reach, even though now it was just a question of time. She dodged and zig zagged through the thigh high grass. When Vexx lunged for her and sent them both toppling into the grass she squealed. For a short moment his arm was around her waist, for a heartbeat she was above him. And then they were lying side by side in the grass, her chest rising and falling rapidly while he did not seem out of breath at all.
“Got you,” he told her with a smile that sent a shiver down her spine and gave her butterflies.
“Only…” she drew a deep breath, “because you had an advantage. You tallish freak.”
He laughed. “Don’t blame me. You picked the game, you sore loser.”
When she turned her face up towards the sunset sky and huffed, he reached out and tugged at a curl of her hair. “But you were faster than I anticipated, I give you that.”
She looked back at him, her eyebrows raised. “Just how slow did you think I am?”
“Pretty slow. And I thought you would fall over the first thing in your way because you always have your head in the clouds.”
She gasped in mock offence. “The audacity! I do not!”
“Of course not. You’re the most grounded person I know, little dreamer,” there was a softness in his voice that she wasn’t used to. He was still absentmindedly playing with the tips of her hair, his gaze locked with hers, the sunlight filtering through the grass painting golden specks on his face. His gaze dropped to her lips, just for a second, and her heart seemed to climb up her throat. And then he reached out, his finger brushing against her cheek. Her breath stalled. Vexx held up his fingertip and the single eyelash balanced on it. “Make a wish, princess.”
“Aren’t you too grounded to suggest something like that? And shouldn’t it be your wish?”
Vexx just smiled and raised an eyebrow at her, waiting. And so she blew the lash away, concentrating on one thought: I wish he’d fall in love with me.
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Someone Holds Me Safe and Warm
1.5k | complete | Bash/Male OC | Hurt/Comfort
Zovack was dead.
Everyone figured that Mark would be happy, or at least satisfied in some way. Even Mark had expected that. But there was...nothing.
Word at this point had naturally spread across the Seleota system over the past few days: A surviving prince of Goldis had miraculously emerged and deposed Zovack and his regime. Some rumors said he’d hired a team of assassins to do the job. Some said he’d rallied the oppressed of Silta Vie to his cause. Some said he’d done the deed himself. Some celebrated, some seethed. Mark, for his part, had long stopped caring what others believed. Just as he did before the coup—at least, just as he was told he did—he stayed in the palace, hidden away from the press, from the crowds.
The crew did a good job keeping it all at bay, but—fairly—the system was clamoring to know: what now?
Mark wished he knew.
Keep reading on AO3
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Happy Birthday, Stowaway.
I shouldn't have drunk so much.
It was three in the morning, or at least that was my best guess, based on the pink clock hanging on the opposite side of my tiny room and my not-so-trustworthy-now eyes. I was laying half-dead on the bed, having no energy whatsoever.
It wasn't the best birthday written in my memory - especially considering the fact that I remembered exactly none of the previous ones - so I decided to treat myself with a little bottle of wine...
...and ended up buying the whole shelf.
But fuck it, after all that happened lately I fully deserved it.
- Happy birthday, thottie - I said under my nose, pouring yet another glass of the driest red wine I could find. It was my "bitter" day, so I was happy that nobody bought me a cake.
In fact, nobody bought me anything, actually. But that's just a little detail. Not that I even told anyone my birth date, either.
All of a sudden, I heard knocking on the door. I had no idea who wanted to meet me at that hour, but I was way too drunk to care enough to check it. Hell, I had no energy to even open my eyes. Maybe someone had a vision in their dream, magically learned what day it was, and wanted to wish me a late happy birthday?
Not likely, but no one would ever stop me from dreaming.
Still staying in the comfort of my bed, I yelled lazily:
- Come on in, lost soul. You can leave the presents in the corner.
For a few moments I wasn't sure if they heard me, but just then the door opened gently.
Was it June? Ryona, perhaps? Better not her, she'd kill me.
- Good evening, Stowaway.
Suddenly, all of my energy got restored, and the next second I found myself laying in a more seductive manner, with my eyes fully centered on this fucking giant. And dear God, he was just as tall as he was hot.
- Oh hello there, Captain Handsome. What kind of an urgent emergency is bringing you to me at this lovely hour?
Just wow, Cath. You're absolutely the best at handling talking to people while drunk, aren't you.
I couldn't hold back a smirk though, when I saw the confusion mixed with a little bit of curiosity and fake frustration in his honey gold eyes.
- Oh God, not you, too - He whined, closing the door with a loud crack, in which all of the remaining gentleness that had surprised me earlier disappeared. Well, that was quick, not gonna lie.
- And here I thought you would like it. Isn't it cruel, even for you, to break my little poor heart like that? - I leaned back, dramatically covering my eyes with the outer part of my palm. - Though I might have gone a little overboard with the whole "handsome" thing, I agree. My bad.
I loved messing with him. I just believed that this overly proud, self-absorbed prick with a stick up his ass longer than my life line needed a little cutting down to size.
He frowned, unsatisfied.
- Call me that once more and I'm cutting your salary by half. - He leaned against the wall. - What even made you think it was a good idea?
- A tiny, itsy-bitsy bit of alcohol, probably.
He then noticed a few bottles laying on the ground. On the bed. In my empty "presents corner".
And fucking everywhere else.
Calderon started grinning, and I couldn't help but feel the irresistible urge to wipe this little smirk off of his sweet face.
- If anyone asks, it's grape juice.
- What kind of grape juice forces people to make a fool out of themselves in front of the others?
- Well, I should be probably asking you this question - I had to bite my lip to hide the mischievous grin that was about to spread all over my face, seeing Cal's reaction. - What? Did I strike your nerve, Captain?
- When didn't you? - He brought himself back to the straight standing position, and being the classic grumpy Calderon everyone knew so well again. - Well, you're having fun, I see. I only hope it won't affect your presence during tomorrow's duties.
Saying that, he lowered his eyebrows and gave me that firm look he just loved giving everyone.
- It would be a shame if you weren't around, considering that you're starting this week with your first kitchen shift. That would be pretty incompetent, even for you. - He gave me a sarcastic look. - And besides, you wouldn't like to be kicked out of the crew so soon, would you?
I rolled my eyes.
- I'd manage, I'm a smart girl. But wait... - I sat more comfortably. - Was this your entire point of coming to my room? At three in the morning? - I breathed in and out loudly. - Oh my God, and here I thought you couldn't be any more... you.
- I just wanted to be sure that I won't have to starve, waiting for our lovely princess bubblegum to make us all this exceptional honor of waking up and condescendingly serving us a meal. - He looked at me sarcastically. Again. - Also, was that an insult? If so, I feel deeply offended - After saying that, he processed to raise one of his eyebrows to the sky.
I fake gasped.
- Me? Insulting you? Never! Now I am offended. I love your ass-stick so much that I wait for the day when you finally pull it out so I can see it closely - I formed a little heart with my hands.
A part of me didn't buy his excuses, or maybe didn't want to buy them, so I asked:
- Are you sure this was your only motive coming here, though?
- Don't even try to provoke me.
I smiled to myself.
- Don't you worry, sir. I was going to fall asleep soon anyway...
That was a lie.
- ...and at the very least I didn't plan to misbehave.
That was an even bigger lie.
Suddenly, a fun idea crossed my mind.
I smiled and looked him straight in the eye, innocently.
- I mean, unless you order me to, of course. You're the captain here, after all.
That ought to be interesting, I thought.
Calderon realized what was going on, or at the very least that was what it seemed like based on the look painting on his face. Posing myself a little more seductively on the bed again I gave him a challenging look, and after a few moments of what I guessed was an inner fight whether to join me or not, his expression changed, mimicking my own.
Ladies and gentlemen, or whatever other pronoun you prefer, please give a warm welcome to our new Player 2!
Let me see what you've got on you then, golden boy.
I stood up from the bed and tried my best to walk up to him without tripping on one of the dozens of bottles left after my one-guest-only-party. I was doing just great (or so I thought), but then I remembered that one small detail, which was that I was kinda fucking drunk and my legs didn't work that well anymore.
After coming up with some - not gonna lie -quite creative curses in my head, I tripped and started falling off.
Oh yes, breaking my nose was definitely going to make me look incredibly sexy. Good thing I'd look amazing no matter the circumstances - or so I'm told, at least.
Accepting the fact that I was about to lose my own game that I started literally a minute ago, and probably a few teeth as a bonus, I covered my face with my arms and prayed to not fell on a bottle. I had enough shitty scars already.
Just before hitting the ground, I unexpectedly felt a tight grip on my waist that held me back and I sighed with relief. Looks like for a moment I forgot that Cal was, indeed, in the same room as me. And I could say a lot of not exactly favorable things about him, but even he wouldn't just let me break my entire face in front of his feet.
And besides, blood is quite hard to wash off, so here's that, too.
As I was making myself stand on two feet again with a little of Cal's help, I rememberd my first day on the A6 and what I told June when the exactly same situation happened.
Maybe our flirting battle wasn't over yet after all.
Why am I falling so often here, by the way?
- Nice catch! Now you can tell the others that I fell for you. - I winked at him.
This line is fucking brilliant and you cannot convince me otherwise.
Cal didn't look too impressed, though.
- Well, hadn't you before that, already?
...Was I this obvious?
I tried to keep a straight face, ignoring the heat that was spreading all over my cheeks. Wow, I blush so rarely that I've actually forgotten how it felt like.
And I didn't like this feeling at all.
- Aren't you a little bit too confident, dear? - saying that, I tried to keep my balance. I didn't want to rely on him so much.
When I was finally stable on the ground and in (almost) full control of my body once again, I "accidentally" lost my balance and leaned closer to him. Then, I wrapped my arms around his neck like it was nothing; like I was just trying to not fall again.
To be honest, I wasn't sure if he would even let me do that, but he did - and that was the moment when I knew my plan was working.
Our faces were almost touching and I had to hide the excitement of knowing what was going to happen next, because come on, even a child would guess that.
I looked him straight in the eyes with a bold expression.
He then asked me with visible playfulness in his eyes:
- I knew you were quite a flirt before, but... - he laughed shortly. - Do you always mess with hearts of the innocent when drunk?
- Only with the ones that I'm interested in when sober. Very interested in - I said without skipping a beat.
A huge, mischievous grin spread across my face as I saw Calderon's beautiful reaction. It was so obvious he didn't see that coming, and the image of him squirming under my gaze was quite satisfactory to watch.
- Oh, what's that, captain? Caught you off guard? - I was so drunk that I started laughing at my own stupid joke. - Get it? Off guard?
Did I really just cockblock myself like that.
After a few seconds, my incredibly dry and unfunny pun hit Cal like a hard rock that must have damaged his head, because he started laughing uncontrollably with me. The sad thing was that, unlike me, he was actually sober. Oh, Cap.
I couldn't tell how long we were in this state, but let me tell you, way too long.
- Okay, you got me here, I admit - he giggled one more time shortly in a low voice, composing himself way faster than I ever could. - What do you want now, a cookie?
- If you insist. - I said that, wiping tears off my face, still smiling like an idiot. - I'm always down for something sweet, ya know.
Like a kiss.
Or something a little more than a kiss.
He started looking serious again and I couldn't believe how fast he went from an adorable dork to an ordinary jackass in a matter of seconds.
No, wait. I could, actually. It's Calderon, after all.
- Alright, it was fun and all, but now better wipe that stupid grin off of your face and go to bed.
- Or else? - I asked him, looking from under my long eyelashes, as innocently as I possibly could, and smiling like an angel that I definitely wasn't.
- Or else I'll have to make you do it.
This simple sentence was enough to make my whole body hot, with the desire so powerful that could knock me out any second.
I didn't expect him to answer me like that at all.
Am I horny or am I horny?
- I'd love to see you try - I said, while desperately trying my best to keep my cool. I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.
But then he looked me with lust in his eyes and my whole plan of not acting like I've lost my mind fell apart.
I felt like a complete idiot, no one has ever made me act like that except for this jackass. I was always the one making other lose their minds, for fuck's sake! How did the roles turn around so fast?
What's more important, why did I even like him this much? He was like every other high-class dick I've met in my life, and believe me, I've met a lot of them.
And yet, there was something... else, about him. Something that somehow made me interested in him.
For the first time in a very long time I was flirting not to gain what I wanted to survive or simply out of habit, but because I wanted to, and because I actually meant it. And I... almost felt like didn't have to keep my mask on.
- You know that ignoring the orders of your boss is not the brightest idea, considering your current situation, right?
- Oh, shut up - I tip-toed, waiting for my kiss.
He then leaned down and whispered to my ear:
- Happy birthday, Stowaway.
And just like that, he was gone.
- Well played, Captain. Well played.
My first fanfic ever, yay! Haha
I'm not a writer and English isn't my first language so I'm sorry for all the mistakes, weird writing etc.
I had fun writing this though, so if anyone likes it I might post my other fics ^w^
Happy Valentine everyone ~
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idk if you guys realized it but our shenanigans have made it on the verge. I don’t know if this is the first article written about the Dream smp fandom but this is the first one I’m seeing. It’s kinda surreal to see something I know like this, it’s like that time that one mom calling sans demonic on the news, (you know the vid).
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Hello! I’m working on becoming a writer, but I don’t want to limit myself by simply writing literature, so I wonder if you can tell me what it is like working as a narrative designer. Did you have any specific education? How does writing games work? How do someone get jobs in the first place? Do you use some kind of program? TELL ME YOUR SECRETS! Sorry if it is a bothersome ask. Have a nice day and good luck with your writing!
Hi! That’s a great goal to work towards 😄
For me, I love being a narrative designer. I’m very big on world-building, plot and character development, so it gives me a great platform to be able to work on those.
I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was young, and initially I wanted to be an author, and had many ideas for books I would write. Unfortunately, I found that novel writing wasn’t for me. I don’t really have the attention span and motivation to stick to something that I’m working on alone for months and months before I can share it with everyone else. So writing for games is the perfect alternative for me.
As for education, I studied I.T. at university so I was able to also fit into the slot of programmer on the A6 team, but I don’t have an education in creative writing. I’ve just practiced with writing fanfiction over the years, and I try to read a lot to help expand my writing vocabulary.
The biggest difference in writing games to say, writing a book, is that you have branching scenes. When a character makes a choice in a game, you might have to write multiple different scenes for the outcomes. You also have to be mindful of how comfortable the writing is for a player to read. Sticking with quick, short sentences is usually better than long paragraphs of description.
The program we use for A6, and what a lot of other VN’s use, is Ren’py, which uses Python. I’m lucky that I had a background in programming so I could pick it up fairly easy, it might take some time for someone who has never coded before, but there are plenty of tutorials around, and I don’t think it’s too difficult.
In terms of finding jobs, indie teams and companies sometimes advertise on places like twitter, and then there are the lemmasoft forums (check the recruitment board). Experience is always handy to have, so if you can work on some small projects to get started with, that will always help. My advice would be to just put yourself out there and apply for different projects that you are interested in. I’ve been rejected from plenty of positions before, but something else always comes along.
I hope at least some of this will give you a better idea of what it’s like to write for games, and good luck on your writing journey! ❤️
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more about me
tagged by @bobbymckenzie thank uu 😚💕
three ships: gonna copy u and list my mc ships here - kito x andy (ilitw), venus x adam (twc), soren x kent (mb)
last song: remember when by wallows... went back to the yearning playlist i see.
last movie: it's been a while so i don't know but pride and prejudice is a big possibility considering i watch it like every 2 months dözmdşxö
currently reading: i've been tryna finish red, white and royal blue for like... a month. basically a white house fanfiction which i somehow did not notice when starting but dare i say... the couple is cute 😳
currently writing: not a writer but bunch of 5 second scenes for future drawings (mostly abt demos i've been playing and foreign affairs) if that counts flxmdşzsm
currently watching: haikyuu bc who am i if not a clingy bitch, unable to move on from comfort shows <3
currently playing: golden demo and a6
currently consuming: way too much coffee
currently craving: pizza :(
tagging (no pressure tho): @canonicallytrans @olivershen @quietsphere @diminism @pearlsandsteel @dudebro-lahela
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Vox did an article about the whole Sexy Times With Wangxian nonsese
We really are in some sort of timeline
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Me & My Husband VS The Old Guard’s car
Me: Hey honey, what do you think of this car?
The Poor Man Who Married Me (hereby known as Dear Husband, DH for short): ...is it from “The Old Guard”?
Me: Of course. So?
DH: It’s an Audi A6 C6. Eh, it’s not a good choice: it’s an expensive car, bound to attract attention. Also, it’s a known target for car thieves. Just 120 seconds and they’d be missing the entire dashboard, the SAT NAV and the headlights.
Me: * trying not to picture the gang coming out of Merrick’s and finding just that *
Ands that’s why in my fanfiction The Old Guard drives a Ford Fiesta (look, if I can’t have the cast as Star in a reasonably-priced car, I’m giving them the car Top Gear approved for taking part in a beach assault with the Royal Marines. No, I’m not joking, search on YouTube if you don’t believe me) and escaping in a Vauxhall Zafira.
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