#LIKE THEY FUCKING TOOK THE HEAVY MACHINERY OUT OF A LOT OF INDUSTRIAL COMPANIES AND BROUGHT THEM TO RUSSIA

[zevranunderstander]

people say the most uninformed shit about the time in which germany was divided to support whatever point they care about omg

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Black Coffee

Vax'ildan needs a way to make money. Life got pretty rough after Syldor cut him off and he and his sister found themselves living in a tiny apartment in the city.

He needs a quick way to make some money. What he finds is Percival de Polo.

-

We’re calling it the sugar daddy au and we’re unapologetic, folks. Will be multi chapter if people like it.

Please consider reblogging, leaving a comment on Ao3 or donating to my ko-fi page!

Thanks to @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian

-

Always meet them in a public place.

That had been the prevailing advice when he’d looked on the Internet, when he’d asked Molly’s mother, when he’d finally decided to do this slightly crazy thing.

So Vax had messaged back, after stewing over those handful of words for nearly half a day, after they’d popped up with a unusually cheery message chime that honestly was a bit of a weird choice for an online sex forum. Though Vax didn’t know what else he’d expected. A moan of lust maybe, every time a message from his anonymous friend came in?

I’d like to meet you and talk about this face to face.

He’d replied, sat cross legged in his underwear on the bed that took up the majority of the space. He’d have called his bedroom the box room of the apartment, if his sister’s hadn’t been equally as claustrophobic.

1pm tomorrow at the Blooming Grove café? It’s on fifth street.

Vax thought it was a good choice. Nice, airy and Caduceus made the best coffee he’d ever had in the whole city. Also it wouldn’t hurt to be in a place where there would always be a stronger-than-he-seemed, seven foot tall friend within earshot.

He’d frowned than, tugging at a loose strand of ink black hair that had come loose from his bun. He’d told himself he was overthinking this. Catastrophizing, that’s what the CBT book his sister had lent him called it. Odds were this guy was just a nice enough, probably lonely middle-aged man. If anything seemed off, Vax could easily just politely decline and get out of there. He’d escaped from far worse.

Besides, maybe the offer would scare him off. Maybe Orthax- obviously not his real name but his username on the website- would lose his nerve and shut down and that would just be the end of it.

But then the reply came, less than five minutes after Vax’s offer when he’d taken five hours.

I know it, good choice. See you there. I’ll have a red carnation.

Vax had smiled at that, maybe even snorted a little. How romance novel. How Gone with the Wind.

It was a little sweet.

His estimation of the guy’s age had shot up but the amount he feared for his life went down.

And now he was sat here, at the comfy table for two right in the window, the one with the black iron seats and the mosaic table top. Dark eyes flicking to his watch, he noted it was now five minutes past one and there wasn’t a single flash of red to be found amongst the dinner crowd.

What if he never showed up? Maybe Orthax had lost his nerve at the last minute.

Vax frowned and leaned back in his chair, trying to figure out how that made him feel.

It wasn’t like he was dying to be someone’s sugar baby. After all, if he felt completely, 110% okay with it, he wouldn’t have lied about where he was going to his sister when she’d asked, dashing back to grab her forgotten lunch and seeing him half in, half out of his leather jacket, chasing Trinket around for his second shoe. He’d told her he was going to meet another art director, once she’d wrenched his now dripping shoe from her hairball of a dog.

And instantly regretted that lie, when he’d seen how her face lit up with hope for him.

Truth was, he thought as he took another sip of his black coffee to match how bitter he felt inside, the auditions had been very thin on the ground lately and even the few he did get didn’t go very far. Most directors wouldn’t even see him dance, not once he told them he was trans.

No auditions meant no jobs. No jobs meant no money coming in. And he and Vex would rather lose the apartment than ask Syldor for money, after he’d made it so acidly plain they wouldn’t be seeing another penny as long as Vax lived as himself.

The old man could rot as far as Vax was concerned.

He sighed, screwing up his face, fingers tight on his own arms. He was getting angry again, he could feel it, the kind of anger that could so easily make him say and do stupid things. But it was so much simpler to get mad at his bigoted ass of a father than at the whole world, the world that just didn’t seem to want to let him be happy, the world that had always been so unfair to him, the world that had left him sat here, messaging random people on the internet, offering to sell himself, hoping for one last chance to not fuck his whole life up.

“Are you…sorry, this is going to sound insane if I’m wrong but are you Raven?”

Vax opened his eyes, startled.

Well, he was a hell of a lot younger than he’d been expecting. Wasn’t half bad on the eyes either.

“I am. You’re Orthax?”

Tall, very tall. Human. White hair but it had to be the result of dye rather than age, no one with naturally white hair would wear it in such a neat, subtle undercut. Shockingly blue, tired looking eyes behind a pair of circular, gold rimmed glasses. Stubble creeping up his jaw. Looked like he needed a good night’s sleep.

And he actually did have the red carnation in his pocket.

The guy’s face wrinkled in gentle embarrassment, “Yeah. Sorry, it’s a rather stupid username. I didn’t think how bad it would sound out loud.”

His voice was prim, sculpted, a borderline ridiculously high society accent. But it was the only thing about him that gave any hint of the wealth Vax assumed he’d have; his clothes were dark and simple, no logos or brands, just dark blue jeans and a pain grey collared shirt that was a little oversized. Wait, no, there was a ring on his finger. The gleam of real gold, a crest too small to make out from his distance.

Vax cracked a smile, “It’s fine. Doesn’t have a reference to the size of your genitals so it’s better than most I see on there.”

The guy laughed, a short, bark of a laugh like he didn’t do it very often, “Even so. Now we’ve met face to face, can I be Percy?”

“Sure,” he nodded, “Then I’m Vax’ildan. Vax for short.”

“Lovely. Can I get you a drink, Vax?”

He tipped his mug, judging that he had maybe two swallows left. Having two drinks at a café was rank extravagance on Vax’s budget, even with Caduceus’ heavy friends discount, and all of a sudden the idea of having one bought for him seemed strange. But he was going to have to get used to that if this was going to work.

“Sure. Black coffee please and an amount of sugar I’m not comfortable telling you right now. The guy behind the counter knows.”

That made Percy laugh again, “Sure. A gentleman after my own heart.”

Vax paused as he watched Percy move through the maze of mismatched tables to the counter (Caduceus didn’t have the best eye for organisation). Being called a gentleman had gave him a happy little tightness in his stomach and it was probably good that he’d been able to make the guy laugh twice. So far so good.

Vax had always been very good at reading people in a short space of time. It was partly good intuition, partly a strong sense of empathy inherited from his mother, partly survival instinct from his years with Syldor, trying to work out how much he could trust people, how much he could be himself versus how much he’d need to lie.

It was serving him well as it ever had in trying to set up this delicate arrangement, helping him reject a handful of people and decide Percy was the only one he was going to agree to meet. And it was telling him a lot about Percy right now.

He seemed sad. There was no other word for it. There were too many lines around his eyes for someone as young as he was, down turned ones that clearly didn’t come from smiling. That shirt wasn’t doing a good job of concealing how slender he was, his nails were bitten uncomfortably close, there were old burns and scars on his hands and he’d missed part of his hair when he’d brushed it. And of course there was the fact that he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. It didn’t take a lot of Vax’s intuition to see that.

In short, he looked a bit bedraggled. At first Vax had been stunned that someone with such good looks and, presumably, a lot of money needed to inquire after a sugar baby. But as he watched him fumble for change, exchange a few pleasantries with Caduceus and pick his way back over to their table with two mugs, he was starting to piece it together.

Percy was just a little bit lost. He needed someone to hold his hand.

Vax mentally shrugged. He could do that.

“Here…” Percy sat the two coffees down, one in front of Vax, “I promise I didn’t look when he put the sugar in.”

Vax smiled wanly, “I’m pretty sure he stints me every time. It’s for my own good.”

Percy slid into the chair opposite him, muffling a cough, “Sorry…and I’m sorry for being late too. Time got away from me when I was working.”

“Oh? What do you do?” It was as good a place as any to make a start.

The tips of Percy’s ears reddened, “Well. Not work as in for my job. It’s…well, tinkering? Just messing around with machinery for my own amusement. I have a little work shop in my apartment.”

“Sounds interesting,” Vax smiled, wondering if he could be paid for his company in putting up all that flatpack furniture that was still sitting around in his own place.

“Well…” that seemed to please him, “I’ve made a few things. Odds and ends, patented a few things actually…”

Vax filed that away for something to return to later, something to do a little research on, “So what’s your day job?”

The discomfort returned a little, though it seemed a well-worn kind, something he was used to, “I, uh…I run my family’s company. Whitestone Industries.”

Vax nearly choked on his coffee, “Wait, what? Seriously?”

It was one of those ubiquitous household names, a little silver stamp on everything from electronics to massive civil engineering projects and charity initiatives. So huge and all encompassing, it was hard to imagine it as a family business.

Fuck, he’d suspected anyone with a kink for having a kept partner would have a fair amount of spending money but he hadn’t expected an oligarch.

“Yeah…” Percy looked down awkwardly, tracing his finger between the pretty glass tiles on the table top, “I don’t do that much, the board just puts stuff in front of me and I sign it. It’s the surname really…they let me mess around in the aerospace engineering department sometimes.”

Vax paused, his dismay fading. While he wasn’t about to feel sorry for someone who earned more money by the hour than his mother had ever seen in her life, he could see how that would be lonely. Having the pressures of your family bend and twist you into a position you couldn’t hold long before your muscles began to burn and your head swam.

He could understand that.

“Well…” Vax gave a friendly smile, soft and gentle as he could manage, “You’ve always got your work shop to come home to?”

“Yeah,” Percy looked up, like he really appreciated those words, “I do…so what do you like to do, Vax’ildan?”

“You can call me Vax,” he reminded him, leaning forward on his elbows.

“I like saying it,” he said it like it was something he was admitting, “It’s beautiful.”

Charming as well, huh? Vax was starting to think this whole thing was his very first good idea.

“I’m a dancer,” he stirred his coffee idly, spoon ringing against the china, “Aspiring, really. It’s been a while since I had a gig. I do teach a class down at the community centre and my friend Mollymauk lets me choreograph for his shows. They do Shakespeare mostly so there’s not a lot of call for it but…”

He trailed off limply. He felt like he was in front of someone who remembered him from Syldor’s, meeting him in the street and asking politely how he was getting on, all the while both of them painfully aware that he’d been disowned and this entire conversation had been an unadulterated mess.

But Percy had a smile in his voice, Vax heard it even when he didn’t lift his eyes to see, “That sounds lovely. I really admire anyone who has a creative job, especially people who teach others, I could never do that.”

Vax’s eyes darted up, too stunned to worry that he was looking a bit of a fool, “Really?”

Percy blinked, even tilting his head a little like a puppy would, “Forgive me but…have you ever had a compliment before?”

Vax opened his mouth…and had to close it again, smiling sheepishly. After a moment, the two of them found themselves laughing quietly under the chatter contained within the café. What else was there to do?

“Glad I could be your first, anyway,” Percy’s laugh ended in a cough he muffled into the back of his hand, “I’ll make sure I throw in as many as I can in the future.”

Vax lifted an eyebrow, “Does that mean…this is going to be a thing? You and me?”

Percy smiled playfully, eyes flashing a little, something Vax hadn’t even thought he would be capable of doing, “Well…I’d certainly be up for it though I think we should talk ground rules?”

Vax’s smile softened around the edges and any lingering worry that had survived in his chest died away at that moment. He was approaching this like a blueprint, of course, but there was comfort in that, reliability.

“Why don’t you tell me what you were thinking, then?” He’d finished his second coffee at that point, a pleasant buzz starting up in his veins.

Percy nodded, ticking them off on his fingers as he went, suddenly becoming very business-like and formal, “I’d pay your rent, I understand that’s the main monetary concern for people. I’d also send you a number of gifts every month once I get a better idea of things you like though some would be sexual in nature. I’d send these to your apartment or you could keep a separate P.O box if you prefer to keep that information private.”

Vax tried not to look too eager, though his heart was hammering in his chest, “And in exchange?”

“A…we’ll call it a date for want of a better word though we’d be by no means exclusive, you could pursue any other relationships though I’d prefer to be the only one with whom you had this kind of…arrangement. But one date every fortnight at least. You can suggest activities but so can I, we’ll reach a compromise. If you need to cancel any, that’s fine, though I’d like it to be rearranged if possible.”

Vax was fighting a bemused smile at how much like a meeting this felt, “And how many of these dates would end in sex? All of them?”

Percy looked taken aback, “I’d…I’d never force sex on you, Vax’ildan, never. I’d like to be intimate with you but if there’s ever any night you’re not feeling it or you’re not in the mood that’s fine. You just have to tell me.”

Vax’s amusement was replaced by surprise for a moment, surprise at the sincerity in Percy’s voice. He really did seem to care about Vax’s consent and comfort. Something that really shouldn’t come as a shock, he realised, but still…

“Understood. Same to you, of course,” he nodded.

Percy looked relieved, apparently genuinely hating being thought of as a person who would demand sex simply because he was paying for it, “I’d also appreciate pictures, whenever the mood takes you. And…” he stopped suddenly, finally seeming shy and even a little embarrassed, “I’d just…I’d like a friend. Tell me how your day is going. Tell me what you thought of whatever was on TV last night. Stuff like that.”

The expression on his face, which so clearly screamed that Percy hadn’t had that kind of friendliness in a very long time, that was what made Vax reach out and put his hand over Percy’s where it lay on the table. It hadn’t been a deliberate action, something he’d thought about, but he was glad he’d done it after Percy’s shame turned to relief and gratitude.

“That sounds perfectly reasonable,” Vax smiled, feeling Percy’s fingers turn under his to hold, knotting them together, “Got a contract you want me to sign or something?”

Percy smiled, blushing lightly under his gentle teasing, “No…sorry, a force of habit, I guess. Whenever you don’t know what to say at board meetings, if you use that kind of tone I’ve found they’ll leave you alone. Even if what you said was complete bullshit. So I guess I do it when I’m nervous?”

“Don’t be,” Vax grinned, “I think this is going to work out fine.”

Percy was full of polite apologies that they couldn’t start things right away but he had work to get back to. Actual work, he promised, not his tinkering.

But they exchanged numbers and Vax stood outside the café, watching his white haired saviour disappear into the crowds, clutching a fresh coffee to see him through the afternoon. It was getting cold but he lingered, waiting until he lost sight of Percy. Percy of the tired eyes and burned hands and family money he seemed so awkward about. Percy who smiled sweetly most of the time and darkly when he wanted to and asked for a friend.

Vax smiled wryly to himself and turned himself back towards home.

At least it wasn’t going to be boring.

[boomstickscribbles]

Every school kid knows what we did. They can recite the history by rote but you gotta wonder just how much of it has been rewritten over time. The way I understand it is; 180 years ago, give or take, we killed our planet, or close enough anyways. That’s when the evac order was given. By that point most of the human race already lived in one of the numerous colonies dotted about the solar system and beyond. Lunar and Mars had been the first of course, long before the global evac. Being within easy reach once we put the effort in they’d grown and developed rapidly, Mars especially. It only took the best part of a century to terraform much of the red planet, turning it into a veritable paradise by comparison to the rapidly choking Earth. The asteroid belt and Jovian system were next. Their settlement was something like the Ancient West, they enjoyed a gold rush of sorts while the adventurous and desperate alike struck out to make their fortunes. Needless to say it wasn’t the desperate who struck it rich.

Fast forward half a century or so and the outer settlements had declared independence from earth and Mars, they were the ones with the resources and as they saw it that meant they had every right to decide their own fates and of course prices. The inner planets disagreed. One very bloody war later and they settled it. The moons of Jupiter and Saturn were allowed their independence but in return had to disband their navy and military forces. Fast forward a little more and whoopsie seems those probes we sent out donkeys years ago to a system some 6.3 light years away found something super interesting out there. Queue space-gold rush numero dos.

By this point the Earth was pretty fucked, global warming was in full swing, there’d been more than a couple of catastrophic disasters and the average life expectancy had dropped globally to 50 if you got lucky. People on Mars lived to 120 plus and those poor sods on Earth were pegging it medieval style. There was a lot of socio-economic garbage at play or course, the population of Mars was mostly made of up those who had been able to afford to get off world early in the game. They where the super-rich, the elite and likewise, Lunar had become the seat of a global government, ever watching over the population. The people left behind on Earth were the poor and the far from upwardly mobile. With two new planets, full of promise and exciting new opportunities for exploitation, the mass exodus began in earnest. It took a lot of man power to mine those shiny new ores, it being too delicate an operation for heavy machinery and cheap labour was in high demand so of course people jumped on the opportunity. It was around then that construction began on the relay stations that linked the The New Terra System with home. The primary focus of the stations was communication but each one became a community all of it's own, giant island cities drifting out in deep space and they provided the perfect place for all those people about to be kicked off Earth. And it was about then, when the first few stations where finished that the Global Evacuation order came. It was Earth's last chance they said, if we left and gave the Earth time to recover we might one day be able to return. Of course shipping all that labour out across the galaxy to meet the growing needs of the mining companies was just a bonus and totally not premeditated at all.

So jump forward one more time to today. The Earth is still fucked, Mars and Lunar are still the proverbial centre of the universe, with the outter moons the backbone of the import industry. 63 space stations run and maintained by the trans-system communication company are strung across the void between the home system and New Terra like a string of grimy pearls, and a bucket load of unease between it all. It’s only a matter of time before it all boils over again. And damn right too.

__

A very brief history of the New Terra System and the Global Evacuation aka 'what happens when you fuck up your own planet' by Flight Lieutenant Alex Correa-Zayas, call-sign 'Roach'

[ecotone99]

[SP] The Legend of Spanky Carlton

Legend has it Jim Croce heard the story of Spanky and changed his name for the song "Leroy Brown." All that anyone knows for sure is that Spanky Carlton was a bad man. Holding the left hand of fate and the right hand of a demonic sledgehammer, the end wouldn't be pretty for an ugly soul like his.

​

"I heard once Spanky slapped a man so hard he died."

​

"There's no way that's true. You can't die from getting slapped on the ass."

​

"You can if its the three-time regional arm wrestling champ doing it after four whiskey sours and an insult.

I even heard it smelled like smoke after. Spanky hit him so hard his ass sizzled."

​

"That's the most disgusting thing I've heard this week."

​

"Be thankful your tombstone doesn't say "RIP 'Hot Buns'"

​

"Hot buns? What's his actual name?"

​

" No one knows. He was some tourist from out of town. Must have lost his wallet when he got slapped out of his Chacos."

​

"That's a nightmare. Dying in a dive bar after being spanked to death? And losing the dignity of your own name? Maybe it's better that way. There's only so much shame a soul can take."

​

The windswept remnants of lost conversations and blank gravestones carried past the basement tavern where "Hot Buns" lost his life to the fearsome right hand of Spanky Carlton. The urban legend grew from the truth of Spanky hitting the man's ass so hard his spinal cord severed. His death was instant, unlike the repercussions of a single armed assault. Spanky walked out of the tavern as a free man. None of the patrons were sober enough to give an acceptable statement. That worked for police chief DiSanto; he didn't want to make the call to have his officers try and pull in Carlton. DiSanto added the incident to his case file on Spanky, saving his evidence for the day he'd have an open and close case. Operating with uncertainty around Spanky was like dangling garlands of deli meat in front of a bear.

​

Spanky tried praying at the church on Easter, but the priest barred him from entering. He argued that Spanky held the scent of the Devil on him. Someone would later inform Father O'Hara that Spanky smelled of sulfur because of his morning dips in the hot springs.

​

Left to his own devices, Spanky found refuge in the pines beyond the edge of town. He cleared land with a rusty ax and the memories of being bullied as a child. You have to be a hard man with a name like Spanky, and when you start as a soft child, you've got a long road to travel.

​

Spanky worked the wrecking yard- serving his reputation as a junkyard dog. Kids would crowd the fences on crushing day when Spanky would operate the heavy machinery and cube the totaled cars that littered the lot. He stacked the cubes in the outline of a castle at the backend of the lot. Not that he'd ever tell anyone, but he loved the attention as the kids oohed and ahhed as he tackled the rusted bodies of old Pontiacs, Fords, and Chevys. Spanky pretended that he was back at the LSU, hitting low blocks and leaving jerseyed bodies in his wake.

​

Baton Rouge often called to him at night. The heavy air deep in the bayou, snapping gators, and the distant whispers of dark magics. Drifting off the path, Spanky aimed towards his Cajun queen. He rubbed the Spanish medallion around his neck in vain for his French love.

​

"Go west!" that gnarled goat of a man told him. "You'll find your story out past the pines." Spanky spat on Manifest Destiny and packed his bags anyway. California wasn't a place for bad men anymore. The days of bandit kings and gloried outlaws died with the expansion of the industries. There was no place for little rebels in the world of tycoons and suited men. For a giant of a man, Spanky felt small under the gaze of the open sky. He hated that.

​

Beauregard DeVille- even a snake couldn't swim through the slime like that man. His thin mustache sat under sharp, black eyes. Shined shoes, ever-changing suits, and cufflinks, DeVille wore his wealth in relaxed comfort, as if he lounged in three-piece suits and slept on diamonds. He stole Charlotte Laurent from him. And for a man with everything, he should have known better than to steal from a man with nothing else to lose.

​

To say Spanky planned the night he stormed into the DeVille estate would be to give him too much credit. Armed with a shortened machete, Spanky burst through the double doors, gutting the doormen that served as unpleasant reminders to the dangers of low wage work.

​

"CHARLOTTE" Spanky bellowed as he hunted through the estate with wild eyes. The taproot the witch doctor gave him kicked in as he found the ballroom. Beauregard stood with Charlotte in the center of the dance floor.

"Mister Carlton, an undoubted surprise. May I fetch you some refreshments?" Beauregard said. Charlotte trembled behind him.

​

"Just hand her over, DeVille. She's had enough of your games." Spanky said. The image of DeVille split into three, as Spanky struggled to track which version was the real one.

​

"Perhaps you should sit. Aside from your indecorous entrance into my home, you look to be catching a fever." A sharks smile followed Deville's words.

​

Spanky staggered towards the trio of DeVille's.

​

"I see you entertained the good company of Francois. I imagine he gave you something terribly exciting for your adventure tonight."

​

"You slimy fuck. Is there anyone in this town you haven't robbed of their free will?"

​

"Appears the last white knight stands before me. Shall we see him fall?" DeVille asked Charlotte as he stepped towards Spanky.

​

Spanky whipped his forgotten machete towards DeVille, sinking the blade deep into his chest. DeVille stopped and tsked.

​

"You can't stab a dead man in the heart and expect anything. Didn't your mama teach you better than that, Spanky?" DeVille's hand grabbed the blade and pulled it out with ease. He took another step forward and flicked Spanky between the eyes, dropping him to the floor.

​

The smell of foul water greeted Spanky as he woke up. His eyes caught a harsh sun and the sound of distant splashes. He knew he was deep in the bayou without looking around. The image of DeVille's face rode a wave of anger through his mind before fear crept in behind it. Whatever that thing DeVille was, Spanky wanted no part of it. Even Charlotte was a price too steep to pay if it meant dealing with that devil.

​

So Spanky ghosted through the bayou and beyond, before finally reaching his resting point in Weed, California. He thought if he relinquished his claim to love, he'd be free from the nightmares. But Spanky knew that once you learn about the things that go bump in the night, you don't dwell in the shadows during the daytime. Even there, the reach of lost love and dark magic can whisper of impossible dreams.

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