Hey everyone! I realized somewhere between launching Astrid’s Abrauxian King, and finalizing Naia’s Abrauxian General, that my readers might enjoy some of the quirky scenes I considered using. I’m including those at the back of subsequent books in the series, but it was too late for the one already published.

During late night writing binges with enough caffeine to fuel a small spaceship, there were some hilarious moments. I'm sharing some of my favorite outtakes that didn't make the final cut.

The Fish, the Flatline, and the Flirting

After your main female character meets an untimely but brief end, it’s probably best not to bring her back with humor. But the temptation was oh so real.

I blink against the too-bright light overhead and try to sit up, but my entire body feels like it’s been run over by an Abrauxian tank. My muscles refuse to cooperate, and I collapse back onto the soft surface with a pained grunt.
“Careful,” Jakvar says, his deep voice gentle beside me. “You’ve been through a great ordeal.”
“Define ‘ordeal,’” I rasp. “Because it feels like I got hit by a cast iron hovercraft with turbo thrusters.”
The doctor, who has been calmly tapping away at his glowing screen, chimes in without looking up. “Technically, it was a fish.”
I pause. “A what now?”
“A Stonebrow,” he says, as if that clears up anything. “Their barbels deliver a significant jolt if they’re startled.”
Jakvar winces. “You climbed up onto the dock too quickly and the Stonebrow reacted instinctively.”
I stare at them both. “So, I died because I surprised a fish?”
“Yes,” the doctor confirms.
“Right. So yes. Space fish.” I close my eyes. “I came across the universe for this. Stunning. Literally.”
“You were revived,” Jakvar offers, his voice strained. “I dove in and pulled you out myself.”
“Well, that’s romantic,” I mutter, blinking up at him. “Death by fish, rescued by alien royalty. It’s giving sci-fi soap opera vibes.”
The doctor clears his throat. “Your nanos were also destroyed by the shock so I’ve replaced them. You’ll experience some mild disorientation and possibly a brief flood of planetary data as they calibrate.”
“Brief flood?” I groan as my head starts spinning again. “I’ve got four thousand years of alien history flashing through my brain. Pretty sure I just relived your species’ invention of underwear and their prompt rejection of the same.” I squint at Jakvar. “Wait. None of you wear underwear?”
Jakvar blinks, clearly thrown off. “Under... where?”
I stare at him. “You know, garments. Beneath the garments.”
He tilts his head slightly, as if processing a deeply foreign concept. “We do not layer our clothing unless preparing for battle. Why would one create friction where it is not required?”
The doctor speaks up again, completely unfazed. “You’ll adjust quickly. Just relax.”
I glance down, suddenly aware of how cold I am under this paper-thin sheet. “Also... why am I naked?”
“You came out of the water that way,” the doctor says blandly.
Jakvar shifts beside me, trying to suppress a smile. “I did request clothing be brought immediately.”
“That’s comforting. Good to know I was char-broiled, lost my clothes, and now recovering in a five-star alien ER with an audience.”
“I could help you dress when your clothing arrives,” Jakvar says, clearly trying to be helpful.
I blink at him. “Did you just say that out loud?”
He hesitates. “Should I not have?”
“No,” I say slowly, “you should have. Just maybe not in front of the doctor.”
The doctor, now valiantly pretending not to exist, takes a full step backward toward the door.
Jakvar leans in a little. “Would assistance truly be unwelcome?”
“If you stay,” I warn him, “I will launch myself off this bed and tackle you with the strength of a football linebacker.”
He straightens instantly and moves toward the exit with a bow so formal it would be the envy of British royalty.
“I will wait outside,” he says solemnly.

Intergalactic Shapewear and Royal Distractions

Plot twists are supposed to be shocking and clever, not confusing and nonsensical. This one landed with a thud.

Asha lays out the welcome gown like it’s sacred. It’s a glowing, liquid-gold miracle that shimmers with every flicker of light, like someone skinned a nebula and turned it into fabric. I’m fully prepared to feel like royalty. Until she adds the next item to the tray.
I blink at it. “Asha, is that alien shapewear?”
“It is support mesh,” she says proudly. “Woven from sunspider silk. It molds to your body and gently realigns any surface-level asymmetries. It’s breathable and moisture-wicking.”
“So space Spanx?”
She tilts her head, looking genuinely curious. “I do not know the Spanx tribe, but they must be very esteemed.”
I pick up the mesh. It weighs less than air and sparkles with glitter. Of course it does. “If I die putting this on, tell my friends it was for a good cause.”
Fifteen frustrating, stretchy minutes later, I’m tucked, cinched, lifted, and sparkled within an inch of my dignity. And I have zero pride left.
When Asha helps me into the gown, I swear it hisses. Either that or I’ve officially lost my mind. The fabric clings to me, hugging my waist and hips with an unsettling level of enthusiasm.
Then come the shoes. Gorgeous, jewel-encrusted little monsters with heels that scream “fashion” and whisper “sprained ankle.”
I take one step and instantly wobble.
“Oh no. I don’t think these are gong to work.”
“They will recalibrate after seven steps,” Asha says, completely unbothered.
Seven steps. Not six and not eight. I practice in a tight circle like an awkward flamingo until the shoes blink faintly underneath me. Glowing shoes. Like a kindergartener on Earth.
Finally, I turn to face the mirror. I don’t recognize myself at first. I’m still me, but now I’m ethereal. I expected to feel like I was playing dress-up, but somehow this feels right. A queen’s version of armor. I could walk into a room and verbally dismantle an entire alien council.
I step into the hall and begin descending the stairs, grateful that Asha adjusted them for my shorter human legs.
That’s when I see him.
Jakvar stands at the base of the stairs, wearing a black brocade vest and those unfairly tight pants Abrauxians seem to manufacture in bulk. He looks like the villain from a fantasy romance novel who just started his redemption arc. 
I step on the hem of my dress and stumble on step three, recover, and pretend it didn’t happen.
He looks up.
His gaze travels over me slowly, reverently, like he’s watching a star flare to life. His voice drops, low and rough.
“I bet you taste absolutely divine, my mate.”
Behind me, Asha makes a tiny choking sound.
I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again. “You cannot say things like that in front of my assistant.”
“I was not speaking to your assistant.”
I clear my throat, ears burning. “Okay. Well. Let’s add impulse control to our shared vocabulary lessons.”

The One That Got Zapped

Sometimes you want to build tension with a secret. The Zugunu are a nasty bunch, no one likes them, not even a large cat-fish Stonebrow harboring a squid grudge.

The Zugunu slithers out of the shuttle hatch like a rotten sea cucumber with ambition, flailing tentacles and all. He’s coated in what I assume is fear slime, although Naia claims that’s just their natural scent.
“The name!” he wheezes, looking around wildly. “I know the traitor’s name! Save me and I’ll—”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. Not because we interrupt him, but because a Stonebrow the size of a compact car launches itself onto the deck behind him with a vengeance.
“Wait, maybe don’t—” I start, raising a hand.
But it’s too late. The Stonebrow wraps him up like a leftover burrito and lights him up with the force of a couple thousand volts.
The Zugunu goes stiff. His tentacles flail in every direction like he’s trying to conduct an invisible orchestra while having a seizure. His scream could shatter glass, then he goes limp with a dramatic sizzle.
Silence follows.
The Stonebrow backs off and gives the limp alien a very satisfied little tail flick. Naia lets out a long whistle.
“Oops,” she says. “Guess he wasn’t on the unlimited data plan.”
I snort, then clamp a hand over my mouth.
We float in stunned silence for a few more seconds before I mutter, “So definitely not getting that name.”
Naia shrugs. “He had a solid thirty seconds to say something useful. Instead he chose drama.”