#ship: boone x six

[snail-eggs]

KISSING DOWN THE GD BODY BOONESIX YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO 🔥🔥

pairing: Craig Boone/Courier 6 (F!OC)

warnings: smut. sex. they finally fuck. are you happy, Rags? you've created a monster. Seriously though, this is my first attempt at smut. That's a warning on its own.

divider by @/saradika

There’s something off about this. About the way Six looks as she’s counting their remaining bullets in the divot in her lap. She looks more alive than she has the past few days, despite the bags under her eyes growing worse and worse by the day. 

The house around them is falling apart. Foundation groaning with every strong gust of wind. He taps his boot against the steel bed frame. Rust flakes off. He has no idea how it’ll carry his weight, let alone both of theirs. Boone’ll let her take it tonight, he thinks. She needs the sleep more than him, even if her pseudo-prophetic dreams keep her from getting any real rest. 

What he doesn’t know, however, is that it isn’t just visions of tornadoes, swirling around the irradiated dirt and leaving nothing in their wake that’s haunting her. No, more recently, it's his hands. Six hasn’t been able to stop thinking about his hands. Looking at them. At the way they grip his rifle, pull the trigger just so. The way his hands clench, knuckles turning white when she’d asked one question too many. 

She wonders how they’d feel in her own. If his white-knuckled grasp would really hurt. She doesn’t think so, though. Not so long as he’s holding her. When it really comes down to it, Six thinks, all she wants is to feel him. If it hurts, then it hurts. So be it. 

Six looks up at him now from her spot on the floor. Bathed in the warm wasteland glow, he looks like something else entirely. Something not Boone—closer to the approximation of him that lives in her head and nowhere else. Lives deep in her chest too, she supposes. Close to her heart. And in her chest, her heart thumps hard against her ribs. Six can feel it in her throat. She swallows hard when he looks back; looks her right in the eyes in that precise, cutting way he always does. And maybe it's a trick of the light or the lack of sleep, but she sees something else there too. Something that softens the edge of his gaze. Her heart beats faster.

This adrenaline rush isn’t new. Odd, sure, but not new. Six can recall having felt it precisely once before. With Benny. At the Tops, on his bed after too many drinks, roughly fourteen months after he’d shot her in the head. But she wasn’t scared then, not at all. Guesses that means she isn’t scared now, either. Just nervous.

Boone has never made her nervous, though. Not back in Dinky’s mouth when he’d pointed his rifle right in between her eyes, not ever. 

Except for now, in this rotting house, sitting at the foot of some disgusting bed. Staring.

Six has forgotten all about the bullets now. They lay scattered on the floor, less than a handful still resting in her palm. There’s a flash of concern in Boone’s face then. He leans his rifle against the wall. Drops down to his knees right in front of her and begins to pick up the bullets in between Six’s legs like it's nothing. Like he isn’t so close. Her jaw clenches. 

“You need to sleep,” he’s tossing the bullets back into the box by the handful. His fingers brush against the ones in her palm. Hesitate for a moment before he grabs them up like all the others. “Look like you’re gonna keel over any second.” 

Her hands move of their own accord, cup Boone’s face on either side and tilt his head up to face her head-on. He’s deathly still—every muscle in his body tensed. Six runs her thumb back and forth on the rough skin of his cheek. Boone isn’t breathing, she thinks. He’s staring at her apprehensively. Like at any second, she’ll draw a knife and stab him right in the gut. Her eyes flit from his wary green eyes down to his lips. They linger there, long enough for Boone to notice. He inhales deep, exhales loudly. Their eyes meet again. 

Boone takes her by the back of the neck, faster than she can process. Pulls Six in and collides his mouth against hers .Its bruising—all wrong and still, neither of them break away. He can’t remember what it's like to kiss somebody—to really kiss somebody. Hasn’t so much as entertained the thought. Not after Carla. But now with Six’s lips pressed against his, it feels like second nature to have her so close. Feels like this is how it's supposed to be. He leans into her, the remaining bullets in his hand falling to the ground and he couldn’t care less about them. 

Six is halfway to having her back pressed against the dirty, splintering hardwood when his fingers find themselves tangled in her short brown locks and she pulls away. “Boone,” it's breathless, the way she says it. Nearly quieter than a whisper. She studies him as best she can from so close. Hasn’t ever seen him like this—so desperate. Hungry for more. Boone presses his forehead against hers. Leans into her, wordlessly begging to continue this—whatever this is. 

“Six.”

“Still want me to go to sleep now?”

And he chuckles earnestly before leaning in to kiss right under her jaw. Six’s breath hitches. She can feel Boone smile against her skin. He coaxes her back, tugs at her hair before he has her flush against the ground. It didn’t feel like this with Benny. Not even close. Six’s hands move down from his face to his chest; she clutches his shirt in a vice grip. Doesn’t think she ever wants to let go.

Her heart is beating out of her chest now, more so than before. She never imagined she’d have him this close, feeling the calluses on his hands run under her shirt; his fingertips digging into the skin of her waist like his life depends on it. Never thought she’d whimper at the pressure, only wanting more. 

This is dangerous territory they’ve crossed into. Despite the arousal muddling her thoughts as Boone grazes her collar bone with his teeth, Six wonders what comes after this. Nothing good, surely. She stares up at the ceiling, half hyperventilating now. He tugs at her shirt. She lets him take it off. Whatever the consequences are, they’re not worth losing Boone. Losing what she has with him. 

And yet. 

She’s got her hands on his shoulders now, beckoning him down further. His hands are starting to mess with the button of her pants. Six gasps—no, whines as he presses a chaste kiss to her abdomen. Then he stops. With her pants unbuttoned, zipper down as far as it’ll go, Boone leans back onto his knees. Takes in the sight of her before him. Looks a little spooked, even, and the sight makes Six smile. A laugh escapes her throat unwillingly. Boone watches her fondly through his heavy-lidded gaze. Runs his hand up and down her still-clothed thigh. The sun’s rays bleed through the windows as it sets. Light’s waning and he can still see those intense bags under her eyes better than anything else. His cock stirs in his pants watching the heaving of her bare chest. He doesn’t understand the scope of this—doesn’t want to consider the consequences—all he knows is that he has never wanted anyone more than he wants Six right now and it's killing him. It's been killing him since their last night at the Tops when he’d watched her disappear with Benny into his room for what he’s sure was a piss-poor fuck. Really he would have been fine with anyone else but Benny—never really thought he’d be in this position anyway. Something about it made his skin crawl. The thought of Benny running his hands all over Six’s body after what he did to her. After he shot her in the head and left her to die in Goodsprings like a dog.

Boone might not be deserving of Six, but Benny is even less so. 

If it has to be anyone, Boone sure as hell isn’t mad that it’s him. He’s fucking psyched about it actually—as psyched as Boone can realistically be about anything. He pulls his shirt over his head, unbuckles his belt with fervor and tosses it to the side. 

Six arches a brow, looks him up and down. She’s amused and he’s not entirely sure why. “What?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “You’re—you’re really pretty right now.”

“Pretty?”

“Handsome. Whatever. Cut me some slack, I don’t do this.”

“Six, we can stop if you—”

“Fuck off, I never said that.” Six reaches up, brings him in close and presses a gentle, languid kiss to his lips. Words catch in her throat when they pull apart. Words she can’t quite place. Only knows the tug she feels in her chest when they’re eye to eye. She’d stay like this forever if she could.

Tongues gliding against each other’s, Boone grinds his hips into Six’s. She’s half starved with the way she’s gripping at him in any way she can. These messy, open-mouthed kisses aren’t enough. Having his body pressed against hers isn’t enough. No, she’d need to be in his skin to be satisfied. Though she’ll settle for the next best thing. 

She reaches down, palms his cock through the fabric of his boxers. Boone groans into her mouth. He’s breathless now, desperate. 

When they fuck, its slow. He’s got one of her thighs held up against his hip as he drives himself into her at an agonizing pace. Being with Boone is nothing like how it was with Benny. There’s something fundamentally different about this, she thinks as she stifles her moan in the crook of his neck. Maybe Boone is just better at fucking—she doesn’t entirely doubt that—or maybe she’s just more present now that she’s not drunk off her ass. 

Benny was fun. Quick, but fun. They’d fumbled and laughed and drank but god, it was nothing like this. She’s almost glad it wasn’t. Glad she’s feeling this way with Boone instead. 

Her walls clench around him. The room’s completely dark now—Six has no clue how long they’ve been at this. She’s closer to the brink with every second that passes. Her breathing is becoming erratic—so are Boone’s thrusts. She comes loud and hard, nails digging crescent-shaped craters into his back. It doesn’t take long for him to follow. He pulls out, spills all over the inside of her thigh. 

She gets as good a look at him as she can in the darkness. Stares him in those tired eyes, knowing hers must look leagues worse. Six opens her mouth to speak but the words are held hostage by some unseen force yet again. She kisses him on the forehead instead. Smiles and nods over to the bed right beside them. 

“Sleep with me?”

Boone shakes his head at her. Cups her cheek with his hand. The way he’s looking at her scares her. She doesn’t know she’s looking at him the exact same way. 

“I’ll sleep with you.”

For the first time in weeks, Six is not haunted by visions of tornadoes or of Boone’s hands. Instead she finds herself in a deep, dreamless sleep with Boone right by her side. 

By her side where he belongs.

[thapunqueen]

he will learn to love the shirt dammit !!!!

[wulfhalls]

What were your gateway incest ships?

the og ogs cesare x lucrezia obv they're simply theeeeee blueprint. benda x billy six feet under!! they were cooking and it did something to my devolving brain. boone x shannon lost!! just foundational experiences stuff. does jonsa count? its almost been like 10 years now.... anyway I say they count so. jonsa. those who know know.

[typingtess]

Tiptoeing through the “A Long Time Coming” guest cast

Gary Cole as NCIS Special Agent Alden Parker Wilmer Valderrama as NCIS Special Agent Nicholas "Nick" Torres Vanessa Lachey as NCIS Special Agent Jane Tennant Yasmine Al-Bustami as NCIS Agent Lucy Tara

Everyone here has a role on the sister shows. Teams photo and selfie. Teams with a body.

Kavi Ramachandran Ladnier as NCIS Reserve Agent Shyla Dahr Back from “Flesh and Blood” in early November.

Lesley Boone as Nina Barnes Knew she was a keeper!  Boone is back from “Come Together”, the season 13 finale. Hanging with Wilmer Valderrama and ECO. Maya Stojan as Morgan Miller Played Tory Ellis, the NYPD Video Tech, in 27 episodes of Castle, Kara Lynn Palmas/Agent 33 on Marvel’s Agents of SHIELD and was Meredith Ragen in the “Decompressed” season 13 episode of NCIS.  Wouldn’t the NCIS Navy Yard staffers recognize Morgan Miller as Meredith Ragen?  #ThingsToPonderAtNight.

Had guest roles in episodes of Entourage, Criminal Minds, How to Live with Your Parents (for the Rest of Your Life), Grey’s Anatomy, The Resident and Magnum P.I. (2022).   Trailer and Hawai’i photo.

Jose Pablo Cantillo as Pierce Was Duff Gonzalez in Standoff, Hector Salazar in Sons of Anarchy, Caesar Martinez in The Walking Dead, Dave in Taken and Carlos Jimenez in Mayor of Kingstown.

Appeared in episodes of Law & Order: Criminal Intent, Law & Order: SVU, ER, CSI: Miami, Medical Investigation, Crossing Jordan, Nip/Tuck, Bones, Eyes, Monk, CSI (2008), The Closer, Lie to Me, Hawthorne, Dark Blue, Lone Star, Terriers, The Good Guys, Law &  Order: LA, The River, The Finder, The Mentalist, Rush, Constantine, Damien, Shooter, The Last Ship, The Rookie, SWAT and Magnum P.I. (2022).

Guest starred as DEA Agent Mark Sisco in last season’s “Thick as Thieves” NCIS episode.  Wouldn’t the NCIS Navy Yard staffers recognize Pierce as someone else?  #ThingsToPonderAtNight.

Stephen Mendel as Jimmy McCann Longtime working actor.  Played Det. Freddie Carson in the CTV/CBS series Night Heat in the 1980′s.

Played Col. Tretyakov in the season six “Legacy” part one JAG premiere and Fred Pettis in the season 14 “Off the Grid” episode of NCIS.  Wouldn’t the NCIS Navy Yard team members recognize Jimmy McCann as someone else?  #ThingsToPonderAtNight.

Guest starred in episodes of Hart to Hart, Hot Shots, Night Heat, Dallas, Father Dowling Mysteries, Equal Justice, Sisters, Beverly Hills 90210, Saved by the Bell, L.A. Law, Murder She Wrote, The Hunger, The X-Files, The Practice, Judging Amy, The West Wing, 24, CSI: Miami, Jack & Bobby, Sleeper Cell, Las Vegas, The Bold & The Beautiful, Criminal Minds, Sons of Anarchy, Mad Men, Allegiance, Revenge, General Hospital, Grey’s Anatomy, American Woman and You’re the Worst.

Voices characters in a number of animated series.

Written by:  R. Scott Gemmill wrote/cowrote “The Only Easy Day”, “Brimstone”, “Breach”, “LD50”, “Found”, “Borderline”, “Absolution”, “Archangel”, “Tin Soldiers”, “Impostors”, “Cyberthreat”, “Honor”, “The Watchers” and both sides of the NCIS Los: Angeles/Hawaii Five-0 “Touch of Death” episodes, “Recruit”, “Free Ride”, “Wanted”, “Ravens and The Swans”, “Impact”, “War Cries”, both ends of the “Deep Trouble” season five finale/season six premiere, “Inelegant Heart”, “Praesidium”, “Traitor”, “Active Measures” (season seven premiere), “Blame It On Rio”, “Internal Affairs”, “Matryoshka” part one,  "Talion" (season seven finale), “High Value Target”/”Belly of the Beast” (season eight premieres), “The Queen’s Gambit”, “Under Siege”, “Unleashed” (season eight finale), “Party Crashers” (season nine’s premiere), “This Is What We Do” (episode 200), “Các Tù Nhân”, “Goodbye Vietnam”, “Ninguna Salida” (the season nine finale), “Hit List”, “Asesinos”, “Till Death Do Us Part”, “Choke Point”, “The Guardian”, “Hail Mary”, “Kill Beale Vol. 1”, “Alsiyadun”, “Fortune Favors the Brave”, “The Bear” (season 12 premiere), “Angry Karen”, “Love Kills”, “Russia, Russia, Russia”, “The Noble Maidens”, “A Tale of Two Igors” (season 12 finale), "Subject 17" (season 13 premiere), "All The Little Things", “MWD”, “Work and Family” and “Game of Drones” (season 14 premiere).    

Directed by: Dennis Smith directed “Fame”, “Standoff”, “Rocket Man”, “Cyberthreat”, “Exit Strategy”, “Patriot Acts”, “Out of the Past” part one, “The Livelong Day”, Between the Lines”, “Deep Trouble” part two, “Black Budget", “Black Wind”, “Blame it On Rio”, “Defectors”, “Matryoshka” part one, “Granger, O”, “The Queen’s Gambit”, “Hot Water”, “From Havana With Love”, “Plain Sight”, the lighthearted “Monster”, “Superhuman”, “One of Us”, “Smokescreen” part one, “Decoy”, “Mother” (episode 250), “Alsiyadun”, “The Bear”, “Angry Karen”, “Signs of Change”, “Fukushu” and “Dead Stick”. Scouting locations. Call sheet. With Vanessa Lachay at the foot of the office staircase. With Wilmer Valderrama in the office.

[courier-sux]

some self-indulgent married Boone and Jackal

[its-sixxers]

The skyline was beautiful on fire All twisted metal stretching upwards Everything washed in a thin orange haze

I said: "kiss me, you're beautiful - These are truly the last days"

You grabbed my hand and we fell into it Like a daydream or a fever

We woke up one morning and fell a little further down - For sure it's the valley of death

[lightgamble]

DARK MATTER | 

3.04 / 3.08

[mylovelies-docx]

Silent Lovers

Inspired by THIS post. 

Just a cute little fluffy piece I wrote. It hasn’t been proofed, so any mistakes are mine. 

Word Count: 2350

Warnings: None. Tooth-rotting fluff!

You fell in love with him just a little bit more every day.

His actions, his mannerisms, the glimmer in his eyes spoke of a man infinitely amused and in awe of the universe around him despite everything it had put him through. Poe Dameron may have been the Resistance’s best pilot, but he was also the reason so many people joined in the fight. Including you.

_____________

You had seen him buying galactic fruit from a bazaar on an allied planet that you had called home for years. His insignia emblazoned jacket marked him as a good guy, but his smile marked him as a kind man. His straight white teeth were easily visible, and his deep smile lines indicated a lifetime of grins.

You were too far away to hear their conversation, but you could tell that the stall owner was quite taken with him. They were laughing boisterously and exchanging quips rapid fire, pulling others around them into the conversation. The gravity of Poe Dameron sucked you in as well, and you orbited the outskirts of the group.

Poe was recruiting new members to his cause using only his charisma and charm. He never faltered on reasons to join and never stumbled through the sales pitch. He was confident in himself and his ability to sell the war efforts to this small group of traders and civilians. He succeeded, too.

You gained passage on a cargo ship heading to the Resistance base to supply yourself as a new recruit. Working as a mechanic for most of your life lent itself as a boon to your placement on base, and having sufficient flight and combat skills meant you could also be a substitute pilot on missions when required. But with so many X-wings coming in damaged and in need of repair after skirmishes with the First Order, your feet were planted firmly on the ground. Which was alright by you since all of your new friends were fellow mechanics or mission control crew.

It was also fine by you since you were able to discreetly observe Poe Dameron in his natural element as Commander and pilot. There were so many talented mechanics that you weren’t able to gain access to Poe’s X-wing, and therefore you were unable to get to know him up close. But you were content to watch from the sidelines and learn who he was by watching his interactions with others.

___________________

He had a smile or a special handshake with nearly everyone when things were calm. You could tell that he genuinely enjoyed speaking with and knowing everyone he worked with; whether that be the droids helping to repair his ship or the runners that brought out rations who were too young to fight. You enjoyed seeing his smile, since it was the first little thing you fell in love with.

Poe also had a habit of singing - quite loudly - when he was working on a task and feeling particularly playful. He was actually a good singer, but when Snap or Jessika gave him a look to shut up, he purposefully sang off key and out of tune to irritate them further. They would just roll their eyes and pretend to be annoyed, but they smiled when they looked away. Poe noticed these smiles and grinned even wider when he caught them.

Poe had even gotten his little droid, BB-8, to beep along with him. Poe would start whistling a tune and BB-8 would pick up right alongside him. It was cute to see the droid sway back and forth while it was ‘singing’, but your focus was drawn to the sound of Poe’s voice as he started up the chorus.

Whether or not his singing was out of contentment or playfulness, you loved to hear it. You often hummed along to yourself, five or six stations away on the opposite side of the hangar, far out of reach of Poe’s ears and eyes.

You loved to hear him sing, because that meant everything was okay for the moment. Your heart skipped a beat every time you caught even a note.

__________________

The constantly tousled brown curls that rested on Poe’s head were disastrous to your heart, as well. Anxious or nervous, laughing or silly, Poe was notorious for running his hands through his hair and shaking out the curls. You saw him do this on many occasions, unfortunately they were mostly out of stress and fear. 

Before an important mission, Poe would give his team a pep talk and try to instill a fearlessness in them. He would be serious and stoic, resting a hand on someone’s shoulder and pointing and motioning with the other. He would clap twice then rub his hands together feverishly, dismissing his squadron and turning his focus onto preparing himself. Poe would take a deep breath with his hands on his hips, then on the exhale scrub his hands frantically through his hair. His face was always set in a determined expression, but you could tell by the chaotic set of his curls how anxious he really was.

On one such ritual, Poe caught you staring from across the hangar. You froze for a second, mentally berating yourself for watching him for too long. 

Heart in your throat and stomach somewhere around your knees, you gave a weak smile and two thumbs up. Your first interaction with the man you were silently in love with.

Poe gave a little huff of laughter and mimicked your gesture. With a small grin on his lips and in seemingly better spirits, he climbed into his X-wing and pulled a helmet over his beautifully disheveled hair.

                                                            ******

Poe Dameron knew a lot of people, but he didn’t know you. You, who he’d never seen before until that day. You were cute in an unassuming way; flushed cheeks and messy hair, grease stains on your clothes and face. The little thumbs up you had given him was enough to get him in his cockpit and out into the fray. You had no idea how much he had needed encouragement from someone other than himself in that moment.

After that mission, Poe took to watching you. You didn’t know each other, but he liked to think he knew you just by observing. 

He fell in love with you a little bit more every day. 

Your expressions, your posture, your smile that lit up a room and illuminated everything within its path. You may have been one of the best mechanics on base, but you were also one of the loveliest people Poe had never met.

______________

Poe was not typically shy; he had a loud mouth, a hot temper, and no impulse control. But when it came to you, he was a nervous wreck. Every time he got up the courage to introduce himself, someone either came along and roped him into a mission or you were so busy that you didn’t hear him clearing his throat behind you. (Those times were mortifying: Snap and Jess would chortle unabashedly at his misfortune, dying over the way he would ring his hands behind his back as he waited for you to turn around and notice him. Poe only ever stuck around for a few seconds until his courage was gone, but those few seconds were embarrassing.) He couldn’t bring himself to interrupt your work when you were so invested.

Your eyebrows would furrow together and create a little line right in the middle, tempting Poe to smooth it out; your mouth would curl up like you had witnessed something distasteful, begging Poe to give you something more to your liking, but sometimes you’d bite your lower lip and stick your tongue out in concentration, sending Poe’s blood careening through every vein; you would be hunched so far over your work bench that you basically had your chin pressed against the table, but Poe loved the way your face softened as you finally figured out what was wrong with the part in your hands.

One time, Poe sat huddled in the hangar with a group of pilots, waiting on the sudden storm to pass so that they could go out and train, when he noticed you run off into the rain. He sat mesmerized with a goofy grin on his mouth as he saw you fling your arms open and raise your face into the oncoming water. Your eyes were closed and your mouth was open in a wide smile full of pretty teeth. You spun in a circle a few times and nearly lost your balance, sending you into a fit of giggles that, unbeknownst to you, Poe joined in on. 

Jessika shoved an elbow into Snap’s waist when she caught their Commander with such a gooey expression. They both gave each other a look and brought Poe back into the conversation.

                                                           ******

You really didn’t know what to do with yourself anymore. Poe was all you could think of in your spare time and you ran the risk every day that he would catch you watching him again. But you couldn’t help it; he was just so handsome and good. You couldn’t get over this stupid, silent crush no matter how hard you fought it.

He doesn’t even know who you are, just that you’re some nerfherder that he caught staring at him.

A few months had passed since that happened, and you were no closer to knowing Poe on a personal level. Interestingly enough, though, Jessika Pava and Snap Wexley were becoming fast friends of yours. You were a bit intimidated at first, but they were both nice and funny, so you quickly let down your guard and hung out with them. They often brought up Poe, which made your cheeks warm everytime. You didn’t miss the knowing looks they gave you when you turned your face down and away from their prying eyes.

_________

It was an uncommonly windy day on D’Qar, so all of the pilots were grounded and unable to practice maneuvers. Everyone was resting on or against a pile of supply crates in the hangar, chatting and having a good time. You didn’t want to interrupt them, but you needed some materials from the crate that Jessika was situated on. Since you knew her and knew she wouldn’t be bothered by your interruption, you made your way over to the group quietly.

Poe was standing beside Snap on Jess’s other side, so you sidled up behind her and whispered in her ear:

“Boo.”

Jessika jolted off of the box and whirled around to face you. You were laughing so hard that you were bent over at the waist with tears collecting in the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t stop yourself from seizing the prime opportunity.

“Maker! You scared me half to death!” Jessika scolded, wagging a finger at you. Her heart was still racing, but she couldn’t help but chuckle at your antics.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you apologized, wiping away the tears that were threatening to fall. “I couldn’t help myself.”

You were still grinning from ear to ear and huffing out little breaths of laughter, causing Poe’s heart to constrict in his chest at the sight. You were so cute it hurt.

You were so close it hurt. You weren’t looking at him, but he could see your face up close for the first time, and it took his breath away. He had seen a million beautiful people across the galaxy, but there was something about you that was special in a way that none of them had been.

Jessika glanced quickly away from your smiling face to catch Poe with his mouth slightly open and eyes wide with longing. Finally, she had gotten these two idiots within speaking distance.

“Whatever: I forgive you. By the way…” Jessika said. Her eyes darted towards Poe, and yours followed along. Your breath stuttered out of your lungs as Jess grabbed Poe by the arm and tugged him closer. “Have you met Commander Dameron?”

Jessika released Poe’s arm and shoved him closer towards you. Poe nearly stumbled over his feet at the sudden pressure. He turned to give Jess a quick glare, but faced you again immediately. Your eyes were wide and your face was either still flushed from laughter or from nerves; either way, Poe was enamored.

“Poe,” he introduced. He extended an open palm towards you, hoping like hell that it wasn’t sweaty. His heart was racing, but a crooked grin stretched across one side of his face in anticipation.

“I know,” you replied, extending your hand in return. You cringed at your reply, pausing your hand on its way to meet his. You made a quick finger blaster with that same hand to point out that you had caught your slip. Poe chuckled adoringly at this gesture and proceeded to clasp hands when yours returned to the correct position.

You were absolutely horrified by what came out of your mouth and whatever the Maker your hand just did. Your social anxiety was at an all time high right now, and you weren’t making it any easier on yourself. You were shaky and you just knew that your underarms were pouring liquid, so you kept your one arm extended to shake Poe’s hand and the other crossed over your chest to grasp your opposite bicep. Even through the nerves, you could feel how warm his hand was.

Poe had a large and calloused hand, proof of all the years he had spent fighting. It radiated heat into your own palm and you didn’t know whose hand was providing all the sweat. Despite the awkwardness you had shoehorned into this meeting, you were thankful that it was finally happening.

“(Y/N),” you supplied.

“I know,” Poe grinned.

You had both fallen in love from a distance and now had the opportunity to fall in love up close and personal, building on top of the foundation you had both laid together silently and without the other’s notice.

You were no longer silent lovers, appreciating and admiring from afar, but finally intimate acquaintances. 

[lokimostly]

Polaris (Ch.11/?)

Loki x Reader, Pirate!AU Word Count: 3,163 Warnings: none! Summary: Your life has always been set in stone. Born to a wealthy merchant family in the Caribbean, you’ve spent your years as an heiress in the daytime, escaping at night to wander the streets of St. Thomas. Now, on the eve before your life settles into mundanity for good, you discover someone who could change everything– if you choose to trust him, that is.

A/N: Thanks for being so patient, I needed to rework some future plot elements. Everything is lined up nicely now. Enjoy ;) 

Chapter One ~ Chapter Two ~ Chapter Three ~ Chapter Four ~ Chapter Five ~ Chapter Six ~ Chapter Seven ~ Chapter Eight ~ Chapter Nine ~ Chapter Ten ~ Chapter Twelve ~ Chapter Thirteen ~ Chapter Fourteen

You woke up suddenly. The sand-covered stone was hard beneath you. Light filtered through the palms, shining from the curved entrance of the rocky overhand and baking the stone floor in its warmth. Rainwater dripped from the ceiling, but there were no outward signs of the storm: no howling wind or flashing lightning to assault your tired vision.

You sat up and gasped in pain- your hands reached for your back, but stalled a bit. Moving your arms hurt. Every inch of your skin ached with soreness. You felt like your muscles had unravelled into string. You gingerly rubbed at your shoulders, finding them sensitive to the touch, and let out an echoing sigh. You couldn’t imagine the state Loki’s body was in.

Loki. Where was he?

You looked around the cave. He was nowhere to be seen.

Despite the protest of your aching limbs, you stood, dusting the sand off of your chemise and pushing up the frilled sleeves. This was now your only piece of clothing to wear, and it was completely indecent. More than that, you had no doubt that the white color would turn sheer when wet.

Lovely, you thought.

Your hair felt stiff from the saltwater. You stepped out onto the long grass and took a deep breath of warm, salty air. The breeze was fine, teasing at your clothing and spinning it round your legs. The palm trees were much smaller and less frightening in the light of day than they had been last night, leaning lazily from side to side and hiding clusters of fruit at the bases of their leaves. Were it not for the fact that you were stuck here, you might have called it paradise.

You followed the path out of the grove of trees, trusting your intuition and walking until the grass turned to sand. The sea unfurled like a map before you: aqua blue, completely flat and sparkling in the sunlight. The storm clouds on the edge of the horizon, black with anger and growing smaller with every passing minute, were the only sign that the storm had existed at all. Everything else about it was warm, windy, and perfect.

Loki stood in the shallows. The water was up to his knees, a sharpened staff in one hand. He stood perfectly still, staring down at the water with intense focus, his wavy hair tied half-back. You watched as the wind teased his hair, pulling at the edges of his billowing shirt, but he did not budge.

Finally you relented to curiosity and called out. “What are you doing?”

Your voice didn’t startle him. “Fishing,” he said shortly. His voice was still ragged from yesterday’s trials, and much deeper than you expected. A pang of guilt twinged inside your chest. You were to blame for that.

“Caught anything?” You asked hopefully.

You watched Loki press his lips together and took that for an answer- he didn’t seem to be in much of a talkative mood. You stood on the water’s edge, unsure what to do. The waves lapped up at the sand, turning it a shade darker before receding. A crab scuttled across the shore. You watched it disappear with bemused curiosity.

Finally, Loki seemed to accept the fact that the universe was not currently handing out fish and lifted his makeshift staff, walking up to the shore. As he came closer, you realized not only that he was limping, but also that his lithe body was covered in bruises. There were the marks along his side from falling to the deck, and new ones you didn’t recognize: miscellaneous scrapes and dark spots, most namely a huge bruise spanning a hand’s length in the middle of his chest. Normally, seeing him unclothed would be a reason to avert your eyes, but clinging to him for dear life– for hours on end, no less – had rather worn off the novelty.

“Did I do that?” You asked, a bit horrified.

Loki’s eyebrows pulled together and he looked down at the bruise you were referring to. He chuckled dryly. “You were determined to kill me, if I were a fish.”

You pressed a hand to your mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head dismissively, reaching up and unravelling the knot that held back his hair. “Don’t be.” Loki let out a noisy sigh and sat down, wincing. He unwrapped a poorly done bandage covering a long cut on the side of his foot. The saltwater had helped, but it still looked raw, and the skin around it was red with agitation. He flipped over the bandage.

You reached forward quickly, catching his wrist. “No, let me.” His blue-green eyes snapped upwards, looking dangerously sharp-edged, but he let go, allowing you to tear a clean piece of cloth from the hem of your chemise and hand it to him.

He raised an eyebrow. The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “Are you not naked enough?”

Your face flushed, but you continued to hold it out stubbornly. “Unless you want to trade clothes, there’s not much I can do about it.”

Loki hummed. His expression was a cross between amused and thoughtful, and it agitated you. He still hadn’t taken the bandage. “What is it?” You snapped finally, emphasizing the cloth in your hand. “I don’t have the plague. Take it.”

He laughed, raising an eyebrow and shaking his head. He took the bandage from you, his hand brushing over yours. “You were easier to embarrass when you were fully clothed.”

Your face flushed. You crossed your arms and said nothing for a moment, watching him re-wrap his foot. Your rebuttal almost came to you too late. “Good to know I’m growing some spine, then.” You turned away, finding distraction in the flat horizon. There’s nothing out there: no land, no ships to speak of, only the sandbars that eventually disappear beneath the blue. Nothing, and no one for uncounted miles.

You felt the familiar ache of despair squeeze your chest. “What are we going do?” You asked quietly, not to Loki, or anyone in particular.

But it was him who answered, one hand on the small of your back. Its presence there wasn’t surprising, and the fact itself shocked you. “Well,” he sighed, with a raise of one dark eyebrow. “We take a look around, for a start.”

~

Together, you and Loki mapped out the island over the course of the morning. You discovered several things: firstly, that the island was probably three miles long and half as wide, made up of two large hills surrounded by a ring of trees. Your cave was nestled inside the larger of these two mounds of earth and stone. A spring was hidden in the valley between them, bubbling above the ground before it disappeared back into the earth. There were no other caves on the island’s surface, or notable landmarks to speak of.

Secondly, there was food here. Some of the trees were fruit bearing: small, wild mangos, larger than your palm and half bitter. They probably weren’t ripe when you and Loki picked them, but their skin broke beneath your teeth and the nectar was sweet enough to lift your spirits. There were probably other fruits and nuts to be found. You didn’t look hard: Loki’s limp could not be disguised from you, and you adamantly strayed away from any difficult terrain. He had suffered enough on your account.

Thirdly: you were not the first ones here.

“Stop,” Loki said suddenly, making you halt between the wide trees. The sun was nearing its peak, so you had decided to travel back to your hideout in the cover of shade. The heat, though somewhat diluted by the ocean breeze, made you grateful that your clothes were light– even if they were grossly immodest.

Loki set his foot down harshly, and was rewarded with a hollow sound. The two of you shared a similar, conspiring look. You got down on your knees and began pushing away at the sand and loose grass attempting to grow over wooden planks. Loki helped, grunting as he wedged his fingers between one of the boards and pried it loose. A cloud of dust came up and he coughed, looking down. “I can’t see inside.”

“Pull another board,” you suggested, uncovering more planks. They looked half-rotten, and the second one snapped under Loki’s grasp instead of coming out clean. He shrugged, dusting off his hands and setting them on his knees, taking another look. “It’s not deep. A few feet.”

Without waiting for him to make more observations, you swung your legs over and dropped. A shout of protest escaped his lips, but your feet hit the packed ground before he could reach for you, or do anything to stop your descent.

The hole was just deeper than you – that is to say that you could walk beneath the boards without having to duck your head. The light came down in a dusty pillar, and you blinked as you adjusted to the light, coughing at the upheaval of dust that filled your lungs. Then you sucked in a gasp.

“Loki, come down here.”

“Alright, alright,” came his exasperated reply, and the sound of feet on hard earth told you he had landed behind you. He caught your shoulder for balance, removing it just as quickly so as not to offend. You were too distracted by your newfound boon to notice.

Barrels. Barrels and crates and clothes. Or some kind of fabric, anyway. Whoever was here decided to make a stash of their excess supply – from the looks of it, they had either forgotten to return or taken a long trip around.

“Bloody hell,” Loki swore quietly, twisting one of the barrel caps open and looking down at the contents. “There’s salt here.”

“Never mind that,” you said, unfolding a large piece of thick cotton. You swung it over your shoulders and displayed it to him the same way you might show off a dress, half-twirling with a giddy smile. “Now we won’t freeze to death at night.”

Loki chuckled, watching with something like amusement. “Your faith in me to take care of you was that little?”

“No,” you conceded, smirking, “but this helps.” You turned back and continued to rifle through the contents of your findings. There was grain, tightly packed to avoid going bad from the damp, and more textiles: homespun tunics, even a pair of trousers that you silently claimed as your own.

“Pity,” Loki commented over your shoulder, startling you. “I was looking forward to our mutual lack of clothing.”

Your jaw dropped as your face turned red. “Really? You haven’t yet had your fill?”

You were met with that infuriating, wolfish grin and an unabashed shrug. “The threat of death tends to steal away one’s focus.”

You scowled. “I meant of your jesting, not the--” you waved your hand in an inarticulate gesture, earning a laugh on his part.

“That, too.”

You groaned and pulled one of the tunics over your head, ignoring the slightly musty smell. It had clearly been made with someone larger in mind, and almost replaced your chemise in function. Still, with this company, an extra layer couldn’t hurt.

Your face burned like a lamp in the dark. The threat of death, and then relief, and then focus on staying alive had precluded you from spending any time dwelling on your dreams or feelings. Now they were coming back with full, brunt force. You felt the absence of the ring from your finger more than ever, touching the bare skin.

You heard shuffling behind you and turned around to watch Loki lift himself out and offer his hand so you could do the same. You handed him a bundle of clothes first, taking his hand once he set your bounty aside. Despite his soreness Loki lifted you out easily, helping you stand in the grove of trees. He was close, you noticed. You could feel the heat of his bare chest, smell that faint scent of leather and rose that seemed to accompany him no matter his state of undress.

He looked down at you, watched your eyes flicker before you pulled away and gathered the textiles. He shifted his jaw, catching his tongue between his teeth; partly in silent annoyance, and partly to keep himself from making another insufferable comment. Even you had your limits.

He knew how your body felt, clinging to him in the water for hours. For the sake of saving your life Loki had been allowed the discovery of how soft you were against his calloused hands, the way your breath came out and made your chest shudder. He hadn’t sought out the knowledge of you on purpose, but it was his nonetheless. Now he itched for the feel of you in his hands. Like anything Loki had ever sampled, and liked, one taste wasn’t enough– he longed to swallow you whole, to know you inside and out. To make your breath hitch and your heart pound.

And the universe had rewarded him with your company, alone, on a desert island. He was convinced that some part of you shared that mutual desire, even if you refused to admit it. What Loki needed was patience, and time, and enough self-control not to push you into hating him through his own snide remarks. The last one hadn’t even been clever.

His mind didn’t register that you were halfway through the grove and nearly out of sight until you stopped, turning around with a frown. “Are you coming?”

He snapped out of his thoughts of you and met with the reality: waiting expectantly under the dappled light, sun-dried hair pulled by the breeze. An open sky full of air, and the sight of you made it a struggle to breathe.

He raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Don’t wait for me.”

~

The sky was turning muted purple as the sun dipped below the horizon. You finished adjusting your new clothes– the trousers had to be cuffed, of course, and the tunic was sinfully low-cut, with no tassels to make adjustments – but it was better than your chemise, which you had neatly folded next to the other unused garments, now in service as cushions to soften the cave’s unforgiving floor.

You stepped out and walked through the grove to the beach, finding Loki there with a meager fire before him. He was coaxing it to life, encouraging it to take hold of your collected driftwood. You sat down in the sand and pulled the cotton cloth over your shoulders, watching in silence until the fire was crackling happily on its own.

Loki handed you a speared fish to cook over the fire. The afternoon had finally proved fruitful in his attempts to catch something. You took it. The two of you sat in silence, turning over your dinner to brown the sides and eating in silence. The fish was salty, but it was your first real meal in god knew how long.

The stars were coming out. You leaned back on your elbows to watch them appear, silently counting until they became innumerable, blinking in the twilight. You thought back to the book in Loki’s cabin, feeling a pang of regret that it wasn’t with you now. You wished you knew their names.

Loki made a sudden noise, startling you from your thoughts. You turned to find his seaglass eyes skyward, too. “What is it?”

He leaned closer to you and lifted his arm, pointing out a bright light amongst the canopy of stars. “The north star.”

You opened your mouth in silent acknowledgement. Its name was on the tip of your tongue. “Why that one?”

Loki’s brow furrowed gently. “Because it shines the brightest, I suppose.” He sighed, falling back and putting his hands behind his head, reciting the wisdom from memory. “If you can find Polaris, you know your way home.”

Polaris. You savored the name silently on your tongue. “Do you?” You asked, turning away from the stars to look at his face. The starlight and shadow of the fire softened the sharp edges of his features. Loki’s brow furrowed again, and he turned to look at you. “Do I what?”

“Know the way home.”

He hummed in his chest and looked back at the sky with a critical gaze, studying it. He held up one large hand, and after some consideration, pointed to your left. “That way.”

You were surprised at the laugh that escaped your lips, throwing back your head. “How helpful you are. I see now why I should keep you around.”

Loki chuckled in his chest. “I am ever at your service, little one.”

The familiar nickname made your stomach flutter. You dropped from your elbows onto your back, setting your hands on your stomach and doing your best to ignore the fact that his shoulder was pressed against yours.

The fire crackled and sparked, sending embers up into the dark sky where both your gazes were fixed. Loki shifted his jaw and tried to focus: on the warmth of the fire lightly burning against his skin, on the chill of the night breeze and the smell of salt. Anything but the warmth of your skin beneath the fabric that separated you.

A streak of light graced the darkness. He made a wish.

“Well, then,” you sighed, nestling further into the makeshift blanket and letting your eyes fall closed. “What do you think we should do with our time, stuck here for the foreseeable future?”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “I have a few ideas.”

You hummed. “Tell me.”

His chest expanded with an inhale. “You need to learn to swim, to begin with.”

Your eyes snapped open and you sat up, leaning on your elbow to look over him with a stony expression. “Absolutely not.”

“Your ardent refusal is the first reason why.”

“Loki, I was in mortal danger of drowning less than a day ago.”

“That is exactly my point,” he argued evenly, staring up at you with a mild expression. The firelight cast you in a warm, angelic glow that turned his cheeks red to notice. He continued his statement with averted eyes. “You cannot expect to live on a desert island without knowing how to swim.”

“Can’t I?” You challenged, more for the sake of egging him on. Loki wasn’t having it, and growled in his chest as he closed his eyes.  “I am too tired for your antics.”

You quieted, staring at his face for a moment longer before dropping onto your back again. The wind picked up, dimming the fire and making you shiver through your cotton wrap. You turned closer to Loki, setting your forehead against his arm. If he noticed, he did nothing in return. You had a suspicion that he was close to falling asleep.

“You had better be a good teacher,” you murmured. You felt him shift beside you, roused by your statement. Then he chuckled softly. “Do you doubt my ability to take care of you?” He asked, his voice low and thick with exhaustion. Your face flushed. The one time you suspected that he didn’t mean it as a double entendre, but you had taken it that way.

In either instance, your answer was the same.

“No. I trust you.”

“Smart girl.”

- - - 

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[snail-eggs]

I’m gently kicking my feet and gritting my teeth like I’m rabid thinking about some 55. tracing lines on the other’s hand for SixBoone iiiiiiif that does anything for it and I’m batting my lashes so prettily and gnashing my teeth so powerfully 🤭🥰😊

pairing: Craig Boone/Courier 6 (F!OC)

warnings: none, unless you need a warning for craigory being all self deprecating while he’s yearning .

divider by @/saradika

Her warmth is disturbing.

They lay together on a rotting mattress in some motel just outside Albuquerque. Boone’s never been this far east before. Six sleeps beside him, deeper than she ever has, he thinks. Chest to his back, arm across his waist with her leg slung over his hip. She’s close. Entirely too close. And yet he doesn’t push her away.

Against his nature, Boone lets Six hold him. Lets her body hear warm him to the point of discomfort after days of baking in the New Mexico sun. The skin on and around Six’s nose had perpetually reddened. Started to peel now, too. Boone’s found himself wanting to run his fingers across it. And it unsettles him, that thought. That hypothetical tenderness, and the fact that she would let him—even if it’d hurt.

He stares at the shadow of their combined form on the wall. Boone doesn’t hate how it looks. Them, together. It’s hours out ‘til sunrise and he doesn’t know how much of her warmth, her touch, he can take. Six stirs against him. Buries her face against the back of his neck. Her breath against his skin makes him shiver despite the heat. Six’s wrist hangs limp off his body now. She’s closer than anyone’s ever been since—

—In the moonlight, Boone sees the contours and shadows of the lines on her palm. And these lines, it’s not like they’re extraordinary. It’s a normal palm, albeit littered with scars from scrapes and falls. He turns against her—his back against the mattress now and Six’s face fitting perfectly into the crook of his neck. Like it’s meant to go there.

He unfurls her lax fingers from her palm. Studies the lines of it as best as he can in the near darkness. Even runs a fingertip across the grooves gentler than he’s ever handled anything before. Boone doesn’t quite get this fascination he has with the lines of her palm. Maybe he’s just exhausted, delirious even. But they’re so uniquely Six and maybe that’s why. Six herself has such a hold on him; why not her hands by extension.

For a fleeting moment, he imagines what it would be like to hold her hand in his. Properly. Interlocked fingers, palm-to-palm. It’s so intimate, the thought. Sort of makes him sick—almost as much as it excites him.

Truth is, Boone doesn’t deserve her warmth, to be touching her tenderly like this, yet he can’t bring himself to wrench away from her touch. He doesn’t deserve it, but he allows it just this once.

Absentmindedly, he continues his motions of tracing along her palm. Lets his eyelids, growing heavier by the second, shut for moments at a time.

Her warmth is disturbing, but in his sleep, Boone finds himself unable to let go of Six’s hand.

[capricornus-rex]

A Test of Wills (4)

Requested by Anon. Prompt:

What about…Cal x reader fic, getting stuck on Jakku because the Mantis needs repairs?

Cal Kestis x Reader

1 | 2 | 3 | 5 | Masterlist

4 of ?

Rani has offered you a place to stay the night still within Cratertown. She lived a few houses away from the cantina. She apologized in advance if it wasn’t a five-star suite, but you still expressed your gratitude towards her help.

“You really didn’t have to, Rani,”

“Oh tut, I’d never hesitate helping a friend!”

Rani prepared a room for you to share. She promised to take you back to Niima Outpost once you’re ready tomorrow. The room wasn’t much but it’s better than the open-ended tents in the outpost, she didn’t strongly recommend going back out to your ship in the middle of the night.

“That’s where the creepy crawlies come out of their hidey holes,”

She dismisses herself and leaves the two of you to your privacy. Cal seems to have settled himself on the bed. He noticed your uneasiness as you surveyed the room. He stood up, held you on both arms, and he looked straight into your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Frankly, not really,”

“You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Well, what choice do we have? It’s not like we can steal away the parts. We’ve already had enough bounty hunters hot on our trail—let’s not add the blobfish to the list!”

Cal’s hands slid down to your hands and held them tight, you gave out a defeated sigh—realizing that there aren’t many options laid out to solve this predicament. The tremors in your body, albeit faint, were enough for Cal to sense. He holds you in his arms for a long time, before scooping your legs and tucking you in bed.

Today exhausted you to the bone—the heat and the bustle of the outpost seemed to have siphoned whatever remaining energy you had left. Meanwhile, Cal could not sleep a wink. He lies right beside you, watching your breast rise and fall with every breath, and the stillness of your person when you easily drifted off.

Cal was only able to sleep with one eye open, he made sure he was the first to wake before you and Rani. He saw that you were still sound asleep. The dawn was already arriving, the sun’s rays have already begun to peek through the clouds.

He leaned closer to you, kissed you in your sleep—feeling like it happened in a dream—and he whispered, almost sadly, “I’m sorry,”

He leaves your side in bed and buckles his armor on. The climbing claws still fit like a glove. When BD-1 spotted what he was doing, he put his finger to his lip and BD-1 never chirped back. Quietly rummaging through your satchel, he finds the pouch of credits that Cere had given you, and stuffed it into his own bag; he waited until Rani had her back turned, until he got the opportunity to sneak out of the cottage to the landspeeder.

Cal made quick work of starting the landspeeder and speeding away out of Cratertown and back to Niima Outpost.

You woke to the sound of Rani screaming, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN GONE!?”

Out of instinct, you jumped up from bed and find Cal absent in bed. You saw that your satchel has been ransacked and the credits were gone.

“Hey!” Rani stormed into the room, she spoke with her teeth clenched and with a fierceness that you haven’t seen in years. “Your boyfriend’s left—with my landspeeder!”

There was no time to waste, you swooped into your poncho, grabbed your bag and joined Rani on another speeder. Rani floored the landspeeder and you nearly sank into the leather interior of your seat.

“Do you think they’ve started?!” you screeched through the wind blasting through your face.

“I think they’re about to! Your boyfriend’s kind of a whirlwind, isn’t he?”

Cal arrived and has been in the outpost for a few minutes now, thanks to his headstart of sneaking out; he pays the entry fee to the thug guarding the entrance. He makes his way to the shipyard where large silhouettes remain under large tarps. The arena was nothing but another tent, except that it was better lit than the rest.

The ring was empty but the crowd was wild. Unkar waddled his way into the ring and his appearance pumped up his audience.

“Are you scumbags ready for fight night!?”

The crowd roared in unison. He immediately shut them up to lay out the rules as part of his program.

“Now, you know the rules—well, except if you’re new here,” he paused and let some of the people in the crowd laugh. “Anything goes for fight night. Weapons? Bare hands? I’m all for that. If you win, you name your boon. Whatever the price, whatever you want!”

Unkar introduces today’s fighter, a six-foot-eight Aqualish. The looming creature relished his popularity and adoration from the crowd as he circled the ring. Cal watched his apparent opponent and started thinking of strategies of how he’s going to topple him to the ground.

Anything goes. He thought. He closes his hand to a fist and feels the tightness of the climbing claws over his knuckles.

“Now, for the challenger—fresh meat from probably the other bad end of the galaxy—we got Cal Kestis. Says he’s a scrapper from Bracca. Let’s see if he survives this scrap,” Unkar sniggered.

Cal entered the ring and received nothing but snarls of threat. He took it that the audience doesn’t take kindly on new faces. He faces the Aqualish and then project himself in a stance. The brawl began as soon as Unkar abruptly dropped his raised arm and a bell rang at his command.

Half of the audience had their money on the Aqualish—who, in a simpleton’s logic, would win due to its towering height and brute strength—whilst the other half somehow put their faith, albeit little of it, on young Cal Kestis, the unassuming scrapper from Bracca.

Just like the gladiatorial match in the Haxion Brood’s nest, Cal impressed the ringmaster and the audience. To his advantage against the Aqualish, Cal was nimble and light on his feet, making it easier for him to evade punches and land some himself—and they were bloody ones thanks to the climbing claws that poke into the opponent’s thick hide.

His luck soon ran out when the claws suddenly won’t budge out of the Aqualish’s hide. The four-eyed creature lowed as if he was laughing and struck Cal down with one heavy fist. The tables appear to have turned. The crowd goes ever so wild—apparently, the Aqualish was their champion, and the few supporters that Cal had have become turncoats, afraid to lose their betting money because of the losing side.

Now the opponent has taken the upper hand. He has suffered enough from Cal’s clawed punches, to the creature’s point of view, it was only a matter of time. The crowd that hugged the rim of the fighting ring wildly tapped, shook the ropes, and waved their fists in the air.

“Looks like the scrapper’s ‘boutta get scrapped!” Unkar laughed at his own joke.

You didn’t wait for Rani to put the landspeeder to a complete stop. You simply leaped out of the vehicle and ran towards Unkar’s open shipyard. The thug saw you coming and stopped you dead on your tracks, calmly telling you that you needed to pay the entry fee first. Unfortunately, your entry fee is with Cal.

“[y/n], wait up!” Rani cried out, running to catch up with you.

You looked into the thug’s eyes and kept your gaze steady but blank. You waved your hand across the guard’s face.

“My friend and I don’t need an entry fee,” you spoke in a commanding tone.

The thug’s demeanor didn’t change but you felt him loosen up in your presence.

“You and your friend don’t need an entry fee.”

You smiled to yourself, you couldn’t believe it actually worked; Rani saw you do it and she was surprised herself. But there was no time for more questions, you immediately dragged Rani into the shipyard with you and ran towards the tent where they’re having the fight night.

Upon storming into the fight tent, your eyes find the ring and you suddenly froze; aghast at the sight of a bloodied Cal being battered to death by the raggedy Aqualish.

“Oh sweet lords, he’s getting his ass handed to him!” Rani exclaimed.

You violently shouldered your way through the crowd until you got closer to the ring. Finally, you got a better view of Cal—his face was riddled with deep purple bruises, he was bleeding on the cheek, and blood was gushing out of his mouth.

“CAL!!!”

The bell rang when you said his name. The Aqualish stood victorious. He threw his arms up triumphantly, gaining the audience’s adoration. He paraded himself around the ring while Cal lay unconscious in the middle of the ring, bleeding all over the board.

You crawled into the ring and towards Cal. You ignored the blood pooling into your palms, your fingers trembled as they held on Cal’s cheek—careful not to touch the open wound where the trickling streak of blood is coming from.

“I’m here,” you weakly whispered, saying it over and over until you get the slightest response from him.

Your eyes search for Unkar Plutt, the Aqualish looked down on you and you received his degrading laughter. The seething rage was filling your bloodstreams, your willpower was trying to fight off the aggression and anger growing with you by the minute—the same aggression and anger that led you to the fight night lifestyle back in Nar Shaddaa.

[camelliagwerm]

001 for fnv ; 002 for mina x penny >:3

the thing.

001 | Send me a fandom and I will tell you my:

Favorite character: Ulysses or House

Least Favorite character: Joshua Graham

5 Favourite ships (canon or non-canon): Courier/Ulysses and Courier/House if either are done well.

Character I find most attractive: Cass!

Character I would marry: I feel like Swank would do right by me.

Character I would be best friends with:  Rex. A dog is a person’s best friend after all. Seriously though, I think I would get on well with Veronica.

A random thought: stop trying to make NV2 happen. It’s not going to happen. And quite frankly, I don’t want it to.

An unpopular opinion: I don’t go into the tags so I don’t know if this counts as “unpopular” but: Old World Blues is probably the most overrated DLC; for me at least, I found the humour to be....too overwhelming and completely negated the actual horrors that went on at Big MT.

My Canon OTP: Christine/Veronica :(

My Non-canon OTP: n/a

Most Badass Character: Ulysses.

Most Epic Villain: Ulysses. Overall I think he’s what made the Lonesome Road DLC so good, and they gave him so much depth. In general, he’s probably my favourite part of the game.

Pairing I am not a fan of:  Boone/Arcade, Courier/Joshua Graham, Courier/Benny

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): the Think Tank lmao. But also Cass’ relationship with alcohol (which is something I also took issue with when it came to Nyoka in TOW)

Favourite Friendship:  not so much a friendship, but I think House and Benny’s relationship before the game is very interesting. (I can’t think of any actual friendships off the top of my head, but it’s been so long since I’ve actually played the game)

Character I most identify with: unfortunately, Yes Man. Just on the brink all the time and trying to not sound like I am (and failing)

Character I wish I could be: I don’t think there’s anyone I look at and go. Yes. I want to be like them.

002 | Send me a ship and I will tell you:

When I started shipping them: I always had it down in my notes that Mina went to VTU for her education and I remember looking at the list of known alma meter for the university to see who Mina might have known. Penny was one of them, particularly since they are around the same age (Mina is 56 in Wastelanders, Penny is 55, but I attribute that to them being born in the same year and Penny just hasn’t had her birthday yet). Originally the flavour was going to be that they were just ex-girlfriends from university, but uh. It’s spiralled.

My thoughts: they have a lot of  baggage to deal with before they can strike up their relationship again proper.

What makes me happy about them:  that they found each other again twenty-six years after the bombs dropped.

What makes me sad about them:  that they had to break up pre-war; yes it makes me sad, but I do also recognize that it was necessary for both of them to not be together when the bombs dropped due to some Vault 76 restrictions and for Penny to actually...end up a ghoul.  I think even if they hadn’t been forced to break up, it would have happened anyway during the automation riots. I probably saved them a lot of pain by having it happen straight out of university.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me:

Things I look for in fanfic:

My wishlist:  me actually being able to sit down and produce any kind of content.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Sofia Daguerre for Mina, Bryce Garrahan for Penny.

My happily ever after for them: I think they could be close to it, actually. Though, it’s pending of course. Who knows what Appalachia is going to be like when the circus Brotherhood arrives, and more importantly, if Mina becomes less emotionally constipated.

[mia-cooper]

Fanfiction Questions

from here

Fandom Questions

1. What was the first fandom you got involved in?

Involved as in ‘frantically read every book I could get my hands on, daydreamed about being part of that universe and wrote stories/made art inspired by the books, if not actual fanfiction’? Mm, probably The Chronicles of Narnia when I was six or seven. The next great obsession was The Silver Brumby when I went through my horse stage around age 12, and then Sweet Valley High when I was 15. Hahaha.

2. What is your latest fandom?

Marvel! I’m not into comics and I’m definitely not interested in consuming every last bit of canon material or memorising the variations of every universe, but I love (most of) the movies and Agents of SHIELD is pretty cool.

3. What is the best fandom you’ve ever been involved in?

Star Trek Voyager. No contest. I venture to suggest that the older fandoms, the ones that are all about defunct shows, are a hell of a lot more chilled. Maybe because we’ve come to terms with our shitty canon endings and learned that liking the ship you hate doesn’t make someone problematic, unlike some newer fandoms I could name (Yes I’m talking about you, Game of Thrones fans. What the fuck.)

4. Do you regret getting involved in any fandoms?

I’ve dipped a toe into one or two fandoms for shows or books I’ve really enjoyed and backed the fuck out when the vibe gets weird (oh hey, it’s GoT again), but nope. No regrets.

5. Which fandoms have you written fanfiction for?

All the Star Treks except TOS, and a Trek/MCU crossover. I’d like to write more for MCU someday. Plus I’ve written longhand entire notebooks full of teen romance shit that bore an uncanny similarity to SVH, and my first short story was a fantasy fic that featured a girl whose guardian was a wise talking lion who led her into mystical secret worlds, which is kind of familiar.

6. List your OTP from each fandom you’ve been involved in.

Wow. I’m going to define ‘involved in’ as ‘cared enough about to have an OTP’, but I’m guaranteed to forget a ton. In no particular order:

Voyager: Janeway x anyone who can get her off

Discovery: Lorca x Cornwell or Pike x Tyler x Burnham (or any combination of)

DS9: Kira x Jadzia Dax

TNG: Picard x Vash, I guess? I don’t really have any TNG ships

ENT: T’Pol x Trip x Hoshi (or any variation therein)

MCU: Cap x Widow

AoS: Coulson x Skye... no May... no Skye... I don’t know

CAOS: Madam Satan x Zelda

Timeless: Garcy

The Good Place: Eleanor x Tahani

The 100 (shut up): toss up between Clarke x Bellamy and Kane x Abby

Veronica Mars: Veronica x Leo (first run), Veronica x Logan (s4)

Orphan Black: Cosima x Delphine

BSG: Apollo x Starbuck

SG1: Sam x Jack

Arrow: Olicity (so over the show now though)

This Life: Milly x Egg

Yeah you know what... I’m drawing a blank. I can’t think of any other shows where I’ve been invested in The Romance that much.

7. List your NoTPs from each fandom you’ve been in.

I’m too tired to do every fandom, and besides, I can come around to almost any ship if the headcanons (or fics) are convincing enough. I do have a few hard no-gos, but they might be someone else’s OTP so I’ll shut up about them.

8. How did you get involved in your latest fandom?

Reluctantly. The MCU movies are not something I ever thought I’d enjoy beyond a dull evening’s entertainment. I never expected to get attached to the characters. And yet.

9. What are the best things about your current fandom?

Voyager is my forever fandom and the only one where I’ve really interacted with other fans. The best things about it? In general, everyone is just cool, accepting, open and basically awesome. And talented. I love my Party Bus people.

10.  Is there a fandom you read fic from but don’t write in?

Sure. The 100, Veronica Mars and Agents of SHIELD are the ones I’d dip into more frequently. I really enjoy crossovers between Trek and BSG or the Stargate variants, too.

Ship Questions for your Current Fandom

11. Who is your current OTP?

Janeway x Chakotay.

12. Who is your current OT3?

Janeway x Chakotay x Paris.

13. Any NoTPs?

A few.

14. Go on, who are your BroTPs?

Janeway & Tuvok! Also Torres & Chakotay, and I’d have killed for more Janeway & Torres in canon. (If they kissed sometimes that would be okay too)

15. Is there an obscure ship which you love?

Yeah. Paris x Seven. There are like two fics in existence, and yet ... the potential! (Sorry, B’Elanna)

16. Are there any popular ships in your fandom which you dislike?

Nope.

17. Who was your first OTP and are they still your favourite?

Janeway x Paris. And they’re still way up there, but not quite at the top.

18. What ship have you written the most about?

84% of my fics feature Janeway x Chakotay as either the primary or secondary pairing... holy shit.

19. Is there a ship which you wished you could get behind, but you just don’t feel them?

Paris x Torres. I mean, I feel them. I just don’t generally feel the need to write about them.

20. Any ships which you surprised yourself by liking?

Chakotay x Seven. In another universe, it could’ve been beautiful.

Author Questions

21. What was the first fanfic you ever wrote?

Actual story that was clearly fanfic? A farcical drunken romp told in the 24th century equivalent of email format called PADDemonium (see what I did there?)

22. Is there anything you regret writing?

Lol, a few things that should probably have never seen the light of day for various reasons, some of them leola related. But I’ve only deleted two fics that I can recall.

23. Name a fic you’ve written that you’re especially fond of & explain why you like it.

Relieved. It’s a 30k AU Chakotay moral dilemma backstory that brings in DS9 characters, Section 31 and his longstanding history with AU Janeway. I did so much research for it (way back in the days before memory alpha and chakoteya.net) and I’m really proud of how I wound in canon stuff across series but changed a few key bits and pieces. Only problem is, it’s a sequel to ...

24. What fic do you desperately need to rewrite or edit?

... Pressure, which I can’t even read without cringing. My characterisation of Janeway, even Angry Maquis AU Janeway, is way over the top and there are moments that verge on Mills and Boon and give me first, second and third hand embarrassment. God, I’d love to rewrite it. Actually, that’s a lie. I want someone else to rewrite it so I can read it without covering my eyes and moaning.

25. What’s your most popular fanfic?

Desperate Measures, by about 70,000 light years, lol. Although Fragile Things beats it on bookmarks.

26. How do you come up with your fanfic titles?

You know what? A fair percentage of the time, I think of the title first and come up with a plot second. Aside from that, I prefer shorter, punchier titles that clearly tie into the story (Flight Risk, Speechless), though sometimes it’s song lyrics (Burn Our Horizons, your body like a searchlight) or a literary quote (Required to Bear, All the Devils are Here) or a turn of phrase from the story itself (The Prisons You Inhabit). Hey that was fun. Thanks for letting me pimp the shit out of my stories.

27. What do you hate more: Coming up with titles or writing summaries?

Ugh, it depends on the day. Summaries are harder, I think. I never want to give away too much of the plot, but there has to be enough there for people to know whether they’ll bother clicking. Funny story: I actually ran the stats on this a few months back. Here they are for your edification:

Fics with a one line plot summary = 54%

With two or three line plot summary = 18%

With a short snippet directly from the fic = 16%

With a snippet + a one line explanation = 3%

With a one line plot summary plus a line to date the fic (eg "set in season 3", “episode tag to Worst Case Scenario") or the fic prompt = 7%

And finally, a quote from something other than the fic = 2% (that's only 3 fics).

28. If someone were to draw a piece of fanart for your story, which story would it be and what would the picture be of?

Ooh. I’ll say the final scene in Explosive.

29. Do you have a beta reader? Why/Why not?

I used to regularly ask @jhelenoftrek​ and @littleobsessions90 to beta for me, and both of them are brilliant at it. Lately I’ve been posting without sending my stuff off for editing. This is partly because I’m impatient to get stuff out there, partly because I don’t have as much time to write/edit, and partly because I’m a little less focused on improving my writing and more on enjoying it for its own sake.

30. What inspires you to write?

Little bits of episode dialogue I haven’t noticed before, other people’s fanfiction, stray conversations, fic prompts, song lyrics, random headcanons, fever dreams, dares ...

31. What’s the nicest thing someone has ever said about your writing?

I’ve been really lucky with comments on my fic. The least helpful comment I’ve ever received was on one of my early 30k fics and all it said was “Did you have to take the name of the lord in vain?” Which is kind of funny. The nicest thing anyone’s ever said? I’m very partial to the feedback that starts “I don’t even like this pairing/genre/trope/show but you made me love it”, and particularly “I’ll read anything you write, I don’t care what it’s about.” But all comments are gold. The little heart button is cool too.

32. Do you listen to music when you write or does music inspire you? If so, which band or genre of music does it for you?

I’m not someone who can tune out music I love, or leave it in the background to inspire me. If it’s on, I’m fully invested in it. I’m that annoying person in the car who flips radio stations every three seconds until I find something I like and then it’s on 11 and I’m singing along to it. I’m also really picky but extremely eclectic, although there are genres I can’t stand (anything with autotune makes me stabby). That said, sometimes I find a song that I can’t stop listening to for weeks and often that perfect combination of music and lyrics will inspire me to write a fic. For example, I just plotted out an entire J/C story because of this song.

33. Do you write oneshots, multi-chapter fics or huuuuuge epics?

All of the above. Although I’m not sure if my longest epic is huuuuuge or just huuuge.

34. What’s the word count on your longest fic?

101,467.

35. Do you write drabbles? If so, what do you normally write them about?

I have two drabble collections. One is all J/C, full of responses to random prompts and I add to it sporadically. The other is episode additions set on Kathryn Janeway’s birthday (May 20) and added to annually.

36. What’s your favourite genre to write?

Angst, definitely. Sometimes it’s smutty angst or fluffy angst or hurt/comfort angst, but often it’s just fucking unrelenting angst. And I’m okay with that.

37. First person or third person - what do you write in and why?

I did the stats on this once, too, haha. Pretty sure I came out fairly even on first and third person with a smattering of second person in there. I’m probably even-ish on present vs past tense, too. I make it a point to mix it up to avoid my writing getting stale or same-y. And sometimes a fic doesn’t really click for me until I try it in a different POV or tense or from a different character’s perspective.

38. Do you use established canon characters or do you create OCs?

I mostly write for canon characters - the fun is in all the different ways you can interpret and imagine them - but I’ve been known to throw in the odd OC, or focus on a character who only got a brief cameo appearance, or write about someone who only appears in beta canon, or who only rates a mention on screen.

39. What is your greatest strength as a writer?

Oh, wow. I’m not sure. I guess the thing I value most about my own writing is my willingness to try different styles, characters, pairings and so on. The thing I strive for most is characterisation that feels true, and I really love it when I get comments on that. Exploring a character in a way that rings true with a reader is the best thing ever.

40. What do you struggle the most with in your writing?

Overly long sentences and adverb abuse, haha. No, truthfully, there comes a point in most of my fics, particularly the longer ones, when I really just want to scrap it because in my heart I know it’s dreadful. Usually that passes once I slog through the ‘I don’t wanna’ stage because I’m a bloody-minded bitch, but sometimes fics do get left in the dust half-written. Honestly, though, they’re the ones that probably should stay there.

Fanfiction Questions

41. List and link to 5 fanfics you are currently reading:

This is hilarious because I was just talking on discord about my problematic ‘to read’ pile. My unread AO3 subscription emails currently number 29 and my phone browser has 71 tabs open. So here are 5 random picks from that list of exactly 100 fics I should be reading:

Sex on the Beach (E, Janeway/Chakotay) by @traccigaryn​

The Ruby Ring (T, Janeway/Chakotay, Janeway/Tighe) by @trinfinity2001​

Earth is But an Idea (T, Janeway/Chakotay, Carter/O’Neill) by @caladeniablue​

Home (E, Janeway/Chakotay) by Cassatt

Wise Up (E, Janeway/Chakotay) by KimJ

42. List and link to 5 fanfiction authors who are amazing:

Only five? Shit. Okay. In no particular order, these are five of the writers I keep coming back to:

quantumsilver (also here)

northernexposure

LittleObsessions

Helen8462

Cheshire

But there are so many others. My chosen fandom is chock full of amazing talent.

43. Is there anyone in your fandom who really inspires you?

All of the authors above for various reasons, but also august because her writing is so spare and delicate and devastating, and runawaymetaphor because she writes the most delicious Janeway/Paris, and @seperis​ because I read In the Space of Seven Days literally 20 years ago and I still haven’t recovered, and I could be here all night raving on this topic but there are still many questions to get through.

44. What ship do you feel needs more attention?

Janeway x Paris. I’m so happy there’s been a little bit of a resurgence in J/P fics lately. Thanks, @curator-on-ao3​, you’re doing the lord’s work.

I’ll also take Janeway x Johnson content any day of the week.

45. What is your all time favourite fanfic?

What the hell? I can’t pick just one! Ugh!

... but okay, here’s the first one that came to mind when I tried to think about this: if you came this way by tree. I’m not sure I’d call it my favourite, but it’s one I revisit often. Ugh, there are so many other fics I’m thinking of now that I really want to list.

46. If someone was to read one of your fanfics, which fic would you recommend to them and why?

Oh, that’s hard. I should probably pick an angsty smutty J/C because that’s a fair proportion of what I write and it’s good to let a new reader know what they can expect. But honestly, I think the best fic I’ve written is The Uncharted Sea. (It’s safe for work. Maybe not for makeup.)

47. Archive Of Our Own, Fanfiction.net or Tumblr - where do you prefer to post and why?

The Archive, of course. Where else can I find ad-free hosting on a stunningly user-friendly interface with absolutely no moralising content restrictions and the world’s best tagging system? That Hugo award is well deserved.

Tumblr is good for headcanons and meta and gifsets and a few other formats that I’m less likely to post on AO3 because I’d feel like I was pissing off people who subscribe to me by giving them some random garbage.

I also have my own website, but I’m not really sure why. Sometimes I post fic there that doesn’t make it to tumblr or AO3.

48. Do you leave reviews when you read fanfiction? Why/Why not?

I try to. Honestly I do. I love it when I get reviews, so I figure paying it forward is the least I can do. I’m less scrupulous about leaving comments when I’m busy or reading on my phone.

49. Do you care if people comment/reblog your writing? Why/why not?

I mean, I love it when people reblog, but I certainly don’t expect it. @arcadia1995​ is amazing for reblogging stuff *blows kisses*

Nobody owes fanfic writers shit, but I feel like there’s a tacit agreement that if you like what you just read for free and you’re on a platform that makes it easy to do so, you leave a review or at least a kudos, because I’m not gonna lie, posting a fic you’ve worked super hard on and seeing it get very few kudos or comments is a bit deflating. I’m sure a lot of us have been there.

50. How did you get into reading and/or writing fanfiction?

During Voyager’s original run I was trawling the internet for Endgame spoilers (I don’t know why; I usually love surprises) and I guess I googled (or whatever the 2001 equivalent of googling was) something like “how does voyager get home” and somehow I stumbled across Revisionist History. At first I had no idea what I was reading - was this a lost story pitch that somehow got leaked? A professional novella commissioned by the showrunners?

Then I started following links and discovered yahoo groups and webrings and Trekiverse and fanfiction.net and all sorts of incredible things I’d never guessed at, including the now defunct ‘archipelago of angst’, a collection of Voyager writers who focused mainly on a darker Janeway than most of the other fic writers I was encountering, and I was hooked. So I wrote a few of my own pieces, and then I lost interest for 15 years. I’m still not sure how I got dragged back in.

51. Rant or Gush about one thing you love or hate in the world of fanfiction! Go!

Honestly, in what other way can I indulge my obsessions, hone my skills and talk about it endlessly with like-minded people? Where else can I instantly find a plethora of fiction about the exact topic I feel like reading about on my mobile device and for free? Fanfiction is fucking amazing and I’m so glad it exists in my life.

[monstersandmaw]

Here's July's story.  Back to a defined gender for this one, so I hope that's alright. The poll for the episodic story is now closed I think, but the naga came in second (when I last looked!) and a traditional fantasy setting was the runner up, so I present you with 6232 words of badass female pirate reader and one gentlemanly naga boy for your delectation :). No real content warnings for this one, I don't think.

Enjoy! And don't forget that the Discord is always open for all Patreon supporters, so come on over and say hello if that's something you fancy doing too!

Preview:

“Cheer up, sweetheart,” the lizardfolk sailing master grinned, slapping you on the back hard enough to make you stagger. “Only another few days til we make port.”

“I’m not glum because we’ve been at sea for weeks, Jaran,” you said, easing the tension out of your neck with a side to side motion and leaning on the gunwale of the small, agile schooner. “I don’t mind that.”

“Then what’s bothering you?” he asked, shifting to lean his back against the side of the ship beside you and crossing his arms.

With his lime green colouring and startlingly yellow eyes, Jaran cut an impressive figure. You’d always found yourself leaning towards non-humans when it came to attraction, and the reptilian folk fared better than most in your estimation. Jaran had more than caught your eye, but he had a sweetheart back at port that he was unwaveringly loyal to, so you made no efforts to flirt with him. That didn’t mean you couldn’t admire him, discreetly, of course. The canny bastard probably new it, but he never mentioned it.

You sighed and looked up at him with a wry and sidelong look. “You’ve got someone waiting for you, and half the crew will probably head off and spend the evening with their favourite ‘companions’ ashore… but…” you shrugged. “I don’t have anyone, and I don’t want to pay for a night of intimacy, you know? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it, but it’s just not me.”

Jaran reached over and patted you fondly on the shoulder. “I know,” he said. “I worry about you, you know? You’re always on your own…”

A sad smile tugged at your lips and you looked down at the scrubbed timbers beneath your boots. Your hands were rough and coarse from years at sea, and you were hardly the most traditionally ‘feminine’ creature, with strong shoulders, lean muscles, leathery skin, and wiry hair that had to be constantly constrained or it sprang out everywhere in a wild halo around your face. As one of only two humans, both female, on the ship, you couldn’t help but feel the sharp sting of inadequacy whenever you disembarked and Anna got catcalled and you got ignored or sometimes even jeered at. None of the others stood for that, which was a comfort, but it still happened.

You shrugged and pushed yourself back off the gunwale and turned to stare the length of the deck. Fingal, a sea eagle aarakocra, chose that moment to soar down from the crow’s nest - which you’d all affectionately renamed ‘the eyrie’ since he spent so much time up there - and landed not far from the pair of you.

“Alright?” he asked, cocking his head to one side and staring at you both with unusual, ice blue eyes. “Oh, and land ho, by the way…” he added with a joyous ruffle of his feathers.

“What? Already? Where?!” you gasped, whipping round and squinting at the horizon where you saw nothing but the endless, pale blue sea and the haze of the horizon. After the storms of the previous week, this fair wind and gentle sailing was a boon.

He chuckled hoarsely and shuffled, dancing slightly from one taloned foot to the other. Extending his wing and pointing with flexed flight feathers, he said, “One point off the port bow, but you probably won’t be able to see it for at least another hour,” he said. “I’m off to inform our lovely captain.”

That evening, just before the change of the watch, the captain summoned you all on deck, a letter grasped in her hand. Half triton and half gargoyle, your captain had acquired the nickname ‘Sea Devil’, and she took it to heart. Six feet tall, with green-grey skin, a tail like a bullwhip, and leathery, bat-like wings, she surveyed her crew with a wry smile on her inhuman face. “Listen up, listen up!” she yelled, striding back and forth on lean, avian legs which ended in long, onyx claws. Her fanned, triton’s ears, almost like fins, twitched, and her mane of thick, pale hair swung freely in the breeze between her slender, backwards-curving horns. “I’ve got good news for you!”

“Land ho, Cap’n?” one of the crew yelled.

“No, you upstart little fucker,” she laughed. “I wouldn’t gather you all here like a flock of clucking chickens just to tell you that! No, we’ve got a very special invitation!” she said, waving the rolled up paper in her clawed hand and adding a playfully patronising emphasis on the word ‘special’.

A hush descended on everyone and you all leaned in a little closer to hear her above the constant creak of sails and stays and deck timbers. She was always fair and kind to her crew, but this was something new.

“Now that I’ve got everyone’s attention,” she said, hopping easily up onto a tall barrel with a little help from a flap of her wings. “The Governor of our dear little haven,” she said, “Is holding a ball in honour of some landlubbers’ midsummer festival or whatnot, and since the gods have chosen to smile upon me and my crew, and since we have dutifully paid our dues to the Governor to keep those pesky naval warships off our tails, he has seen fit to invite every last bilge-rat on this ship to his fancy dance! Oh, and you lot get to come too,” she added with a wink, and a cheer went up.

Captain Solveij let you all have your moment of excited chatter before giving an ear-bleedingly shrill whistle and calling your attention back to her.

“You’re gonna need to dress nice,” she growled. “Not expensive, but at least nice, and we’ve made enough with our last few captures that we can all afford that. If you don’t have something nice to cover your filthy hides, I’ll send you to a tailor once we make port.”

Jaran dug you in the ribs. “You got anything?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Do I look like I’ve got anything other than these tatty old trousers and a few shirts?”

His lizardy smile stretched wide and he grinned. “Better go ask the captain for that tailor’s address then…” he said.

The tailor that Solveij sent you to was in a back street of Black Sands Bay, a rambling old town that had long been a notorious stopping point for pirates from the world over, but which was untouchable by any royal navy because it was privately owned by the Governor. A huge, black-coated minotaur with one horn supposedly made of solid gold, and a reputation for ruthlessness, Governor Aatlak ruled his corner of the seas as the world’s wealthiest prisoner; if he were to sail off the islands, those same naval warships that circled his archipelago of islands like vultures would descend on him. So he had established himself as a broker of goods, money, and information, and settled down.

Black Sands Bay, so named for the unique colour of the beach from which the town had grown up into the hillside, was his capital. All around you, the port bustled and thrummed with life. Before you had even left the dock where your schooner had berthed in the deep waters of the harbour, you glanced down into the water and glimpsed perhaps the strangest looking merfolk that you had ever seen. Jellyfish-clear skin fringed a tail, top and bottom, that was twelve feet long, with opalescent scales gleaming in the clear water. Their face was humanoid in shape, but they had enormous, milky, bulging eyes and a bobbing lure that hovered in front of a mouth full of spiked teeth. Floating beside them was a small raft with extraordinary looking shells and objects which could only have come from the deep.

You didn’t linger long, but you enjoyed some of the sights and sounds of the marketplace before turning to bid Jaran and the others farewell, and heading up into the heart of the old city with a definite weight in your chest. The captain wouldn’t care if you wore trousers or a dress to the dance, but honestly, dressing up like this made you feel as out of place as a mermaid on land. You wished it didn’t. You wished that you could feel something different; comfortable. Still, you were attending in the formal capacity as a member of Captain Solveij’s crew, and she was expecting you to be there.

The tailor’s shop, when you eventually found it after nearly an hour of wandering in the hot, tropical sun, had an attractive, dark, bay window at the front, showcasing outfits and accessories for a number of species, and as you pushed the glass-panelled door open, a brass bell trilled above you.

“Jusssst a moment!” a warm, tenor voice called from the rear of the shop. “I’ll be with you in jussst a moment!”

“No worries…” It wasn’t exactly as if you were keen to get started. Besides, you were more than a little sweaty. Perfect.

You had just put your hands on the inviting arms of a nicely upholstered chair and had been about to sink gratefully down into it, when a figure popped up in the doorway at the back of the room and made you jump. Leaping back up onto your salt-crusted boots, you watched, intrigued, as a naga slithered out to greet you.

Read the whole thing right now over on my Patreon, and gain exclusive access to hundreds of posts, lots of stories and character profiles, sketches, polls, and our Discord server

[rebelsofshield]

Star Wars The Mandalorian: “Chapter Six: The Prisoner”-Review

The Mandalorian leads a band of galactic scum and villainy on a heist in a well-directed, if unimportant, episode.

(Review contains spoilers)

The Mandalorian has been hired by an old associate, Ranzar Malk (Sons of Anarchy’s Mark Boone Junior), to spring an unnamed prisoner out of a New Republic prison. Joining him on this job are a smorgasbord of other hunters and criminals including headstrong gunslinger Mayfield (Bill Burr) and former lover, Xi’An (Natalia Tena). However, with The Child in tow and the anger of the New Republic on the line, the job promises to be more complicated than anticipated.

Out the bat, “The Prisoner” looks to be another self contained and forgettable installment for The Mandalorian. We are introduced to this latest bounty with little to no context before being thrown into the mess of it all. Its set up is indicative of the general series status quo for the last three episodes. Mandalorian goes to new world. Has adventures. Baby Yoda is cute. The series is drastically lacking in forward momentum or any kind of endgame for its characters. Until we can get a better idea of where we are headed or what the greater meaning of these self-contained set piece episodes, this feeling of aimlessness will be an inescapable issue for The Mandalorian as a whole.

That being said, “The Prisoner” makes up for this larger series sluggishness by just being a damn, fun hour(ish) of TV. Rick Famuyiwa already demonstrated his directing chops in this series’ sophomore episode, “The Child,” and he returns here to also write alongside prolific comic and television writer Christopher Yost. There’s a general air of style and confidence to the way “The Prisoner” tells its story and most of all its clear its cast is having fun.

The Mandalorian’s bounty hunting crew is ultimately what makes and sometimes breaks “The Prisoner.” Bill Barr’s Mayfield, who sports a weird but pretty cool blasterwielding backpack, gets the most screentime and comes across as the right kind of swaggering asshole, but it’s just as much fun to see Clancy Brown decked out as a giant sized Devaronian or the Harley Quinn-ish Xi’An. They all prove to be fairly one note, but they make for fun teammates and eventual antagonists.

The real star of the show ends up being British comedian Richard Ayoade’s delightfully sardonic, Zero. In the great HK-47 tradition of malicious and overly sure of themselves droids, Zero enters from the start as the highlight of The Mandalorian’s colorful and menacing allies. Ayoade plays the droid with a smart tinge of sarcasm, but also comes across as the most calculating and potentially dangerous. Given the lowlife scum populating the rest of “The Prisoner,” Zero flips the script and adds some much needed tension.

Famuyiwa’s direction remains assured and fun. The design of the New Republic prison ship feels unnervingly pristine and stark, calling to mind 2001: A Space Odyssey or George Lucas’s THX-1138. The way it is patrolled by roving bands of battle droids adds an eerie tension to it all and Famuyiwa shoots the actual confrontations between these droids and the hunters with an air for spectacle and tight choreography. Unlike his previous episode, Famuyiwa shoots The Mandalorian as a capable badass and even borrows a trick from Deborah Chow and reframes our hero as something of a slasher villain as he makes his way through the various mercenaries after they inevitably turn on him.

The inevitability of the betrayal may be expected, but the identity of the titular prisoner remains mysterious for much of the episode. Knowing Star Wars media, I was expecting it to be another known bounty hunter like Bossk or maybe even Dengar, but it ends up being Xi’an’s brother Qin. Ismael Cruz Cordova plays Qin as just as much of a slimeball as the rest of the crew and he’s instantly as detestable a character as you would imagine. If anything, “The Prisoner” seems ready to, but ultimately chickens out of asking some real questions about The Mandalorian’s criminal past. These people were at one point partners, and apparently lovers, and something lead to the dissolution of this messy crime family. It allows the opportunity to dirty The Mandalorian’s morality a bit, but outside some scattered remarks, Famuyiwa and Yost more or less shy away from this. It’s unfortunate, as some characterization for our little bounty hunter is much needed this late into the season.

I’m still on the fence of what I think of the egregious, but fun X-Wing cameo at episode’s close. It’s very clear that Dave Filoni, Deborah Chow, and Rick Famuyiwa are enjoying themselves getting to step into the Star Wars universe for just a second, but it is distracting. Well, I guess I can’t really blame them. I’m pretty sure all of us would jump at the chance to fly an X-Wing.

It represents a step up from last week, but as a whole The Mandalorian is very much in need of some direction. If episodes turn out more like “The Prisoner” than “The Gunslinger,” we may still be in store for a fun show, but it’s an unfortunate waste of talent and potential not to build towards something more. Give us purpose. Give us direction. Give us character.

Score: B

[its-sixxers]

my fallout ships as elements

LONE WANDERER x CHARON EARTH stability, longevity, sustaining, protective, welcoming, inevitability, constancy, the scent after rain, fortitude, grounding, strength, deep roots

COURIER SIX x BOONE FIRE destructive, cleansing, rebirth, passion, intensity, light, comfort, powerful change, ferocity, power, transformation, fury, consuming, mirages on the sand

SOLE SURVIVOR x DEACON AIR invisible, subtle change, life giving, formless, flexible, whispers and words, spirituality, the unseen world, movement