#why is the merchant scavenger so far away

[raintemper]

6 hours of rain world with my friend... oh shaded citadel my unbeloved :((

[plutonium-sky]

Headcannons list for Cackling Cannoneer (and also the Abyss crew in general cause I got overboard) specifically so far because I just thought of a really stupid but funny one

Cut because the list Is Very Long And You Should Be Intimidated Because I Have More

I like to call him Thane (or Thaen)

Scottish, has an accent that gets worse the more emotional/distressed he is

nicknames everyone he likes (e.g. Abyss guide (Abby) as "Little Kitten" or Anxious Angler (Fern) as "Songbird")

Has about 5 different guns but only keeps 2 of them on hand at all times (2 different harpoon guns, one that we see in the memory that's basically a sniper and one for fishing (aka has a rope attached to harpoon), 2 flintlock pistols as backup, and another flintlock as a backup to the backups)

Has a knife on him at all times, even while asleep (so do the rest of the crew. Yes even Abby)

Ever since he nearly drowned and got eaten by the beast, he has a slight (lie) fear of deep water

Abby saved him from the beast before because she conveniently had a lighter on her when she found his boat and dived down to fetch him, freeing the manta with it

Has very small acid scars on his legs from lying down in beast stomach acid for a bit

Is the reason why a tower in Treasure Reef is missing a lot of it's structure (had too much fun with the ship cannons)

Assigned as the weapons man for the ship, looking out for threats. Otherwise he's on land watch because that doubles as looking for threats (aka spends his time in the nest of the ship)

Has never met his biological father, instead considers the Ceasing Commodore (or Alemez, as I call him) to be his dad. His mom is alive and he visits her whenever the crew comes back from an expedition

The ship IS a pirate ship, but they're licensed. They scavenge for resources, and find stuff that can be reused. They are also sometimes hired by merchants to protect them from Actual pirates

May seem self absorbed and uncaring, but that's because you haven't got him to open up yet

You don't want to hurt a crew member while he's around. You're gonna have a bad time running away or defending yourself from a very rageful Thane

Tends to play up his stories for the sake of other's entertainment

Strong Sibling Vibes with most of the crew (he would absolutely "increase gravity" on Abby)

Doesn't get seasick easily, but it does happen from time to time

Fucking hates snow. And ice. What is this slippery cold floor why is it a thing (as an extension he avoids Valley at all costs)

Don't let him go to somewhere cold, he's gonna get a fever Immediately

And another name list cause it might have been confusing: Cackling Cannoneer = Thane/Thaen, Abyss Guide = Abby, Ceasing Commodore = Alemez, Anxious Angler = Fern, Bumbling Boatswain = Ismael

And the funny joke headcannon:

Names his weapons like Heavy from tf2 does as a joke

[virtie333]

WIP Wednesday

Well, I finished my current Damerey WIP last night. The editing may start tonight, but since I have tomorrow off, I may take it easy and watch a movie instead. Or both. You never know.

Anyway, instead of offering you a snippet of the new fic, which I hope to start posting on AO3 on May 9, I'm going to direct you to part of a chapter from one of my first Damerey fics. It was the inspiration for this new fic, and as you can probably guess, it's why this ended up being a rewrite of the sequel trilogy. Because, what if it started like this..?

Another day. Another ration pack. Or two. Rey’s haul that day hadn’t been big, but it would be enough for a meal, however small. She stopped her speeder just outside the limits of Niima Outpost, the sun low in the sky, and carried her load to the cleaning station. As she did so, she noticed three unique shapes off to the south, where visiting ships usually landed. She stopped and stared. X-Wings?

She had seen X-Wing fighters before, on the rare occasion some mercenary or outrider who happened to have one stopped on Jakku. However, it was obvious those models were old junkers, damaged during battle and disposed of by their owners as not being worth the money to fix, and then being taken on by someone who had the time to repair them enough to be travel worthy if not battle ready. These three ships were far from junkers. Sleek, well-cared for, and ready for combat, they had no insignia on them to identify who they belonged to, but there was only one group in the galaxy that used X-Wings effectively these days: The Resistance. Two of the ships were steel grey with blue and red marks on them to individualize them. The third was painted a very distinctive black with orange marks.

Rey continued on to the cleaning station. While she hadn’t found much in today’s scavenging, what she had was unique enough to warrant decent ‘pay,’ and after cleaning the old compressor engine, she was pleased to have earned one full portion for it. Putting the ration packs in her bag, she headed for her speeder, but a small group of humans caught her eye. There were three of them, and though they were dressed casually, she knew immediately they were the pilots of the three X-Wings she had seen. They stood out like a sore thumb amongst the rag-tag throng of Niima.

There were two men and one woman. The woman was young, less than a decade older than Rey herself, and though she was attractive, Rey recognized a hardness in the woman’s attitude; she was no pushover. Which made sense, since flying an X-Wing was not for the faint of heart. The man she was talking to was older, a bit thick around the middle, with a beard and a jovial expression. He did not look like a fighter pilot at first glance, but the way he looked about him with wariness spoke of someone who had been there and done that in his lifetime.

The third member of the group, who was talking to one of the merchants, was probably a bit younger than the other male pilot, shorter but fit, and his demeanor spoke of confidence and leadership. Something told her the black X-Wing belonged to this man. As she watched, the vendor said something that apparently amused the pilot and he laughed. Something inside Rey clenched, and she was immediately confused. Why did this stranger affect her this way? Suddenly, she realized the dealer was pointing at her, and all three pilots turned to look at her.

Panicked, Rey turned and started walking away, trying to be casual about it. She had no clue what they wanted with her or why the merchant had pointed her out to them; she had never had dealings with the man. She turned her head a bit and was dismayed to see the woman and the bearded man following her in her peripheral. They seemed to be in no rush, but their focus was undeniably on her. She was so intent on them she didn’t see the third pilot until she almost ran smack into him. Somehow, he had gotten in front of her and was now blocking her way.

He gave her a disarming smile, his brown eyes warm. “Hey, it’s okay,” he told her. “We just want to ask you a question.” When she stopped and gave him a brief nod, he held out his hand. “I’m Poe,” he told her. “Poe Dameron.”

She looked down at his hand and then back up at him, taking it cautiously. People rarely shook hands here on Jakku. His hand was warm and callused, and his touch was comforting. She bit her lip and pulled her hand back, more than a little confused by her reaction.

She saw his gaze drop to her lips, then he looked up and behind her, motioning to his companions. “This is Snap and Jess,” he told her.

Rey glanced back at them as they nodded, then she faced Dameron again. “Rey,” she said softly.

“I know.”

For some reason, his simple response made her heart beat harder and faster. Why did he seem so familiar? And why was she acting this way around him? Plenty of hot-shot pilots had come and gone from Niima outpost, and several of them had been handsome as sin. None had affected her like this man.

“We’re here looking for pilots to recruit into the Resistance,” he continued. “More than one person pointed out you as the best pilot in Niima, maybe even all of Jakku.” The corner of his mouth tilted up. “Do you have any interest in learning to fly combat spacecraft?”

Rey was stunned. Who had told him she was a pilot? It wasn’t something she broadcasted, and she sure as heck never thought anyone in Niima cared anyway. “Fly combat? Like an X-Wing?” she asked.

“Yep,” Dameron said with a smile. “X-Wings. A-Wings. Bombers. Whatever your talents fit with best.”

Rey was starting to get excited. To be able to travel around the galaxy and fly those amazing ships would be a dream come true. “That would be wonderful!” she exclaimed, but then reality hit her.

Poe had grinned at her reaction, but when her face fell, his did too. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

She blinked and looked at him. “I’m flattered by your offer, but I… I can’t leave Jakku.”

“Seriously?” he said, his expression disbelieving. “Why can’t you leave this dustball?”

Rey hesitated. How to explain something she had a hard time explaining to herself? “I’m waiting for someone,” she said, keeping it simple.

Poe looked disconcerted. “That’s too bad,” he told her. “We really need good pilots.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Whoever you’re waiting for is very fortunate to have someone so loyal on their side.”

Rey felt her face heat.

He held out his hand again and she took hold of it more willingly this time. “If you change your mind,” he told her softly, “look me up.” He held onto her hand much longer than a simple handshake warranted, and she didn’t mind at all. With a sad nod, he let her go and turned away. Rey was barely aware of the other two pilots passing her and following him. Slowly, she made her way out of town and toward her speeder. She had mounted it and was getting ready to start it when the roar of engines caught her attention. She looked up to see the three X-Wings lifting off and heading upward toward space. She watched them until they disappeared in the dusky sky, then put her head down on the steering column and cried.

[keldjinfae]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by the ever wonderful @dear-massacre, so here's another snippet from my fic for the 2024 Sterek Reverse Bang:

The fox sat on its haunches, blinking slowly as it stared up at him, seemingly regarding him just as intently. Derek searched behind the fox, his brows pinched together, but the feeling of being something else’s prey was already fading, almost entirely forgotten by the time the fox took a few more steps closer, drawing his focus again. “I don’t know why you made it snow so early, and I don't want to know,” he stated firmly after a moment, repeating what he’d been saying to the Trickster for the better part of ten years.

“I don’t care if I’m marked by Fate or chosen for some grand destiny to restore the Old Gods. I did your ritual; I burned your mistletoe. I’m only here for what’s mine, so unless you can bring me what I came for, I’m not interested.” Derek folded his arms over his chest, squaring his shoulders resolutely, and stared down at the goddess of Storms as if he was merely haggling with a greedy merchant in a market stall.

The fox appeared to grin, her eyes narrowing as if she was pleased with him, whether despite or because of what he’d said. She blinked a couple of times, unhurried, and reached out with her front paws as far as she possibly could until her back was stretched out in a languid arch, then straightened just as slowly to return to her original position on her haunches. After a few more seconds of watching him, sly smile still in place, she sprang up without warning, leaping from where they both were on the ground to soar an uncanny distance and land on the snow-covered top of the wall. Rather than wait for Derek to follow after her, the Trickster didn’t even turn to look back at him before she dropped down to the other side, her only tell a teasing, dismissive flick of her bushy, white tail: go on, then.

Derek’s jaw clenched tightly, his brows drawing together in a frustrated glare at the empty space in the snow in front of him where the fox had just been. There were no traces of her left behind, not even tracks, and the absence of her presence mocked him the longer he remained standing there without waking up. He waited a few more stubborn beats, then took in a deep breath, pointedly ignoring his inability to scent the air, and resisted the urge to clench his hands into fists as he lowered his arms and moved closer to the wall.

His own jump was impressive enough, using the last few steps to gain the momentum to propel him high enough to reach out and clamp onto the top of the wall with his clawed hands. He pulled himself up to balance on his haunches, surveying what waited for him on the other side. Even for the still quiet of the presumably late hour, the city was eerily dark and lifeless, its streets completely devoid of people, the snow just as unmarred by traffic as it was in the field behind him.

His ears strained fruitlessly for a hint of muted snores or scavenging rodents, any signs of life whatsoever, but not even the Trickster made any noise as she continued to slink down the middle of the street, still unconcerned with whether or not she was being followed. Derek only had a few seconds left before she’d round a corner and disappear from sight, and this time he somehow knew that if he allowed her to slip away again, she’d release him from his dreams and he’d wake up wondering what she wanted. His claws scraped over the moonstone beneath him, his fingers digging into the wall like talons before he released his grip and dropped down onto the empty street with an explosive sigh.

The Trickster quickened her pace, now that she had Derek’s attention, darting through labyrinthine intersections and alleyways and squares, leaving Derek to all but break into a run to keep up. Even if he thought they would matter in a dream, Derek was moving too quickly to take note of any distinctive landmarks. It wasn’t long at all before he was dependent on the fox to lead them, with no scent or tracks to find his way back on his own, if backtracking was even possible.

Their destination became clear as soon as Derek laid eyes on it—not just because it loomed unmistakably over the rest of the city, but because it was literally the only building with any details to set it apart. The Citadel’s highest towers were visible from as far back as the forest, and the pale light of the moon shone on the white stone of its walls, the snow covering its domes and turrets and eaves, making it look like some kind of ghostly ice palace. Its panels of fabled Glass glimmered silver, from its innumerable picture windows to the giant, wrought iron double doors of its grand main entrance.

The fox came to a stop in front of the doors, looking particularly small by comparison, and sat once again on her haunches, as if in wait. At first, Derek assumed she was waiting on him, and he reached out to pull one of the doors open, only to find it sealed tight and immovable, even up against the strength of an alpha werewolf. He stepped away from the door, flexing his fingers and looking over the elaborate swirls of iron and stained Glass for some weakness he could bend or pry open.

While Derek searched, reaching out to trace over the cold iron where it was at its thinnest, the Trickster merely reared back to look up at the windows above them. Her eyes glowed a bright, burning orange, like two twin rings of fire, before she let out a piercing scream that sounded almost human, echoing through the lifeless streets of the city. As the clamor began to fade away, her eyes flashed, and Derek felt a charge cut through the air, making the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand on end.

He looked up at the sound of rolling thunder, finding a mass of roiling, dark clouds moving in rapidly to blot out the moon. As he watched, the fox’s fur crackled with static, as if she was gathering the storm around her like a magnificent cloak, rather than striking out against the Citadel. Once she was completely shrouded in what looked like deadly brambles of lightning, Derek realized that everything else around her had gone unnaturally dark, the eerie violet glow surrounding her only exaggerating their shadows, making them flicker and twitch like disturbing marionettes.

Derek recoiled instinctively, stepping back and baring his fangs, and regretted it almost immediately when he felt the electric charge buzz and snap against his teeth, making his tongue go numb and heavy in his mouth. He realized he was snarling, his eyes glowing bright red, and knew that he was on the brink of losing control and shifting completely. He didn’t know what the Trickster was defending against, but he could feel it encroaching on his skin, breathing down his neck, seeping into his bones until his limbs were just as numb and heavy as his tongue; once again, he knew that he was prey to whatever was lurking in the dark.

The heaviness in his limbs was also in the air, thick and oppressive, giving the darkness substance, like it was rapidly coalescing into an actual shape. The more of it that gathered together, the less Derek could hear; the harder it became to breathe. This time, when the Trickster threw her head back to scream again, Derek howled along with her, his deep, rumbling roar providing a counterpoint to her sharp wail.

Their discordant outcry cut through the air, lancing upwards like a bolt of lightning. Derek could sense the darkness regrouping to close back in, pour into him until there was nothing of him left. His muscles began to pull taut with power, preparing for the transformation that would bend and break and reshape his bones and sinews into something just as primal.

Derek felt the response from above before he registered what it was, feeling it right down to his marrow as the ground trembled underneath his feet. He clamped his hands over his ears, his claws going smooth and blunt again as a cry of anguish rang out from one of the highest towers of the Citadel. It was impossibly loud, ringing in the back of Derek’s throat and in his chest as much as it was in his head, and he could hear the agony in the sound more clearly than if he’d been able to scent the air. The entire world around them seemed to rattle with the force of it, quaking with the impotent rage of injustice that Derek knew all too well, until the doors of the Citadel unlocked. They opened on their own, their hinges groaning, and the fox wasted no time darting inside. Derek followed as soon as he was able, feeling the darkness trying to rush in on his heels before the doors slammed shut behind him.

Zero pressure tags for @renmackree @thotpuppy @nerdherderette @ephemeronidwrites and anyone who wants to share anything they've written, no matter the fandom (or if it's even fanfic to begin with)!

[oc-aita]

AITA for withholding "crucial information" from my client?

Okay so, hear me out here. I (22M) work as an on-call mechanic for this restaurant owner-chef (22F). Basically, whenever one of her appliances or machines breaks down, she calls me in and I fix it. She doesn't like me all that much, but as she lives in a desert town on the edges of civilisation and spends half her time fighting off the surrounding bird monsters for her people (long story), she has neither the time nor the resources to replace me anyway.

I don't live in the same town as she does. (It's why I'm only on-call and not a full-time employee.) In fact, I actually live much further away, in a harbour town plagued by sea monsters and illegal whalers. What my client (and most of the harbour town) doesn't know is that, at night, I dress up like a pirate and raid the illegal whaling vessels for their mechanical harpoon launchers and other equipment, and turn the loot into machine parts for my other job. Unfortunately, due to my actions, my 'pirate persona' has a rather large bounty on it from the illegal whalers, as many of them are wealthy merchants who are selling the whale meat on the black market after the king officially banned it a few years ago. On one hand, the bounty is rather flattering for a pirate such as myself, but on the other hand, I'm also the only person powerful and brave (or stupid) enough to fight the sea monsters that are also terrorising the harbour, so I can't afford to get caught because someone I know revealed my identity to the wrong person.

My client was completely unaware of my side gig for this reason, until a friend of mine (23M), who had met her while searching for an unspecified individual and was in on my work, accidentally mentioned my side job to her in an off-handed remark. Predictably, she was furious and upset that I hadn't told her about this beforehand, chewing me out for not letting her know up front that she'd hired a pirate. Which she hadn't, not at first. I first met her when I was scavenging the desert for machine parts from war machines abandoned there (again, long story), before I found the illegal whalers as a better source of ill-gotten parts.

It's been a while, and she's still upset that I withheld such 'important information' from her. After I tried to explain myself, now she's also angry that I didn't trust her with this, citing that she lives far enough away that my bounty shouldn't be a problem anyway. She calls me an asshole for keeping things from her, never mind that she hadn't bothered to ask about them or where I'd been getting my parts before. If you asked me, it's on her for not vetting her employees properly to begin with.

At least she hasn't fired me yet. She still can't afford to, after all.

So, internet, AITA?