It’s a quiet evening for Jim and Spock. They’re done with their duties for the day, thoughts of Stafleet and the Academy left in their respective offices. They had shared a quiet dinner, and Jim offered to clean up, because Spock had been working hard lately and deserved a break. When has put away the dishes and made Spock a cup of tea, he steps into the living room to join Spock.
Spock’s sitting on the couch, a blanket spread over his lap, carefully pursuing one of Jim’s books. It’s then that the realization hits. Jim has never allowed anyone else to read his books. They are precious to him, in price, yes, but mostly in sentimentality. He has never trusted anyone enough, has never been comfortable enough to lay that part of his soul bare for another’s judgement.
And Spock was never supposed to be the person to crack that shell. Spock was never supposed to be anything, back when Jim first read his name while going over potential crew rosters with Admiral Pike- just some officer, making a name for himself in science circles, with a good recommendation. He’ll be good to keep around, Pike had said. Jim had agreed and signed the forms without second thought.
And Spock wasn’t supposed to be more. He wasn’t supposed to become Jim’s First- Jim had full confidence in Gary. But when the disaster of a shakedown happened and Jim’s plans were shredded, there stood Spock, unfailingly competent, ready to take on any task his fresh-faced Captain needed.
And Spock wasn’t supposed to be more, wasn’t supposed to become Jim’s closest friend, his most trusted confidant. Jim had wanted Bones as his CMO the second he found out that McCoy was available. Jim knew he would need someone with whom he could occasionally let loose, someone with whom he wouldn’t have to worry about rank and obligation. But somehow, slowly, Poker Night became evenings spent playing chess, comfortingly challenging, and chats over a bottle of Bourbon became long conversations on the observation desk, words flowing smoothly until deep into the hours of Gamma shift.
And Spock wasn’t supposed to be more. Friendship was one thing, but Jim wasn’t supposed to fall, and fall hard, for an enigmatic Vulcan. But that wasn’t surprising; Jim always fell when he shouldn’t, with Carol, with Edith, with many others when it could never work out. He couldn’t help but love so freely, to give his heart out when he ought hold it close inside his chest. The tabloids have said for years that Jim Kirk leaves a trail of broken hearts wherever he goes, but they got it wrong. He’s had his heart broken in more ways and in more places than your average human can even imagine.
And Spock wasn’t supposed to be more. Jim could admire from a distance, stand by and support him at his bonding, and slowly learn to heal once more. Spock wasn’t to fall, too, wasn’t supposed to tumble after Jim, forever, unfailingly, following his Captain.
And they definitely weren’t supposed to catch each other.
if you’d told Jim all those years ago that that up and coming scientist would someday lounge on their couch, in their living room, reading Jim’s treasured copy of Oliver Twist, he would have called you crazy. It was never supposed to work out that way.
Spock clears his throat, pulling Jim out of his sudden musings. “Jim?” he asks. “Are you alright?"
Jim smiles and gives a half laugh, coming toward Spock. "Yeah. I was just thinking."
He sets the tea on the end table before lifting the blanket and settling against Spock’s side. One arm raises to make space for him before pulling him close. Jim settles in, his head against Spock’s chest. "I am the luckiest person in the entire universe.” he says as Spock resettles his blanket over them.
"Jim, I confess myself disappointed. That statement falls far short of your usual standards of accuracy.“
Jim looks up. "Oh?” he asks.
“Indeed. You cannot be the luckiest person in the universe. You are not even the luckiest person in this room."
Jim feels a burst of affection at these words, and presses his grin into Spock’s chest. Spock takes advantage and presses a kiss to Jim’s hair, giving the arm around his bondmate a tight squeeze.
"Agree to disagree, Mr. Spock.” Spock hums his agreement, reaching around Jim to turn the page.
(excerpts from the notes of Captain Leila O’Palom of the Night Rose.)
SURGEON: Treats the sick and wounded, distributes medicines, and keeps an eye on the crew’s diet.
STAFFED BY: Hamish. One of Angus’ boys, and another beloved holdover from Captain Jaggery’s time. The man’s hulking, glowering visage belies a soul of mercy, though his former career as a butcher can be off-putting as well. Doesn’t talk much, nor does he need to. The best damned white mage we have on board.
STATS: Age: 29. Height: 6'9". Weight: 350 lbs. Hair: None, save for a short red goatee. Eyes: brown. Figure: Mountainous.
NOTES: Still answers to “Butcher”. He’s as surehanded a medic as we can get, but I never get tired of the look on lubbers’ faces when they hear me call him that.
STANDARD TAKE: 1 share.
NAVIGATOR: Plots the course of the ship, draws and stores maps, and monitors weather conditions.
STAFFED BY: Murdoc. A lifelong wandering bard, who’s spent his days relying on the stars for both inspiration and direction. I originally brought him on as a musician, but after one of his songs correctly identified every constellation surrounding the North Star, I put him to work as my navigator. Alongside myself, of course.
STATS: Age: 32. Height: 5'7". Weight: 160 lbs. Hair: Black and wavy. Eyes: blue. Figure: A little pudgy.
NOTES: I’ve never once seen him not strung out on grass, opium, or booze. I’m almost afraid he’d lose his freaky recollection of the skies above if he were ever to sober up.
STANDARD TAKE: 1 share, plus double booze rations.
MASTER GUNNER: Maintains cannons and powder, conducts artillery fire in a battle, and manages ship defenses the rest of the time.
STAFFED BY: Pauline. This gorgeous, heartless creature rose through the ranks of the Palamecian Navy, and was on the fast-track to captaining her own vessel. Then, not long after the Palamecian invasion of Fynn, she deserted, taking with her a massive supply of black powder. She resurfaced as a mercenary once the war was over, and from there, I hired her to manage our defenses. She has yet to breathe a word about why she went AWOL, or what she did during the rest of the war.
STATS: Age: 26. Height: 5'10". Weight: 130 lbs. Hair: Blonde, tied back into a ponytail. Eyes: Gray. Figure: Like a bronze statue.
NOTES: Occasionally, ex-Palamecian soldiers will come across her, and attempt to strike her down with the a god’s own vengeance, while shouting treason. Seriously, what did she do??
STANDARD TAKE: 1 share.
SECOND GUNNER: Assistant to master gunner, performs her duties in her absence.
STAFFED BY: Graeme. Angus’ other best mate, and a right dangerous bastard he is. He carries a sharp tongue, a vain attitude, and will flip his kilt at you at the drop of a hat. He’s a hothead and a smartass, but he’s never once done wrong by Angus or myself. Has likely had the most sex of anyone on this boat.
STATS: Age: 28. Height: 5'9". Weight: 200 lbs. Hair: Red, short with full beard. Eyes: brown. Figure: SMOKING.
NOTES: Credits both his fighting and fucking prowess to the teachings of a man named “Seamus Finnegan”, though nobody else I’ve found has ever heard of anyone with his name and description.
STANDARD TAKE: 1 share.
GUNNER TEAM: Subordinates to the master gunner, under her direct command.
#1.: Jennie. This hellcat of a woman has got an unbreakable chip on her shoulder. She once was a security officer for the Maxwell Company merchant fleet, before what was apparently a long, painful falling-out with its owner, trade baron Maxwell Malone. Tensions with him boiled over to the point where she took the helm of a high-priority shipment and sailed it right into my clutches, in exchange for a spot on my crew. How could I say no to a deal like that?
STATS: Age: 24. Height: 5'7". Weight: 140 lbs. Eyes: Green. Hair: Red, long and straight. Figure: Hellcat.
NOTES: Second only to Graeme when it comes to winning fist fights. I’m considering sending them both to Salamand to train further in unarmed combat. DO NOT USE IN OPERATIONS INVOLVING MAXWELL CO.!!
STANDARD TAKE: 1 share.
MASTER MAGE: Controls and manages the ship’s supply of magical restoratives, teaches spells and prepares magical assaults and defenses.
STAFFED BY: Desdemona. A seer and shaman, rendered homeless after the Cyclone attack. Blind from birth, she sees using her skills as a mage and a medium. She doesn’t like to talk about her past, but the late-night crying fits I sometimes hear from her quarters tell the story.
STATS: Age: 20. Height: 5'6". Weight: 170 lbs. Hair: Black, long and flowing. Eyes: Blank. Figure: Stocky and curvy.
NOTES: Having never been able to see with her eyes, Desi is fascinated with the idea of color. That it’s such a hard thing for her to grasp only spurs her curiosity further, and it’s a common subject of her idle chatter. I think it’s how she stays glued together when her emotions get the best of her.
STANDARD TAKE: 1 share.
ENTERTAINERS: Keep things lively during long stakeouts, and generally make the ship a better place to be.
#1.: Seth ( @kerosene-cats ) This kid found us during our stay at Lamya’s farm in Ivalice. At first, we let him stick around because he didn’t beg for anything, and his music was rather nice. By the time we were ready to raise the anchor on the land of the Lions, the smart-assed little bastard had grown on all of us, so we held a vote. 9-1, with Murdoc being the only nay-vote. Murdoc does not take criticsm well. But, we all were getting kinda weary of his ongoing magnum opus about Eris, Goddess of Chaos. Seth’s tunes were a badly-needed breath of fresh air.
After the game once everyone’s getting settled Jade’s like ‘ok we should set up a new chore roster, how about you guys get yours and we can compare’ and the meteor crew is like… chore… roster??? …chores???
Jade: how did you guys know whose turn it was to do the dishes?
someone from the meteor: we didn’t do dishes, we just threw the dishes into the Dish Pit
They thought the Dish Pit was bottomless but there is actually an entire room on the meteor somewhere filled to the brim with dirty dishes. It is a good thing the cherubs were chained and could not stumble upon this terrifying porcelain El Dorado
In case anyone wants to know just how far down the rabbit hole I’ve gone today
I present to to you the Crosshairs masterlist of the Normandy SR1 Crew Roster (post Eden Prime and the subsequent Spectre Promotion and Shepard gaining command of the Normandy):
I’m working on a “the ranks explained” post, because I’ve sat here for a good portion of the day working it out myself. BioWare’s ranking system on the wikipedia is not only… lacking, it’s not even complete itself as there are military personnel in the games with ranks not included on their list. So I took liberties, melding Navy, Air Force, and Marine ranks into one ‘Alliance Military’ system, accounting for career paths - some of which are not marked for command paths, despite being of ‘equal rank’. Anyway, that will be a post of it’s own in the near future. In the meantime, enjoy my insanity:
CO: Lieutenant Commander Olivia Shepard
XO: Master Sergeant (Navigator) Charles Pressly
Head of Marine Detail: Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko
Helmsman: Flight Lieutenant Jeff ‘Joker’ Moreau
Navigator: Sergeant Gali Groves
Comms Specialist: Technical Sergeant Andy Shaw
Chief Engineer: Lieutenant Greg Adams
Chief Medical Officer: Doctor Karin Chakwas
Mess Sergeant: Serviceman First Class Orden Laflamme
Armory Chief: Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams / Service Chief Brooke Buchanan
Requisitions Officer: Petty Officer 1st Class Raymond Tanaka
Yeoman: Chief Petty Officer Hector Emerson
Lieutenant Commander Olivia Shepard
Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko
Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams
Garrus Vakarian (given rank clearance of Operations Chief)
Wrex (given rank clearance of Corporal)
Tali’Zorah nar Rayya (given rank clearance of Chief Petty Officer)
(excerpts from the personal notes of Captain Leila O’Palom, of the Night Rose. This lineup may be affected by verse, but this is the base lineup, for reference purposes.)
CAPTAIN: Chief planner of heists, strategies, and overall business plan of the ship.
STAFFED BY:Me, Leila O'Palom. Technically, I am the first captain of the Night Rose, and the only one in her history. However, we recognize the continuity of our former ship, the Fortune’s Dividend, whose first captain was Charles Jaggery, formerly of the Palamecian Navy, who served in his post until he was murdered where he stood by the coward Beth Winters, whose gross misconceptions about pirate life cost a proud man his life- and hers, as well. The Dividend herself was scuttled after it was swallowed up and retrieved from the belly of the Leviathan, her salvageable parts used to construct the Night Rose- named in honor of the Wild Rose Rebellion, of which I served as acting Commander in the absence of Queen Hilda of Fynn.
STATS: Age: 25. Height: 5'5". Weight: 110 lbs. Hair: Lavender, long and wavy. Eyes: brown. Figure: Svelte and solid.
NOTES: Angus, if you’re reading this, you know what has happened. The votes will tell the tale, but know that, if I am unable to serve, you have my endorsement to take my place.
STANDARD TAKE: 2 shares.
QUARTERMASTER: Determines loot shares, enforces captain’s orders, settles minor disputes, and issues punishments.
STAFFED BY: Angus. The day after I slit the throat of that scum-sucking bilge-rat that killed my Captain, Angus and I met on the deck of the Fortune’s Dividend. Of all of us on the ship that day, the two of us were the only ones capable of taking the helm. I wanted it. I wanted it badly. But Angus needed to be sure that the little piss-mop that got dragged onto the ship seven years hence was ready for the job. So, we held a duel. Come-as-you-are, do-what-you-must, first to surrender or be knocked out loses.
I made my name bringing men twice my size to their heels. Even though he knew me better than any living soul in the world, he still couldn’t keep up. In one minute, he was on the ground, my knife to his throat. Not that I had the least bit intention of opening him up, but he needed to see I meant business. Since then, he’s served me with all the spirit and loyalty he gave my Captain, and this vessel depends on him every bit as much as it does me.
STATS: Age: 33. Height: 6'4". Weight: 240 lbs. Hair: Bright red, long, with a full beard. Eyes: brown. Figure: Barrel-chested.
NOTES: Recently, I did some digging to his family name, “Wallace”. Turns out ol’ Angus here is part of a long, long line of proud Salamandi warriors. When he was a lad of twenty, he rebelled against tradition, took his two best mates, and went off to find his fortune. I’ve never brought it up to him, but I’m pretty sure he’s aware that I know.
STANDARD TAKE: 2 shares.
BOATSWAIN: Maintains the ship proper, inspects and manages supplies, purchases new materials, oversees all raising and dropping of sails and anchor.
STAFFED BY: Terrence. Terry and his best mate Robin joined the crew shortly before the mutiny, recruited out of a traveling circus. He was the resident strongman, though his “feats of strength” are equal parts athletic skill and showbiz trickery. Over time, as profits fell and management grew lazy, he found himself thrust into doing more and more of the managing to keep the tour going. Thus, when the Captain needed a new bosun, Terry fit the bill, in spite of hating the shit out of the work. Still, he does his best- the position pays well, and he does enjoy bossing people around.
STATS: Age: 25. Height: 6'3". Weight: 270 lbs. Hair: Blonde, in a buzz cut. Eyes: brown. Figure: Bodybuilder.
NOTES: Terry and Robin have, over the years, developed a talent for conducting very real-looking fake fights, and will often launch into a knock-down, drag-out brawl when the need for a distraction arises.
STANDARD TAKE: 1 and a half shares.
COOPER: Builds, breaks, and rebuilds wooden barrels to store food and trade goods.
STAFFED BY: Robin. Like his pal Terry, Robin spent his days in a traveling circus, performing bizarre and disgusting stunts. I’ve never seen a man less bothered by bile in my entire life. Thus, whenever the bilge pumps break down, he’s the man to go down into the muck and get them working again. Terry successfully convinced me to write a raise for him into the latest charter. I’m not generous with these, but the man has a point- most of us fucking hate going down there. In spite of this, Robin is the laid-back type, who’s content with the simple demands of barrels and bungholes.
STATS: Age: 24. Height: 5'9". Weight: 210 lbs. Hair: Black. Short, and almost always covered by a hat. Eyes: green. Figure: Lean and lanky.
NOTES: You know that phrase, “there are no winners in a headbutt”? This man wins headbutts. Hamish can’t explain it, it’s like his skull is made of brick or something.
STANDARD TAKE: 1 and a half shares.
MASTER CARPENTER: Performs ship repairs, including plugging holes, resetting masts and yards, and repairing sails.
STAFFED BY: Hailey. I got my start as a plucky, undersized repair monkey, and I showed all the doubters just how useful it is to have a small girl with a little know-how, a lot of guts, and a skill in getting to those hard-to-reach places. Hailey is very much my successor in that respect, right down to the acid tongue. I’d call her my sister, except that would make some past events a little too weird.
STATS: Age: 19. Height: 5'1". Weight: 100 lbs. Hair: Seafoam green, tied in two pigtails. Eyes: Blue. Figure: Pixie-ish.
NOTES: She’s keeping a dark secret. She’s actually the little sister of Beth Winters, the sodden cunt who robbed the seas of my Captain. She thinks I’d murder the piss out of her if I ever found out. But, I found the bitch’s notes. Hailey was supposed to either kill me or lock me up before the attack. Yet, I saw neither hide nor hair of her that night, or the day after, when I took my pound of flesh. I suppose one day I’ll have to break it to her that I know. … maybe.
STANDARD TAKE: 1 share.
CARPENTRY TEAM: Subordinates to the master carpenter, under her direct command.
#1.: Shadow ( @neko-shadow ). A feline boy we picked up in Mineral Town. Cute, fluffy, and a total smartass. His quickness and agility make me question why I never thought to recruit cat-people before now. Gets along with virtually everyone I’ve seen him meet. In spite of his sass, he takes orders well, and brings an infectious optimism to the crew.
STATS: Age: 18. Height: 5'3". Weight: 110 lbs. Figure: Slightly feminine. Hair: Brown, unkempt and reaching down to his neck. Ears and tail are covered in black fur. Eyes: red.
NOTES: May be the third most fuckable thing on this ship, after Graeme and myself.
((Y'know, I’ve been poking around tfwiki lately and decided to look up who all is actually on the Lost Light. I actually didn’t know some of these characters were there, like Cosmos and Inferno, so I thought I’d share.
Pronouns: she/her/hers Primary Position[s]: Waitress at ‘Toxic Tea Party’ tea shop in one of the ports the Vox frequents, acts as an in-port contact and informant for the crew. Her time on the ship is spent as a foreign affairs specialist, linguist and translator (meaning she and Ginny tend to work together a lot). Stage Position[s]: Dancer, specializing in traditional and mating dances from her home planet Sahariuan (a planet with heavy middle eastern influences. Many people who have been to earth describe it matching to the culture and climate of Morocco). Does not sing on stage (but prefers to sing in private in her natve language.). Also likes to add a touch of acrobatics to her routine from time to time. Additional Information: Clementine is an accomplished acrobat, as well as knowing many alien languages. She is an orphan, and growing up earned a reputation distracting travelers with her song and stealing all their valuables. When she was 19 she met Evander Foster, a well known but young space pirate turned tea shop owner visiting her planet. She left with him and has been employed at his tea shop ever since.
Species: Andronata (insectoid/human hybrid), Vestalis genus
Called: Dolori, generally. Pip/Pips in private with close friends. Vestalis refers to their genus, which functions as something like social class in Andronata society— their genus name would be used like a title or an honorific among their own species.
Primary Position[s]: Captain! For a conscious vessel like the Vox Clamantis, this means not only piloting and command, but also neurological hookups for more or less direct interface with the ship. It is also their job to (intentionally or otherwise) aggravate the shit out of their second in command.
Stage Position[s]:Emcee/announcer, plays at ringleader~. Technically “sings,” but it’s really more… instrumental than anything. Andronata breathe through spiracles or gills in their abdomen (although they do have a perfunctory sort of upper-respiratory system and vocal chords to allow for oral communication), and can make a suprising range of musical warbles, known colloqially as “gutsong.” The sound is much like that produced by circling the wet rim of a glass with one finger.
Additional Information: Andronata are a hybrid species, engineered some centuries ago by human scientists, enabled by the near-miraculously adaptive genetic properties of the Odonata, intelligent insectoid (former) residents of a mild, unsuspecting asteroid cluster just around the corner from Proxima Centauri. At the time of human colonisation, the Odonata were on the verge of extinction, and negotiated with humankind a splicing of their respective species in order to preserve the dying race and propagate a new society to inhabit the (former) Odanata homeworld(s). This is basically the high-science version of royal marriage alliance, except a new species is born! Thus, as gutsung in the lore of the new Andronata species, “man met angel and made new child-nymphs,/ star-sand skele-skin and sky-bearing shoulders/ water-womb’d and wetted mouths and reed-fingers, they;/ Old kinds spun together behind new (and wond’ring!) eyes…”
(Andronata are noted as being insufferably mystical sorts.)
Dolori was born on-world, but their class dictates them as a sort of embassador, so it was natural that they should be sent to train as a starcaptain of a conscious vessel, to better tour the cosmos, facilitate between species, etc etc etc. The burlesque aspect was unexpected, but thoroughly enjoyable, the occasional pirating is notably less so. Andronata are passionately nonviolent and Dolori is a bigger weenie than most— although their species-wide hive-socialistic sensibilies make for a certain disdain for the notion of accumulating wealth, so they give the pirating a pass in the interest of “redistribution”— they’re more than happy to let Gooden take the helm in situations like those.
On the whole, they’re amiable, charismatic, proud, a touch dreamy, and more than a touch sentimental. Their consious vessel and partner is also their lover, to whom they are incredibly devoted (although their romantic interests and escapades are rather wider-reaching, a common trait among starcaptains). Beneath the bravado, they’re really a huge dork and all-around pansy-ass intellectual. Don’t bring up particle physics unless you have any particular desire to watch them dissolve into babbling, tearful wonderment. It’s really pretty pathetic.