Hi guys, this is sort of my official "please, for the love of god, listen to Skyjacks with me” post because I’m losing my mind and all the content I can find is from the latest stuff right now, and I don’t want to spoil myself. I want to be able to talk about this with people!!!! I will make a watch (listen) party discord if there is enough interest. Just give it a chance; you won’t regret it. Also, some information may be wrong or outdated. I’m on episode 11 out of over 200.
Skyjacks is a ttrpg podcast about sky pirates in a world where there was a catastrophe about 200 years ago that left the sea unsafe to sail and maybe even damaged the entire world to the point where civilization is scattered and in small groups. There is very casual queer rep, and it’s casual to the point where it really just fits into the world perfectly.
A brief summary of the premise of the first episode will hopefully get you hooked. I’m really bad at summaries, but I promise it’s a billion times better than how I talked about it here:
Captain Orimar Vale is dead, and a mutiny will be on Gable, Jonnit, Travis, and Dref’s hands if they are unable to keep up the ruse of him being alive. To do this, necromancy (deeply forbidden magic) is performed by the Dref, the ship's doctor, to turn him into a semi-functional zombie. Captain Orimar is famous for his abilities as a captain; to replicate this will take great skill.
As they run out of supplies, they make a desperate decision: port on the land of one of Orimar’s scorned lovers or deal with the growing uneasiness of the rest of the crew. They haven’t seen their captain healthy in months, and whispers about his health are starting. However, greater danger will await them when they take to the skies again, lurking just beyond the clouds…
And more propaganda as to why I think you guys will like it:
There are unique and interesting gameplay mechanics they use to tell a really cool story, and if you like Hermitcraft or any other sorta storytelling-based SMP, I promise you’ll like it. Like. If you liked Boatem from Hermitcraft 8, you’ll love the characters in Skyjacks. The players are exceptionally good at playing their characters, their humour is unmatched by anything similar I’ve had the pleasure of seeing, and the story is prioritized, which I think is an amazing choice.
Best part? It’s still ongoing after, like, 5 years. Some people have left, but a good chunk of the OG cast has stayed. Not that leaving is bad, because holy crap, 5 years is a long time, and stories have to end at some point! It’s a good way of getting into something and knowing there is still a shit ton of content to be explored.
The music is good. The story is good. The characters and humour are amazing. The lore of the world is sprinkled throughout, and as you learn more about the world, the more excited you get. It’s incredible so far, and if you decide to listen to it, I will actually love you forever and ever. My boyfriend is on episode 190, and he finds it so funny every time I go. Oh my god, this is so cool.
Link to the podcast, but in a playlist (up to 180). So it’s in order and easy to find, since it’s a part of something else from the oneshot network:
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thank you for that gifset because i think about the fact that professional driver 3 time formula 1 world champion max verstappen has said before that he doesn’t mind not driving if he knows the person who drives him is capable (he gave his sister as an example, even said she could go too fast) when in a road car, and how daniel likes to show off and be helpful, literally 24/7. max is the ideal passenger princess for daniel because he wouldn’t even insist on playing his own music he’d just go along with whatever daniel wanted 😭😭
Daniel said to Max in this video "You're a good passenger! I would've shat myself" when he's just going crazy in this car on a wet track, but look at Max down here, having the time of his life, so comfortable and confident in Daniel's abilities and never trying to make Daniel stop or tell him what to do.
(And, despite what Daniel said about how he would've shat himself, he was so unbothered in the video where Max did the driving and raced the other car on rocky, dusty roads).
And, to steal vital tags from @blamemma ...
#the strongest juxtaposition of daniel constantly being the passenger princess #doesn't necessarily like to drive on normal roads #gets driven to the track by other people #let his mate do most of the driving on the road trip video #prefers to be in the passenger seat #aux cord his responsibility #but YET everytime they do one of these #he takes responsibility #drives max around #feels somewhat....protective....familiar....endearing...
(And of course, like you said, the music would still remain Daniel's responsibility - making it a perfect match - because Max could probably do a full road trip in straight silence. His mind is a terrifying place. I haven't slept right since he said he runs without music.)
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Mutt
Summary: After an ambush, Soap learns to trust the newest member of the 141
Pairing: Johnny Soap Mactavish x Fem!Werewolf!MC (call sign is Mutt)
warnings: vague description of violence and injuries.
word count: 800
thank you to: @captainsamwlsn @thesadvampire @humanransome-note @joel-mlller and @luxuryberzatto @madhyanas @littleferal and @djarin-junk for helping me with this story and rattle off in your ears about Mutt! I love you all so very very much <3
_______
“What are you?”
It was a valid question given the circumstances.
Soap could hardly count himself as conscious at that moment. It was a wave, pulling him back and forth until he was able to force his head to the surface, gasping for air and able to just barely look at his surroundings before he was pulled under again.
“Does it matter?”
It was dark out. He remembered it being dusk when they set out on their mission, the sun slowly setting in the horizon as Price told them to radio in at any issue and meet at their rendezvous point as soon at possible.
Fuck.
He broke the surface once more to notice that he wasn’t moving, but swaying side to side. Each step that crunches the ground is not his, but the blood drip, drip, dripping down, leaving a foreboding trail of their journey, is.
Your shoulder digs into the crevice of his chest with each movement.
“Yer carryin’ me, Mutt.”
“I am.”
You never spoke much. Johnny had equated you to Simon in that way, quiet and foreboding. Your actions spoke where your voice rasped in the shadows. Tucked in the corner booth of a pub when the others went to celebrate a job well done. The loyal guard dog, waiting on its haunches for an order.
He was the one who would move to you first. Setting a beer in front of you before sliding into the seat across from you with a tap of his knuckles on the polished table. His knee would bump yours every time. You’d never complain.
“Big scary bastards, the both of you.”
But then you’d give him a grin, a flash of your crooked canines so fast it was gone when he blinked.
“Well it’s a damn good thing you talk enough for all of us then.”
Jonathan Mactavish was only a stone’s throw from 215 pounds but you carried him without complaint. The swaying with each step made his head spin and looking up was too much work for him to trust himself not to vomit. He let his eyes drop and stare at the ground, watching you take one step after another in a steady rhythm like an infant listening to their mother’s heartbeat. Through the darkness, he’s able to make out the shadowed shape of your feet in the night.
“You’ve got no shoes on, Mutt.”
“Feels better this way.”
He can’t see much. Even if it weren’t for the blood loss and what he’s going to safely assume is a grade two concussion, it’s far too dark out for his surroundings to be seen as anything more than vague shapes and textures he can almost make heads or tails of.
Your eyes are focused on the trail ahead, already accustomed to the darkness in a way he’d never seen anybody else without night vision goggles or a Mag-light.
“Tried to reach Price but the comms are busted. You got your bell rung pretty bad back there but-” You shifted your grip on his body and he felt something sharp press against his ankle, a gentle warning that mouthed at the skin of his Achilles's tendon. “We're only a few miles away from the rendezvous point. Think you can keep it together until we get there?”
Claws. You had claws.
Through the nausea rolling through his body and the lights dancing behind his eyes, Soap could feel the fog begin to clear from his head. A flash of orders rising from his memory like the vision returning after a flash grenade.
He remembered seeing you charge through the muzzle flash and smoke like a vision. Uniform stained with the viscera of your enemies so dark he didn’t recognize you at first. The moment you came toward him he was raising his gun until he heard you speak.
“You know me, Johnny.”
But he didn’t. Not really.
When he looked at you there was no familiarity or trust. He knew the color of your eyes and the curl of your lips in a snarl but nothing else. Not your name or family nor the reason you joined.
In the darkness, moonlight glinted against your eyes and he found himself thinking of the coyotes in Las Almas that watched him and his team from the shadows, pacing with a choir of chattering yips and howls in the darkness, waiting for the proper time to pounce.
He’d never admit it but there was a pause, when his hand held the barrel of his gun steady at your head. Just as long as the width of the shallow breath trapped in his lungs, a split second where his pointer finger twitches, where the voice in his head urges him on.
“You never answered my question.”
He knows nothing of you except that the blood in your mouth was spilled for him.
“I’m your teammate. That ought to be enough for you.”
It would have to be.
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