on the set of master and commander

Galra ladies in Lotor’s Squad

So about these ladies that we see here. A few theories..

Lady on the far left in red, this could be the new version of Kala, whom I mentioned previously in another post. Kala was a military commander for the Drule in Voltron Force and was the person behind the revival of Lotor on that show. While her outfit is very different, she does bear some similarities to the original Kala

High ponytail resembles the roman like mohawk the original had on her helmet. She also has the same flat nose, yellow eyes and V like shaped design over her brow that extends to the bridge of her nose in this case. The ears can be seen as the edging of the front.

Number two to note, the lady in Front, could be a gender bent form of either Mogor or Cossak. Both men worked directly under Lotor, and while she doesn’t quiet look like either she seems to be taking some of their styles.

Mogor is a large imposing person who has a very thick body and a darker color skin tone, as well as a thicker neck and face. Certainly the body stance resembles him. However we also can see some Cossak in her.

The wider ears makes me think of his horns. So this lady could be a mix of both of them, and be the one that Lotor has the most faith in?

The one that’s really interesting in the back is the lady with the purple hair. And my mind went to the Rebel leader Dorma of Drule. Her brother was the head of the the Drule commanders and later came over to the side of good, after their father who was in the rebellion convinced him to help Voltron.

Similar hair, similar eyes, and skin tone.

 One thing that really stands out about her is her outfit. It’s the same as the weblum Galra.

Not the best of shots, but it’s clear that these two are the same person. So this could pick up that old trail. This could be Keith’s half sister, Dorma, if they so decide to keep her name as such. You can see that the suits are the same, the gun holster is the same, and the gun is the same. Given this information, we could have a potential ally for the team in this member of Lotor’s squad who feeds them info or switches sides.

For the record, in the original, Dorma’s brother was Hazar: 

And her father lead the rebels against the Drule empire: 

and this is followed by his friend the Commander Bakki

Kind of Reminds me of someone…Oh Yeah, Kolivan

Lastly we have the chick with the cat, and the weird tail. we can see that when she’s attacking Hunk and pidge in the trailer that just came out.

Her design reminds me of the Quran character from Mass effect “Tali”  tali'zorah (thank you to the person that pointed that out to me). With the covering of the face. I’m guessing she’s got more then one set of eyes and given the claws on the feet and the tail, it’s safe to say she’s probably the Storm Shadow of the group, and the assassin. Leaving the larger lady the brusier, the Weblum Galra, the sharp shooter, and the other lady probably the spy master and so forth.

So there you have it. Some thoughts on who these chicks are and their roles in Season 3.

Lori’s Recs: “Hornblower”

It occurs to me that many folk here may be too young to be aware of this miniseries, one of the last big productions of the pre-Netflix/Hulu/etc era of TV production.

You must watch this. You must.

Hornblower is a series of 8 two-hour TV movies. The first four came out in 1998, the second four in 2003. They are so good, y’all. They first aired on A&E (they were a BBC/A&E co-production) and I tuned in to the first one more or less by accident and was ENTHRALLED. If you liked “Master & Commander” this is like that but MORE.

They’re drawn from three of the ten Horatio Hornblower novels by C.S. Forester and star the oh so dreamy Ioan Gruffudd as Horatio. The series also features a lot of fandom faves such as Jamie Bamber (this was pre-BSG), Paul McGann, and David Warner. The production quality is awesome, the acting is top-notch, and they’re so slashy you might die.

Now, I’m urging you to watch them - I don’t know how you can do that easily. I can’t find them for streaming anywhere. I own the DVD boxed sets, but as far as I can tell you can’t even RENT them on Netflix. Your best bet might be a library that might have the discs for rent. So old-school, I know.

But if you get the chance - I know they still air semi-regularly on British TV - watch them. There won’t be any more, although Gruffudd has a great deal of attachment to this character and has made noise about trying to get more made (although he’s in his forties now, they’d have to move along in the character’s timeline).

Hmm, I might have to get out my discs.

TMNT Raph x Reader: Battlefield Temptations


I DECIDED TO BRING THIS OVER FROM MY OLD ABANDONED DEVIANTART ACCOUNT- SO DONT PANIC IM NOT PLAGIARISING (don’t know whod try to plagiarise this piece of shit anyway)  I tried to fix it a bit but I failed miserably.

WARNING: cursing, violence, slight steaminess- not enough to be nsfw but its steamy

(Reader is fem)

Originally posted by molzies-fanfics

“Are you willing to spar today, child?”

Master Splinter’s voice slices through your concentration on the battle before you. You jump slightly at the suggestion and shake your head vigorously, your hair coming loose and waving around the frame of your face. Raising a finger and pointing it into the direction of the brutal sparring between Raph and Leo, you give Splinter a pointed look with a nervous laugh.

“Aha, no. No, I don’t think so. Besides, I’d probably be murdered in there,” you turn to glance at the turtle brothers whose fists have turned into blurs that pummel each other into the ground with a force that would surely shatter every bone in your body were you to take one blow. Especially one of Raphael’s hits. He’d kill you instantly.

Donatello and Michelangelo remain seated a meter away from you on the side of the sparring mat. Both would wince every so often when one of the fighters landed a particularly brutal hit, that fighter would more often than not be Raph: A 6'5 mass of boiling rage and rippling muscle. A terrifyingly intimidating character to meet at first but you learned  to warm up to him as he had to you. Maybe you’ve warmed up to him a little too much.

Compared to 5'11 strategical and precise Leo, Raph seems like a giant. But Leo is no push over, he can very well hold his own against the brute, he’s the only brother that has a chance at beating Raph and the red masked turtle hates that fact.
The sweat drips down Raph’s bulging biceps, dropping off with every shattering blow that he lands on his brother. His gritted teeth serve as an indicator to his concentration and hints at frustration. Red masked eyes narrowed down into piercing green slits, meant to penetrate the enemy’s soul and destroy them from the inside as well as the outside. Your eyes roam over Raph's muscled form and your mind dive-bombs into the gutter. A blush takes residence upon your cheeks at the less than appropriate thoughts that suddenly occupy your mind. His large and rough hands caressing you with a gentleness that you had thought to be impossible; strong fingers drifting across your skin with only a light touch, enough to bring you to your knees.

“Enough!” Master Splinter takes his cue to end the match before things get overly heated between the fighters (and your thoughts). Both brothers shake hands tersely with each other and move to sit down, awaiting the announcement of who would be sparring together next.

“It will only be a grappling match. Wrestling, if you will. No hits,” Splinter persists, the look in his eye urging you to accept. You shake your head again, you don’t care how much the rat gives you the ‘do it’ look you are not going put yourself in a situation that would get your head bashed in.

“What, Kitten? Too scared to play with the big boys?” Raph mocks from where he is sitting. You fight the urge to snap something back at him that would surely make him swallow his tongue and just settle for a glare. “You gonna break a nail, little princess?”

“No, I just don’t want to fight,” you reply calmly. What crawled up his ass and died? Raph isn’t one to be sexist, he isn’t one to pick on you either. What’s he up to?
“That’s because you can’t. You should probably sign up for cooking classes or something more suited to you and your…” his eyes fleetingly skim over your body, “-stature.”

Your eyes widen in absolute anger! You vaguely hear Splinter reprimanding his son for the blatant display of disrespect but you find yourself still burning with indignation. That condescending, sexist, chauvinistic, boneheaded piece of sh-
“I’ll do it.”

It takes you a moment to realize that those words were spoken by you. You just said them. You just agreed to get bashed. Oh, God where is my head? What have you done? You stupid girl. You mentally chide yourself for your impulsive decision.

Please give me Mikey! You chant mentally, Mikey is easily distracted and you’re sure that you’d be able to take him down if you really set your mind to it. It was maybe even a possibility you could hold your own against Donatello considering he is without his weapon.

Who am I kidding? Your thoughts nosedive, as does your confidence. Versing these guys is a completely different ballgame altogether.

You turn to give Master Splinter a look of 'please take pity on my poor, poor soul’ but he’s not looking at you. He’s deciding which turtle to put you up against.
“This will be grappling only, no hits exchanged,” Splinter commands, then his gaze flickers to you for a moment. You give him the puppy dog eyes and in return you receive an unamused stare. “Raphael. Stand.”

You almost topple over as you choke on your own spit, “wha- what?!”

Raphael raises an eyebrow but a slight smirk settles in the corner of his mouth as you slowly walk closer towards him. His gaze does not waver from your eyes until you are standing a meter away from him, in which his eyes smoothly move down to your lips and then the curve of your neck. Raph’s eyes snap upwards to your face before going any lower and you notice how his gaze darkens slightly. You gulp, noting how he stares at the movement of your throat distractedly. God, what have you gotten yourself into? You know he is watching everything you do, surely observing your possible weaknesses. Both of you stand in your desired fighting stances as Splinter opens his mouth to start the fight.

“You got this, Angelcakes!” Mikey, ever optimistic, yells out with a wide grin and waving hands. Donnie gives you a sympathetic smile and Leo, as per usual, remains stoic.

“Begin!” Splinter snaps you back into the moment and you yelp as Raph wastes no time before lunging at you. You duck beneath the offending limb and circle a safe distance away from him.

“Keep your head in the game,” Raph says, his voice holding a tone of slyness to it. “Don’t want to finish you off before the real fun’s started.”

You falter for a split second, was that an innuendo?

He reaches for you again and you barely evade his advancing manoeuvres, weaving between his grasping hands and leaping over the leg that he sweeps under you. His eyes narrow slightly and his attacks become more and more difficult to fend off.

“The point is to take him down!” Mikey says before turning to Donnie, “that’s is the point, right?”

You immediately drown him out and disregard him as a distraction. Focus on not getting grabbed!

You bend back, just barely avoiding a swipe for grip on your neck. You try to throw back your own offence only to recoil your hand sharply when Raph immediately makes a grab for it. Okay, so the straight on approach isn’t going to solve anything. Maybe if you flank him from behind you’d have a chance of taking him to the ground!

You roll to the side sharply, evading a grab and dive through Raph’s spread apart feet. Raph grunts in surprise and before you can tell yourself to stop you leap onto the back of his shell and jab at a pressure point in his shoulder that would drop any normal person instantly. You’re overwhelmed by a rush of elation when you feel Raph’s knees hit the ground. Could you have actually won?


His hand grabs your forearm, pulling you forward to lean over his shoulder. Your stomach is pressed into the edge of his shell, the breath in your lungs is forcefully expelled by the impact. Raph’s face leans into yours, cheek on cheek as he roughly whispers, “gotcha.”

You’re sent flying forward, sent into an uncomfortable front flip and landing hard on your back. You’re winded, unable to do anything but stare in shock at the figure that has now pinned you down from above. How did he do that? You dropped him!

His weight on top of you causes you to snap back into reality, his skin upon yours is rough but not as unkind to the touch as you’d have thought it to be. You try to wriggle away but he immediately presses himself down on you, rendering you motionless. Raph’s smirking face moves closer until he is but inches apart from yours. Your heart is racing and butterflies embark on a mad rampage in your stomach. His body on top of yours. Skin on skin. So close. Too close.

You turn your head to the side and he leans in  to the crook of your neck, next to your ear. “Submit.”

You growl and shake your body as much as you can, flailing your legs angrily but gaining no movement or ground. He chuckles briefly.

“Make it easy on yourself and just submit,” he murmurs to you. Your face is red with anger and exhaustion as you continue to writhe beneath him, you’d be damned before you give up without a fight. Your movement earns a slight growl from the turtle on top of you. You freeze.

“Stop moving if you know what’s good for you,” he hisses in your ear. Your chest heaves up and down against his own as you breathe heavily. After a moment of silence, he repeats the sentence with irritation lacing his words. “Submit to me.”

You refrain from crying out loud in frustration and sudden breathlessness as you steadily say the words, “I submit.”

You feel Raph grin against your shoulder before he stands to his feet, towering over your 5'5 frame. You feel as if his weight had left a physical dent in your body, stars appearing in your vision briefly as you greedily gulp the air he had robbed from your lungs.

The smug creature offers a hand to you and you pretend you don’t see it, standing to your feet yourself. He had humiliated you. Not because he had beaten you. That would have been fair and square and you would have taken it in good sport if that had been it. But that wasn’t it. He had motives behind his movements, the way he whispered in your ear… when he growled lowly as you writhed beneath him. The way he had embarrassed you and infuriated you with his mocking words beforehand.

As you are engrossed in your thoughts, everyone collects themselves and moves to leave the dojo- Splinter having wisely dismissed the session. You ignore Raph, trying not to make eye contact with him as you head towards the exit. You and the brute are the last ones in the training room which is probably exactly what he wants. His large hand grabs your forearm pulling you aside before you can make it out the door and you glare up at him heatedly beneath your hair.

His height and build looming over you intimidates you but it also has another effect that you’re not sure you’d ever admit out loud. Raph’s eyes make contact with yours, staring intensely for a moment before looking you over. “Did I, uh, did I hurt you at all?” He asks gruffly.

You stare at him for a long moment, torn between answering with a 'f*ck yeah you did, dickhead’ and 'nope. Now piss off.’

You settle with a simple and bitter “no.”

He raises an eyebrow, amused. “Sore loser.”

You grit your teeth and poke a finger into his plastron angrily, “Sore loser?! You would’ve won either way and I would’ve been fine with it! But what I am 'sore’ about is that fact that you didn’t just beat me.”

He takes a step forward, a smirk playing on his lips. He seems so different. Controlled. He knows what he wants and he’s surprisingly confident in his movements. You move backwards subconsciously before realizing that you have quite literally just reversed into a wall. You look up with wide eyes as he moves in closer than what your personal space limits people to.

“Why don’t ya just explain then.”

“You- you humiliated me! Toyed with me, mocked me, made fun of me and then you-you….” You trail off, unable to describe his intimacy towards you without throwing yourself out to look like a fool.

“Why do you stay on the defence in a fight? You wear yourself out,” he pipes up, leaning back a little giving you room to breathe. You blink, a little shocked at the subject change.

“You’re a 6'5 walking mass of muscle. I’m a stick insect in comparison. Please explain to me why I would ever hope to believe I had a chance to take you out by a full frontal attack,” you say bluntly, crossing your arms over your chest unknowingly boosting your cleavage into his view. He glances down at the flesh bursting from your bra below him and licks his lips, moving in towards you like he had before You see the resolve in his gaze flicker, he is struggling to maintain the façade. You inhale sharply, trying to continue.

“I’d be…better off…running,” you gasp as he moves his lips to rest on your neck. Your heart is in your throat, thrumming beneath the soft but firm touch of his mouth. Raph seemingly breathes in your scent before running his cool tongue over your sensitive skin, tracing the veins in your neck.

Your eyes widen at the contact, a choked gasp slipping from your mouth. There has always been chemistry between the two of you, the occasional flirting and the light banter you were both notorious for. But never had he been so blatant about his attraction towards you, never had he even gathered the courage to kiss you let alone touch you so sensually.

Then you realise, eyes widening at the sudden revelation. He’s in heat.

Your hands come up to rest on his chest but not entirely pushing him away. There’s a light pressure on your throat as he suckles at your sweet spot, delighting in the sound of your erratic breathing and whimpers.

Raphael’s right hand remains next to your head on the wall, essentially keeping you caged within his grasp.  His left hand roams over the smoothness of your waist, groaning almost silently as his hands continue caress your midriff.

“Well, then.” He whispers huskily, finally responding to your words. “I promise you don’t need to run away from me.”

That was it. His mouth melds onto yours and you’re not sure who initiated the connection as his hands run up and down your body. The force of the not-so-gentle kiss pushes you into the wall leaving you vulnerable to his desires. His lips moving feverishly on yours as he captures your flesh between his teeth, asking for entrance. You moan, parting your mouth in obedience, his tongue immediately seeks out yours to battle for dominance.

The hardness of his muscled body against yours was overwhelming, the raw strength, danger and masculinity was making you swoon. ”Oh God, Raph,” you sigh in delight as his lips move from your mouth to your neck to greet that special spot once more.

He lightly nips your throat before turning to make eye contact briefly, eyes shimmering mischievously, “I think it’s time for round two. Wanna rematch?”

Some confessions are louder than others

A short Drarry. Enjoy. 

Hermione was a smart girl.

She knew it, her teachers knew it, the whole damn castle knew it. She was quick-witted, intelligent, and, most of all, observant. Hermione Jean Granger noticed and put things together that others simply missed.

…For example.

Hermione noticed the way that Harry Potter was becoming unhealthily obsessed with Draco Malfoy. She noticed that he didn’t always speak of his Slytherin counterpart in venomous tones anymore, either.

Hermione also noticed the way that this very same Draco Malfoy was constantly staring at her dear friend in class, like he was trying to burn holes through Harry’s poor skull.

She thought she might know what was going on, even if the involved parties did not.

Unfortunately for most people, Hermione Jean Granger also had no qualms about interfering where she thought her meddling might be beneficial.

Draco didn’t feel right.

He set the goblet of pumpkin juice down, wondering if maybe he was getting sick. He wouldn’t be surprised. It wasn’t like he wasn’t under an exuberant amount of stress or anything.

Kill Albus Dumbledore, Draco. I want it done before the year is complete.

No big deal. Just your normal, run-of-the-mill command from your typical, mass-murdering master.

Draco shuddered, pushing his untouched plate of food away from him. Crabbe eyed him confusedly. Considering that this was the manner in which Crabbe looked at most things most of the time, Draco was hardly bothered. “I think I need to lie down,” he muttered. “I’m—I’m skiving off Charms. Tell Flitwick I’m sick.”

He didn’t wait for a response before standing. Draco grabbed his bag and was halfway down the table when he abruptly collided with someone.

“Hey—what the hell, Granger!”

Draco’s bag fell to the floor, spilling the contents everywhere. Hermione Granger stepped away demurely, making Draco scowl even further. It was like she had run into him on purpose! “Watch we’re you’re going, you stupid—”

“Watch your mouth, Malfoy.” Ron Weasley instantly stepped in, his hand hovering over his pocket where he assuredly kept his wand. Because it was never just one of them, was it? The Golden Trio was infuriatingly inseparable.

“Ron…” Granger hissed the word like an owner might scold a dog. And just like a dog, Weasley lowered his hand and stepped away, though he kept his furious glare fixed on Draco.

Perhaps Draco would have been the one to draw his wand instead, if his attention hadn’t been so suddenly and horrifically derailed.

“Here, just—”

Potter was bending over and—and touching his things, and—

Some part of Draco’s mind knew that this should have bothered him very deeply and on many different levels, but it didn’t.

It was like the entire Hall just melted away into oblivion. The Headmaster he was supposed to be murdering, the faculty and staff, the countless students who were about to bear witness. They all faded into nothing as Harry James Potter handed him a stack of books and quills.

“—just take your stuff, Malfoy, and—”

“I love you.”

There was a short pause in which absolutely no one breathed. Draco thought that Weasley might have scoffed something incredulous, but he wasn’t listening.

He wasn’t paying attention to anyone else.

Harry’s beautiful, green eyes widened in shock before his lips parted and he laughed, breathy and flustered. “Ex…cuse me?” he said in a high, concerned tone. “What—”

“I love you,” Draco repeated. The entire table filled with Slytherin students behind him turned in their seats. The whole Hall seemed to be fall silent, but Draco hardly noticed. “I love you, I-I think I have for a while, I just—I never realized it before right now.”

Harry’s face slid into one of downright disbelief. Draco knocked the books from his arms which he had just gathered up for him so that he could grasp Harry’s hands. “I love you, you gorgeous, reckless idiot. I love you. I love you!”

He was shouting. Harry turned a brilliant shade of red, seemingly paralyzed by Draco’s very loud and traumatizing confession. Draco decided that it felt good to shout. “I love you!” he yelled again, laughing. Giddy with emotion, he turned towards the Hall at large and declared, even louder:

“I love Harry Potter!”

Then, without even thinking it through, Draco turned his attention back to the stunned boy in front of him and crashed his lips over his, passionately kissing Harry Potter for the entirety of the school to see.  

…Maybe it was just the drama of the moment, but later, when Draco found himself in Slughorn’s office with various antidotes being shoved down his throat, he most definitely recalled that Potter had kissed him back.

“You were certainly under the influence of something, my boy,” Slughorn confirmed morbidly, once Draco felt that he was himself again. Draco wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, his mortification swiftly turning into rage. “But you should be right as rain, now!”

…Not that being cured of his temporary ailment could possibly undo the damage that had been done.

Draco was furious, venomous, murderous. Potter had used a love potion on him! Surely in some ill-conceived attempt to figure out what he was working on; Potter had been tailing him for weeks, now…

And he’d shouted he loved him, in front of the entire school… And kissed him…

Fuming, Draco set off to find Potter without so much as a ‘thank you’ to Slughorn. “That bastard,” he seethed under his breath. “I’ll kill him, I’ll—oh, for fuck’s sake, Granger! Watch where—”

“I did it.”

For Hermione Granger had just turned a corner, walking right into him—again—like she had just been waiting outside of Slughorn’s office for him to emerge.


“I slipped you the potion,” she said quickly. She had both of her hands raised on either side of her face, looking defensive. “It was me.”

Draco stared, dumbfounded. Unlike Potter, he was not inherently terrible at potions (the fact that Potter had become so inexplicably skilled at the subject this year was clearly just favoritism on Slughorn’s part… the old walrus), and therefore was very distraught at what she was saying. “But… but if you brewed the amortentia, then—”

“It wasn’t amortentia,” she said huffily, like Hermione Granger would never stoop to such things. “It was a confidence elixir, Malfoy. A potion to boost your assurance exponentially. It’s related to Felix Felicis, though not as powerful. You should look it up. Anyway, I thought you could use a bit of… encouragement.”

She smile brightly before sauntering off. Draco watched her go, far too stunned in that moment to say or do anything.

“Oh.” She stopped suddenly, looking over her shoulder with a sly smile on her face. Draco was very glad that the hallway was empty. “By the way… he’s obsessed with you.”

Then she left, a bit of a bounce in her step.

Draco hated that, rather than continue to be furious or thirsty for vengeance… Well, he just couldn’t stop smiling.

Colonel Tye and the “Black Brigade”

A bit of a departure from the stuff I’d normally post, but something of an interesting topic; less an obscure weapon, more an obscure person.

Born Titus Cornelius, slave to a John Corlies, in Monmouth County, New Jersey, in around 1753, “Tye” suffered a particularly unpleasant upbringing. Corlies was notorious, even among other slaveowners, for mistreating his slaves. Despite being a Quaker (it was Quaker practice to educate slaves and grant them freedom at age 21), Corlies had no intention of teaching or freeing his slaves, and regularly beat them. His actions eventually cost him his membership to the Quaker Church in 1778.

Titus was largely educated by other people in the region, and learned his way around the land whilst running errands for his master. He became acquainted with many of the families living in Monmouth at the time.

When the Revolutionary War started to break out in 1775, Lord Dunmore, the governor of Virginia, issued a proclamation offering slaves a deal: they would be offered freedom in exchange for service in the British Army. It should be noted that Dunmore’s proclamation, in its original wording, only applied to slaves owned by Patriots who opposed the British government. Dunmore was fierce Loyalist and somewhat of a reactionary figure; notoriously unpopular with the Patriot revolutionaries after threatening to impose martial law in Virginia. His actions no doubt did more damage than good to the Loyalist’s already poor reputation in the colonies, and this proclamation was no exception: wealthy slave owners, who had previously been indifferent to British rule, came to support the Patriot cause because of their fears that Dunmore was attempting to incite a slave rebellion.

As word spread all around of Dunmore’s proclamation, slaves, who were faced with a choice between their current condition or the enticing offer of potential freedom, began to flee their masters en masse. It is said that wherever the British Army marched, escaped slaves followed. The proclamation acted twofold: to bolster the Loyalist fighting force, and to damage the Patriot’s infrastructure by depriving them of their slaves. Dunmore established the “Ethiopian Regiment”, an all-black Loyalist regiment made up entirely of escaped slaves who had answered Dunmore’s call. It had nothing to do with Ethiopia. It was in this regiment that the former slaves would fight for their freedom, and wore their motto “Liberty to Slaves” across the chests of their uniforms.

Undoubtedly, Dunmore’s intensive was purely to undermine the Patriot cause rather than a steadfast opposition to slavery. For slaves, though, it didn’t matter. Many of them were prepared to fight and die for even a chance at freedom. Even if Dunmore was lying, most considered it worth a shot.

Titus was one of the first slaves to take up Dunmore’s offer. He escaped shortly after his 21st birthday and joined the British Army under the pseudonym “Tye”. Over the next few years, he may have gained military experience by participating in several skirmishes, such as Kemp’s Landing and Great Bridge, but there is no exact record of his activities until 1778, when he distinguished himself in battle by capturing Patriot Captain Elisha Shepard during the Battle of Monmouth. His combat initiative and vast knowledge of the New Jersey region singled him out as a particularly valuable asset to the British, and although former slaves could not officially earn a commission, Tye was unofficially promoted to the rank of “Colonel” and given command of his own unit called the “Black Brigade” in 1779.

The Brigade were given assignments by William Franklin, the Loyalist son of Benjamin Franklin and Royal Governor of New Jersey. Most of these assignments boiled down to destabilizing Patriot-controlled areas and destroying their infrastructure via the means of guerrilla warfare. For Tye and the men under his command, it was an opportunity to exact revenge on slave holders; many of the Black Brigade’s targets were their former masters. For every successful assignment, Tye and his men were paid 5 guineas. They also worked in conjunction with the Queen’s Rangers in New York, and also are said to have set up an early form of the Underground Railroad that would escort slaves to freedom in Nova Scotia.

The exploits of the Black Brigade were seen as disgraceful and barbaric by the Patriots and Tye became something of a boogeyman in New Jersey. By 1780, the Black Brigade were essentially acting as hitmen for the British, assassinating or capturing local high-ranking militiamen. One such target was Joshua Huddy. Huddy was considered something of a hero among Patriots but was notorious among Loyalists; he and his militia had raided and killed many prominent Loyalists. In essence, he was Tye’s Patriot counterpart.

When the Black Brigade came for him, Huddy managed to hold them off for about two hours with the help of his servant girl, before surrendering when his house caught fire. During his arrest, however, the Black Brigade was ambushed by a Patriot militia, and in the ensuing confusion, Huddy managed to escape. Tye was wounded in the wrist by a stray shot. Two days later, he succumbed to gangrene and died, aged 27.

Thus ends Tye’s chapter in history.

Although Tye never achieved the free life he sought, the story did not end with him. As the war came to a close in 1783, the British prepared to evacuate through New York. By this point, tens of thousands of slaves had served with the British. Many of them had since succumbed to disease, been captured and returned to their masters, or died in battle. Many did not expect the British to make good on their promise of freedom, but perhaps surprisingly, they did. Guy Carleton, the temporary commander-in-chief of the British forces, attended negotiations with George Washington following the British surrender, in which Washington was quite adamant that the “human property” of the Patriots be returned to their original owners. Carleton refused to yield. After some discussion, he managed to broker a deal with Washington: the slaves would not be returned, but any slave owners who lost their slaves during the war would be monetarily reimbursed by the British government. Carleton went so far as to compile a book of records relating to every escaped slave and every slave owner who was legally entitled to compensation, which was entitled the “Book of Negroes”.

The escaped slaves were shipped off with the rest of the Loyalist evacuees to Canada, England, and eventually, Sierra Leone. Many were granted land in Nova Scotia, where they built defenses among fears that the Patriots would try and forcibly reclaim their lost slaves.

Joshua Huddy was captured by Loyalists and hanged in a revenge killing. This event disrupted negotiations between Colonial Congress and the British.

Despite Carleton’s promises to Washington, no slave owners were ever reimbursed by the British government.

1 am

Genre: Kim Taehyung x reader smut
Word count: 1.6k
“Teaser”: Your boyfriend that’s currently touring the world with his band-members, unexpectedly calls you in the middle of the night with a “problem” ;-).
Author’s note: Heyyyyyy guys! I haven’t been around lately, cause I’ve been busy living my life. Tests, friends, obligations etc. got in the way of me and this blog - pretty much life has made it hard to post things. I’ve been writing up quite a few scenarios, but I just haven’t finished any of them. This is just a random idea that came to mind and I just went with the flow. I hope you guys like it, since quite a few have been asking me for a V smut…. so here you Tae-lovers go! I tried to proof read it, but it’s so late and I probably read over some of the typos! Sorry about that! I’m tired af! Enjoy hanas!

Originally posted by btswillfuckyouup

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anonymous asked:

I noticed that worthit now has quite the parallel between Maul and Obi-Wan. Imagine our two mech-legged nemeses having an encounter...

“My my my Kenobi, don’t we look like two drops of rain. Can you tell me who took your legs so I can send them a fruit basket in gratitude?” A voice drawled and Obi-Wan tensed both in shock and wariness a bit as he raised his saber, turning to stare at Maul with a tight look on his face as the zabrak sneered at him gloatingly as he eyed the metal legs that now carried Obi-Wan around.

Of all the people to encounter on the patrol around the camp…

Giving a low snarl, Cody lifted his blaster only for Obi-Wan to start talking. “Well I guess if you choose to look at it that way.” He drawled back at the malicious zabrak staring at him. “But I still got something you don’t.” He smirked smugly back.

“Oh?” Maul snorted, flickering his tongue over his sharp teeth as he eyed the shiny legs of Obi-Wan.

“I still got my cock and can polish off my ‘saber’ when I need to, where’s yours?” The ginger smirked. “Oh right, I cut it off and it fell down a the melting shaft with your legs.” He snarked out.

There was a heart beat and then Maul snarled even as Cody choked on a shocked laugh as the Sith and the Jedi sprung into action, both fierce fighters lashing out at each other.


Spraying soda out his nose, Anakin covered his face with an arm while staring at Cody. “He said what?” The blond rasped even as Ahsoka desperately mopped at herself from Anakin spraying the table and her.

Cody flustered. “I mea-”

But the Jedi waved his hand. “No, no I didn’t mean that literally, I just…wow he said that to Maul and then scared him off by kicking him in the chest?” he laughed a bit, rubbing his face. “Oh Force that’s just so wizard…” He grinned for a bit.

“Not sure about that Skyguy. It sounds like master Kenobi is frustrated.” Ahsoka frowned at him and Anakin sighed a bit.

“He is.” The blond confirmed. “That’s why this is good for him. Keeping those emotions bottled up is not good for Obi-Wan. Not good for anyone really but especially not Obi-Wan right now.” He wiggled his mech fingers at her for point. “He has two missing legs that carries his weight around, this is just an arm. I don’t walk on my arm Ahsoka but I get frustrated about the pain still. Obi-Wan is still…learning to cope. This is good for him I swear.”

Frowning, the young togruta looked down then sighed. “I guess… I’m just worried about him Skyguy. He’s so… withdrawn lately, he hasn’t sparred with me a single time since all of this happened and… I miss him.” She stared at her hands.

Settling his hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder, Anakin gave her a sympathetic smile. “Do you want to know why he doesn’t show up that much around you?” He murmured.

She nodded.

“Because he’s frustrated and he doesn’t want to take it out on you. Sparring is hard for him right now, fighting in general is difficult for him right now and he’s trying I swear but he still needs time to figure out how to cope like I told you. He just doesn’t want to take it out on you his frustration.” The blond confided.

Cody knew that, he had sat in on a few sparing matches between Obi-Wan and Anakin, watched how the redhead frustrated face would twist and how he would snap or snarl at the blond in annoyance only to apologize seconds later, visibly fighting against hot frustrated tears.

“I… Oh, is he… does he snap at you?” Ahsoka peered up at her master.

Nodding, Anakin took a sip out of his soda. “Yes. I don’t mind too much, he doesn’t mean it. He’s in pain and I remember how it hurt for me the first half year.” He rubbed at his mech arm where it fasted to flash with a sigh, the artificial hand squeezing a bit on the can of soda and crushing it slightly in.

“…I wish we knew who set the bomb for Senator Amidala. Master Obi-Wan didn’t deserve this.” She whispered.

“No…He didn’t, but if you ask him, he will tell you it was worth it.” Anakin sighed before looking up at Cody. “You don’t have to stand there and listen to us gossip Commander. Thank you for telling me and I’ll look in on Obi-Wan later.”

The trooper saluted, not minding honestly since he enjoyed both Jedi’s company even if they weren’t his but hey, a leave was a leave. “Thank you sir, I left him with a pot of tea and lunch in his assigned quarters.”

“Good, he should eat since you bought him it then.” The knight grinned.

Cody hoped he was right.

Giant Military* Masterpost for Writers

This is a HUGE file that I’ve been working on for a while and will continue to - feel free to ask for clarification on confusing or missing stuff, so I can explain better!.  Check it out under the cut!

*I am a U.S. Marine, and this is a compilation of my and a few other Marine’s experiences!  Other militaries and branches definitely have different terminology and experiences, and you can take and leave what you want from this for your story.

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The Main Goddesses and Gods of Celtic Druidism

This list is useful for becoming familiar with the more prominent Celtic Goddess and Gods. Every Celtic tradition has a name for the “Mother Goddess”. In the Welsh tradition I was initiated into, Kerridwen is the name of the Mother Goddess. Because of this I have listed her and her consort, Kernunnos, first. 

Kerridwen- In the Welsh Gwyddonic tradition, she is the All Mother, a Goddess of inspiration and knowledge, called “The Ninefold One”. Her magickal symbol is the divine cauldron of inspiration of the Otherworld. Her totem animal is the sow. 

Kernunnos- In the Welsh Gwyddonic tradition, he is the All Father and a God of wealth. He is lord of the forest, animals, and a God of life and death. His magickal symbols are antlers, horns, a serpent belt, and a bag of coins. His power animals are a stag, a bull, a rat, and three cranes. 

Dagda- He is the cheiftain and Great Father called the Mighty One of Knowledge. A lord of wisdom, Dagda is the Good God or the Good Hand, a master of life and death and bringer of prosperity and abundance. Twin to Sucellos as ruler of the bright half of the year, he is father to Bridget. The power and knowledge from the Dagda is given as a breath called the “awen” by a kiss to the one he chooses as successor as Chief Bard of the Druids. The “awen” is the breath of God (the Dagda) that guides and instructs, and that sets a bard apart from others. The Dagda’s gifts are the rods of command, a chalice, a magick harp, the flesh hook, a sword, club, and an inexhaustible cauldron that satisfies all hunger. 

Math- Son of the mysterious Mathonwy, and a great king and powerful Welsh God of wisdom, sorcery, magick, and enchantment, he is a master of Druid, teacher, and shapeshifter. Math symbolizes the cycle of birth, life, and rebirth. His feet rest in the lap of a virgin, and one of his abilities is being able to hear anything once it is carried on the wind.

Lugh (Also Lug, Lleu (Llew) Llaw Gyffes)- Called “Lugh of the Long Hand”, he is the uncontested master of all arts, and a God of war, justice, smiths, poets, and bards, associated with the setting sun and the mysteries of the moon. Lugh is a fertility God and champion of the Tuatha, historian, and powerful sorcerer. His symbols are the cock, turtle, goat, a bag of coins, magick spear, and sword. His spear gave victory in battle, and his sword was called “The Answerer”. Lugh’s foster mother is Tailtiu, and he is the grandson of Diancecht and Baler of the Evil Eye. He is the son of Ethniu and Dagda, consort to An the Triple Goddess, and the father of Cu Chulain. 

(Source:Exploring Celtic Druidism Ancient Magick and Rituals for Personal Empowerment by Sirona Knight)

kalm421  asked:

Cat Obi-Wan gets hurt in one of the battles. And a hurt human Obi-Wan is a difficult to deal with but a injured cat Obi-Wan is very difficult to deal with. The first couple of time Obi-Wan has escaped and hid in small places. They now find a solution by having a small box with a blanket so Obi-Wan will stay in med bay. Points for my cat Obi-Wan a very difficult patient.

Coughing up dust and rocks from his own lungs, Anakin placed a hand to what he knew were broken ribs. Force he had no idea how managed to survive the building coming down but he was going to put it up to a massive influx of luck.

He gave Kix and Rex a meek grin when the troopers reached him, letting the medic give him a hypospray of painkillers before the Medic set to bracing him as best he could in the field. “Thanks.” He rasped out.

“You’re welcome Gen-”

Kix words were broken off by a shout. “General Kenobi!?”

“…Oh no.” Anakin struggled to get up only for Kix to place his hand firmly on his shoulder, the medic waving Rex off to help with the search for the other Jedi.

“You need to stay here sir.” Kix offered, voice tight as he continued working on him.

Anakin swallowed heavily. “Bu-”

“You’ll be of no help like this sir, you’re more likely to get in the way.” Kix murmured, voice sympathetic but tone ruthless.

Hissing a bit, Anakin gave a nod while looking around the medic to watch Cody and Rex fan their men out to search for the feline.


Looking towards the shouting, Anakin felt his heart skip several beats as Longshot came running towards them with a small, beige and bloody shape hanging limp in his arms, Obi-Wan’s obvious and broken form cradled protectively by the trooper.

It got even worse when the Servalo was brought close and Helix got his hands on him, placing him on a piece of broken wall for support. Anakin could see that one of Obi-Wan’s hind legs were broken so badly the bone was poking through when the medic removed the boots, obviously having spotted something irregular.

Blood was coating around Obi-Wan’s snout, both the nose and mouth, staining the tabby fur with bright red and matting it together with dirt and dust.



“Master Obi-Wan, please come out.” Anakin blinked awake to Ahsoka’s voice, staring at the ceiling for a few moments before he sat up with his hand carefully placed to his rib. ‘Ahsoka?’ He wondered.

“General please, the vent is not a nice place to rest up.”

And that was Cody, Anakin was pretty sure of tha-oh, of course.

Anakin sighed and then carefully pushed himself out of bed, his mech arm left behind on the nightstand as he did.

He waved his hand when he saw Kix, the medic instantly moving to intercept him. “I’m getting Obi-Wan.” He said and was almost amused by the medic’s instant hesitation.

The desire to have the other patient out in the open won out and Anakin followed the voice of Cody and Ahsoka until he found them by an open vent. “Hello Snips, Commander.” He greeted.

“Anakin.” The togruta sat up in relief. “H-”

“I know.” Kneeling down while pressing his hand to his sore ribs, Anakin peered into the vent to meet glowing eyes. “Obi-Wan.”

A low murring was his only answer.

His master was a terrible patient when injured.

Not only was he small and could slink away but he also reverted to a lot of basic instincts that he usually was in control of. Like hiding away when injured.

Anakin sighed and sat back on his heels, looking at Ahsoka and Cody. “Cody, his things, are they here?”

“Yes sir, I packed them all wit-”

“Good, go find the green blanket he always brings with him. Ahsoka, find a box, about this big.” Anakin demonstrated with his hand and stump about the size he wanted. “And this high.” He turned back to the vent, making soft noises at his master through the vent while Ahsoka and Cody traded glances before they went to do as asked.

“I know you’re not in shape Master, neither am I. But staying in the vent is not good for you.” Anakin kept his voice low and soft. “And you know that. You should be in bed.” He made a low chirruping noise and got a softer one in reply from inside the vent as he held out his hand to the vent, wiggling his fingers lightly.

Obi-Wan didn’t move but he kept making that soft chirruping noise until Cody and Ahsoka returned, falling quiet at the sound of footsteps.

“Got a crate Skyguy.” Ahsoka set it down.

“And here’s the blanket.” The commander held it up.

“Place the blanket in the box, line it.” Anakin held up his hand. “I’d do it myself but…yeah.” He shifted his stump and watched Cody do as told before he turned back to the vent. “Obi-Wan, I got your Qui-Gon blanket and a box you can curl up in.” He chirruped gently, ignoring his companions visible surprise at the noise.

Of course he knew how to make cat noises, he grew up around Obi-Wan!

He smiled when he suddenly heard soft padding from inside the vent until his bandaged former master slipped out and crawled into the crate, settling with his tail limp around him from the amount of bandages around it. “Do you want to stay in my room or back in your own?”

“…Yours. Apologies Commander Cody.” Came quietly from the box. “I’m…not a good patient.”

“Its alright sir. I’m just grateful General Skywalker knows what to do.” The clone commander offered in relief as he reached down and carefully picked up the crate to carry it for Anakin.


“Its alright sir, its not like you scratched me.”

Anakin huffed a small laugh at that and walked back to his room with the others, rubbing his sore ribs. ‘Wonderful life of kitty Obi.’ He thought, smiling a bit.

Hmm, he might be a bit high on painkillers.

100 Reasons to Appreciate Levi Ackerman

1.       Has made his mother proud.

2.       Maintains peak physical condition.

3.       Invaluable to humanity

4.       Grace at 65kg.

5.       Became a better person than Kenny.

6.       Down to earth attitude.

7.       Physical and emotional strength.

8.       Eyes give zero fucks yet cause mass swooning.

9.       Crouches to speak to others at their level.

10.   Stays true to his beliefs.

11.   Bringing the cravat back.

12.   Does not blame comrades for failed missions.

13.   Proof that size doesn’t always matter.

14.   The Ackerglare.

15.   A voice like honey poured on thunder.

16.   His going shirtless worsens global warming, so he rarely does.

17.   Respects others’ dreams.

18.   He would run the best tea shop.

19.   Undercut.

20.   Blazing hot in titan blood.

21.   So cutesmooth in a gangster shirt with turned-up collar.

22.   Impeccable grooming and personal hygiene.

23.   Short and proud.

24.   Learns from his mistakes.

25.   Became a big brother to Isabelle.

26.   When his hair does the swoosh thing.

27.   Encourages recruits to make their own choices.

28.   Deadly accurate.

29.   Would clean your house… for free.

30.   Hair still looks good after being shoved face-first into a puddle.

31.   Thighs and biceps of hardened steel.

32.   Humanity’s Strongest.

33.   Forgives Mikasa and Eren for trying to overpower his decision in the serum debate.

34.   Grew up with no privilege, food… or anything really.

35.   Silky smooth brows.

36.   Made sacrifices for his friends in the Underground.

37.   His pale skin probably burns.

38.   Overcomes his urge for cleanliness on long expeditions.

39.   Shared his 3DMG skills with Isabelle, Farlan and countless others since.

40.   Seen so much death.

41.   Comes to trust in Erwin absolutely.

42.   Speaks frankly to everyone.

43.   Does not balk in the Courtroom scene, however unpleasant the task.

44.   Awesome agility.

45.   The weight of his losses would crush a lesser man.

46.   Puts vengeance before grief.

47.   Unique blend of crass and sass.

48.   Total tea geek.

49.   Signature spin moves.

50.   Makes more slices than a pizza kitchen.

51.   Impromptu motivational speeches which shouldn’t work, yet do.

52.   Says how it is.

53.   Does not hold grudges against his comrades.

54.   Multifunction kicks.

55.   Is a terrifying ball of fury if you hurt someone he loves.

56.   Consoles the dying.

57.   Knows his team’s strengths.

58.   Rocks a controversial ‘backwards’ blade grip.

59.   He’s socially awkward.

60.   Inspired many to join the scouts.

61.   Works to bring out others’ potential.

62.   The rare gift of his smile.

63.   Swimwear model physique.

64.   He’s selfless.

65.   Protects Eren from his own squad.

66.   Does not discriminate between genders.

67.   He barely sleeps.

68.   Notices when Eren is at risk of burning out when no one else does.

69.   Refuses to give up.

70.   He and Historia set up an orphanage for Underground kids

71.   Misunderstood as emotionless or uncaring.

72.   Is a shit-mouth clean-freak.

73.   Self-taught 3DMG skills.

74.   Bears scars from wearing the straps too tightly.

75.   Gives praise where it is due.

76.   Uniquely poetic: big ass trees.

77.   Makes tough choices.

78.   Master of dramatic poses.

79.   Tries to take the path of least regrets.

80.   Commands respect.

81.   His skills are the result of endless training.

82.   Respects Hanji for who they are.

83.   He’s hug-size.

84.   The man needs a break.

85.   He barely stops for injury – has to be tied down.

86.   Takes promises seriously.

87.   Humanity’s firmest abs.

88.   An inspiration for Underground citizens.

89.   Drop-dead handsome.

90.   Makes no selfish requests.

91.   He’s a loyal friend.

92.   His smile makes flowers bloom.

93.   Refuses to break.

94.   Has a repertoire of quality comebacks.

95.   He has killed more titans than anyone else.

96.   Expressive when it matters.

97.   Goes to great means to make someone realise their potential.

98.   An artist who only uses shades of red.

99.   He has said goodbye far too many times.

100. Will fight to the end for humanity’s freedom.

Posted with permission from @eren-eren-eren. Inspired by their Eren appreciation post. Thankee to @proferivai for contributions. ^_^

You don’t own me part 7

Originally posted by porkdo-bi

Excerpt: “I guess so. Baekhyun is not really the type who lies to people.”

“Is that so?! Why had he lied to me then?!”, you had a real hard time keeping your voice down.

“Did he? Or is it something you told yourself because it is easier to accuse him of lying then facing the truth?”

Word count: 3147 // I hope you are satisfied because I am 😁

Warnings: Violence, Angst and stuff 😋

Author’s note: My lovelies I surpassed 300 followers! Within a month or so! I can’t believe it that so many people like my content! I think I have grown as a writer and it’s something really precious to me! So thank you for the support and please enjoy this part ♥

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || part 6

Check out my masterlist ;)

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My late entries for @klanceweek Days 2 and 3. Joint drabbles showcasing pining!lance. Canon-compliant. Also on AO3 & FFnet. (You can read these, along with Day 1, as a series on AO3.)

- sleapy 😴

Radio Silence

Words: ~300
Summary: Day 2: Sacrifice. Set during S02E12, when Keith announces he’ll infiltrate the Galra ship. 2nd person, Lance’s POV.

“I’ll do it. I’ll sneak onto Zarkon’s ship. I’m Galra, so I’ll be able to interact with their technology. No one’s commanding me. I’m doing it.”

You hear Keith speak the words, but you feel them in your viscera.

It’s war. It’s the climax of your team’s master plan, and it’s threatening to fall apart because of one missing link. Everyone is doing what they can. Keith is just doing what he can. Then why do you feel such dread in your veins? Why does the thought of Keith on what Kollivan just called “a suicide mission” twist your stomach into unpleasant knots? You don’t say anything but you stare daggers into the back of Keith head, wanting to telepathically convey ‘don’t go’ at the same time as never wanting him to get an inkling of your feelings—feelings you can’t quite grasp yet yourself. All you know is that you don’t want him to go. It will be like waiting for him to return from the Blade of Marmorra base all over again, watching Red trying to infiltrate, knowing she’d only do that if he was in real danger. All you know is that you want him to stay back where the two of you can keep an eye on each other, as you do, without ever acknowledging it. You want the lack of communication from Thace to be someone else’s problem, regardless of the fact that your team is small enough for it to be everyone’s problem; regardless of the fact that you couldn’t bear to lose any of the others any more than you could bear to lose Keith, and yet it’s only seeing him in danger that lights embers along your body, that makes you whisper, “Don’t sacrifice yourself.”

Other Words for Love

Words: ~800
Summary:  Day 3 - Scars. Post-season 2 (Set after S02E13). 2nd person, Lance’s POV.

You’re so drained. Drained from the mission, from the uncertainty of losing Shiro, from being zapped by Haggar’s magic, from listening to Slav calculate the probabilities of further success. Remembering Shiro’s past advice, you sentimentally decide to hit the training deck to unwind. You are entirely unsurprised to find Keith there—does that guy even do anything in his free time besides train? But what you were not expecting was your rival dual-wielding his bayard and his extended Marmorra blade against a training bot. He’s sweating with exertion, breath labored. He doesn’t seem to have heard the door slide open; and you’re rooted to the spot, staring openly.

“End training sequence.” Keith takes a deep breath and retracts his blades. He tucks the luxite knife into the holster on his belt and pulls up the hem of his T-shirt to wipe at the sweat on his face. It’s too tight to do much good though, so he gives up and reaches behind his head, yanking the shirt off altogether.

You were not ready, and your audible intake of breath alerts him to your presence. He turns, pinning you with his gaze, expression unreadable. You weren’t fortified to see Keith’s bare chest either, and you feel the blush on your face and neck. The tensest moments of your life pass as you match that gaze, until you succumb to the urge to run your mouth—your go-to solution for tense situations.

“So Mullet, I bet you think you’re extra cool now with that new shoulder scar.”

His brow knits in confusion. “Are you serious?”

And okay, maybe it was the wrong thing to say—insensitive, even—but you’re onto something here, and this is how it always works between you two, right? You lick your lips and keep talking.

“Not to boast, but I’ve got badass scars too that tell some pretty heroic stories.”

His face is blank now, as if he’s at a complete loss for how to react to your priorities. You will him to understand that this banter is easier than talking about what you’ve all just gone through. Part of you wonders if he does understand, because he hasn’t actually told you to fuck off yet. You wonder if he also understands that it’s easier for you to get under his skin than it is to look into his eyes and say you’re relieved he made it off the Galra ship alright.

Throwing confidence you don’t really feel into your steps, you approach him. You tilt your head to bare the side of your neck, where a raised pink thread of skin extends up behind your ear to disappear into your hair. “This was from the jellyfish I had to wear on my head to block the Baku’s mind control rays when I helped save the mermaids.”

And maybe you didn’t think this well-enough through, because when you feel a hot finger gently trace the mark you just pointed out, your blood runs cold. Keith takes a step to your side and his finger blazes a path to the back of your neck where a more faded scar begins. Your breath is shaky as you struggle to keep talking.

“Th-that one was from Sendak’s bomb.”

“You took the full force of that blast on your back,” Keith recalls. “This must go pretty far down.”

You hesitate only for a moment before you’re reaching back to take off your shirt. The scar—faint because you were luckily wearing your armor that day—does indeed run all the way down your back, the rest of it covered by your jeans. His fingers brush across your back once, and the single touch is enough to rock a shiver through you. Your mind likes to default to competition when it comes to Keith, so it immediately occurs to you that this is unfair; if he gets to touch yours, you get to touch his. You turn toward him, keeping your eyes trained away from his face and focus on his right shoulder. You run your forefinger and thumb down the corded slash, feeling how different it is from the pale skin on either side of it. Your balled-up shirt is clutched tightly in your other hand. He cocks his head to the side, and you feel more than see his eyes scrutinizing you intensely. Something about this moment tells you there’s no point in keeping it in anymore. “Keith,” you whisper, without looking up or pulling back your hand, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

His chest swells at your words, and it helps assure you that there’s nothing wrong with caring for him like this. He moves a fraction of an inch closer, hand coming up to rest on yours where it still rests on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay too.”

Tano and Kenobi: A Vision to Behold

Previously on Tano and Kenobi…

After finishing one mission on Raxus and falling prey to an pirate ambush in orbit around Florrum, Ahsoka Tano and Obi-Wan Kenobi are faced with a dire situation. If they cannot escape the clutches of the young pirate Hondo Ohnaka, they will be sold at a slave auction on Klatooine in Hutt space. To make matters even worse, they are overcome by a mysterious wave of power and emotions in the Force! Have they just experienced the birth of Anakin Skywalker? And if so, where is he?

First | Previous | Next | AO3

Anakin Skywalker was alive.

Ahsoka’s master was alive.

Did we just… was that his… birth? Ahsoka turned the idea over in her mind, reaching out to touch the Force, which was particularly ebullient and radiant.

Had Obi-Wan and Ahsoka just felt Anakin’s birth through the Force, all the way on the other side of the galaxy?

There was a sudden gust of elation and joy, like a crisp spring breeze laden with the fragrance of blooming maiden’s tears and embercages. It reminded her of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, of the moment when she chose to take the path she now found herself leading Obi-Wan down.

It reminded her of speaking to that strange Presence who had helped her through her first few months back in the past.

Has Anakin been born? Ahsoka sent the nervous, hopeful question into the glittering, effervescent void of the Force.

Yes, the Presence answered with such a calm, firm certainty that Ahsoka could find no room for doubt. Anakin Skywalker is very much alive. And quite hungry.

“Master?” Obi-Wan’s voice broke into Ahsoka’s communion with the Force spirit. “Master, are you alright?”

You had best return to your padawan, Ahsoka. He is prone to anxiety at the smallest provocation if left alone, the Presence cheerfully instructed before fading away. Ahsoka was left with the vaguest impression of a soft chuckle before she opened her eyes and looked down at Obi-Wan, who was scrubbing the tears off his cheeks in a kind of happy confusion.

“Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka exhaled, smiling at him. “You’re okay? I see you managed to unlock your restraints.”

Obi-Wan glanced down at the metal binders, his lips quirked into a half grin. “Yes, I’m not sure how but I was successful, Master. Do you know what that was? Are we in danger?”

“Oh, we’re still in danger,” Ahsoka responded with a soft laugh. “And we’ll talk about what I think that was later when we’re safe back in Republic space.”

Obi-Wan looked disappointed at that, his brows furrowed as he nodded. “Yes, Master. Now is not the most opportune moment.”

I promise, Padawan. It will all make sense one day. Ahsoka reached over to rest her forehead against Obi-Wan’s temple, ruffling his short, soft hair. You trust me, right?

Obi-Wan shyly leaned into Ahsoka’s embrace, curling a hand into the front of her robes and nodded. With my life, Master. It’s just… I have never felt anything like that before. It was so… wonderful. What do you suppose it was?

Maybe your future padawan! Ahsoka teased, the biggest, brightest smile on her face as she and Obi-Wan pulled apart.

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lekycauldron  asked:

Obi and Anakin are in a battle. Obi Wan orders to fall back bc he saw it was a trap but Anakin thinks they still have a chance so he goes and is overpowered. Obi saves him but he ends up badly injured and Anakin feels so guilty. I really love all your angsty fics.

Tinkering with mechanics are easy.

Tinkering doesn’t require emotions or thinking or battle plans.

Tinkering means he doesn’t have to think about the way Obi-Wan had coughed up blood, white teeth stained with blood as blood ran in rivulets into his beard and darkened the copper and golden strands as he held onto his injured ribs.

…Karking Force he was thinking of it again and let out a frustrated breath through his nose that caused Ahsoka to look up from the pad she was reading on, a sympathetic look on her face. “You could just go see him. You know he wouldn’t blame you, Master Obi-Wan never blames you.”

‘No but Cody certainly does.’ He didn’t say that as he stared at this young padawan. “I should have listened to him. If I’d listened to him all this wouldn’t have happened.” He sighed.

“Yeah, but hey, there is a bright spot in all of this.” She grinned, showing her sharp canines.

Raising an annoyed eyebrow, Anakin set his tools aside. “And that is?”

“I got a valuable lesson in who the best tactician is. Jumping is important but sometimes you need to consider the situation.” She chirped, seemingly quite happy since they knew Obi-Wan would be fine.

For her it was alright, it wasn’t her fault Obi-Wan got hurt.

For Anakin the situation was different, the guilt eating him up from the inside. “I guess when you put it like that…” He sighed. “Still.”

“Well go say sorry to Master Obi-Wan then.” She waved a hand at him, smiling more gently.

Glancing down at his oil stained hands, Anakin gave a slow nod then got up, taking an antibacterial cloth to clean off his hands before he headed towards the set up medical tent where he knew Obi-Wan still was.

He passed the commander on the way but despite the unhappiness the clone was giving into the Force, he made no move to stop Anakin or distract him.

Which was a relief.

It meant that one, Obi-Wan was well enough for company and two, Cody was not going to let this affect his performance as a capable commander.

Its a relief to see Obi-Wan sitting up in the medical bed with the sheets around his waist, the crisp white bandages stark against the pale skin.

The man instantly perks up when he sees Anakin and waves him over. “There you are, I could feel you sulking across the camp.” He chuckled faintly, leaned into the pillows behind his back.

“I was not sulking.” Anakin huffed quietly even as he came over and sat down at the others bedside. “I was working.”

“You were doing your guilty sulk.” Obi-Wan smirked faintly. “Did Ahsoka talk you out of it? Tru usually had to do it when you were a padawan.”

Anakin gave a little grumbly mutter then sighed and nodded. “Alright, fine, I was doing a guilty sulk. I just…I should have listened to you.” He sighed, reaching out and taking Obi-Wan’s closest hand in his, giving it a little squeeze.

Squeezing gently in return, Obi-Wan hummed. “Sometimes your gambles work out, other times they don’t. That’s just how it is Anakin.” He offered gently.

“Yeah but usually you don’t pay for my mistakes.” The blond spat out sharply before sighing and rubbing his mech hand over his face. “…Sorry. I just… I don’t like seeing you hurt and this is my fault that you did get hurt.”

Quietly, Obi-Wan watched him before snorting and shaking his head slowly. “Did you tell me to jump between you and the mud slide?”
“Well n-no bu-”

“Did you control me into place then or tell me to go there at all?”

“No but I was the one who pushed our luck and the dam broke because of that and flooded everything which caused the mud slide that also loosened the boulders that smashed your ribs. Obi-Wan your ribs pierced your lung!” Anakin waved his hand at the other and sighed again. “Just honestly Obi-Wan.”

“I’d give you a shake but I’ll settle for this.” Obi-Wan squeezed the others hand again. “Anakin, you don’t control my actions. What I do is on my own shoulders and this.” He gave his bacta bandage covered ribs a gentle touch. “Is my own fault. Now, I do want some help.”

Deciding that arguing was not worth it, Anakin sat up. “Sure.”

“Can you please get me some water?” Obi-Wan smiled. “Because I’m really thirsty.”

The two stared at each other then Anakin let out a sharp snort and a nod. “Yeah, alright old man.” He grinned. “Okay.”

anonymous asked:

Do you think Daenerys Arc in Essos would've benefited with more effective and competent antagonists for her to face?

Well, not every antagonist in Dany’s Essos arc has been incompetent. The warlocks are quite competent in the House of the Undying, given their mastery of illusions. Unsurprisingly, I consider her arc there to be a satisfying, hard-won victory. There’s a definite sense of danger, and under the threat of it, Dany perseveres using bravery, intelligence, and a decent 100-yard dash before Drogon ever decided to make a warlock BBQ. So that chapter, already good also because of the crazy visuals, is much better to me because of the definite menace of the villains.

We have to remember, Martin likes to deliberately undercut his villains through emphasizing their personal weakness, and the Masters’ big schtick is that they claim to be a superior breed of person. XXD mentions that life must have slaves and masters to thrive in an expression of mudsill theory. The problem is, Martin pushes it too hard in this scenario. So how then can we square the circle, giving Dany a victory while at the same time not robbing it of satisfaction by presenting the Masters as too incompetent?

The solution is (admittedly, unsurprising for me) a Stannis one. As we see, the Frey host under Ser Hosteen is quite incompetent, but that doesn’t present the same dissatisfaction, because the way the Frey host is led by an incompetent is due to Stannis’s actions rather than the Freys coming to the field that way. Originally the host is led by Aenys Frey, not a bad commander. However, the mountain clans set a trap and Aenys broke his neck, leaving it all under Hosteen. The only reason why the mountain clans are there was because of Stannis’s positive character growth as he becomes a better king leading him to interface with the mountain clansmen directly. So from a literary standpoint, we see Stannis experience positive growth thanks to a setback (and some nudging by our POV characters, Davos and Jon) and that leads to a tangible victory that advances his position. This gives the reader much more satisfaction as it feels like a well-earned victory and gives a sense of cosmic justice; the positive actions of a character lead to a reward.

So, do the same with Dany. Have the Yunkish show up as a unified host with a clear command structure, only to have Dany mess with their unity by referencing how the illustrious house of Slaver A now must scrape before the house of Slaver B. Discuss the glories and spoils of unified conquest belonging to the senior general alone, and stoke envy in the hearts of the slavers. Make it appear like she is meeting with some slavers behind the others backs. Heck, source the idea for some of this to Missandei if Martin wants to include the former slave surpassing the master. The masters’ response to all of this is to implement rotating command to share the glory. This undercuts the slavers as they appear no better than the backstabbing nobles and easily duped, implements an unsustainable system but makes it clear that it is in response to emerging circumstances so they don’t look so stupid that’s it’s a miracle they even made it to Meereen, and puts the activity in Dany’s hands, giving us a victory by having Dany grow into a more effective politician by destabilizing her enemies rather than having them come to her as incompetents. Or, if it’s going to be done after Dany flies off, have the Shavepate do it, and then the tension comes from the clearly brutal Shavepate being effective but dangerous, and that makes him dangerous for a Barristan POV.

Thanks for the question, Anon.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

formerlyost2-deactivated2017091  asked:

I'd love to hear your Mara head canons. Bonus points for ones set in the universe where Cassian basically adopts her.

LOL wow this is late. And long enough to warrant two parts.

I like to think that, in my own little canon world, the best bits of Legends and Disney!canon come together like good wine or sex, and the worst… well, they can grow dusty on the cutting room floor. 

Some back story, before the main course:

In this ‘verse, we have a Mara Jade who is ironically rescued from the Last Command by her former master when he decides he’s had enough of her. The Emperor is a fuckboy, and when he tires of his little experiment in favor of his slightly less messy Inquisitors, he has Mara killed by a bounty hunter, and to ensure success, he locks her connection to the Force away in the deepest parts of her psyche. She is thirteen, lean muscle and tiny, a weaponized ballerina, but the bounty hunter takes pity on her and instead, like Snow White lore, lets her go with a vibroblade and a warning to never return to her former master. How he tricks the Emperor, I don’t know. 

Mara spends a year on the run, taking on the alias of Arica Alie, a runaway with no real skills or purpose. She lies and cheats her way to the Outer Rim. But without the Force, she must rely on her own innate resourcefulness and cunning. This alone is a story I’d love to write. 

A couple of notes: in this ‘verse, Mara is the only Hand because she was the experiment/sacrificial lamb. One of many kinds of agents, yes, but the only Emperor’s Hand. Kept in the shadows so long that no one misses her when she’s gone.

When Cass met Mara:

I assume Mara is a year or so younger than Luke/Leia, so when she is fourteen, they would be fifteen and Cassian Andor, who is 26 in R1, would be 22 (assuming the twins are 19 in ANH). I also assume that Cassian is a favorite of the Council (especially Draven) and therefore he rises in the ranks fairly early. I’d place him at Lieutenant when they meet, although not for long. I also like to think that Kay has been with Cassian for a long time, maybe since he was a teenager.

Their meeting goes like this: Cassian is on a mission, executes a wavering informant and is seen by a homeless girl in rags. The unwritten protocols are clear–the girl has to die, and it’s certainly not something he hasn’t done before. But something holds him back. Maybe it’s the Force nudging the fuck out of him, maybe it’s the clever glint in her green eyes. Maybe it’s just his conscience. 

He offers her a bite to eat in a nearby hole-in-the-wall pub. The girl looks at him like she knows what he’s thinking, like she’s been in his shoes–which is absurd, except for how it’s not. He knows a child soldier when he sees one.

(Later, she will tell him that she never let the witnesses go. Even the sniveling alley girls.)

But she’s really hungry. 

Over some sort of stew Cassian doesn’t look too closely at, he offers her a ticket off the streets. Cassian is a recruiter for the Rebellion, so I don’t think it’s too out of the ordinary for him to think of bringing her with him. Except it’s different, because he doesn’t know anything about her.

Just that she’s a fighter.

And after a year on the run, heartbroken and lonely, Mara is desperate. And there’s this feeling of rightness, something she has never experienced. 

So yes, she goes with him. 

Kay is not happy about it. 

Spy Lessons:

As far as interrogations go, it’s quite pleasant. There’s no beatings or truth serums, no torture of any kind. So Mara really has no trouble opening up to the Rebels. With a few exceptions.

1. She does not tell them her former title. After a few well-placed misdirections, General Draven assumes she was an Inquisitor before leaving the Empire. There are rumors of Inquisitors, not of the Hand, and she enjoys the way Lieutenant Andor stands just a bit taller when his superior praises him.

2. She does not tell them how well she (thought she) knew the Emperor. Not out of misplaced loyalty, although she will never want him dead. He raised her, and he gave her everything she wanted, and she still doesn’t know the extent of his cruelty. In time, this will change. But not for a long time.

3. She does not tell them she has not felt the Force in a year.

Andor is there some days. Mainly she speaks with Draven, who is calculating and sharp. She respects him, but she was trained in interrogation at ten years old. She knows this game.

When he tells her she can stay, she sees Andor smile (clearly despite himself).

And then comes the fun part: boot camp. She is out of shape but not out of practice. Hand-to-hand combat comes naturally to her. She doesn’t see her recruiter too often in the early days.

The tricky part is making nice with the other recruits. They’re older, physically stronger and mostly male. She doesn’t have much experience being herself around people. She pulls from her bag of personas–Arica Alie, the dancer, who is flirty and artsy and a bit fun; Celina Marniss, the clever schoolgirl with political aspirations–the traits that she knows work well on teenage boys. Mara Jade herself is cold and sharp around the edges, and vulnerable. Lonely. 

But when Cassian Andor is around, she is a little less so.

She does see in him things she herself has felt, but differently. Of course, he doesn’t know just how similar they are–how, even so much younger than him, she carries the burden of death on her shoulders, the chains of sin in the name of a greater cause.

They eat together when he’s on base. He tells her cleaned up stories from his missions. The blood is on his hands, and she sees it because she understands. And she absolutely doesn’t tell him that his boss has her doing extra work on the side. Exercises in intrigue.

For his end, Cassian isn’t an idiot. He knows what Draven thinks she used to be. He sees her scores and how fast she is going through her courses. It will be less than a year until she is given orders. And he’s certain he knows what she’ll be doing.

Draven says it sometimes. “The girl’s skills will be wasted on the front lines.”

She’ll be in the shadows for her whole short life, and it’ll be his fault. A girl like that should be in the light.

Someday he’ll tell her his misgivings, years in the future, when he has a bad back and a high rank, when he can no longer do the dirty work himself.

But for now, he watches her beat the shavit out of boys twice her size and praises her like he’s supposed to.

When she graduates in three months time, he’s there for the ceremony like no one was there for his. 

The Spy and the Saber (or the interim years, or the blossoming of a friendship):

Cassian is promoted shortly after Mara is swept up by Intelligence. It’s unrelated to her recruitment, a mission that could have gone terribly wrong but didn’t because of some quick thinking on his part.

Captain Andor sees Private Jade on base rarely during the first year of her service. He hears stories–rumors, really–of an agent so ruthless, so thorough and exacting they are called the Saber, and he knows it’s her, this little girl whose always been more than that. 

And so one day, when she’s sixteen, he tells her what he’s heard. And she doesn’t deny it, although she is a little flustered by the nickname. 

He tells her about becoming a Fulcrum. 

After that, she trusts him. She treasures his friendship. She even likes Kay (who tolerates her enough). 

They go on one mission together once before he goes rogue.

While he begins to hear whispers of the name Erso, she starts to hear talk of a superweapon. 

When he sees Jyn Erso for the first time, Mara Jade is on a mission of her own. Scarif happens, Rogue One is MIA and presumed dead. Alderaan crumbles to nothing. And a grieving Mara watches the tiny band of pilots fly out to defend Yavin, finally opens her eyes to just how cruel the Empire is.

And that is it for part one of my headcanons.

Commander of the Week

Olivia, Mobilized for War 

The commander for this deck was originally supposed to be Exava, Rakdos Bloodwitch, but I find for what this deck is trying to do, Olivia is much better, and cheaper to cast which is sorely needed as I feel she will probably die a lot. Olivia, Mobilized for War is a 3/3 Flying Vampire Knight for 1BR with the ability to discard a card when a creature enters under you control, if you do, that creature gets a +1/+1 counter, Haste and becomes a vampire in addition to its other types. I am going to try to make this deck as aggressive as possible.

Look, No Hand. 

I’ve tried to include as many cards that rely on us having no hand as possible. Cards with Hellbent get bonuses when you have no hand. These include cards like Anthem of Rakdos, Nihilistic Glee and Jagged Poppet. Amonkhet’s Hazoret the Fervent also relies on you having no hand in order to attack. Hellbent turns on certain effects on these cards that can mean more damage, extra card draw or general misfortune for your opponents, which is always good. I have found that Murderous Redcap goes quite well with this version of Olivia too as the +1/+1 counters cancel out the Persist and allow it to deal consistent damage.

How did you lose your hand? 

So how do we lose our hand? We can’t rely on Olivia’s ability alone because we need to play creatures to trigger it. Certain creatures allow you to discard cards in order to enter play or activate certain abilities. Bloodrage Brawler is a relatively new creature that costs 1R for a 4/3 that forces you to discard a card so that he can enter play. Sire of Insanity forces each player to discard their hand each end step. Sarkhan the Dragonspeaker’s Emblem also says you get to draw two additional cards in your draw step but you discard your hand in the end step, which should help us get more creatures onto the field and keep our hand empty. I also like Dangerous Wager in this deck because you can discard your hand and draw two cards instead. 

Blind Panic 

These creatures aren’t very large, so we need a way to get all these creatures through. Spells that render a certain amount of creatures unable to block both allow us to empty our hands quickly and potentially allow our creatures through. Awe For the Guilds is a great way to do this as it renders monocolored creatures unable to block for that turn.  Barrage of Boulders, Concussive Bolt, Ember Gale and Destructive Tampering are some other ways of making sure that a large number of creatures can’t prevent an onslaught, as well as maybe dealing some damage to some smaller creatures or players. Creatures with Afflict such as Neheb, the Eternal may deter blocking too.

This Damage Adds Up. 

A few ways to deal some extra damage then. I thought maybe things like Trumpet Blast and/or Path of Anger’s Flame to have your creatures get a +2/+0 boost until end of turn. Anthem of Rakdos gives your creatures +2/+0 when they attack, it also deals 1 damage to you, but they deal double damage if you have hellbent. I’ve also added ways to make goblins with Goblin Assault, Goblin Rabblemaster and Krenko, Mob Boss with other cards like Purphoros, God of the Forge and Impact Tremors to deal more damage when creatures enter under your control. 

And Finally…

This deck may not do so well in a multiplayer setting as aggro decks generally don’t. A Geier Reach Sanitarium may be useful but beyond that I can’t think of any lands that may help us beyond the ordinary. I do hope you find this both helpful and fun and until next time, Happy Deck Building.