#battleship replacing the pieces with shots

[idolsgf]

why is no roles barred: house rules one of the funniest series on yt

#personal #tbd #just two pals play classic board games #like game of strife #battleship replacing the pieces with shots #and my favorite #communopoly

[floofs-headcanons]

Hello Reiu and Hamfie! I hope you both are doing well. First, do you have rules or a guideline for requests? About what you write or not, what characters and how many, in what form (hcs, one shots, etc)...

Second, may I request Ace, Sabo and Law being saved by a mermaid? And until they need to leave again they spend some time together and the boys can't avoid falling for the reader?

Thank you so much! Welcome back!

Rescued by a Mermaid; Headcanons

Characters; Ace, Sabo, Law

hello! we’re doing good, thank you for asking! and yes, we do have rules and guidelines, they’ve been rewritten and pinned by the time this is posted! Sorry for the long wait on this one we had a little bit of trouble with ideas ;  ;

ACE —

The heavens had sent you an angel, only to let him drown.

Perhaps it was quite bold of you to leave the safety of the sea in the first place, but your curiosity had gotten the better of you. Of this man and his strange craft, powered by what you can only assume to have been his devil fruit. A peek wouldn’t hurt, right?

Well it definitely didn’t hurt you, but it did scare him.

Watching him tumble off his one man raft, there is a sense of urgency- fear. The realization that he could not swim; 

But you can.

Your first meeting was perhaps not the best, but Ace laughs it off, unbothered by the occurrence.

Perhaps it is your worry that keeps you around at first- he did almost drown after all. It would be good to keep an eye on him...

Ace isn’t very against the idea, he’s aware of how much it weighs against your conscious and if it would make you feel better to travel with him for a while- there really was no harm in the company.

You learn very quickly just how much mischief this man gets up to and in to.

Honestly, you’ve experienced- and its barely been a week. 

From the insane encounters with the marines to cocky pirates thinking they could take on Fire Fist Ace of all people- there is never truly a dull day when you’re by his side. 

Speaking to him though, is probably your favourite thing to do. 

Swimming alongside his Striker, you have a great many conversations- be it about his many adventures across the New World, to his current mission and hunt, Ace is full of surprises.

Perhaps the most surprising of them all is when night hits and he camps out by the beach. There’s something incredibly sober about the way he looks under the firelight and for the first time, you really take a moment to admire his features.

He’s not simply just loud and rowdy, but neither is he cold and calculating like an action movie Casanova; Ace isn’t like that. 

You think he has a greater hold on you than you do on him- but you’re sorely mistaken. 

Even when you eventually parts ways and he leaves you with a blinding smile, equivalent only to the sun, you know not the impact you have left in his bleeding heart.

But the sea calls for her sailors and he had a mission to see through.

You’d never know, as he left you with his vivre card, how much he would’ve loved to see you once more.

“Will you visit me?”

“Of course! It’s a promise.” 

SABO —

Sabo was perhaps just a bit too over-confident in his abilities, and a little too forgetful in the fact that he no longer had the ability to swim.

You’re very much not pleased when battleships start sailing in your direction and even less pleased when people start falling into the water left and right. Thankfully, all of them simply swim back up to the surface rather quickly, all except for one.

There’s no reason for you to save him- after all, he was part of the ruckus. Yet even with that train of thought, you find yourself moving towards him, cradling him in your embrace before dragging him to the surface. 

Some air would do him some good. 

To be frank you were ready to give him a piece of your mind once he started waking up- but holy shit was he pretty. 

Your irritation was swallowed temporarily to be replaced with concern when he starts coughing. The poor thing did almost drown, but that didn’t excuse him from disturbing your peaceful day.

He takes your words quite well, offering a sheepish smile in apology and a well overdue introduction.

A revolutionary? And the chief of staff at that?

Perhaps if you’d been in the mood, you might’ve made some snide remark over his careless demeanor, but you were much too intrigued by this new found knowledge.

You’d eventually get him back- after all, you had made the executive decision to come with him, if only for a while. 

He agrees to let you come with him on the condition you’d stay away from anything dangerous and in turn keep him out of trouble [like drowning]. 

It’s a risk by all means- this is a classified mission, but some detours and shortcuts can be advantageous. 

Like your company for example. 

Not a day goes by without some witty banter or the other.

In his eyes, you’re seem so awestruck by every story he shares, particularly enamored by the tales of his youth alongside his brothers. 

Having you around is like a breath of fresh air while his mind is drowning in the sea.

It’s difficult to say goodbye- when he has to meet up with the others upon the completion of his mission. It wouldn’t be right to drag you into their affairs and he’d rather you not be directly involved if he can help it. 

But he makes it clear he’ll be back, you know he’d never lie. Not with that stupid smile on his face. 

“Wait for me!”

“Just try not to drown until then.”

It’s so cheesy, the smile he gives you, “I wouldn’t mind drowning if it means you’ll be there to save me again.” 

You 100% drench him for that one. 

LAW —

You’re certainly not too trusting of humans, but curiosity has always overweighed that fear.

It’s stormy the day you decide to swim out of your little bubble and explore the endless depths of the sea, and perhaps also very fortunate. Even in the raging storm you could hear the shouts of people, possibly pirates, and their rapid footsteps as they tried to clear their... vessel from tipping over.

“Captain!” Even through the heavy rain and roaring waves you could hear members of the crew call out, followed by a loud crash as body meets water.

The heart pirates are more than shocked when their captain resurfaces not even moments later, arm swung over another person’s shoulder and coughing out large amounts of water

He’s grateful for the help but he sure wasn’t expecting you to ask to get on the ship

“This is your pirate ship, right? Can I hitch a ride?”

Can you what now

Shachi and Penguin are more than delighted to say yes for Law

You’re just a little too curious for your own good, asking about everything from what their ship was actually called- you learn it’s a submarine called the Polar Tang- and very quickly make friends with Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin. Jean Bart scares you just a bit.

And of course making friends with those three means making friends with Law, whether he wants to or not

He’s a lil annoyed at first

Why does everyone insist on treating his sub like it was their home

But he warms up to you easily- considering how much time he’s spent with Luffy this was nothing

He likes spending time with you during his breaks. You’ve traveled plenty despite your caution of humans, and there’s a great deal of stories to tell.

“I almost got eaten, you know!”

“Maybe if you weren’t so reckless you wouldn’t have.”

He’s never thought to find banter fun before (that’s a lie, he just won’t accept it) but it sure is nice to talk to you.

When time comes for you to leave he doesn’t ask you to stay- he doesn’t tell you how he likes your company or how he’d like to spend more time with you.

He simply leans over the railing of the sub along with everyone else, “You’re welcomed back anytime.”

“I’ll hold you to that!”

#portgas d ace #sabo #trafalgar law #one piece headcanons #portgas d ace x reader #sabo x reader #trafalgar law x reader #i beat up hamfie for the ending of ace's hcs real #one piece x reader

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

A Study in Allies

Until We Meet Again: Part 2/?

Thrawn x Senator!Reader, Female Pronouns

Summary: You and Thrawn meet again, your fascination only growing.

A/N: I’m not exactly sure where this is going. I plan this to be a series of one shots revolving around this Senator!Reader. If your interested in reading more about her and Thrawn, feel free to send any request my way! And remember REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS!!!

Word Count: 3.7K

       As much as you tried to fight it, Lieutenant Thrawn did not fully leave your mind for the next twenty-four hours.  

       You had spent the rest of the evening performing your duties, shaking hands and introducing yourself to as many of the movers and shakers of Courscant as you were able. But as you finally made it home and drifted off to sleep, your conversation with Thrawn was the only thing to remain in your memory.

       The next day was relatively light.  As soon as you finished your morning calls, you spent your time researching what you could on the Chiss and Thrawn in preparation for your next meeting.

         A small twinge of guilt twisted your stomach, but you suppressed it.  All Thrawn’s military exploits were public record.  It wasn’t as if you were digging up private, personal information. Besides, you had no doubt he was doing the same thing with you.   

       You ought to have been embarrassed by this strange new obsession, but he couldn’t help holding your fascination.  You hadn’t met anyone like him before. 

       You had heard stories about leaders in various systems throughout the years.  Conquerors, emperors, generals, all of which were described as having a strange aura of power and charisma.  An unflinching confidence that inspired people to rally behind them.  

       You had met many political leaders over the years, from kings to admirals.  None possessed the air described by the stories, except Thrawn.  It was a rare quality, often lamented as occurring only once in a lifetime. Was it so strange then to want to be in its presence again?

       Your comm rang, pulling your from your thoughts. 

       “Yes?”

       “Pardon me Senator,” Cora, your aid, called.  “But there is a Lieutenant Thrawn here to see you.”

       You straightened, feeling a small smile touch your lips.

       “Please, send him in.” 

       You stood from your desk as the door slid open. 

       Lieutenant Thrawn stood before you just as he had the night before; tall, confident, and dressed in his Imperial navy uniform.  A part of you wondered if he possessed any other type of clothing. 

       The light of day also helped to clear a suspicion you had been harboring; he was handsome. 

       “Good afternoon, Senator,” he greeted, inclining his head in respect. 

       “Good afternoon, Lieutenant,” you replied, matching his movement.  “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

       You gestured to a small table and chairs placed just to the right of your desk.  On the table was a small selection of fruits, meats and vegetables, along with a range of alcohols.  You hadn’t been sure how long the meeting would go and wanted to be prepared. 

       If Thrawn was in any way affected by the spread, he made no indication. 

       “Thank you.” 

       He took his time choosing a seat as his eyes wandered your office, pausing at each of the paintings and sculptures you had scattered throughout. 

       You followed his gaze, noticing how it lingered on one particular painting; an impressionist interpretation of the sky of Danu just as the sun was rising; it’s pinks and oranges contrasting and over powering the purples and dark blues of the night sky. It was a gift to your family by one of Danu’s prominent art museums, and one of your personal favorites. 

       You turned your eyes back to Thrawn, whose attention still remained on the painting.  

       “See something you like?” you asked, with just a hint of teasing. 

       Thrawn blinked, before turning to you.  His glowing red eyes now focused with inquisitive intensity.  

       “It is an interesting collection,” he said, smoothly. “Were these all selected yourself?”

       “Yes.  A bit eclectic perhaps, but I like them,” you said, taking the seat just across from him.

       “And those in the reception area?”

       You frowned, thinking of that rather gaudy display of golden vines and multi-colored flowers. “Those were chosen by Governor Lir. I’ll be replacing them once the commissions are finished.”

       Thrawn nodded in consideration.  “If you don’t mind, I would be interested in seeing them once they’re finished.  I assume you asked the painting to be done by an artist from Danu?” 

       “Yes,” you said carefully. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

       “Some of the sculptures have been done relatively recently,” Thrawn answered, easily. “Their subject matter and style match current trends in Danu art.  I assume if you’re having a piece commissioned you want to keep them in continuity with your office.”

       You wanted, very much, to ask him how he knew anything about current artistic trends on Danu or even how it was relevant. Upon brief reflection, however, you realized you didn’t have to. 

       You had done your research on him, he had done the same.  His searches simply lead him to invest an interest in Danu’s art scene.  And, considering what he was able to discern from the mural, it wasn’t so strange. 

       “I will say to make fast work,” he continued. “I understand you’ve only been on Coursant for a few weeks.” 

       You gave a casual shrug. “This will be my place of work and home for a long time if all goes according to plan. I might as well make myself comfortable.” 

       He raised his eyebrow slightly with an amused, possibly even impressed, half smile on his lips. 

       “Indeed.”

       You couldn’t help but smile yourself a little. “Now Lieutenant, I believe you’re here to listen to some stories. Where would you like to start?” 

       You weren’t sure how long the pair of you talked and you didn’t really care. 

       You related to him all the stories you could bring yourself to remember about the Chiss.  The image you had painted in your mind of honor bound warriors wasn’t as far off the mark as you believed they might have been, according to Thrawn.  But, like all stories faced with reality, there were some more nuanced shades of grey. 

       He didn’t openly share any new information.  But from small hints, decisive silences, and rather obvious dodges, you were starting to get a slightly clearer picture.  The Chiss were warriors certainly, but they had their own bureaucracy to contend with, family squabbles, and pride which was always found within such systems. A pride Thrawn most certainly possessed, whether he wished to acknowledge it or not. 

       “May I ask you a possibly personal question?” you asked, pouring you each another glass of wine. 

       “You may ask,” Thrawn said, a note of suspicion in his voice. 

       You gave a small laugh.  “It’s nothing too terrible, I hope. I simply wanted to know if Thrawn is your true name. From what I’ve come to understand, Chiss usually have much longer names.”

       His shoulders relaxed slightly. “We do. Thrawn is my core name.”

       “Then, what’s the rest of it? Or are outsiders not allowed to know?”

       “Others may hear it.  It is more a matter of efficiency,” he explained. “Those with Basic as their primary language have a difficult time pronouncing it. But, if you truly wish to know, my full name is Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” 

       “Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” you repeated back. 

       “Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” he corrected. 

       “Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”  This time you tried rolling the “r”s as he did. 

       “Mitth'raw'nuruodo.” 

       Your lip pursued in concentration.  You could hear how you were saying it wrong, but couldn’t quite figure out how to correct the mistake.  But you had to try at least once more. 

       “Mit-thra-nur-uod-o,” you said, deciding to disregard the “r” roll and simply pronounce each syllable as best you could.

       “Better,” Thrawn conceded. “But not quite.”

       You let out a sigh.  “I will get it eventually.”

       A small amused smile came to his lips. “You may try.”  

       It linger there a while longer, but a small shift in his eye convinced you it was about something else. 

       “Is there something else you find amusing?” you asked.

       “More interesting,” he said, diplomatically. “Your selection of stories is very different from others I’ve heard.”

       “How so?”

       “Ensign Vanto recounted stories of The Chiss’ military exploits or combat abilities.  No doubt you have heard the same. You, however, chose to tell stories referring to our culture and traditions.”

       “Maybe I assumed you have heard them before.”

       “Perhaps,” Thrawn said.  “But, unlikely.  You stated yourself how you admired the times of peace in the Republic. Tales of war do not hold your interest.”

       “Guns and battleships don’t hold my interest. It’s the people behind them that do,” you corrected. “Like you for instance.”

       “How do you mean?”

       You gave him a doubtful look.  “Don’t play that game.  You’ve done your research on me, it’s only fair I do the same.  I only wish to parse out facts from fiction.” 

       Thrawn watched you closely.  His glowing red eyes burned into you, but you did not look away as you did before.  You held your ground, until finally he relented. 

       “What have you learned?

       “Very little, I’m afraid,” you admitted, with a small smile. “Your recent military exploits speak for themselves.  By all accounts a series of miraculous victories pulled seemingly from thin air orchestrated by a brilliant military mind who should by all accounts be an Admiral, but is instead the first weapons officer. This most recent encounter with the Dromedar being emblematic of that.”

       He nodded.  “You’ve heard about my court marshal, I take it. “

       “There had to be some reason why you’re here,” you said, your expression turning apologetic. “I am truly sorry.  The navy has no right to pursue you in such a way.  As far as I’m concerned you made the right decision.  Life should always be valued over profit.  If there is any way I can help, please let me know.” 

       “I will,” he said, in a tone that made you feel as if not only did he mean it, but truly appreciated it. A small part of you had to wonder who, if anyone on Coruscant had offered him help. 

       “What else have you heard,” Thrawn prompted. 

       This part was tricky and for the first time that afternoon, you looked down.

       “I understand you were discovered in exile, though the reasons why vary from telling to telling.”

       “Which of these tellings do you believe?”

       You glanced up again.  

       Thrawn sat coolly in the chair.  His body and positioning were relaxed but still ultimately in control as he stared unblinking awaiting your answer. 

       You thought of the man before you, and the one described in the reports.  You thought of the priority of minimal casualties on both sides.  You thought of the crew of the Dromedar.  And you thought of the calculation in his responses when talking about his people. 

       “You ordered a preemptive strike on an enemy,” you said with a confidence foreign to you. “But I have a hard time believing it was done in a fit of blind ruthlessness.”

       “And what do you believe?” 

       He learned forward.  It was just a hair, not many would notice, but it was enough for you to know you had to choose your next words very carefully.

       “I think you would do whatever is necessary to protect who you perceive your people to be, whether it be your crew or The Chiss.” 

       “Do you?” he questioned.

       You nodded. “I know a little something about that.” 

       For a long moment, neither of you spoke. 

       “Yes,” Thrawn said, quietly as if to himself. “I believe you do.” 

       Something flashed across his features.  Understanding, perhaps?  Or maybe admiration?  

       You didn’t have time to question it as all too quickly, he leaned back and his unreadable mask slipped easily into place.  

       “You’re quite perceptive, Senator,” he commended. 

       “Not really,” you said, with a shrug. “In my experience people are very open about what they want either through their actions or outright stating it.  The only ones who aren’t are those who have yet to make up their mind.  You don’t strike me as the indecisive sort.”

       “Perhaps,” Thrawn said.  “But do not belittle your abilities.  Stating one’s wants is one thing, but often actions can be misinterpreted, their true meaning plagued by personal bias.  Being able to clearly see someone’s reasoning for their actions is a rare skill.” 

       “I’ll take your word for it,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm slightly. “But you’re avoiding the question.”

       “Which is?”

       “Am I right?”

       Thrawn was silent for a moment.  

       “You are right in the ways that matter,” he said. “I will always do what is necessary to protect my people.”

       You frowned, but knew better than to ask further.  Perhaps he wasn’t allowed to talk about the true reason for his exile. Which itself only lead to more questions.

       “Something else?” Thrawn asked.

       “Yes…” you said.  Your stomach twisted, unsure if what you were about to ask truly was crossing some invisible line.  But, you had come this far. 

       “Why join the Empire?”

       Thrawn stared a moment as if surprised by your question.  You didn’t blame him, but instead of anger or even indignantly you expected, there was just confusion.  “As I have stated, and you have observed, I will do what I feel is necessary to protect my people.”

       “So why not go back to them? How does joining the Empire do that?”

       Thrawn’s eyes darkened, his expression going distant, almost regretful. “There are many dangers in the galaxy.  Dangers greater than The Chiss Ascendancy or The Empire can face alone.  I believe an alliance is necessary to face such a danger.” 

       “Assuming the Empire doesn’t turn on you.”

       He glanced at you, titling his head curiously. “Do you believe it will?”

       “It doesn’t matter what I believe,” you dismissed. “You obviously believe it won’t.” 

       “But you do have your doubts.”

       It was your turn to remain silent as your own mind flashed to darker times. The Clone Wars. Your father. Danu torn apart and only now starting to rebuild.  

       You let out a tired sigh. “I suppose we each have to settle for an uneasy alliance to maintain peace for our people.”

       “Spoken like a diplomat,” Thrawn said, dryly.

       Your lip twisted into an ironic smile. “I have to get my practice in somewhere.” 

       Thrawn’s own lips turned upward slightly, giving just a hint of amusement.  It softened his features, if only a little.  You found you rather liked it. 

       His expression then shifted into an oddly thoughtful expression. 

       “Do you have a question for me?” you asked. 

       Thrawn shook his head.  “Not a question.  I was just musing on how you have heard so little of me and my people and yet are able to construct a fairly accurate picture.  While I comparatively have heard much of you, and yet the reality speaks to something entirely different.” 

       “And what have you heard of me?”

       For the first time since you met him he appeared uncomfortable. “I hesitate to say.  As I said, the reality is much different.”

       “I can take it,” you assured.  “I promise not to shoot the messenger.  And besides, you said it yourself; it’s often illuminating to hear stories about yourself from an outside source.”

       Thrawn nodded in consideration. 

       “I understand you were made Senator four months ago,” he began. “Your family has lived on Danu for generations and is highly regarded within its sphere of influence.  Your father was governor during the time of The Clone Wars, but was killed in a Seprestist attack.”  

       He bowed his head to you, his voice growing surprisingly gentle. “My sympathies.” 

       “Thank you,” you said, feeling your heart ache at the old wound. “Please, continue.” 

       “Governor Lir was appointed to the position soon after although not to the same success. He was the one to suggest the previous senator, Senator Trask. Unfortunately, Trask was eventually charged with corruption after being found in league with a pirate gang stealing and reselling food stuffs on the black market. Governor Lir was cleared of any involvement.  It was then, your name was selected to be Trask’s replacement.  From what I gathered, you made a name for yourself on Danu for various public works and, given your father’s legacy, it was the logical choice.”

       You nodded in understanding.  Governor Lir needed his name associated with your father’s to maintain his reputation.  The thought made your stomach twist unpleasantly.

       “As Colonel Yularen explained it to me, Danu lost much of its influence after the Clone Wars,” Thrawn continued. “It is now in direct control of its governors who are themselves controlled by Grand Moff Tarkin.”

       “So, I’m a puppet head. A naive heiress, picked out of a hat because of her father’s accomplishments,” you said, feeling like you were about to be sick. Was that why Lir had been so insistent on showing you around, introducing you as some non-threatening, pretty young thing? 

       You gave a dry scoff. “Not a very flattering portrait.” 

       “No,” Thrawn agreed.

       You laughed again, sincerely this time.  “You really need to work on your interpersonal skills if you’re going to survive Coruscant,” you said dryly.  You then let out a sigh. “Well, I’ve certainly got a much harder job ahead of me than I anticipated.”

       “Perhaps,” Thrawn said.  “Perhaps not. As I said before, what I have been told and what I have observed are very different.  You may use that to your advantage.” 

       “How?”

       “They will underestimate you.”

       It was said so calmly, so matter-of-factly you couldn’t help but be taken aback.

       “That implies I am more than what they make of me.”

       “You are.”

       And there it was again, that unwavering confidence that what he was saying was unquestionably right. 

       He raised an eyebrow. “Do you doubt me?”

       You blinked, pulling yourself back to the moment. 

       “I believe, you believe your words,” you said. “I can only hope you’re right.”

       “Time will tell.” 

       It was at that moment, your comm buzzed. 

       “Yes?” you asked. 

       “I’m sorry Senator,” Cora answered. “But you asked to remind you about your appointment with Governor Lir.”

       You frowned, but a quick look out the window told you she was right to do so.  The sun was just starting to set, and Governor Lir insisted on meeting before the next round of parties you needed to attend. 

       “Yes, thank you for reminding me.  Please message the Governor to let him know I’ll be a few minutes late.” 

       Cora offered an acknowledgement before clicking off the comm.  

       You gave Thrawn an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I really do have to attend to this.”

       “Of course,” Thrawn said, rising from his seat.  “I will not keep you from your duties any longer.” 

       You rose as well.  “I only wish you could. You’re certainly more interesting company. Will you be joining in any of the festivities tonight?” 

       “I do not believe so.  Ensign Vanto and I must meet with the high command tomorrow.” 

       “Of course,” you said, feeling a twinge of regret.  It may be some time before you saw him again, if at all, but you pushed it down.  You each had your duties. 

       You met his eye then with a gentle smile.  “Thank you for your stories and advice.  And, please know you have a friend on Coruscant, should you need one.” 

       Thrawn gave you an odd look. “Are we friends?”

       “We were able to discuss art and politics without feeling compelled to throw things at each other.  If that’s not friendship, I don’t know what is,” you said, dryly. “But, if the word is too familiar, could we at least part as allies?” 

       You offered your hand. 

       Thrawn hesitated a moment, taking your words into careful consideration. 

       “I do not believe either term is exactly the right one, but for the sake of simplicity, friend will have to do.”  

       Your brows furrowed, unsure about what exactly he could mean. 

       He gave not further explanation as he took a small step forward and took your hand in his.  His skin was warm, warmer than you anticipated. He held you hand in an oddly gentle, but firm grip; his palms rough from years of experience and untold battles. It was a strange combination, but not unpleasant. 

       He held your gaze.  You couldn’t even guess what he was thinking, all you knew was that your throat was going dry and your heart was beating rapidly against your chest. 

       “Until we meet again, Senator,” he said. “I look forward to your career with interest.”

       “So do I, Lieutenant,” you managed. “Until then.”   

       He released your hand, and it was over. 

       You watched him as he walked out of the room, staring after him even after the door had hissed closed. 

       You let out a breath, willing your heart to calm to a walking pace. What could he possibly mean by neither friend nor ally?  

       Without thinking, you flexed the hand he had touched as if to make sure it wasn’t truly burning.  Had he felt it too?

       Mentally, you shook your head.  It didn’t matter. You had no idea if and when you would ever see him again.  He would undoubtedly get out of this court marshal and accelerate up the ranks of the Imperial Navy.  Meanwhile, you had your duties here on Coruscant.  Duties you had to attend to. 

       You quickly gathered your things, and walked briskly out of your office. 

       “Excuse me, Senator?” Cora said, her words stopping you in mid-stride.

       “Something wrong?” you asked. 

       “No ma’am.  It’s just…” she hesitated as if unsure if she was even allowed to know what she was about to say. “Lieutenant Thrawn asked me to give you a message.”

       “Which is?” 

       “He asked me to remind you he would like a holo copy of the pieces you have commissioned for the reception area.  And if it wasn’t an inconvenience, he would be interested in having holo copies of the pieces you have in your office as well.”

       You blinked unsure whether to feel flattered or utterly exposed. 

       “Should I tell him you’re unable to,” Cora asked, tentatively.

       “No,” you said, shaking out of your temporary shock.  “No, go ahead and collect holo copies of the pieces and send them along.  Contact Ensign Vanto of the Imperial Navy, I’m sure he will pass them along.” 

       Cora gave a look of confusion, but seemed to know better than to question a Senator. 

       “Yes ma’am.  Goodnight.”

       You barely gave her a wave of acknowledgment as you walked out the door, the same question reverberating in your mind; friend, ally, or something else?

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn x reader #grand admiral thrawn x reader #star wars #sw rebels #timothy zahn #thrawn x senator

[winterbranded]

   [ ✮ ]    HEADCANON   //  THE JOURNEY FROM REBEL      COMMANDER   TO   IMPERIAL ASSET / SW VERSE :

[ ✮ ]  ——   i am so ready to delve into this st.ar war.s  based verse into detail.  i’m going to be going deep ,  i’m talking like starting from his early life and onwards, so this might be a little long in the end WHOOPS.  but enjoy !!    james barnes  ( mostly known as ‘bucky’ throughout the vicinity of rebel friends and family ) is  strong, courageous, and charming.  his father served time with the rebellion before he was unfortunately discharged after an accident had occurred at one of the bases, leaving him unfit for duty.  his childhood was average, being raised a short while on a rebel base before they moved to coruscant, living on the upper levels.  he took some odd jobs, mainly within shipments and some engineering but whispers of the rebellion always managed to make it to him.  he never spoke about his father’s involvement with the rebellion out in public, not even to friends.  one of the strict rules he abided by his mother and father.    the barnes family lived a peaceful life upon coruscant throughout a majority of buck.y’s childhood and teens until buc.ky decided to join rebellion forces at the age of  twenty-two, wanting to make his father proud but also fight for the right thing when the galaxy felt clouded in darkness.  he climbs the ladder rather quickly and ends up as a very successful commander after a few years.  he mainly leads ground missions and acts as a leader on the battlefield.  he has successfully lead multiple group assignments with minimal casualties.      but one mission didn’t go as planned.  one that would change his life forever.  his entire team had been captured on an out planet mission.  a majority being killed or taken prisoner.  buc.ky suffered a fatal wound to his left arm that day and was taken as a prisoner.  the rest of his team that were also taken do not survive interrogation.  he is the last survivor.   barnes was almost sent to be terminated until someone suggested an opportunity that laid here.  upon empire records, he was marked as terminated.   but they very much kept him   alive.

     the empire puts him in the hands of their scientists and medical teams.  marking his as an asset experiment to enhance future battalions of storm troopers.  the months are hazy and painful.  he attempts to state his ensign number and name just to remember but the more he tries, the more shocks are given.  his left arm is replaced with droid parts.  scraps that are melded and put together.  they don’t bother to put on a layer of artificial skin.  the empire brand is put upon his left shoulder before they chip him  ( much like the clone troopers within the clone wars )  acting as a reset button in case he were to attempt to defect.  marking him and trapping him.      he is drenched in sweat.  strands of hair sticking to his forehead as he just tries to  breathe.  trying to focus upon anything was too much.  body aching in waves from the multitude of operations and serums.  being strapped to the operating table with metal cuffs, the surface then starts to tilt from horizontal to vertical.  now being face to face with a tall figure clad in black.  his face is concealed with a mask, breaths wheezing through the apparatus that seemed to make everyone in the room grow pale.         the scientists progress is questioned with a rumbling voice.  and they attempt to answer with data and numbers.  but they wanted  physical  results.  not just recorded information.  a series of low ranking troopers are gathered first for an unknown reason.  one of the training rooms is cleared out and marked as restricted.  barnes can feel supervisors and the black cladded figure watch from afar within a higher level above.  they allow the troopers to advance all at once, a voice over the intercom within his ear stating to execute all targets in the room.  and all of them die all at once by barnes’ hand.   it was an immediate and violent reaction.  easily disarming and using anything the troopers had on hand to his advantage.  and they did not die peacefully either.  everything had moved so quickly, he didn’t even realize what he had done until the bodies of the troopers are dragged away.         sessions upon sessions are recorded of barnes’ physical stature and how easily he overpowers even some of their top trained troopers.  his official title is then marked within imperial records as :  THE ASSET.   and he is only called and treated as such.  he is required to wear a mask with a uniform geared for destruction.  his weaponry includes:   two small blasters,  an A280 rifle blaster for long distance,  two short vibro blades, a grenade launcher when requested, smoke bombs, trackers,  and back up ammo if needed.  he wears armor similar to troopers but only upon his shoulders and torso.  he has armor upon his knees and shins.  and the empire brand logo is prominent against dark metal.  and of course,  he has a mask and removable red tinted goggles.  the mask distorts his voice and he has an intercom within his ears for communication purposes.          barnes is put in charge of a battalion of troopers.  for some assignments, but mainly, he goes alone.  he acts as a dangerous leader within the battlefield but also as a personal bounty hunter and tracker for the empire.  no one escapes from him alive.  word travels quick of a mysterious figure the empire seems to have acquired.  but it is never confirmed that the man in question actually exists.  some say they saw glimpses of him in battle.  others say they saw him kill someone right before their eyes and lived to tell the tale.  but some just believe it’s propaganda to scare people.          during his long time with the empire,  he is placed in and out of carbonite.  a dangerous method, but one they used to keep him in tact and in their control.  but as the fall of the empire begins,  he is placed within carbonite for a final time.  being shipped off upon a shuttle ship on a charter course to another ship.  later,  that large battleship ship unfortunately gets shot down.  it descends and crashes upon a nearby planet, becoming empire wreckage within the long ending war.  while the pilots, troopers, and imperial officers had died on board,  barnes still lays within the carbonite.  untouched by time as he’s lost within empire wreckage.  waiting  to be found.         ** note:  this next part is completely  optional  as it goes into  sequel trilogy territory.  ( honestly ?? any part of the story as a whole can be changed and discussed in future plots ).           it is quiet for a long, long, time.  the thick slab of carbonite gathering dust and sand.  however,  a ray of sun then is shone upon the frozen features of the long forgotten asset,  another evil gets a hold of him.             as the carbonite is heated, he collapses to the ground, gasping for air.  familiar but oh, so, different troopers drag barnes to his feet.  vision blurred, and his body shaking uncontrollably from hibernation sickness.  a familiar figure clad in black approaches him.  the presence of the other similar to the previous tall dark figure, but is distinctly different.  how long had it been.  barnes is observed and questioned, but he provides no answers.  however, old empire archives give the fir.st or.der their answers.   a lost imperial asset that could be proven useful.  the fir.st or.der keep tabs on him until the destruction of starkiller base happens.            believing him to be lost in the end,  he goes under the radar.  keeping hidden as he moves through the galaxy like a shadow.  the imperial logo more than scratched off from upon his left shoulder.  starting to have a clear space of mind.  wondering which memories were real and which he wished were real.  his place in time still hazy.  he wanders until he picks up some whispers about the resistance.  he follows the whispers and rumors until he finds a resistance soldier.  something distant yet comforting is within the name resistance alone.  reminding him of another time that is long gone.           he is brought to a resistance base but upon realizing who exactly he was, caution is taken.  being examined by medical,  he undergoes surgery immediately to try and remove the old imperial chip and needed upgrades are given to his left arm.  they hope that  the fir.st ord.er  didn’t have time or brains to tamper with it.  once the chip is removed, recovery begins.  his mind more clear as he picks up the pieces of himself and eventually goes back to fighting on the right side of battle.  

#✮ || headcanons. #✮ || verse / hope used to shine within the stars // star wars. #( W H E W i'm not exactly happy with how i wrote everything BUT IT'S FINALLY WRITTEN DOWN MY G O D #this isn't nearly as detailed as i could've gone but it's more detailed that the verse summary that's for damn sure AHBSDJNFASDF ENJOY Y'ALL #gosh it's late over here kbsdhfnjsdf ) #tw : long post

[pyrewriter]

Red Vendetta

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Eliksni Name pronunciation:Esyra (E-si-ra)

The little machine Pyrrhaks, Brykis and I had captured was left behind during our sudden uprooting. It was unfortunate that we could not extract any data from the little machine but bringing it along would have only led more Risen to us. Ogethres kept true to his word when it came to needing his best

Seasons had passed since our guild was forced from our compound on the island and had since begun rebuilding, this time nearer to the coast. The peninsula that humans called the "European Dead Zone" was already teeming with House Dusk activity and any further inland would take us into the Devil’s old territory. The coast still had its share of sprawling cities that had been reclaimed by vegetation since their abandonment centuries ago. Salvage, data, even suitable ether conversion sites were scarce though and much of the guild was stuck aboard their shuttles due to lack of space. Having such a large amount of our guild already aboard proved to be a great boon however. 

During a season of heavier than normal rains when thick clouds blanketed the sky ,often darkening the land below to near black, our guild was once again uprooted. Crimson clad beasts descended from the through their veil of clouds like rain, crashing down in drop pods shot from their battleships. Swiftly we began gathering those not already on shuttles while anyone who could fight was sent to gather what supplies they could carry and retreat. Our window of escape was narrow and rapidly closing but together we pushed on to save everything we could. I had heard stories of these creatures, organized formations and movements, ruthless tactics, and hard to bring down even in single combat. These ones were different from those I was told about, I knew of smaller ones with special abilities but there were more.

Hounds nearly the size of Vandals swarmed everywhere, melee berserkers rushed into the fray butchering anything not their own, flame spewing juggernauts razed everything around. These were not any of the legions I was told of. Regardless I was on the front line with initial strike survivors, our line would not last but it wasn't meant to, we knew to resist was pointless and to surrender meant only a shameful death. We over extended at first to give those further from the Ketch a chance to gather what they could before retreating fully. The formation of the frontline and simultaneous retreat of noncombatants was the first major coordinated movement of such a large number of Eliksni since the Reef Wars.   

Our foe continued to push us further back as our line collapsed slowly, they hammered us from the sky and pushed us back from the land but did not move from our rear. Whether it was out of honor, pride, or lack of capability I do not know ,however, their intent was clear. Push us to the water to funnel our people into kill boxes along the coast. On most other guilds such a tactic would almost certainly spell death but we were more than prepared for a coastal maneuver. 

"How far, Ketch!?" I heard Brykis yelped over the rumble or combat.

Without taking my sight off the battlefield before me I shouted between shots "Not close enough, fight on, wait signal!". I lobbed a shock grenade causing one that I had apparently stuck to leap over the advancing line and charge, eyes flaring red beneath it's helme. The grenade's detonation resulted in a violent burst of light and gore, momentum carried the remains forward before falling. Fighting continued for hours as we inched closer to the Ketch while our people behind the line boarded shuttles with what they could carry or strap to Servitors and Shanks. I remember watching so many from my guild and others I had never seen before slump to the floor dead or writhe while they howled in pain before being carried off. 

Our line was shrinking and our numbers were decreasing faster than the enemies until finally the signal came over our communicators. "Collapse line, Ketch ready, skiffs loaded, exodus underway" on cue every Eliksni across the fighting line unloaded everything they had left. The sudden unyielding barrage of arc bolts and shock grenades severely disrupted the enemies advancing formation. Many drew their knives to take the opportunity to decimate the front line of our enemy that had taken many lives and was uprooting so many more.

I would be lying if I said that I did not take part in the display of savagery myself, again I watched as Elikisni ,from Dregs to Barons, fought and fell in vicious melee combat side by side. Some were cleaved in half, others torn to pieces, many were pummeled by fists or shields. It was a great tide of fury and vengeance for all they had done but on that day few displayed such anger as one in particular.   

As I was burying my blade into the neck of a shield bearer I heard a familiar voice bellow a thunderous "WITNESS ME!" it was a female and one I knew. 

Turning I saw a Captain ,it was Esyra, "WITNESS!!" I roared in reply followed by several others including Brykis. I and the others who replied stood with weapons raised high as we watched Esyra drop her armor before charging the enemy commander at the center of their now broken formation. She let out one final resonating howl, there was a blinding flash as she ignited her ether tanks, Esyra and everything around her had been reduced to vapor. I had already claimed more than my share of the enemies heads but for her...they owed me.

A similar sentiment seemed to echo through the minds everyone around me. Together myself and all who roared in reply drained our ether reserves, every fiber of my being screamed out for them to pay and the tithe was blood. By the time our ether ran dry enemy reinforcement were within scanner range but I had already run my blade dull. Only then did we finally retreat to the Ketch with Esyra's armor carried by Brykis, her and weapons slung to my side.

When the frontline survivors were aboard the Ketch and every shuttle fired in unison what weapons they had in an attempt to at least partially clear the skies. Using the gap created from the flak we made a break for open water. The moment we were out of the shallows our ships dove ,we didn't dare go too deep, only far enough that we wouldn't be easy to see from above. For a while I mourned our losses while aiding survivors with their recovery but it was just a distraction from what I was dreading. 

Esyra, a member of the same brood as Brykis and myself but she worked so much harder as a female and quickly rose to Captain.She would have meetings with Pyrrhaks from time to time so we met often enough to catch up on what we had done in the time between. As a Captain and a female at that she was important and had duties to uphold but she was kind, gentle even. Esyra wasn't there for my ascension but after our first relocation when we met she confessed she wanted me to be her mate. 

It was her right as Captain to simply make me her mate but she gave me a choice and like an immature Dreg I said "First I reach Captain, I earn right to be mate". Looking back I don't believe her asking was out of respect for my skill or strength but because of one of the strongest emotions that one can have according to humans. I only came to this realization after finally mustering enough backbone to take stock of her equipment.

"Going to quarters?" Brykis asked after seeing me on my way out of the med-bay.

My head was hung low so it wasn't hard for my brother to tell where I was going, turning I replied "Disrespectful to leave be, needs to be done". He nodded in response before returning to what he was doing, I locked eyes with father along the way as well. Our exchange was silent but there was no need for words, a gesturing nod was enough. Once I was in my quarters habitually I started dismantling, inspecting, cleaning, and repairing every weapon in the room. Of course it was a distraction but it was customary to start with the instruments used by the one you mourn. 

I moved on to my armor and started working slowly but no matter how long I worked time felt like it was just standing still. Esyra's armor was heaped in the corner but her helm was staring at me, even with my back turned to it I still felt a gaze ,her gaze, beaming at me. Putting down the piece I was tinkering with I spun around to stare at the helm for a moment to meet it's gaze, breathing deep I let out a heavy sigh and set to work. I wasn't an armorer so until recently the only Captains equipment I had worked on was my father's but after our exodus from the peninsula every Eliksni was needed for everything. 

Esyra's was personal though so I took extra care, dismantling and changing out damaged plating before repairing or replacing it's internals. The short range transmat module was fried along with the shield generator but the ether systems were almost fully intact. Among the normal arc cells and tools that most Captains kept on them there was one item in particular that stood out as unusual. It was a data slate that had a single entry on it. 

==Entry translated from Eliksni==

;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;

Esyra final communication, deliver to Mate Ellrimksyt upon receiving

Ellrimksyt, you strong, if reading this then stronger than me, hope fell in spectacle, hope we...were together. Maybe I fall before could say, say now to be certain, Ellrimksyt, I pick you as mate for more than strength, respect, status. I pick you because admire, you not Eliksni by birth, you Eliksni by heart, you grow, you live, you fight Eliksni. Not know how word, you make feel more than respect, I see you and chest warm. Think Humans say "deep affection". As expression, with privilege as Captain I bestow mementos, my helm and weapons, now yours, keep as decoration, use or modify, your choice. 

[Audio recording attached]          

;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;

==Audio entry Redacted by scribe==

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#destiny #eliksni #fallen #fanfic #eliksni fanfic #Ellrimksyt #Chapter 4 #sorry for taking so long

[annoyinglyjovialbird]

Voltron: Next Generation

Charging Ahead: I

Word Count: 2773

AN: When you’re not feeling like you in hot weather, remember no one can do what you can do, boo. <3

Even if Allie and Cake piloted the Blue and Yellow Lions, it didn't stop Allie from trying to hide in the ship.

Running after her, Caleb grabbed the collar of the small girl, who yelped. Cake was running towards Yellow, taking off after the source of the blasts. Allie was trying to find the confidence she had earlier; it was gone. Rest in peace, confidence. Caleb was staring in the direction of the blasts. Allie noticed his face was as unreadable as Kova's earlier. 

"Allie!" Speak of the devil. "Get in the Lion!" 

Kova was at the helm of the Coeus, looking over the arsenal at her disposal. There wasn't much she could do by herself, but a shield around the Coeus should be enough. With a timer set, Kova ran out of the bridge, grabbing her armor on her way. She couldn't hear Allie's muttering, but she figured it was whimpers of fear. With the suit almost entirely on, Kova had made it to the functioning MFE. 

"I can't!" Allie's voice was tightening up. She stared at the white blasts where Yellow chased the blasts. 

"Then follow my lead!" A jet engine had Caleb and Allie both looking to the sky. The white and orange aircraft was flying around Blue's head. "C'mon! Caleb, get inside!" Allie didn't know how he heard Kova, but he let go of Allie's collar and took off for the elevator. "Allie! Let's go!" Allie shook her head, closing up. She looked like a turtle. 

"I can't." Her voice was so quiet. 

"Blue chose you for a reason." Kova's inner Shiro came out. "If Blue didn't think you could do this, it wouldn't have chosen you." Allie's shoulders lowered from her pointy ears and blue markings. Her breathing seemed to slow and normalize when another blast sounded off, louder than before. Kova stopped her circling to see Yellow on the ground, down from a blast. The Coeus blocked their view, but they both knew that if they didn't get out there, Cake was going down. The Balmera would suffer, too. The groaning and shaking of the Balmera threw Allie off balance. The fall seemed to snap her out of it, running towards the Lion. Jumping into her seat, Allie powered up the Lion. 

Her Lion. 

Kova did exactly what she promised to do; she led Allie. With two Lions and an MFE, the threat was done for. Of course, they didn't expect the ship to be familiar. Allie and Cake only tested speed, not powers. Kova, on the other hand, had been cleared to pilot an MFE in the past. 

I guess there was no better time to relearn than the present, Kova thought as she fired a few blasts from the MFE. She succeeded in getting the annoyed attention of the pilot of the ship. She didn't, unfortunately, expect them to ignore the MFE as a whole. 

The black and gray battleship was half the size of the Coeus, strange purple insignias lighting it up. It looked ominous, and Kova had the feeling she had it before. At least something similar. Then she remembered. 

"I see an active Galra battleship." She said, hoping someone on board the Coeus could hear her. Caleb was alone on the bridge, his dad taking a well-deserved nap and he checked in with Griffin, who was hunkered down with the Balmerans. Caleb didn't want to wake up their dad, who was having a hard time already. 

"Kova, that's not funny." Caleb could feel the shivers of Kova's withering glare. "They aren't chasing you?" 

"I'm doing a classic Saturday morning and they still won't stop shooting at the Lions." Caleb's face fell at the mention of Saturday mornings. Shiro used to get them up at the crack of dawn and have them run drills before they started on simulations. It stopped when they were in the Garrison. Then it was the whole school. 

"Do you have a visual of the enemy pilot or a weak spot?" Caleb was pulling up camera feed and settings of the ship. 

"I have visual of the pilot," Kova said. "They look annoyed." 

"Everyone would eventually," Caleb muttered under his breath. A camera showed a view of the battleship, but no view of the pilot. "Aim and fire on the pilot."

"Affirmative." With a full 180-degree turn, Kova fired at the pilot ship. Another battleship appeared on the other side of the Galra ship, opening fire. With the annoying MFE and larger Balmeran piloted ship, the Galra ship was surrounded. 

Inside, the armor-clad soldiers ran towards the escape pods. Others were running from the bridge to the lookout. With rough movements, many of them were shoved to the ground and stampeded on from the fear of others. A young man was one of these, arms over his head. When the first rough wave passed, he limped towards the bridge. 

"Captain!" The young man yelled, focusing on the stiff man standing. "We must evacuate or surrender! The crew is abandoning ship!" The tall man stood still. His eyes followed the MFE that had been targeting them since he ordered the crew to focus on the Lions. 

"Go if you must." The tall man turned to look down on the newcomer. His eyes glinted onto the bright red markings on the smaller man's cheeks. "I don't expect much from Altean half-breeds." The young man gulped, holding his arm as though he had been struck. The Captain turned around.

"Sir, we must evacuate or surrender." He repeated, trying to stand at full height. "Our cargo won't make it to base otherwise." 

"Then load them into the escape pods." Captain gritted. "If you care so much about the cargo, then take responsibility for it." 

"Sir!" The Captain turned to face the half-Altean again. His glare was enough to turn a man to stone.

"Remind your brothers and sisters they are not to leave the ship without the cargo if they wish to return to the Empire." The Captain leaned so far into the younger man's space, the young man was afraid he was going to die. "Or they'll have to face the wrath of the Emperor." 

The Captain had a horrible array of scars down one side of his face, blinding him in one eye. The other eye was glowing bright yellow, wrinkles, and scar tissue surrounding the edges of it. 

The young man backed away a few steps from the older Galra, turning and running out the hatch door. With a snarl in the direction of the yellow-bellied man, he turned around to face the fight outside the windows. 

Another blast from the MFE fighter struck the panes, much closer than previous attempts. The sound of scraping metal, then a blur of blue had the Captain admitting defeat. With a groan, the Galra ship backed away from the fight. As one last attempt, the MFE fighter shot one last time. It struck dead-on, cracking the panes on the front of the bridge. The Captain didn't flinch, staring at the pilot inside the fighter jet. They made no other movements, seeming to glare at him. He knew the pilot couldn't see him. 

"I'll be back, little pilot." He muttered to himself. "Then we'll see how strong you are." 

Kova, Allie, Cake, and Caleb stared at the Galra ship as it floated away. Four long scratches ran the length of the ship, and the passengers seemed to be completely unaware. Allie had surprisingly given the scratches while Cake distracted the pilot. Kova was feeling uneasy, but the uneasiness was replaced by irritation. Blue and Yellow turned towards the Balmera, intent on spending time on the ground. 

Twin blasts struck the behinds of the lions, causing them to turn around. The impact wasn't enough to propel them to the ground, but it was enough to have them look. 

"Figure out your powers," Kova said. "Racing makes you comfortable in the seat, not prep you for anything else."

"Yes, Cap." Cake replied, floating towards her. "C'mon Allie. Let's look for junk for target practice." Allie wanted to argue, but Kova sounded right. Moving Blue towards Yellow, she saw Kova fly back towards the Coeus. 

"Is she always like that?" Allie asked. Cake nodded, then realized Allie couldn't see him nodding. 

"Yeah, but you gotta understand her background and training." 

"Her background and training involve being rude?" 

"It's hard to explain, Allie." Cake stared out into the stars and dark space around it. "We all got along well 'cause most of our parents were former pilots and we got to joke about their insane expectations."

"I thought your father was a cook."

"He was, but that wasn't what he was known for to begin with." 

"He was a Paladin first." Allie's voice became softer when she remembered their earlier discussions. "So was Colonel Shirogane." 

"Yeah," Cake had a sad smile on his face. "Griffin's dad was a former pilot of the MFE fighters. One of Arthur's parents used to work with Caleb and Kova's pops." 

"You all had some sort of connection to the original war." Her voice was a near whisper. 

"Hey, that looks like a good piece." Cake focused on a large scrap of floating metal floating by. It was so bent, it would have been more of an effort to flatten it with the ball-peen hammer than just use the smaller pieces they had found earlier. 

Onboard the Coeus, Kova was standing against the doorway of the bay. She was so tired, and of what? The constant reminders? The walls around her? The constant attacks? Her mind was going a hundred miles an hour and it didn't stop. She looked at the control pad in the doorway and started digging into the pack that was biting into her thigh. Taking out a pair of pliers, she set to work on the control pad. 

The light behind the screen didn't seem so dim when Kova was finished with it. Heading to her room, Kova removed piece by piece of her armor, stripping down to only the body morph suit. Leaving it on, Kova collapsed into the bed under her. Then, she had a better idea. 

Shiro was still drowsy, barely able to register what had happened, but the half-coherent argument happening around his torso was happening, whether he wanted it or not. Kova and Caleb were slapping each other's arms away, muttering to the other. Whether they heard each other or not, it woke up the father they were arguing on. Kova lay on Shiro's right side, her arm wrapped around his chest. Caleb lay on the left side, with an arm around Shiro's waist. 

With a pull, Shiro lifted Kova to his shoulder, while Caleb was held fast. With both teens settled in, Shiro closed his eyes again with a smile on his lips.

"We have to what?" Cake was out of his seat, outraged at the order. "We just got here!"

"Cake, I'm not asking." Shiro was standing tall at the front of the bridge. Kova was leaning on the banister in front of the helm, Caleb and Liz were sitting in their chairs. The seat covers were drying in front of an exhaust vent. Allie was sitting in her chair with her chin on her bent knees. Kenny was standing off to the side on the floor, leaning on a wall. 

"But we can't leave!" Cake was adamant about staying.

"Why are you fighting this?" 

"There has to be a reason those ships are coming here!"

"Yeah." Shiro deadpanned. "Us."

"Cake, sit down." Kova sighed. "All for leaving the Balmera, raise a hand." Shiro watched Kova, Caleb, Liz, Allie, and Kenny raise a hand in the air. Shiro mentally shrugged and raised his hand. "All opposed, raise a hand." Cake's hand was lonely in the air. 

"Six to one, Issako." Cake slumped into his seat at Shiro's words. He sat there for a few minutes, wallowing. As he stood, the force of the ship moving again had him falling back into his seat. He didn't get to say goodbye. 

Shay, Rax, and Talia stared at the Coeus from a distance. Shay put a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder. 

"They did what was needed." 

"I know that," Talia tore her eyes away from the ship to look into her mother's eyes. "But he couldn't say goodbye?"

"I doubt it was his choice." Shay was still staring at the ship in the distance. The Coeus, slowly but surely, rose above the tallest ridges of the Balmera, until they were nothing more than a speck of white in the Balmeran sky. 

Onboard the Coeus, the crew continued life as normal, given the circumstances. Kova occupied the bridge, Liz enlisted Allie to help with the seat covers, and Caleb wandered around the ship. Cake stared at Kova, who was working as normally as she could. The small pouch of Balmeran crystals combined could power an entire city for years before replacing them, but Kova used only two crystals as a power source. Kenny eyed the pouch but didn't make a move to touch it. Instead, he helped Kova put the final pieces together. 

He sat there for hours, completely spaced out (as spaced out as you could get in space). A few snaps in his face snapped him out of it (Allura help me), staring at Kenny. The man was in Cake's face, his hair looking shaggier than it had the entire trip. His mouth was moving but Cake's brain couldn't register the sounds. 

"What was that?" 

"Do you want to help us with the satellite?" Kenny asked again. Besides trying to get Cake's attention for the last five minutes, he had to endure a few electrical sparks, much to Kova's amusement. 

Cake stared past Kenny to Kova. She was crouched over a semi-circle made of random pieces of metal welded together, wearing her armor. It was about a Kova long, maybe a few inches to spare. If it wasn't for the hole in the middle, it would make a perfect bathtub for Kova. Maybe a pool. 

"Sure." Cake stood, ignoring the stiffness he felt. "What do you need me to do?"

Kenny explained the plan as the trio traveled to the bay. Since Kenny was the only one without a spacesuit, he would monitor the situation from the outside because he was the senior member. The boys ignored Kova's scoff and eye roll. Cake would use the Yellow Lion to make sure Kova didn't conveniently float away, and Kova would secure the satellite to the Coeus. 

It nearly didn't go according to plan, with Kova nearly floating away because Kenny insisted on making the tether and the knots. He used a slip knot and thought Yellow Lion's teeth were a good hold. He got a stern scolding when Kova and Cake returned, but the mission was accomplished. At least one was at this point. 

"Pull up the map of the coordinates," Kova said as she entered the bridge. Her hair was in a messy braid, strands falling around her face and the middle of her forehead. Pushing them back, she looked up at the screen. Caleb had returned to the bridge, doing what he was told. 

"Which Lion are we aiming for next?" Caleb asked, typing the coordinates into a special search engine the Garrison created. Of course, it hasn't been updated in years, but whatever, it works well enough. 

"Whichever is closest to us and far away from the Balmera." Kova's brown eyes stared at the screen in front of her, watching the locations of the other three Lions appear. The red and green dots on the screen hovered much closer to the other than the previous two had been.

"It looks like the Green and Red Lions are in the Kart-Kar," Caleb said, trying to read the star system. "Whatever, they're in that-" He projected the star system with its name. "System." 

"Karthulian System." Kenny, Shiro, and Kova said at the same time. The younger trio stared at the older man, who had seemingly appeared out of thin air. Cake stared at Caleb, patting his shoulder. Caleb understood, nodding his head. 

"The Karthulian System were training grounds for the former Paladins."

"The ones before you, right?" Kova was staring at Shiro, who nodded. 

"Red must be on Yendailian and Green must be on Griezian Sur, if I remember right." Shiro had a hand on his hip and another under his chin, thinking. "Where's the Black Lion?" Shiro turned to Caleb, who had projected the planet instead. Shiro's nostalgic smile had confirmed it was the same. The Black Lion was on Arus.

#soft!Shiro #kova shirogane #caleb shirogane #takashi shirogane #shiro #cake garrett #allie #allura #liz griffin #IGF Coeus #blue lion #yellow lion #shay #rax #balmera #green lion #red lion #black lion #im running out of chapter titles #im also running on misery and yogurt #help me #why am i weird #why am i like dis #should i do ao3? #masterlist coming soon

[nomadicism]

You know, one of the only things Starblazers did better was one effect with the Wave Motion Gun. The bass guitar and whinny. The overlayered the original sound effect with an additional sound, not replacing but augmenting. The moment of firing had a distorted, clipped bass guitar chord, followed by this descending 'horse whinny' that went with the initial discharge of the shot out the barrel of the gun. That second sound was vaguely like a musicalize pressure operated relief valve stuttering.

That’s an interesting observation! Are you referring to Star Blazers as the American dub/adaptation of the original Space Battleship Yamato anime, or the recent reboot?

The original Star Blazers (and thus Yamato) were just a wee bit before my time, so I’ve never had the opportunity to watch either of them all the way through. I’ve watched bits and pieces here and there. Enough to get the idea. I’d love to see an English-subbed HD/Re-master home video release of Yamato so I can compare it to the reboot.

I’ve heard that some fans of the original don’t care too much for the reboot, especially Yamato 2202. I’m enjoying it so far, as it scratches that military space opera itch without requiring a huge commitment of time like Legend of Galactic Heroes.

#star blazers #space battleship yamato #宇宙戦艦ヤマト #ask me anything #copperhamster

[johannesviii]

The Adventuress of Henrietta Street

Some highlights of the last EDA I’ve read (The Adventuress of Henrietta Street).

I took these screens while reading, along with my reactions. As usual, this is full of spoilers.

“Let’s wish for something simpler next time. I need a break.” (me, right after reading Grimm Reality)

OH SHIT OH PLEASE NO NOT NOW. NOT. NOW.

This is not what I wanted.

I’m not going to make any friends here, first because I’m sure this book has a ton of fans, and second because I don’t dislike it for the reasons you might expect. Sure, it sidelines Fitz and Anji, sure, the ideas aren’t as numerous or groundbreaking as the ones in Alien Bodies and Interference, sure, the pace is extremely slow, sure, it does some debatable things with the internal logic of the series, and yes, sure, it mostly takes place in a brothel. But while these things can be considered problems, they’re not real problems to me. Some of the most creative things in this story are actually possible thanks to them.

No. I have a problem with the way this story is written and framed. And I can already hear someone saying something like "what, is the academic style too much for your small brain?", but I actually think it doesn’t go far enough with its fake academic style.

By all means, write a fake pseudo-academic paper! Invent a ton of fake sources and names! Write horribly long digressions in footnotes until they eat up the rest of the page! Analyse this story like a bad history student and put on paper some really weird conclusions about it- most of them probably wrong. Even if you don’t go all out and write House of Leaves lite, at least write Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell lite, please. Have. fun. with. it.

But it’s not written like a fake master thesis, because there’s no sources, no footnotes, no actual goal or real analysis (right or wrong), and in the end, it’s mostly written like a normal novel, except it has a very flat tone and often digresses to talk about historical events. Reading Henrietta Street is not like proof-reading a badly organised master thesis written by a dispassionate student: it’s like trying to read a novel buried under piles of gratuitous infodumps. And that’s a real shame, because there’s an interesting story somewhere in there. 4,5/10

Okay, this is interesting.

That’s VERY cool.

That part made me laugh pretty hard.

Apparently the biggest danger that sex workers face in their line of work is accidentally summoning demons, and that also made me laugh pretty hard.

I’m not sure this is supposed to be funny, but it sure is.

Aaaaaaand she actually summoned a demon by accident and that guy was killed. Okay.

That’s very nice but there’s a distressing lack of footnotes and fake references in that pseudo-academic book. Also if there’s no quote from the dream journal (or if there’s some, but boring), I will riot.

Okay, first, I have to say Scarlette sounds incredible.

Second, I immediately pictured her like Mylène Farmer’s 18th century libertine persona, except with black hair.

This is probably a bad thing.

Oh my god

Ah, I was starting to wonder where our main idiot was.

Please tell me Eight is fencing with Scarlette. PLEASE.

YESSSSS Oh my god what a wonderful mental picture.

SCARLETTE, NO.

WAIT WTF EIGHT HAS A BEARD NOW?!

Ooohhh, he has finally discovered where he was from and probably what happened to Gallifrey! Interesting!

We already kinda knew that was what made The City of the Dead and its magic possible, but it’s always nice to have a clear confirmation.

I’M HOWLING

"Hello I’m the Doctor, can I stay here" "Sure"

So he’s looking for magicians. And clearly doing some research. I have to ask, though: where are Anji, Fitz and the TARDIS?

Meanwhile, on "The Doctor Is Asexual", episode 75647

These books have recently acquired a strange taste for tarot reading.

Wait, the Doctor is sick?

That’s all very interesting but could you please hurry up a little bit?

Again, I wish this kind of fake document had fake sources and/or footnotes to accompany it.

Again, I wish there was a fake drawing and a fake source there.

Interesting.

Also... is it bad if I’d like to read that book instead of the one I’m currently reading?

So the demons actually look like apes. Uh.

How much do you want to bet these creatures were inspired by this painting?

I love this dialogue.

What is your plan and what the hell are you trying to do.

"When Scarlette asked reasonably what on Earth she thought she was doing"

I laughed out loud at this awful, awful typo in French. That should be "par les couilles" and the level of sheer incompetence on display here is worse than any misused French ever printed in these books (yes, even the non-sentences of The Turing Test).

If you don’t speak the language, don’t pretend you do & send it to an editor anyway. You already know I don’t speak English very well, but you don’t see me trying to get my English typos printed in a book costing actual money and bought by actual people.

What are you trying to achieve.

Well you’re not wrong.

FINALLY

This is a wonderful little scene.

"It’s worth stopping" YEAH YOU THINK

WAIT WHAT, THEY DIDN’T ARRIVE WITH THE TARDIS

WHAT’S GOING ON

Another wonderful mental image.

Okay so I think that’s an important character. I don’t think anyone spoiled me anything too important about this book, but I’m pretty sure this guy comes back later.

The fact I didn’t stop to consider how awkwardly Fitz would behave in a brothel is all you need to prove how innocent minded I tend to be

This would be so much better if it was either written completely like a fake academic work or completely like a novel, because this weird hybrid thing isn’t working.

CUTE

How much do you want to bet he did a James Bond impression.

Fitz no.

Also this is a pretty great scene.

Is that a compliment or an insult

Oh. So he was looking for magicians of sorts who could act as a replacement for the Time Lords?

Anji as a prophet and a force of nature is a marvellous thought.

"But they had a tendency to giggle every time [Fitz] walked past"

Okay, I guess Sabbath is bad news, then.

 Is Sabbath actually human? Because if he’s a Time Lord survivor, that would explain a lot of things.

Probably panic.

It’s not a real EDA until someone is coughing up blood

Or because this book is clumsily organised.

And here’s another typo in French (éventrés).

Also who is that random guy with a rosette and why is he, like, metaphorically eating popcorns in the background?

Is that battleship a TARDIS?

It’s completely anachronistic, so it could very well be.

A question you could be asking yourself in quite a lot of these books, Doctor.

Take a shot every time an adjective reminds you that Sabbath is fat.

I’M HOWLING

Ohhhh is it his fault because he destroyed Gallifrey? Is that it?

What the fuck are you two talking about.

So the wedding is some sort of ritual? What?

What inspired the author to sit down and write this book also remains unclear.

That still sounds wonderful and I’d gladly read that book if it existed. Although it’s easy to picture it like some sort of Codex Seraphinianus variant.

A strange way to talk about regeneration, but a pretty cool one.

Of course, Doctor, of course.

Why is the author so fucking terrified by this very mundane detail about women.

"Assassin" as a noun doesn’t have a feminine equivalent so this is yet another typo in French.

Ohhh, is he trying to rebuild a TARDIS? Where is the real TARDIS, anyway?

You really don’t want Anji to have any kind of major role in that story, do you?

So this is what the ‘horizon’ is like. I like the black sun thing. Well okay it’s a bit of a goth cliché, but still.

I SPAT OUT MY TEA

DON’T MAKE ME THINK OF BETTER STORIES

And I’m pretty sure this would be a lot more dramatic if this book was written like a novel OR like a cold academic piece, but it’s neither, so it just sounds disinterested.

At least we have excerpts from the dream journal mentioned at the beginning!

...we know. It’s a very, very mundane thing, dude. It happens when a lot of women are living together. It happens in nunneries too. There’s nothing magical or evil about it, and this is getting very ridiculous.

Recently, in one of these liveblogs, I was wondering how many stories had living planets in Doctor Who and particularly in the EDAs... so I’m glad somebody else thought it was a recurring theme as well.

No seriously who the fuck is this guy.

Okay okay I laughed pretty hard.

I seriously doubt that.

138 PDF pages, and next to nothing has happened yet, apart from a lot of exposition.

Yes okay but could you please do something with this idea instead of just exposing it layer after layer?

A bit too meta for my taste, but still enjoyable.

Again, more explanations for this very cool concept, but nothing new.

Okay. Now do something.

We knew this already. Now do something with it.

An interesting parallel but the book still refuses to do anything with its ideas at this point.

Meanwhile, nothing happens.

YOU DON’T SAY

OH. Okay. At least we know the purpose of that wedding thing now.

It’s… very weird, honestly. I mean, the Doctor never really had ‘roots’ with Gallifrey, he hated the place (in Classic Who, at least – and in New Who as soon at it existed again) and tried to get away from it as soon as he could. But hey, fluidity in canon and all that, so why not. Can’t say I like it, but yeah, why not.

Meanwhile the Doctor gets worse and worse and Fitz finds yet another girlfriend "out of boredom"- which is understandable at this point.

Usually I would be like "OH NO" but since something is happening at last, I’m like "OH MY GOD, FINALLY"

Wait wait wait.

You know I try to avoid spoilers for these books but I couldn’t avoid this one. So.

Is this the book where Eight loses a f█cking HEART

I WISH

And now the Babewyns have a leader, since you persisted to do nothing.

Again, I wish this book was full of fake sources for this kind of things.

Good description of the TARDIS’ sound!

Finally, someone’s doing something about the Babewyns! Go Scarlette!

I like this detail.

WAIT A F█CKING SECOND

IS THAT THE MASTER

IS THE MASTER JUST CHILLING IN THE BACKGROUND OF THIS STORY WITH POPCORNS WHILE WAITING FOR THE SHIT TO HIT THE FAN

Okay, so the wedding plans had to be changed and now the bride will be Scarlette.

And the Master is drinking in the background, like:

Eh eh, so Moffat wasn’t the first one to think about this!

Take a shot every time an adjective reminds you that Sabbath is fat.

Holy shit, Scarlette rules.

And this is very sweet.

Well you’re not wrong.

Eight you are literally dying, there is no shame in using a wheelchair, okay

This is a great mental picture.

I’m pretty sure "howl of laughter" wasn’t the intended reaction, but I’m sorry, he kissed Scarlette and instantly started the apocalypse, I can’t stop laughing

You know what, just for fun, I am going to pretend this is a post-apocalyptic version of the Library of the Serpent’s Hand from the SCP mythos.

Ooooooh boy.

YEP. YEP, YOU ARE THE MASTER. YOU LITTLE SHIT.

At least he’s being reasonable for once.

How very convenient for you.

Yes I was about to ask, could you please hurry up and die already?

OH SHIT JULIETTE HANGED HERSELF.

YEAH YOU THINK

ISN’T THAT OBVIOUS WTF

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

FDSDFGHFDSGHFDFH I KNEW IT

To be honest, this book is FINALLY getting intense and interesting.

WELP, FITZ ISN’T THE LEADER ANYMORE, BYE BYE FITZ

YOU DON’T SAY

Bye bye, Master.

You weren’t very useful, were you.

YOU DON’T SAY

This place looks terrifying in my head.

Finally, FINALLY, this book is gripping.

But it took the Doctor, literally dying on the floor, in a pool of black blood, in a post-apocalyptic dimension for it to become gripping.

Or just a self-insert.

OHHHH HERE IT COMES, FOLKS.

Ah yes, one last typo in French, just because.

YOU DON’T SAY

Hey, isn’t that the cover?

SFSDFGHGFDHHHH ONE OF YOUR HEARTS WAS LITERALLY TORN AWAY FROM YOUR DYING BODY FIVE MINUTES AGO, CAN YOU PLEASE SIT DOWN FOR A SECOND BEFORE CHALLENGING GIANT MONSTERS IN A FIGHT TO THE DEATH

Hi happy Eight, we missed you!

YES BUT SCARLETTE WITH A SWORD IS AMAZING

Holy shit, Eight.

Holy shit dude.

I hope Scarlette isn’t really dead.

Apparently she is. F█ck.

There’s hugs, though. Hugs are always good.

DOCTOR WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING

COME BACK HERE THIS INSTANT

OH SHIT SCARLETTE FAKED HER OWN DEATH

And she’s still pretty great, too.

How very convenient for you.

EXTREMELY OMINOUS.

Phew. I’m glad this book is over. It was just as exhausting as the previous one, although in completely different ways.

#The Adventuress of Henrietta Street #Eighth Doctor Adventures #Eighth Doctor #Fitz Kreiner #Anji Kapoor #EDAs #an EDA liveblog full of useless comments #doctor who #long post #nostalgia #caps lock #body horror tw #blood tw

[ganymedesclock]

I feel like the Lion Swapping posts have increased because people are beginning to wonder if the bonds really meant anything in the first two seasons since Black, Red, and Blue gave up their paladins WAY too easily. I understand there is a war and they need to adjust, but it felt like there was no struggle of letting their paladins go.

I disagree heavily with the idea that it was easy for the Lions to switch. Like... if you watch that first fight in s3e2, and s3e3, it’s really driven home that Red, Black, and Blue, even when they were at luxury to pick their replacements, and, in the case of Red and Blue, seem to have contrived to position Lance and Allura where they did...

Their mistakes and struggles seem really mundane except the part where you remember none of them had this problem at all with the original formation.

All of these people, piloting vastly different alien technology that they couldn’t read the outputs of, never had these sorts of problems. 

Even Shiro struggling to reconnect with the Black Lion in s4e1 never has the problem Keith does in s3e2 where Black jerks around awkwardly and, for lack of a better word, stumbles through space- to the point that Keith, who has been shown repeatedly to be an excellent pilot who particularly specializes in maneuvering, can’t throw ordinary imperial fighters off his tail, struggles, maneuvers poorly.

As soon as Black reconnects with Shiro, they can immediately form Voltron again, they immediately have that sort of fluid grace together that we see in the opening- making that quick effortless corkscrew spiral around an imperial battleship and dicing it into three pieces like it’s nothing.

Lance in s3e1 pulls off some amazing maneuvers with Blue, but in the very next episode with Red he careens into things embarrassingly all the time. Allura’s never made a mistake piloting the castle, even under duress/struggling with de-aged Coran/covered in snails- she’s a superb pilot, and yet Blue is an absolute nightmare for her.

Compared to that, Lance’s chaotic first flight was explicitly not him, it was Blue jumping around being excited, and as soon as he did take control, they fought together immediately and really easily, and that proper connecting was a total zero-effort for Lance while Allura had to practically have a breakdown before Blue opened up to her at all.

One of these connections is so much clumsier than the other. And Blue wanted Allura. She made that very clear, as did Red with Lance, as did Keith with Black.

This is not “the Lion is sulking”, this is, “this is fundamentally so hard for them while with their proper connections they never had to think about this, they never had to worry about this, they were that much on the same page, right away, from the first instant they spoke to each other”

If you’re still doubting... I’d really recommend going back and watching s1, and the early episodes and the way the paladins and the Lions interact, and comparing that to s3 and the auxiliaries. It was anything but “way too easily.”

You have to remember the Lions don’t have tear ducts or words, and this was something they knew was coming. Their grief is going to be expressed differently and you’re going to have to look for it.

Black was sprawled flat on the ground with lightless eyes ever since Shiro disappeared. They had the capacity to pick themselves up any time- nothing mechanically was wrong. To me, that sounds like grieving. And Keith never feels close to Black, never expresses a sense of solidarity or fondness for them. He would rather run away from that bond than actually try to act on it- see, s4e1 where he’s been doing exactly that, for months, and begs Shiro to reconnect with Black.

And that’s not a jarring swerve in s4- twice in S3 Keith immediately wants to either go back to Red or just plain get away from Black as soon as possible.

I feel like you can’t even... compare that to Shiro’s bond with Black which has been shown as early as s1e2 to be exceptionally strong, able to pull off maneuvers that it should have taken him years to master, on his first try.

Shiro fought and bled for Black- in s2e7 he was nearly killed fighting for Black and he used his last breath to defend them.

And that’s saying nothing of Red saving Keith’s life on numerous occasions- it says nothing of Blue waiting in a cold, dark cavern for years, turning down Keith the “better pilot” every time he came to her cave, waiting only for Lance, and being so overjoyed to have him, to be close to him, that she leaped and bounded and hurtled around full of joy.

She sure didn’t dance like that for Allura. 

So I guess, personally, I can’t see the auxiliary connections as anything worth writing home about. We had these massive emotional moments with the original ones, but in comparison to that, Allura’s the only one who’s had any kind of learning moment and even then, her pulling out two abilities at once, narratively, doesn’t feel exciting? They’re things we already know Blue is capable of, they’re not new powers, and that really diminishes them.

Is that a good moment for Allura, and a really meaningful one? Of course it is! She gets a shot in on Lotor when nobody else did, she saves them from being trapped on Thayserix, she learns an important lesson about asking for help and gets a nice boost in confidence for her trouble.

But like... comparing that to how deep Lance’s bond with Blue is? Especially suggesting Allura’s connection is better? I can’t see that at all.

#voltron legendary defender #vld #Lance #Keith #Allura #Shiro #Blue Lion #Black Lion #Red Lion #readmore #seasons-of-stories

[dandelionprocrastinates]

🎮 Fun-Filled Fridays 🎮

Moderated by Ayeesha

Thank God, it’s Friday! It is basically the start of the weekend and after a tiring week full of tasks, it is now time to let loose and relax. Reward yourself by having a bit of fun. Spend your leisure time by chatting and playing with friends. The activities during fun-filled Friday will surely take your minds off of the stress that is online classes. Playing online games not only entertains you but it also develops your creativity, nurtures your relationships with friends and improves strategic thinking.

August 7 - Skribbl 

skribbl.io is a free multiplayer drawing and guessing game. One game consists of a few rounds in which every round someone has to draw their chosen word and others have to guess it to gain points! The person with the most points at the end of the game will then be crowned as the winner!

Mechanics: When it's your turn to draw, you will have to choose a word from three options and visualize that word in 80 seconds, alternatively when somebody else is drawing you have to type your guess into the chat to gain points, be quick, the earlier you guess a word the more points you get!

August 14 - Plato: Rock Card

Rock Card is a Walmart version of Cards Against Humanity a mobile version of Cards Against Humanity.  The game is simple. Each round, one player asks a question from a black card, and everyone else answers with their funniest white card.

Mechanics: To start the game, each player draws ten white cards. Each round, reads the question or fill-in-the-blank phrase on the black card out loud. Everyone else answers the question or fills in the blank by passing one white card, face down, to the first person. The first person then shuffles all the answers and reads each card combination out loud to the group. The first person should re-read the black card before presenting each answer. Finally, the first person picks the funniest play, and whoever submitted it gets one point. 

August 21 - Battleship

Battleship is a strategy type guessing game for two players. It is played on ruled grids (paper or board) on which each player's fleet of ships (including battleships) are marked. The locations of the fleets are concealed from the other player.

Mechanics: Players must take turns, with each player's turn consisting of announcing a target square in the opponent’s grid which is to be shot at. If a ship occupies the square, the owner of the ship must announce a “hit”. Likewise, if no ship occupies the square, the player must inform of a “miss.” When all of the squares of a ship have been hit, the ship is sunk. The winner is the first player to sink their opponent’s ships before all of their own are sunk.

August 28 - Chess

Chess is a two-player game, where one player is assigned white pieces and the other black. Each player has 16 pieces to start the game: one king, one queen, two rooks, two bishops, two knights and eight pawns.

Aim of the game: The object of the game is to capture the other player's king. This capture is never actually completed, but once a king is under attack and unable to avoid capture, it is said to be checkmated and the game is over.

Playing the game: A move consists of placing one piece on a different square, following the rules of movement for that piece. A player can take an opponent's piece by moving one of his or her own pieces to the square that contains an opponent's piece. The opponent's piece is removed from the board and is out of play for the rest of the game.

You can see my friends’ reaction to each game under the cut!

Reaction to Skribbl: “Skribbl really brought out my inner Picaso and Van Gogh combined (sparkle emoji here).”

Reaction to Rock Card: “I had a really great time with Rock Card since the cards are so random and funny. It really helped release the stress of the long day when we played.”

Reaction to Battleship: “Although the online setting doesn’t replace the real fun when playing with a board, I had a great time crushing my opponent HAHAHA >:)”

Reaction to Chess: “As a non-intellectual, chess is a hard game for me but it can really give you a sense of satisfaction when you outthink your opponent. It really made me use my mind and think of strategies. Overall, I had a great time!”

[dreamworksworddump]

5, 7 LANGST haha if you're still doing these! i love your writing :0

Okay, so you gave such a good prompt, that this turned into way too much for a one shot, so there’ll probably be at least another two chapters before the end. Stay tuned for more.

Klance, Gore/torture

For a moment, Lance couldn’t tell if they’d won.

It was chaos everywhere. Below them, the city was in flames. Although most of the citizens have escaped, Lance knows that they’d find more than a few bodies under those crushed buildings, most likely burned to a crisp. Some of them by laser fire. Some by boiling flame. And a few, maybe just one or two, will have been frozen to death. The other lions hovered cautiously, waiting for Shiro’s direction. A solitary battleship sputtered in the sky, with thick, black smoke spilling out of the numerous holes in its hull. Lance didn’t think they’ll have to worry much about it, and although he’d prefer to shoot it down, it was better for it to stay afloat, rather than to crash onto the town beneath it. Keith did a lap around it, and gets no response.

They let out a collective breath.

Shiro’s gaze shifted to Pidge, and then Hunk. Both of their lions had sustained heavy damage during the battle, and the resulting tumultuous flying had left Pidge with a broken arm, and Hunk with multiple bruises. Whether they had concussions or not was yet to be seen. “Pidge, Hunk, I’m going to escort you back to the castle; you need to get checked out by Coran before you start helping with the rescue and repair efforts. Keith and Lance, go check out that ship. See if you can get any information out of it before landing it, away from the city.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.” Lance said, giving Shiro a mock salute.

Keith simply nodded, and they both headed off towards the ship. The coms switched over, muting their lines with Shiro, Pidge and Hunk until they’re spoken to; Pidge had implemented that feature after listening to Lance sing for the better part of his solo mission, unable to mute him.

Lance shifted gears, and his lion zoomed forward. “Bet I can beat you there.”

“In your dreams.” Keith retorted, as Red’s thrusters fired, closing the distance between them before Lance had a chance to reply.

Keith reached the ship first, but only by a little bit (Lance was kinda proud of that. Red is physically faster than Blue, after all). And then they parked inside. And then…

Lance can’t remember what happened after that. Maybe they missed life signs inside, or maybe they’d separated and Lance had gotten lost, but whatever had happened next has left him alone in a tiny, cold cell. He still has his Paladin armor, which is a good thing, but his helmet isn’t receiving a signal. Great.

He sits up, and his head is pounding, worse than that one time he’d gotten totally drunk on Altean alcohol. He winces, but stands up anyways, using the wall for support. He doesn’t seem to be injured beyond the headache (could be a concussion), which means that he has to try and escape now.

Shiro had warned them, a few months into this whole Voltron thing, about what could happen. Being captured would likely lead to torture, very quickly after capture because the Galra knew of how soon the others would come to retrieve their missing link. It would be hard and fast and brutal, but if they held out, they’d be fine. Allura had told them later that just in case they weren’t fine, there was a safeguard, built into their suit. In the collar of their armor, hidden by a flap, rests a suicide pill. That’s what Lance thought of it as anyways. If you took it, you were put into a coma. You had a week for your comrades to find you and give you the antidote. If not, death.

He hopes that he won’t have to use it, but it’s better safe than sorry. His fingers feel stiff as he flips the flap open and grabs the pill. He’s not sure where to put it at first; if they decide to strip him, where should he stash it? He settles on his underwear, the pill wrapped in a small swath of fabric to protect it from his skin.

A moment later, the door slides open, and two Galra step in, flanked by two droids holding very big guns. The tallest of the two Galra is more decorated, and has half of his face replaced by a metal implant. It makes him kinda look like a terminator, if a t-800 was half-fuzzy purple alien. Even with the fuzzy purpleness, he still looks pretty intimidating. A small smile dances on half of his face as he speaks. “Blue Paladin, under the third revision of the War Trials article, you are being kept as a War Criminal to the Galra Empire. There is no guarantee of your survival.”

OoOoOoO

Keith wakes up with a start, tangled in a nest of wires and torn cushioning. A few of the wires are actually tangled in him, running straight through his thigh and left calve. The skin around the puncture wounds is cauterized, and Keith hopes that any infections will be held off by it. He doesn’t try to pull it out, and simply cuts them so that they won’t snag on anything as he climbs out.

He sits up and looks around him. The purple metal and the glyphs labeling dislodged panels tell him of his location; he’s still on that Galra ship that Shiro had them check out. Them. Right, they’d come together to check out the ship. There’s no room in the collapsed…wherever he is for Lance to be hidden nearby. So where is he?

Keith stands, his legs stiff and uncertain of their balance. He’s down deep at the bottom of a tunnel of some sort. Maybe a vent of some kind. Its maybe three feet wide, and goes up so far that all he can see out of the vent is white. White.

His vision flashes into white, and a scene plays out before him.

The ship was dark, and wires hung haphazardly like snakes in the jungle. The dim purple emergency lights cast an ugly glow onto their skin.

Lance snickered.

“What?”

Lance waved him off and they start walking. “It’s just, this looks just like that haunted house Hunk and Pidge and I went to last year. Hunk was horrible. He was supposed to lead, but he kept hiding behind me and somehow Pidge got in front of us, and left us behind. She told every freaking monster to scare us. He was gripping my shirt so hard, by the end of the night, it was too stretched out to wear again.”

Keith had never been to a haunted house before. Most of his childhood had been spent at discount skating rinks and in public parks. His foster homes could never afford to pay for anything expensive. He thought he might like to go to one, if they ever went back to Earth. Maybe Lance could take him. He’d probably know the best place to go.

He tried not to think of how they’d cling to each other, the threat of rubber costumes and body parts, preventing them from fighting. Hands clenched together, probably sweaty and clammy, but neither of them would care. And then-

Lance grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Keith opened his mouth to protest and then saw the room that he was pointing at. The Galra writing was unfamiliar, but the computer terminal behind it wasn’t.

“Found it.”

“Hello?” He calls tentatively. His helmet beeps in response, weak signal flashing across his screen. Great.

Metal bends into the tunnel, pushed in to make an artificial ledge fifteen feet up. He bends his knees, and jetpacks the distance. His leg hurts when he lands, but he ignores it. He can deal with pain after he gets into contact with the others. Lance could be badly hurt, and he’d never know.

Another jagged piece of metal bends in about five feet above him on the opposite wall.

By using the damaged integrity of the tunnel, he manages to make it about a hundred feet up before his leg starts getting really painful. Keith checks his helmet signal again. Signal improved.

He sighs in relief. He can finally take a break, even if it’s only to make this call.

“Hello?”

There’s a burst of static and then a voice breaks through, relief audible in their tone. “Keith? Are injured?”

Keith glances down at his leg. “No. Do you know what happened? Where’s Lance?”

The voice is quiet, and Keith still can’t tell who it is. Pidge maybe, possibly Hunk.

“What happened?” He repeats slightly annoyed. He needs to know, even if it’s bad. Especially if it’s bad.

“We’re not sure. The ship fell out of the sky, with you two inside it. Your lions helped to slow the fall. We lost contact before then, so we have no idea what led to the crash or…” The person hesitates, and Keith thinks he knows who it is. Pidge is never hesitant in her words.

“Hunk? Do you know Lance’s location? I can’t connect to his signal.”

Hunk sighs. “We dunno what happened to him. His signal disappeared a few minutes after your crash.” Neither of them says anything in response. Keith isn’t sure what to say. He can’t remember what happened beforehand, which means whatever happens to Lance, he can’t do anything to help find him. The knowledge weighs heavily on him. “We’re coming to get you. Stay put.”

OoOoOoO

The two droids walk behind him, close enough for him to feel the heat of their guns against his legs. They’d forced him to strip off his armor, leaving only the black flightsuit on. Lance is glad that he moved the pill when he did. The Galra walk ahead of him without looking back. They’re pretty cocky to not even worry about Lance, walking behind them. Lance wonders if he can take advantage of that, but his bayard is gone and he’s not strong enough in physical fighting to have a chance against one of them, let alone all four. He knows that if it were Keith in this position, he’d try anyways. Lance thinks of what else he can do to help with his escape. Try and understand the layout of the ship maybe? He can do that, he thinks as they turn another corner.

Lance is trying so hard to memorize their path, he doesn’t notice that they’ve stopped until he’s almost run into the two Galra in front of him. The smaller Galra, presses his palm to the keypad beside the door. It slides open and the droids behind him nudge him to make him walk. Lance barely focuses on the room. His eyes go straight to the table in the middle of the room. It’s such a stereotypical torture bed that Lance wants to laugh. He would’ve too, if he wasn’t so scared.

Lance isn’t sure exactly what he plans to do; the terror takes over and he turns, trying to dash past the sentries. One of the Galra behind him, he can’t tell who, kicks his legs out from under him and forces him onto his back. He hits his head on the ground, hard and his vision is blurry, but even so, he realizes that they’re dragging him onto the table.

“Thought he’d last a bit longer before trying to run off.”

The other one laughs, a harsh sound like a barking dog. “The Blue Paladin won’t be hard to break, by the looks of him now.”

Someone pulls his arms out and straps them down, then does the same for his legs. By the time his head clears enough for him to think of resisting, it’s too late. The taller Galra, T-800, stands by the side of the table as the second rummages through a something loudly.

“Drone e3fh1, record visual and audible feeds.” One of the drones steps forward and stands at the foot of the bed. A red light blinks on it’s visor. “Blue Paladin, tell us the weaknesses in the castle defenses.”

Lance doesn’t speak.

T-800 waits for maybe thirty seconds before nodding to Galra number two. He looks a little like the Wolverine, Lance thinks as he pushes a tray to the side of the table. T-800 picks up a baton from the tray and hits him with it, directly across the face.

His face stings as he pulls his away, and Lance knows that he’s got a split lip, at the very least. It wasn’t too bad, he thinks. He’s been hit on the face before, by his brothers, back on Earth, and Keith, when they trained together. Keith could forget very easily that training was training, and all of their sparring rules would melt away. Lance was no stranger to a well placed hit to the face.

He grins cheekily at T-800 and Wolverine. Neither reacts visibly.

T-800 speaks again. “What are the castle’s weaknesses in it’s defense? Speak now and this will stop.”

Lance watches them, his cheek swelling and eye puffy.

Wolverine hits him again, this time on his shoulder. Lance has to admit: that hurt like hell! He breathes heavily through his mouth, teeth clenched to prevent him from making any noise. Wolverine grins, his canines sharp and white, a stark contrast to his purple fur. Did the real Wolverine have sharp canines like that? He’d have to check when he went home.

‘If’ lingers unspoken in the back of his mind.

“Tell us the castle weaknesses.” Terminator repeats. Wolverine stands at the ready beside him, baton clenched tightly in his claws.

Lance looks away. He’d rather not see the hit coming.

It comes down in the soft plane of his stomach, and leaves him aching and retching. He can’t sit up to dislodge it to the floor, so he settles for turning to the side, allowing the green, half digested goop to drip onto his shoulder.

One of his captors chuckle at his reaction and then forces his head to face them. A sharp claw digs into the skin under his chin, and Lance is unsure if it will break skin.

“What weaknesses does the castle possess?” Terminator hisses, spittle spraying Lance’s face.

Lance thinks again of what Keith would do. Probably something extremely stupid. Great. Lance can do that.

He roars, anger and pride overriding fear. “Fuck you and your hairy-ass mother!”

T-800 releases his neck and steps back. Fire flashes in his eyes. “If you do not wish to cooperate, your treatment will increase in severity. You have been warned, and yet you try my patience.”

Wolverine raises the baton again. “Shall we continue with the baton, or would you like to change methods?”

Terminator watches Lance disinterestedly. Whatever emotion his had shown is gone. “Pick something worse. I think sharper pain is the key to this one.”

Lance wonders what happened to Keith. He’s not here, that much is certain. If he were, his helmet would’ve connected with his and Lance has no doubt that the Galra would’ve incorporated their bond into the questioning. He wonders what he’d do, if he were watching Keith being beat on and cut and bruised by the Galra. He’d like to say that he’d stand strong and not give in, but if Keith really was feeling this kind of pain, Lance knows that he’d do anything to stop it. Even give up his lion for him.

Because they’re friends, Lance thinks. Friends who fight and argue and compete. Keith is a friend…who Lance may or may not have had dreams about. Dreams of kissing and touching and-

Lance doesn’t get to finish the thought as a purple hand pushes a serrated blade through the flesh of his calf. A long, high pitched scream erupts from his chest. Lance can’t help it; he wasn’t prepared, not for this. He saws through until thick slice of his calf hangs off of his leg. Tendons and muscle hang from it, and blood leaks onto the cut fabric.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” T-800 says, half of his face curled into a grin.

OoOoOoO

By the time Hunk drops down the lift to pick Keith up, he’s figured out that Lance is not on the ship. Red asks Blue to try harder to connect, and then tells Keith that he’s gone. Not in words of course, but in bursts of images and emotions. The conversation between them leaves Keith feeling as if he needs a nap, with all that he has felt.

Hunk offers him an uneasy grin as he pulls him up and into the jaws of his lion. His gaze drops to the wire embedded in his legs. “Dude, you lied. You need to go straight to the-”

“Do you have any leads on Lance’s location?” Keith interrupts. Hunk isn’t gonna come right out and say it, but he won’t deny it either, as long as Keith’s straight up. He’s learned quirks like that from living with him for so long. He has to admit, he knows Lance and Shiro the best. Like how Lance tends to get more obnoxious when he’s upset, or how when he has a panic attack, he slips into broken spanglish. Hunk doesn’t reply as he helps Keith to settle into one of the storage shelves. The edge of the drawer digs into his thigh, but Keith doesn’t complain; It’s better than standing.

Hunk keeps his eyes on the screen, even though he really doesn’t need to in order to steer. His hands are wrapped tightly on the steering wheel, and every movement he makes is precise and orderly. “Allura thinks that he’s being transported. He’s on the edge of the solar system now, most likely on a smaller sub-vessel.”

Keith stays silent. If he opens his mouth he may say things that he doesn’t mean and will regret later.

The trip to the castle doesn’t take long.

When they arrive, Pidge is just getting into the cryo-pod, and Allura and Shiro are fighting.

Pidge tries to push past Coran, her one working arm pushing against his chest. It doesn’t do much to hinder his progress, so she settles on yelling. “Keith, what happened?”

Even if he did manage to yell before the pod closed, he wouldn’t have been able to give a straight answer. His head is still foggy about what happened leading up to his and Lance’s separation. Separation. Something about that word has his head hurting, bad. A conversation floats back to him.

“Why do you get to drive the speeder?” Lance whined.

Keith’s hands tightened over the steering. The speeder rumbled. “Because I’m a better pilot than you, and I can actually drive.”

Lance pouted behind him. Keith could hear it in his voice. “You don’t get to throw that in my face everytime you want to prove a point, Mullet. Besides, I’m a good pilot. I got into the fighter pilot program, didn’t I?”

Keith snorted. “Yeah, after I dropped out.”

Lance muttered. “Sometimes I wonder why I even like you.”

Keith wanted to ask him about what he said. Didn’t Lance hate him? Then something loud crashed behind them, and Keith could make out the sound of voices, yelling in the harsh untranslated Galran tongue. The heat of laser fire brushed past his head, and he put the speeder in full overdrive. The cracked floor beneath them flies by, and they land on the other side with a loud clank. Keith was down the hall, nearing the end, when he heard another voice call out. He crashed the speeder moments later.

“Keith?” Shiro calls tentatively, resting his hand on Keith’s shoulder. The familiar pressure grounds him, and he realises how he’s slumping against the wall behind the gurney. He straightens up. Coran’s still figuring out how to pull the wire out with the least amount of damage.

“It’s nothing.” Keith reassures him. “What about Lance? Do we have a plan yet?”

Shiro eyes him warily. “We have a trace on his helmet, but-”

Allura cuts him off, her arms crossed. “Blue can’t feel him, which means he’s cutting her off from his end. He’s being tor-” She hesitates, breaks off. “He’s being hurt. Which means we need to follow this lead now.”

Shiro shakes his head. “Not until we know more about his location. He could be deep in the middle of a Galra cluster, and we’d never know until we wormholed there. We’re already down two; we can’t afford to be hasty and risk losing another.”

Keith grits his teeth. “The longer we leave him there, the longer he’ll be tortured!”

Hunk nods, and Keith is glad that those who’re in favor with rescuing Lance overpowers those who aren’t. “Yeah, and that also increases the chances that he’ll say something. It’s not like any of us, except the Princess and Pidge and I maybe, know much about how the castle’s work, but he could always say something unintentionally useful.”

Keith has to bite back his tongue. He doesn’t think Lance’ll his pride and that weird competition with Keith’ll keep him quiet. He’s stronger than he thinks he is.

Shiro eyes each of them carefully. Allura glares at him, and Keith keeps his gaze hard. “Alright,” He walks to the star-map and watches it carefully. He points at a sector on the grid, where Lance’s signal flashes. “We’ll go there. Not any closer. Hunk and I can get a closer look.”

“What about me? I’m ready to go.” Keith protests, trying not to kick Coran as he pulls the wire out of his leg. It halts once or twice where the wire knots, and he has to pull harder then. A few beads of blood spill out with it.

Shiro straightens up to his full 6’6 height. His gaze is steady. There’ll be no swaying him now. “You’re already injured. I’m not going to risk you going out there when you can barely walk.”

Keith frowns and turns away with a growl. “Fine.”

He hopes that it’s not too obvious that he’s not gonna listen to Shiro’s warning.

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #lance voltron #lance #keith #klance #captured lance #got too excited #so I posted it unedited

[knightsofajax]

Glory Reborn, The Knights Stand Tall.

04102017 M41 The Knights of Ajax have won a resounding victory, regaining their honor that the Iron Warriors had stolen from them. Chapter Master Brellon Juche led the charge with a squad of Sternguard against the corrupting influence of Nurgle, which had overtaken the Iron Warriors of Haltmon. The divinations of the Silver Skulls had revealed that the dark master daemon Belakor had shown himself as master of the Iron Warriors, only for the legions of Nurgle to rise and overtake the chaos marines as a wasting disease turned them all into plague bearers, with the Warsmiths ascending into twinned daemon princes, bringing a great unclean one onto the planet, hopefully corrupting its promethium refineries forever. However, Brellon Juche and the battleship Just Retribution launched the Venerable Ironclad Castidian Fellfall who proved his worth once again, smiting the two Daemon Princes one after another with his powerful seismic hammer, proving that all the sorceries of the warp are no help when faced with a swift and righteous thumping. On the wider battlefield the Centurion devastators and Thunderfire artillery poured fire into the Great Unclean one for several hours even as it summoned more plaguebearers to accost Fellfall with their touch of rust. However, it was Sgt Gwen whose lascannon shot killed the daemon, sending it back to the Warp with a dark chuckle and a permanant stain on the metalworks it had occupied. She could not savor her victory however, for with a ripple of invisible air, Belakor charged at her in anger. Ripping her from her Centurion suit, the dark lord hurled her from the battlements, where she clung to the top of a landed drop pod, saving her from death, if not broken bones and blood loss. Though her comrades despaired, they stubbornly fought on, and were soon buoyed by the arrival of Chapter Master Juche, who engaged in a ferocious battle against the daemon prince who swore he would not be put down so easily. But it was not to be, for after only a few clashes of dark sword and thunder hammer, Belakor's attempted spell of invibility failed and he was folded in half, succked back into the warp for his failure. Mightly though he may have been, Belakor still must face the displeasure of his masters for as the Centurions and their Chapter Master offered a tempting target, the rest of the Knights had cleansed the promethium refineries and had swiftly isolated the remaining pockets of resistance. So it was that the weary Knights of Ajax regained the honor of their chapter and reclaimed a world from the horrors of Chaos. (Game 2) But just as day follows night, so too must the blades of the daemon be replaced by the guns of the Xenos. Seeking fresh resources, the Tau had come to Haltmon, only to find that the bloodied but determined Knights were not willing to part with an iota of the fuel or planet they had so recently purged. With a sigh, Brellon Juche stepped out of the shower and like the rest of his force, rode down to the planet once more in battle plate still covered in gore. The battle was not pretty, but it began on an excellent note for all that the Tau favored swift movement and battlefield superiority through three Riptide suits, the time it took for the three rare transports to be unloaded cost the xenos dearly, allowing Juche and his solders to set up defenses in and around the refinery, dictating the terms of engagement. Techmarine Judis's opening salvo of thunderfire shells ripped the delicate Tau drones to pieces, leaving the enemy commander exposed to Sgt Gwen's lascannon fire, making a mockery of its precious iridium armor. However on the other side of the refinery the Chapter Master had perhaps overestimated the strength and durability of his First Company Sternguard for though he shielded many of them with his terminator plate and storm shield, two riptides and an entire Tau Gunline proved to be too much even for such ancient and powerful wargear to handle. A stray burst cannon round knocked his helmet off and gave the Chapter Master a severe concussion while shredding the less fortunate Sternguard behind him. Enraged, the squad called for support from Techmarine Tashlan's Stormtalonwhich bought them time to charge the nearest Riptide. Though its armor was too thick for even hellfire rounds to reliably penetrate both its plating and force field, the scurrying marines did keep the heavy weapons platform occupied long enough for the heavy weapons teams to wreak havoc against the remaining Tau ground forces. Having been slaughtered, the Tau retreated into their ships and left the sector, claiming false victory under the pretense of having slain Chapter Master Juche. Knowing this to be false, the Knights of Ajax stand with their faces bloody and bruised, but unbowed on a planet of the Imperium that has fought hard to remain so. It also offers an opportunity to repopulate the world with many of the Imperial citizens that have been clamoring,at the Chapter's heels of late and the colony ships will be settled in the ruins as new, uncorrupted hivemcities, the Nurgle-infested ones undergoing the process of cleansing by the Ecclasiarchy and Ad Mech.

#bat rep #knights of ajax #tau #warhammer 40k

[gerb-blurbs]

ship

They had heard the legends and seen the drawings, but only a fool would alter their course out of consideration for childhood fairy tales. Besides, the crew of the Four-Fingers was comprised of some of the toughest sailors and pirates the continent had to offer. Folk praised them for their bravery and courage in public, but cursed them in private for their savagery. Anyone caught confusing the two inevitably died as proof of the latter. Its captain was a seasoned sailor from the Outer Ring, though no one could trace his lineage beyond that. He had begun his career as a powder monkey on a Dominion Navy battleship, eventually rising through the ranks to first mate. When the battleship’s captain died in a game of blackjack, he was naturally selected to replace him, but turned it down in favour of the Four-Fingers. The ship itself was sturdy and well built. It was constructed from a legendary hardwood known as lignum vitae, collected during a failed trade negotiation in the Southern Continent. The pirate responsible returned six fingers lighter and demanded extra compensation for his loss. Not only was his request denied but his insolence cost him his remaining fingers, and so the ship got its unusual named. The construction took a little over two years to complete and was overseen by a famous shipwright from Inoshi. In his employ were blacksmiths and carpenters from Sweetwater Bay, coopers and pitch-melters from the Outer Ring, and approximately six hundred slaves from the nation’s colonies working and dying around the clock. For tax reasons, the Four-Fingers was registered as a merchant ship, with fore-and-aft rigged sails favouring maneuverability and a shallow hull for navigating reefs. At an estimated 1400 tons burthen, however, it was the largest ship ever built at Lau Zing drydock, and well equipped for battle. It was second only in size to the fabled dreadnaughts of the Western Allied Navy, though not having seen conflict yet, their true size was still debated. Sporting sixteen cannons and two deck-mounted ballistas, the Four-Fingers required no escorts. More often than not it was itself employed by smaller merchant vessels as protection on their route to the far continents through the treacherous Hourglass Straight. Though no crew member would admit it, any one of them would have given anything to be back on dry land tonight, studying the children’s fairy tales they were so quick to dismiss. A massive war galleon lay amidships​ to the Four-Fingers’ bow, it’s masts towering into the low hanging fog and out of view. Tattered canvas sails hanging heavy in the dead still air gave the ship a terribly imposing form. Its bowsprit was covered in moss and black as coal, protruding into the night like a gangrenous finger. Beneath it hung a grotesque creature, muscle bound and bug eyed. Great twisted horns grew from its head and its massive arms were bound behind its back. The figure writhed and lurched in its iron fetters which clanged against the hollow ship, the only source of sound in the otherwise silent air. The galleons twenty-four cannons were manned by dark and still figures, barely visible, illuminated from behind by the low hanging moon. They stood at silent attention by the moss covered guns pointed low towards the hull of the Four-Fingers. The massive galleon began to creak and groan like a monster waking from sleep. One by one, the men of the Four-Fingers snapped out of their spell-bound states to prepare their ship for battle. The boatswain was the first to act, calling on the crew to furl the sails and prepare for close quarters combat. As the men readied the cannons and gathered ammunition above deck, dark things on the galleon began to hurl themselves over the gunwale and into the ocean below. The first shot from the merchant ship broke clean through the soft rotten wood of the galleon and into the ocean on the far side. As more futile shots passed through the assailant ship, the crew of the Four-Fingers began to retreat into the small lifeboats hanging from the gunwales. As they cut the ropes and descended into the black water, the figures from the war galleon sprang from the sea and into the overcrowded boats. They attacked the men ferociously, reducing them to piles of shredded flesh. Seeing his brief window of opportunity, the captain of the Four-Fingers dashed past his remaining crew towards the bow of his ship. He hoisted himself up on the forward mast and wrapped the halyard line tightly around his wrist. With one final look at his ship, infested now with dark and twisted things, he swung across the ocean onto the deck of the decaying galleon. He landed with a damp thud, barely missing one of many large and splintered holes. The captain drew two flintlock pistols and worked his way towards the helm of the ship, replacing each spent piece with a loaded one tucked away in his trenchcoat. As he approached the Great Cabin and reached for the railing leading to the helm, his leg became tangled in a heavy chain. Before him stood a mass of muscle and flesh loosely resembling a man. Its head was flat and wide, sunken into what could only be described as its torso. Two gnarled horns grew from the exposed skull which resembled that of a bull. A slender mouth spanned the length of the head, wrapping around the back and out of sight. Two empty holes existed where the gods would have normally set eyes and a heavy chain connected septum to navel. Two strong arms sprouted from the creature’s torso, each wrapped full length in rusty razor wire. It supported its weight on two thick legs, bent backwards at the knee. The beast stood still for a moment, like an animal trying to pick up a scent. Suddenly it lunged forward with unnatural agility as the captain rolled sideways into a dark hole ripped open by one of the Four-Fingers’ cannonballs. He caught himself on a wooden trunnel sticking out from the warped deck boards just as the creature collided head-first with the stairs behind him, slumping into a heap. As the captain pulled himself up, he spotted a keg of gunpowder that had dislodged from underneath the stairs and spilled out beside the hideous mound of flesh. Drawing his last loaded flintlock pistol, he aimed and fired at the bulk of the substance which ignited with a loud crack. It scorched the exposed belly of the creature and sent it tumbling overboard into the frigid ocean water. The captain climbed over the scorched railing up to the top deck, reaching out for the ship’s wheel with his remaining strength. He wrapped his hands around it and planted his feet on the clean dry deck. The bright white canvas sails blew in the cool night breeze, the ship’s rigging clanging quietly with each gentle gust. Twenty-four gleaming bronze cannons lined the port and starboard sides of the vessel, accented by blue and gold paint. The golden figurehead at the bow of the ship was a fearsome minotaur thrusting an onyx black spear into the night with its right hand, its left gripping an ornate tower shield. As the captain looked out over his newly acquired crew of strong young men standing at the ready, he reflected on the fairy tales from his childhood. Foolish indeed, he mused.

#short story #fiction #horror #fantasy fiction #fantasy #daily story #writers on tumblr #excerpt from a book i'll never write #excerpt from a story i'll never write #ship #nautical

[gerbblurbs]

Ship

They had heard the legends and seen the drawings, but only a fool would alter their course out of consideration for childhood fairy tales. Besides, the crew of the Four-Fingers was comprised of some of the toughest sailors and pirates the continent had to offer. Folk praised them for their bravery and courage in public, but cursed them in private for their savagery. Anyone caught confusing the two inevitably died as proof of the latter. Its captain was a seasoned sailor from the Outer Ring, though no one could trace his lineage beyond that. He had begun his career as a powder monkey on a Dominion Navy battleship, eventually rising through the ranks to first mate. When the battleship’s captain died in a game of blackjack, he was naturally selected to replace him, but turned it down in favour of the Four-Fingers.

The ship itself was sturdy and well built. It was constructed from a legendary hardwood known as lignum vitae, collected during a failed trade negotiation in the Southern Continent. The pirate responsible returned six fingers lighter and demanded extra compensation for his loss. Not only was his request denied but his insolence cost him his remaining fingers, and so the ship got its unusual named. The construction took a little over two years to complete and was overseen by a famous shipwright from Inoshi. In his employ were blacksmiths and carpenters from Sweetwater Bay, coopers and pitch-melters from the Outer Ring, and approximately six hundred slaves from the nation’s colonies working and dying around the clock. For tax reasons, the Four-Fingers was registered as a merchant ship, with fore-and-aft rigged sails favouring maneuverability and a shallow hull for navigating reefs. At an estimated 1400 tons burthen, however, it was the largest ship ever built at Lau Zing drydock, and well equipped for battle. It was second only in size to the fabled dreadnoughts of the Western Allied Navy, though not having seen conflict yet, their true size was still debated. Sporting sixteen cannons and two deck-mounted ballistas, the Four-Fingers required no escorts. More often than not it was itself employed by smaller merchant vessels as protection on their route to the far continents through the treacherous Hourglass Straight.

Though no crew-member would admit it, any one of them would have given anything to be back on dry land tonight, studying the children’s fairy tales they were so quick to dismiss. A massive war galleon lay amidships to the Four-Fingers’ bow, it’s masts towering into the low hanging fog and out of view. Tattered canvas sails hanging heavy in the dead still air gave the ship a terribly imposing form. Its bowsprit was covered in moss and black as coal, protruding into the night like a gangrenous finger. Beneath it hung a grotesque creature, muscle bound and bug eyed. Great twisted horns grew from its head and its massive arms were bound behind its back. The figure writhed and lurched in its iron fetters which clanged against the hollow ship, the only source of sound in the otherwise silent air. The galleons twenty-four cannons were manned by dark and still figures, barely visible, illuminated from behind by the low hanging moon. They stood at silent attention by the moss covered guns pointed low towards the hull of the Four-Fingers.

The massive galleon began to creak and groan like a monster waking from sleep. One by one, the men of the Four-Fingers snapped out of their spell-bound states to prepare their ship for battle. The boatswain was the first to act, calling on the crew to furl the sails and prepare for close quarters combat. As the men readied the cannons and gathered ammunition above deck, dark things on the galleon began to hurl themselves over the gunwale and into the ocean below.

The first shot from the merchant ship broke clean through the soft rotten wood of the galleon and into the ocean on the far side. As more futile shots passed through the assailant ship, the crew of the Four-Fingers began to retreat into the small lifeboats hanging from the gunwales. As they cut the ropes and descended into the black water, the figures from the war galleon sprang from the sea and into the overcrowded boats. They attacked the men ferociously, reducing them to piles of shredded flesh.

Seeing his brief window of opportunity, the captain of the Four-Fingers dashed past his remaining crew towards the bow of his ship. He hoisted himself up on the forward mast and wrapped the halyard line tightly around his wrist. With one final look at his ship, infested now with dark and twisted things, he swung across the ocean onto the deck of the decaying galleon. He landed with a damp thud, barely missing one of many large and splintered holes. The captain drew two flintlock pistols and worked his way towards the helm of the ship, replacing each spent piece with a loaded one tucked away in his trenchcoat. As he approached the Great Cabin and reached for the railing leading to the helm, his leg became tangled in a heavy chain.

Before him stood a mass of muscle and flesh loosely resembling a man. Its head was flat and wide, sunken into what could only be described as its torso. Two gnarled horns grew from the exposed skull which resembled that of a bull. A slender mouth spanned the length of the head, wrapping around the back and out of sight. Two empty holes existed where the gods would have normally set eyes and a heavy chain connected septum to navel. Two strong arms sprouted from the creature’s torso, each wrapped full length in rusty razor wire. It supported its weight on two thick legs, bent backwards at the knee.

The beast stood still for a moment, like an animal trying to pick up a scent. Suddenly it lunged forward with unnatural agility as the captain rolled sideways into a dark hole ripped open by one of the Four-Fingers’ cannonballs. He caught himself on a wooden trunnel sticking out from the warped deck boards just as the creature collided head-first with the stairs behind him, slumping into a heap. As the captain pulled himself up, he spotted a keg of gunpowder that had dislodged from underneath the stairs and spilled out beside the hideous mountain of flesh. With his last loaded pistol, he aimed and fired at the bulk of the substance which ignited with a loud crack. It scorched the exposed belly of the creature and sent it tumbling overboard into the frigid ocean water.

The captain climbed over the scorched railing to the top deck, reaching out for the ship’s wheel with his remaining strength. He wrapped his hands around it and planted his feet on a clean dry deck. Before him bright white canvas sails blew in the cool night breeze, the ship’s rigging clanging quietly with each gentle gust. Twenty-four gleaming bronze cannons lined the port and starboard sides of the vessel, accented by blue and gold paint. The golden figurehead at the bow of the ship was a fearsome Minotaur thrusting an onyx black spear into the night with its right hand, its left gripping an ornate tower shield. As the captain looked out over his newly acquired crew of strong young men standing at the ready, he reflected on the fairy tales from his childhood. Foolish indeed, he mused.

#writer #writers on tumblr #fantasy #fantasy fiction #fiction #writing prompt #ships #boat #short story #short stories

[johnandrasjaqobis]

Ok so for the short fic/numbers post: Tex/Rachel and 1! (Bc tbh 15 is practically canon. Also, I was so tempted to ask you for 32, but 1 is def better!)

Listen do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had emotions about them.I also had to watch chunks of Welcome to Gitmo because I had forgotten a lot of Tex’s intro and I also made the mistake of checking Tex’s wiki for his daughter’s name and now I am very reluctant to finish s3.

ANYWAY

It felt like the clock should have stopped the day the world went to shit. The day they got the call that the virus wasn’t stopping, that martial law had been enacted, that prisons were sort of a moot point now. They’d let the detainees go, gave everyone an equal shot at maybe escaping the constant death that was slipping into even their secluded little island. The world had ended, after all.

And the world ending kind of put a stall on the whole ‘soulmate’ thing, didn’t it?

Tex had never paid much mind to it anyway, a lot of people didn’t. There were plenty of happy marriages that hadn’t stopped clocks, and just because his own had split apart, it had also given him Kathleen. He wouldn’t consider that a failure.

So he hadn’t kept a very close eye on the small numbers on his forearm – his uniform generally covered them anyway – and after the end of the world, well, there were plenty of other pressing issues to focus on.

The former prisoners attacking his men, for example. The constant wire-thin balance between holding ground and retreating to areas where they knew people had been infected. Having to watch as, one by one, their numbers dwindled, until his best friend was left in a car that was rigged as a trap for whatever big ass ship rolled into the docks.

Tex hadn’t really been expecting to get off the damn island alive. He’d planned to enact as much justice as he could before he was either shot, infected, or just starved. Not like he was too fond of boats, but hey, a little easier to watch the end of the world from a fully-armed Navy battleship than some crappy island.

He was met with a general friendly wariness from the rest of the crew when Chandler first brought him aboard, but that was to be expected. Tight-knit group, especially after being out so long, and some random Gitmo guard wasn’t about to be drawn into the fold just because he’d lent a couple of bullets. Tex was fine with that, offered friendly smiles anyway, and let himself be ushered to the medical bay with only a little protesting that there were bigger injuries to treat than a scrape on his arm.

They seemed to agree, at least, and he sat for a few minutes with some other crew members with only minor problems, trying to get used to the very slight yet constant bobbing motion underneath him.

“– pull through just fine,” a brisk voice was saying as the door swung open, and Tex looked up from his examination of the metal floor. “Now that we’re actually well-stocked there won’t be any need for rationing the antibiotics, but tell the Captain that he’s back on duty after I clear it, not before.”

The woman that came in spared a sweeping glance over everyone in the room as she pulled on a fresh pair of gloves. After a short pause she let out a light sigh, letting the bag on her shoulder slip down to her hand. “Alright, no one here is in immediate danger of bleeding out, are they?”

Tex let himself watch her work, coming up with various ridiculous theories as to what a British doctor might be doing on some US Navy battleship. One of the crew called her Dr. Scott, and despite a bit of tension from some of them, Green leaned close when she started checking him over, and there was a sincere sort of gratitude in his eyes even if Tex couldn’t actually hear what he said.

When she reached him, Scott did take a moment to look him over quickly before kneeling down and pulling his arm toward her. “The Captain did say we made a new friend.”

“Well, y’know, Doc,” Tex said with a grin, “you kill some terrorists together, it’s a bonding experience.” He had to hold back a hiss when she ran a wet cloth carefully over the cut on his arm and could’ve sworn Scott rolled her eyes. “I’m Tex.”

“Doctor Scott,” she replied, then paused and amended, “Rachel Scott. Hold this up for a moment.”

Tex propped his arm on one knee, watching her rummage through her bag before he looked over at the half-dried blood. It took him a few seconds to realize what was off, other than the blood itself, and something in his breath caught even as Scott pulled it away again, now with an alcohol-soaked cloth in her hand.

The revelation let him ignore the initial sting at first; the numbers weren’t moving. There weren’t any numbers to be moving, the clock had run down, replaced with the small string of zeros.

He hadn’t noticed it getting that close, but it had still been moving yesterday – he’d seen the flicker of motion when he changed into a cleaner shirt even if he hadn’t paid attention to what the numbers were. That meant it had been some time today.

It made sense, in a weird way, but hell, he hadn’t noticed, and there had been a lot of new people in a very short span of time, so which –

The alcohol was a little too prominent then to ignore completely, and Tex winced as some of the dried blood came loose. “It stings,” he said when Scott just raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s supposed to sting,” she said, “I’m cleaning it.”

“Don’t need it cleaned.”

“Yes, you do.”

He chuckled, eyes drawn almost unconsciously to the spot on her own arm that was just visible above the glove. Unless it was upside-down for some reason, Scott’s wasn’t moving either. That wouldn’t have been too surprising if it weren’t so easy to see it.

From what he knew, the marks faded after they’d accomplished their purpose. Never truly went away, but after long enough they would be pale enough to barely see. Scott’s was as dark and clear as his, and if what Chandler had said was right –

“How long you lot been out here?” Tex asked, making some attempt at sounding casual. If he didn’t manage it, Scott didn’t seem to notice.

“Nearly five months,” she said, turning to pull out a roll of bandages. “Lucky to get here when we did, or you would all be chewing leaves for medication.”

“So been stuck with just this crew the whole time? No newcomers?”

She scoffed lightly. “It’s a little difficult to find new personnel given the condition of the workforce.”

Meaning he was the first.

Well, shit.

Tex left it at that for now, let himself watch her work. She’d notice eventually. She’d put the pieces together just like he had.

Apparently there were things even the end of the world couldn’t stop.

#otp: she's in love with a toaster #the last ship #hey look guys remember this ship #because it still wounds me to this day #THANKS FOR THE PROMPT FRIEND #galtori #fanfics

[bhandarimarblekishangarh]

SANDSTONE IN INDIA BY BHANDARI MARBLE GROUP INDIA RAJASTHAN KISHANGARH

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SANDSTONE IN INDIA

We deal in Indian Sandstone Marble, Sandstone Marble Tiles, Sandstone Floor designs, Sandstone Marble Flooring, Sandstone Marble Images, Sandstone Marble prices, Sandstone Marble Statues, Sandstone Marble Suppliers, Sandstone Marble Stones, etc.

Sandstone makes wonderful dimension stone, because it’s hard and impervious to the elements, yet it’s still relatively easy to cut, shape, and carve. That said, quartz-based sandstone and quartzite may require some additional fabrication cost due to additional time or tool wear since the minerals are so hard. Sandstone buildings are commonplace all over the World.

Sandstone construction to a whole new level. They have their own sandstone quarry near campus, with a ready supply of dimension stone. Most of the campus buildings are made of this stone, tying together the campus and lending a native feel to the architecture.

Sandstone is a beautiful natural floor covering that is popular for its distinctive style. Mimicking the look of beach and desert sand, the gold, red, brown, and tan of this often multicolored stone can add the perfect decorative touch to a room. At the same time, the fact that it is natural means that its properties are not controlled by a manufacturer, which can cause problems when it is used in a certain environment.

Natural beauty: There is an ineffable quality to a natural material that is obvious in sandstone flooring. Ranging in color from medium tone white to multicolored maelstroms and all the way back to charcoal and black, Sandstone can cover vast stretches of hues, and yet it always has a feeling of earth and rock that can be missing in many of its imitators.

Durability: Sandstone can’t match slate or granite for durability, but it is strong enough to last for decades if properly cared for.

Uniqueness: Because sandstone is formed from nature itself, the colors, patterns, and hues found in any individual piece are completely unique and different. When Sandstone is quarried, it comes out in giant slabs, which are then processed and cut into smaller pieces. That means that every piece of tile in every Sandstone floor is one random sample of a great masterpiece of mountainous nature that stretches across the world.

Texture: Sandstone, being a rock, comes from the mountain naturally craggy and jagged. In flooring tiles, this is leveled out in a process called gauging. This gives you many options with sandstone flooring, as this process can be increased to hone the tiles into smooth surfaces or even polish them flat and glistening.

Replaceable: Sandstone Flooring is installed in individual tiles or pieces, the tiles can be removed and replaced with relative ease. You just have to make sure that you save a few tiles from the original installation so that they match the repaired floor.

THE IDEAL QUALITY OF SANDBLASTED SANDSTONE AT BHANDARI MARBLE GROUP:

Sandblasted Sandstone: Grey Sawn Sandstone paving is lightly sandblasted, giving it a hard-wearing grain that is an ideal complement to its consistent, battleship-grey coloring. Grey Sawn Sandstone works very well in contemporary designs, creating a smooth, chic sophistication. Before buying, we recommend that all customers read our Product Guide in the Product Information section.

Sandblasted Sandstone: It is a quality product that offers sawn sandstone with a lightly sandblasted surface for slip resistance. This light grey natural sandstone is a very light color Dove grey with occasional buff shades.

Grey Sawn Sandblasted Sandstone: Sandstone is classic in origin. They are formed from cemented grains that may either be fragments of a pre-existing rock or be mono-mineral crystals. The cement binding these grains together is typically calcite, clays, and silica. Grain sizes in sands are defined within the range of Clays and sediments with smaller grain sizes not visible with the naked eye, including siltstones and shale’s, which are typically called argillaceous sediments; rocks with larger grain sizes, including breccias and conglomerates, are termed rutaceous sediments.

Grey Sawn and Sandblasted Sandstone:

The formation of sandstone involves two principal stages. First, a layer or layers of sand accumulates as the result of sedimentation, either from water or from the air. Typically, sedimentation occurs by the sand settling out from suspension; i.e., ceasing to be rolled or bounced along the bottom of a body of water or ground surface. Finally, once it has accumulated, the sand becomes sandstone when it is compacted by the pressure of overlying deposits and cemented by the precipitation of minerals within the pore spaces between sand grains.

DHOLPUR RED SANDSTONE:

Dholpur Red Sandstone is mined from a place called Dholpur. It is also famously called Agra Red Sandstone. In the ancient era, it was widely used in building monuments, forts, temples, and Havelis. The finest example of it is the majestic Agra Fort and captivating red fort.

As the name suggests Dholpur Red Sandstone has red texture. It is due to the presence of iron oxides. The Red Sandstone is used in a variety of applications like flooring, roofing, wall cladding, paving, and stone sills. Its qualities like durability, strength, resistance to acids, and saline water make Dholpur Red Sandstone a popular choice for construction projects.

Dholpur Red Sandstone or as is popularly called Agra Red Sandstone got its name from the quarries location and its proximity to Agra City famous world over for being the host of one of the Seven Wonders of the World THE “TAJ MAHAL”. Sandstones take their color based on the minerals proximity to the rock at the time of formation. The red color is imparted due to the presence of Iron Oxides near the bedding planes. This is hard wearing Sandstone designed for conformity of color and contemporary styling. Since ages, this Sandstone has not shown any weathering effects.

For example; during the archaic period it was expansively used in the construction of Indian temples, Agra Fort, Delhi Red Fort, and many other forts. Since; this sandstone is very responsive towards a variety of finishing like rubbed, honed, polished or sandblasted, shot blasted with hand-cut or sawn edges, Agra Red’s decorating versatility remains incomparable. For this reason, Agra Red Sandstone has become many architects’ favorite constructing material.

The large choice of sizes allows for some creativity in laying design. The color of this sandstone ranges from light to dark red. Owing to its strength, durability, resistance to abrasion and environmental weathering, acid and alkali resistance and advantage of easy handling and availability have made Indian Sandstone the material of choice for construction and making artifacts and decorative items. It has a variety of applications in roofing, flooring, paving, paneling, beams, pillars, doors, and window sills. It has been found most suitable for carving screens. Due to its excellent workability, it is fit for both exterior and interior uses.

Dholpur Red Sandstone is available in various finishes such as natural cleft, flamed, polished, honed, bush-hammered, sawn, acid washed, antique finish, and sandblasted to suit different applications. The finish and smoothness of tiles and slabs of sandstone depend on the finish of edges, which is available in machine cut, sawn, hand chiseled, hand dressed, and chamfered, beveled. The edges play a major role in the overall appearance of the architecture they are used in.

DESIGNERS AND ARCHITECTS ARE WELCOME

We personally invite designers and architects to find the exclusive quality of stone for all types of projects.

1- What is Indian Sandstone?

Indian Sandstone is a classic sedimentary rock composed mainly of sand-sized mineral particles or rock fragments or organic material. Most sandstone is composed of quartz or feldspar because they are the most resistant minerals to weathering processes at the Earth’s surface, as seen in the Goldich dissolution series.

2- Where is sandstone find in India?

Sandstone reserves in India are spread over the states of Rajasthan and Madhya Pradesh, Over 90% of the deposits of sandstone are in Rajasthan, spread over the districts of Bharatpur, Dholpur, Kota, Jodhpur, Sawai-Madhopur, Bundi, Chittorgarh, Bikaner, Jhalawar, Pali, and Jaisalmer.

3- Is Indian sandstone good?

BHANDARI MARBLE GROUP’S sandstone is good quality Indian sandstone is important when planning to use it for your garden or patio. Sandstone paving is now one of the most-used types of natural stone available thanks to its versatile, stylish appeal that fits in both contemporary and traditional.

4- How is Indian sandstone made?

The difference in composition between Indian Sandstone and concrete paving slabs. Indian Sandstone is a natural, quarried rock that is cut and shaped into paving slabs. Concrete paving slabs are fabricated from a composite mix of water, cement, and aggregate.

5- Is Indian sandstone porous?

Indian sandstone has become increasingly popular in the UK in recent years as garden paving or driveway pavers.  Many of the cheap Indian sandstones are soft, porous stones that are easier to process, making them cheaper, but not strong enough to withstand the harsh British climate.

6- Should you seal Indian sandstone?

Quality Indian sandstone does not need sealing, so you won’t need to seal even the cheapest Marshalls Indian Sandstone Paving.  Decent quality non-porous sandstone just needs a regular clean to keep it looking good for years. If the patio slabs you are looking at require sealing, you need to ask why.

7- Can you power wash Indian sandstone?

A power washer is a great tool for cleaning Indian sandstone paving slabs. The machines are especially useful if you have a large area of sandstone to clean. Care must be taken in the amount of pressure used on sandstone.

Add by Sandstone expert and export team of BHANDARI MARBLE GROUP INDIA RAJASTHAN KISHANGARH.